The other Ken

This has been quite a year for a certain individual who goes by the name of Ken. I know what you're thinking: I'm going to go off on a diatribe about Barbie's perpetually rejected pal Ken. But as predictable as that would be, actually I'm not doing that. Because this post isn't about that plasic, de-genitalized, beach-loving doll.

It's about the other Ken who's had a very big year. Ken Jennings.

Now I'm not going to go into every little detail of his life and background. Besides, you already know a lot of it, and what you don't know about him you can find out here. What I will say, and I'll say it in the form of a question, is what the hell took so long to give him the job of permanent Jeopardy host?

If you've watched any of the Jeopardy episodes with him as host, it's beyond clear he is and has always been the rightful heir to the Alex Trebek lecturn. Because he holds the record for the most consecutive wins by any Jeopardy contestant, seventy-four, he simply has a personal, emotinal and, let's just put it out there, financial connection to the show that's not possible for others who auditioned to have.

Like, for example, conspiracy theorist, anti-vaxxer and perpetual raging asshole Aaron Rogers. Diet pill peddler, snake oil salesman and Oprah syncophant "Dr." Mehmet Oz. And former executive producer and new Jeopardy host for a hot minute until he was fired because "those" recordings showed up Mike Richards.

Jennings also brings a quick wit along with genuine interest and engagement with contestants during the brief, and sometimes awkward, interviews after the first commercial break. The other thing he brings to the party is that big brain of his.

I'm pretty sure the reason he so effortlessly keeps the game moving briskly is because he already knows the answers without having to look at them.

Originally Jeopardy producers decided to give Jennings co-host responsibilities, with him taking the nightly syndicated shows and Mayim Bialik doing the tournaments and prime time version.

Now I'm sure Mayim is a nice person, but it got a little tiresome hearing her remind everyone in the most condescending way—that means talking down to (SWIDT?)—at every turn that she's also a neuroscientist. I couldn't help but think of Jennifer Jason Leigh taking every opportunity in Hudsucker Proxy to say, "I'll stake my Pulitzer on it!"

Mayim's ratings were never what Jennings were/are. And neither were her reviews if the comments on Twitter (#nevercallingitX) were any indication.

She wouldn't cross the picket line at Sony during the five-month WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes, and I respect her for that. But Jennings was willing to—whispers say it's one of the decisions that got him the hosting gig full time. And while I'm an outspoken union supporter, I can't help but have forgiveness in my heart for Jennings' scab like decision to keep the games that aired first-run episodes.

In the past I've written here, and here about how I took the online test a few times and tried to get on Jeopardy. Now that Ken's the permanent host, I just may give it another go. Assuming hell froze over, if I were to actually get on the show I think it'd be fun to meet him, have a witty back and forth contestant interview, then go down in flames while one of my two competitors pummeled me with their obviously superior random knowledge (please don't let the category be Geography) and next-level buzzer skills.

That is unless the categories are SUITS, The Bear, Breaking Bad, New Jersey Bands, Sushi Rolls and Star Trek or Star Wars. Then I'd at least have a shot of making it to Final Jeopardy.

Until then, I'll just enjoy watching Ken Jennings rising to the occasion in the dream job he never dreamed he'd have.

What is "happy for him."

In the bag

Whether we like it or not, everyone in the ad biz deals with demographics – the quantifiable statistics of a certain group - every day.

Age, household income, habits, geographical location, political leanings, purchasing habits, consideration cycles, tv shows watched. Every thing you do and everything you are is broken down so advertisers can talk to you in a way you'll allegedly want to listen to.

It’s frightening how much information is available on any given group of people at any given moment.

What a lot of people in different demos have in common is they all take a great amount of pride in classifying themselves as non-conformists. Unique in their category. Of course, were that true, we wouldn’t be able to lump them in the same category.

One group in particular, and I have some first-hand experience with this, likes to think of themselves as rugged individualists, blazing their own trail, living life on their terms - loners not playing by anyone’s rules but their own.

Copywriters.

And while they may be marching to their own drum in other areas of life, many fall right in step with each other when it comes to a common accessory: their laptop bag.

The bag of choice? The Swiss Army backpack.

I can only speak for myself here, but the reason I love this bag is all the storage options. Zippers and pockets and nets, oh my. For someone like me, who uses the "just in case" theory whenever I pack - which is the reason I look like I'm moving in when I go on an overnight business trip - the Swiss Army backpack lets me carry every thing I need for almost any imaginary contingency I run into.

For example, I've had a deck of Bicycle playing cards in one of the netted side pockets for years. It's a holdover from when my good friend, sometimes art director partner and co-conspirator Mike Stone and I took magic classes at the Magic Castle (the first thing we learned was how to make $265 disappear). You never know, I might've been walking down the street or in a client meeting and had the sudden and unstoppable urge to show someone Stopped Aces, or The Matchmaker.

Pick a card, any card.

One of the zippered compartments has a varied assortment of computer connection cords that may be from my Powerbook 3400. Or my Macintosh Performa 6210. Maybe my Powerbook G4. I'm not sure - I've never used them.

Yet another compartment is my portable medicine chest: Aspirin. Ocean Nasal Spray. Coricidin. Pepto Bismal. Each and every one of them years past their expiration date. But at least they've been stored in a cool, dry place.

In the netted pocket on the other side is a bottle of water that should only be used to water plants. If you want to kill the plants.

And in the vast, canyon-like laptop compartment, which is what I initially bought the backpack for, is nothing. I long ago traded carrying the backpack around for a smaller, lighter Incase laptop bag. It doesn't let me carry nearly as much, but that's probably a good thing.

I guess just owning the Swiss Army bag puts me in the demo with all the other copywriters that have one. And I know what you're thinking: Just like every other writer, he's probably going to end this post with some snappy, clever line that has several meanings and works on so many levels.

But, being the non-conformist I am, I won't.