in the cutthroat world of car dealership tv commercials in baltimore, one man shone above the staid jingle + pedestrian graphics recipe of his competitors. that man? the imitable scott donahoo, he of the scrapple-soaked southern rasp, fashion-forward wardrobe, and penchant for bastardizing rockin’ oldies into something very much his own.
spending more than ten years intermittently high and in front of a television can make a person very impressionable and ripe for dead-end crushes. did i love scott donahoo? no. did we share an unspoken connection that was forged between the verses of his half-baked parodies and their lackluster arrangements and compounded by his stunning lack of charisma? absolutely.
i miss you, scott. but i’m still never buying a kia from you.