I really wasn’t in the mood to write this after Charlie Kirk’s assassination—another grim reminder that violence only breeds more violence, and nobody walks away a winner.

But here I am anyway, pounding this out, because staying busy is the only thing that keeps me from yelling at the walls.

Call it professional therapy with a side of gallows humor.

So, what’s the circus this week?

The Ellison family is basically LARPing as Hollywood saviors, trying to weld Paramount and Warner Bros. Discovery into one Frankenstein studio that screams, “Please love me, Netflix!” WPP decided CEOs were passé and swapped them for a collection of titles that sound like rejected WeWork conference sessions. Snapchat’s Evan Spiegel wrote what reads like a midlife crisis manifesto and is still convinced AR glasses are the future—even though the rest of us already know they belong in the tech museum next to Google Glass and Zune.

Meanwhile, The Trade Desk lit the SSP world on fire by declaring them obsolete, which went over about as well as telling your in-laws Thanksgiving is canceled. Netflix and Amazon suddenly became strange bedfellows, selling ads together like it’s the Hunger Games: Programmatic Edition. And to top it off, streaming may have finally stolen half the eyeballs, but advertisers are still funneling cash into linear TV like frat boys clinging to their Blockbuster cards.

Same chaos, different week—but hey, at least it keeps me sane.

Just when you thought media consolidation couldn't get more ridiculous, David Ellison—aka Nepo Baby Supreme—is reportedly working on an all-cash deal to snatch up Warner Bros. Discovery. That’s right, fresh off scooping up Paramount Global, Ellison’s got his eyes on the flailing chaos over at WBD. Backing this circus? Daddy Larry and his $383 billion war chest. Because who needs antitrust laws when you've got Oracle money?

This deal would mash together every legacy content asset gasping for relevance into one Frankenstein media beast. It’s a streaming Hail Mary—combining HBO Max’s prestige corpse with Paramount’s reality junk food and hoping it somehow equals Netflix. Spoiler: it won’t. But maybe with the Trump admin playing regulatory limbo, this turkey could actually get cooked.

WPP Media’s leadership org chart now looks like a game of musical chairs played at a LinkedIn influencer retreat. No more individual CEOs in the UK—just a patchwork of presidents, strategists, and some Frankenstein division called “Media Management and Delivery.” (Because nothing screams efficiency like a five-word department name.)

Brian Lesser’s “one global org with local flavor” spiel might sound visionary, but it mostly reads like a cost-cutting PowerPoint dressed in synergy drag. The real takeaway? If you’re still holding a business card with “CEO” on it, you’re probably next.

Snap CEO Evan Spiegel dropped a 14-year retrospective that reads like a tech bro’s breakup letter to investors. He admits Q2 was rough—ad revenue crawling at 4% and users bailing in the U.S.—but don’t worry, the company’s going to fix everything with “Specs,” aka AR glasses that no one asked for but are definitely going to replace smartphones. (Just ask Zuck... how well that went.)

Snap is pinning its future on medium-sized advertisers, Sponsored Snaps, and a paid sub with 15 million users. Translation: they’re trying everything. If Specs flop again, Snap’s next “crucible moment” might be deciding whether to sell to Apple or just become a filters-as-a-service company.

The Trade Desk slapped a “reseller” label on every SSP and shoved them into the value-loss penalty box. Index Exchange’s Andrew Casale didn’t take that well, calling the move “ignorant” and accusing TTD of bulldozing nuance like a drunk consultant with a whiteboard.

Is Casale wrong? Not entirely. Plenty of bottom-feeding vendors slap on “SSP” and rake in margin without delivering squat. But The Trade Desk isn’t cleaning up the ecosystem out of pure altruism—it’s rerouting spend to its own curated supply path. The truth? Everyone’s playing kingmaker in a marketplace that looks more like musical chairs on a sinking ship.

Just when you thought the walled gardens couldn’t get any thicker, Netflix and Amazon announced a partnership to sell Netflix ads via Amazon DSP. That’s right—your Stranger Things binge is now courtesy of Jeff Bezos' data machine. Welcome to the programmatic Hunger Games.

This isn’t just a media play—it’s a signal that Netflix is all-in on ads and Amazon wants every crumb of that CTV cookie. For brands, it’s a new sandbox. For agencies, it’s one more Frankenstein budget line they’ll have to defend on a client call. Good luck explaining to your CMO why you’re buying Netflix inventory through Amazon.

Despite CTV now pulling nearly half of all TV eyeballs, linear still hogs two-thirds of U.S. ad spending. Why? Because media buyers love comfort food, and legacy networks still know how to wine, dine, and deliver those Nielsen guarantees.

Madison and Wall’s analysis says streaming hasn’t grown the TV ad pie—it’s just rearranged the slices. Until marketers start viewing YouTube, TikTok, and IG as part of the “TV” budget, CTV will be stuck playing catch-up with its older, dumber sibling. Streaming may be the future, but TV money is still stuck in the past.

Here’s the brutal truth: media buyers aren’t stupid—they’re professionally allergic to progress. They cling to the familiar like it’s a life raft, even when the tide has already pulled the audience out to sea. Nearly half of all TV viewing is happening on Connected TV, yet two-thirds of the ad dollars are still chained to linear. That’s not “strategy.” That’s denial wrapped in a PowerPoint.

Linear TV survives not because it’s better—but because it’s easier.

A Nielsen rating point is corporate catnip. It’s simple, standardized, and universally accepted. Procurement teams understand it. CFOs can plug it into a spreadsheet. CMOs can put it on an earnings-call slide. Nobody has to ask hard questions.

Contrast that with CTV. Fragmented inventory. Confusing measurement. A patchwork of currencies that even seasoned buyers struggle to decode. When buyers say “we bought the Super Bowl,” everyone nods. When they say “we optimized deduplicated reach across Roku, Hulu, YouTube, and Peacock,” they lose the room by slide two.

Linear is easy to explain. CTV is not. And in advertising, the easy story almost always wins.

Linear isn’t just media—it’s ritual.

The upfronts aren’t about efficiency; they’re about tradition, relationships, and perks. The same steak dinners. The same Broadway tickets. The same handshakes that lock in billions before a single rating point is delivered.

Walking away from linear isn’t just walking away from an ad buy—it’s walking away from the culture of comfort that defines Madison Avenue.

The deeper problem is structural. Agencies are machines designed to protect yesterday’s workflows.

Budgets are siloed. Linear lives in one bucket, digital in another, CTV in a third. The people who know how to buy GRPs don’t touch programmatic pipes. The programmatic folks don’t get invited to the upfront dinners. Incentives make sure nothing changes. If your bonus depends on delivering linear commitments, guess where the dollars go?

Agencies may brag about being “disruptive,” but their wiring is stuck in the last century.

Here’s the ugliest truth: CTV terrifies buyers.

Linear provides fog. You can hide behind Nielsen numbers, behind vague talk of “reach,” behind decades of invented certainty.

CTV offers no such cover. It cuts sharp. It shows exactly when you overexposed a household, when your frequency management collapsed, when your targeting flopped. That kind of accountability doesn’t play well in a business built on plausible deniability.

Linear lets buyers look good without working harder. CTV forces them to prove they’re actually good at their jobs.

Media buyers defend linear with buzzwords about reach, brand safety, and prestige. But strip away the spin and it’s about nostalgia and fear of change. They cling to linear because it feels safe, not because it makes brands grow.

It’s almost comical. Advertisers pour billions into shrinking audiences while pretending that CTV is “too complex.” It’s like insisting Blockbuster is a safer bet than Netflix because you know where the candy is in the store.

When the boss asks, “Where did my ads run?” saying “the Super Bowl” is bulletproof. Try explaining deduplicated reach across six CTV platforms and watch the CMO’s eyes glaze over.

Linear wins because it’s easy to defend—not because it works.

So why are media buyers so bad at advancing? Because risk is not rewarded in this business.

Linear offers predictability. CTV demands accountability. Linear makes buyers look like geniuses without breaking a sweat. CTV forces them to own the mess.

Until agencies redefine what “TV” actually means—streaming, social, digital, and linear under one roof—the absurd disconnect will remain: half the audience in CTV, two-thirds of the money locked in linear.

And when buyers finally move the dollars? They’ll rewrite history, pat themselves on the back, and claim they were “strategically cautious.” But let’s not kid ourselves: they weren’t cautious. They were stuck.

Because honesty — I do some serious deep dives with some of the toughest, baddest folks in the industry every single week. You think you know what’s going on? You don’t know what’s behind Door #2 until we kick it open.

If you’ve read how Publicis ate the whole restaurant or how Netflix turned nostalgia into an adtech money printer, you know the drill: no fluff, no PR spin, just the stuff the trades are too scared (or too cozy) to print.

Next up: WPP: The Giant That Keeps Tripping Over Its Own Feet. Yeah… you’ll want to see this one.

Stay bold. Stay curious. Know more than you did yesterday.