What more is there to say about the now-dumped Bill O'Reilly? That he recently shook hands with the Pope? That he substituted the word "falafel" for "loofah" while making harassing calls to one of his female producers? That in the end, two of the few advertisers that stuck by his show were My Pillow and Turbo Scrub?
Earlier in the week, I posted this snarky joke on social media: "The CEO of United just sent Sean Spicer a huge fruit basket, regifted from Pepsi."
To paraphrase sometime-casino owner Rick in "Casablanca," "I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of one little Pepsi commercial don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world." Or do they?
Anti-retrosexuals, rejoice! We've got nothing to lose but the boobs on display in ads for the Hardee's and Carl Jr's food chains!
As the self-appointed president of the "Maniacs for Mad Men" club, I'm always on the lookout for a worthy successor. I don't want to get too excited yet, but I must say that one (not-yet picked-up) Amazon pilot, "The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel," looks awfully promising.
The young white interviewer-dude sports the black glasses and follicularly robust beard of your basic Brooklyn hipster. But rather than favoring a tight black T-shirt for flexing his tat-covered bicep muscles -- developed by salvaging industrial metals -- he's dressed in the tweedy wool jacket and cotton-checked shirt of a traditional academic (sans bow tie.) Thus, the mystery of this TD Ameritrade commercial begins. In what universe does a financial consultant look like this?
Humans might continue to argue about the need for 51% of the population to celebrate A Day Without a Woman, as part of International Women's Day, or even to require a Women's History Month. But one timeless piece of advertising created to honor the strength and power of women, individually and collectively, has overridden any possible division to garner universal praise.
Jimmy Kimmel was on cruise control, generally killin' it at the Oscars. All was surprisingly unpolitical and stellar, until the Dolby Theater tour bus crashed.
A funny thing happened en route to the Oscars' move toward cultural irrelevance. OK, let's not go crazy. This Sunday evening, we will no doubt still have to endure the stilted banter and embarrassing production numbers that are endemic to the broadcast.
Andy Puzder, we hardly knew ye. That is, before he withdrew his nomination as Secretary of Labor this week, we kinda/sorta knew him as the hard-charging Hardee's and Carl's Jr. guy.