Why the Justin Long face?

Hey, Justin Long, can you hear me now? I sure hope so. I’ve tried getting in touch with you without any success. It appears my industrial megaphone (“perfect for making a scene," "ensure your protest isn't an amateurtest") wasn’t as strong as the rave customer review claimed. Here’s hoping you get it another way. Seeing you totally comfortable in your own skin – I shudder to picture the alternative – comes as both a blessing and a surprise. You were known as the pompous Macman, famous from those old commercials that someone, somewhere, someway remembers. You looked down on PC culture, containing enough inner smugness for Cupertino and beyond.

Things are different now. You’re a changed man, right? You’re not acting anymore. You’re just living and speaking your truth. Okay, so it took you 20 years to come around to the good side. Everyone moves at their own pace. Your heroic decision extends far past the world you know into a wilderness of grander possibilities, flowering like a Bush in bloom (thinking post-presidency when he took up painting and baths, though not always at the same time).  

The question remains: where do we go from here? I have some ideas. They aren’t new ideas, of course, since new ideas don’t exist. What we call new, are just old ones repackaged. It makes the process of coming up with them significantly less complicated though. You find an idea you like and figure out a way to present it as new. Today, no one wants a pet rock, but there might be room for either a stone companion or a pebble life partner. You never really know until you test the water. Which, in the case of rocks, does a good job breaking up pond ice that may not have fully melted despite rising temperatures. 

But we’re not here to discuss pond scum or lily pads, mangroves or thermal vents, we’re here to discuss ads. Mikey, the Life Cereal kid, he must be 85. I hope his false teeth don’t give him any trouble, because he should be expecting a weighty shipment of Cheerios any day now. The ETrade baby is in his 9^th year of college dangerously obsessed with bitcoin. Then there’s the Geico Cavemen, who’ve shed their loyalty as well as their body hair, prepared to go with State Farm. The Elves formerly known as Keebler are newfound Oreo apologists. Polar Bears drink Pepsi. And as an artful advertiser appearing asymmetrically accomplished around amazing ads, alternatives are apparently attractive. 

All right?