I was a boy when the Grammys began. And now I am a man.

With all due respect to Lizzo and her “Truth Hurts” flute trill, Tyler the Creator swinging a bleach-blonde bowl cut back and forth, Ariana Grande and her all-pink-everything "7 Rings" crew, it wasn't the performances that did it. Lovely, all of it, but no. It was something else entirely: A gruff, slow—slightly… condescending?—voice muttering a jingle. Ba-duh-ba-ba-bahh.

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Yeah, that was Brian Cox in that McDonald's commercial. Sadistic Succession king Logan Roy. Grumbling the McDonald’s jingle through what I imagine is a very small opening in the corner of his unamused mouth. There might not be another voice in the world I expected less to have heard on this night. But it was meant to be. Dubbed over slo-mo sex shots of a Quarter Pounder, he talks about the grand American creation, describing every millimeter, right down to the sesame seeds. The commercial returned with some variations throughout the course of this seemingly endless ceremony.

Before tonight, was I much of a Mickey D's kid? Nah. I haven’t had McDonald’s since my annual St. Patty’s Day Shamrock Shake, but something changed in me tonight. Fries, yes, in the burger just like Brian says you have to do in the commercial. Tomatoes, I hate tomatoes but not anymore never again, sesame seeds, more than I can even imagine, frozen meat... I’m there now. From now on, you can find me at the corner table, the wobbly red one near the toy display, at the McDonald’s closest to you. Perhaps I’ve always been there. Perhaps I always will be.

In the minutes since I heard the Brian Cox ASMR a Mickey D’s commercial, I’ve found a new lease on life. Life can give me the occasional gift. Life can surprise me.

You might say I’m loving it.

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