Ryan Seacrest has reportedly been in talks to take over the "Wheel of Fortune" hosting gig, which means the man who already hosts "American Idol," a daily radio show, and roughly nine hundred other things may soon be spinning a giant wheel on basic cable.
At this point the only American institution he doesn't run is the DMV, and honestly give him six months.
Let's review the résumé, because it reads like a Mad Libs of "jobs that should belong to five different people." He's been the face of "American Idol" since the Bush administration — the first one, basically.
He does "On Air with Ryan Seacrest" every morning.
He co-hosted "Live with Kelly and Ryan" for six years before handing the couch back.
He produces "Keeping Up with the Kardashians" and its various offspring.
The man has a production company, a clothing line, and I'm fairly sure a small island somewhere that he just hasn't told us about.
And now, with Pat Sajak retiring from "Wheel of Fortune," the rumor mill has Seacrest in the pole position.
Which raises the obvious question: does Ryan Seacrest sleep?
Is he a single continuous broadcast signal that we've all just agreed to treat as a person?
The consensus wasn't "great choice" so much as "sure, why not, he already lives in our televisions." One top comment summed it up: this is the human equivalent of autoplay.
You didn't pick him, you didn't ask for him, but here he is, and the next episode is already loading.
Here's the thing though — and I say this as a card-carrying cynic — the guy is genuinely good at this specific job.
He's smooth, he's unflappable, he can read a room and a teleprompter at the same time, and he's never once made a live TV moment about himself.
There's a reason networks keep handing him the keys.
He's the beige sedan of American broadcasting: not exciting, but it starts every time.
The counterargument is that "Wheel of Fortune" doesn't need a host with a résumé longer than the Constitution.
It needs a guy who can say "big money, big money" and not freak out when someone lands on BANKRUPT.
That's a low bar, and Seacrest clears it while also doing a radio hit in the commercial break.
But there's something mildly dystopian about one man colonizing every screen we own.
If you flip channels on a random Tuesday, there's a non-zero chance you'll land on Seacrest, then flip again and land on Seacrest, and then flip again and he's somehow also on the news.
It's less a career and more a hostile takeover of your remote control.
Anyway, the deal isn't done, the rumors are just rumors, and the man himself has stayed quiet.
Which, for someone who talks for a living, is the most suspicious part of all. **The take:** Look, nobody's throwing a parade for the guy, but if you're gonna put one human on every channel, at least it's someone who won't say anything insane on live TV.
Final Thoughts
The bar is on the floor and he's the only one who remembered to step over it.