Acting is about human connection across cultural and social divides. But we can’t expect much of that in the ‘Tillyverse’

Rejoice, cinema lovers. Tilly Norwood is back! Not familiar? I don’t blame you, as she’s not exactly a household name yet – though a fleet of well-fed publicists is certainly trying to rectify that. Tilly Norwood is an “AI actor”, as in, an actor that’s not actually an actor at all. Just a series of digital blobs and lines of code designed to resemble a young woman in the lucrative 18-to-49-year-old target demographic. Thus far, Tilly has lived exclusively in easily digestible social media clips and hyperbolic press releases about the “future of entertainment”. But now, “she” (I feel like a complete buffoon for assigning a gender to a computer program) is finally ready for the world of feature films. The company Particle6, which spat out this risible creation, announced that it has commenced development on a motion picture starring this very elaborate and expensive cartoon avatar.

The film, titled Misaligned, will see Tilly seduced by a rogue program into experimenting with human emotions – “desires, impulses, and ambition”, as described by Variety. The company claims that the film will be a “coming-of-age story infused with existential AI chaos”. I can’t help but wonder what resonance a “coming-of-age story” can have if the protagonist is a computer program that doesn’t understand the concept of time, ageing or mortality. Does Tilly Norwood understand the concept of a 24-hour day? Does “she” know the glorious warmth of a mid-afternoon sun? Has “she” ever forgotten to move her car because it’s street cleaning day on her block? Tilly Norwood, being an animated sprite, is neither “coming” nor “of age”. But then again, isn’t acting all about accessing experiences you’ve never had?

Dave Schilling is a Los Angeles-based writer and humorist

With marriage rates in decline, the appeal of a big wedding that we can live vicariously is stronger than ever

Finally, after decades, I have something in common with Taylor Swift. It feels great to say that out loud, in public. No, I’m not famous, rich, particularly attractive, or a woman. I really, really can’t sing. Like, not even my karaoke is tolerable for human ears (dogs seem to be fine with it). No, our sole point of connection in the cosmic swirl of life is that we’ve both been married. I can’t compare this achievement to winning a Grammy or selling out Crypto.com Arena 16 times, but it has to be on the list somewhere.

My wedding did not come close to the upwards of $50m floated by People Magazine as the cost of Swift’s. We got the venue for free because my wife’s family owned it, which is its own sort of privilege. Lena Dunham didn’t attend, but I certainly sent enough invites. Still, getting someone to agree to tolerate you “till death do you part” is no small feat. Did we get divorced three years later? Of course. I can’t believe she dealt with me even that long. Will Taylor and Travis Kelce beat our record? Depends on how often he forgets to put the toilet seat down in one of their numerous homes across the country. That guy just seems like the sort to make that mistake regularly. Don’t ask me how I came to this conclusion. I trust my own eyes.

Dave Schilling is a Los Angeles-based writer and humorist

Instead of a UFC event and poorly attended state fair, how about ditching the electoral college and a new season of Game of Thrones?

I hate birthdays, especially my own, which is ominously arriving next month. I used to love them, back in those days when I had something tangible to look forward to: getting my first car, graduating high school, my first legal alcoholic drink, a new Star Wars film that’s actually good. That time is long gone. I can do all those things I listed, plus I haven’t seen a good Star Wars movie in more than 20 years. What am I even celebrating at 42? A slightly paunchier waistline? A larger bald spot? If the present you’re getting me isn’t a free Turkish hair transplant, I don’t want it. I don’t relish being 42, but imagine if I were 250?

America (the country, not the band) turns 250 this weekend, and we’re all meant to celebrate that fact on the Fourth of July. Millions of dollars have been poured into marking the occasion, though few of the events hold much appeal for me. I didn’t watch the UFC event; I have no desire to watch a bunch of cars driving around in circles, and the PragerU Freedom Truck hasn’t even come to my town. I couldn’t even get to finally see Vanilla Ice live in concert. Like every birthday, a lot of money has poured into a day where no one has any fun.