Everywhere Man

He's ubiquity personified. So how does the perfectly coiffed, perpetually on-message Ryan Seacrest manage to skate that fine line between everywhere, all the time, and overexposed obnoxiousness? Or does he?

A Tom Shales story in yesterday's Washington Post aims to deconstruct the Seacrest M.O. for world (well, TV) domination which, apparently, started when Seacrest was about 8 years old. Look out, Dick Clark, Larry King and, gasp!, Oprah?

He's become, with the help of his 214 day jobs and the "American Idol" hosting gig, one of TV's most recognizable pieces of "anti-talent," Shales says. After all, it's Seacrest's job to affably highlight the real stars, not get in their way (tell that to Jim Carrey), and move the proceedings along:

"For all that, he stops mercifully short of outright sycophancy, a la Ed McMahon. Part of the Seacrest shtick is coming across as a little too cool for his role, yet a good enough sport to play along. Seacrest isn't lovable, nor foolish enough to try to be. He's just aiming for tolerable -- bull's-eye."

There's the obligatory discussion of his sexuality -- same old denials -- and a rundown of Seacrest Omnipresent Enterprises, which covers everything from syndicated radio to ad deals with Procter & Gamble.

Despite his high profile, Seacrest says he's not interested in being a star himself. (Imagine the kind of beat-down Simon Cowell -- pictured -- would have in store). Reconsider that? Who didn't love him in that surprising "Knocked Up" scene. But then again, he was playing himself.