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Saturday Night Live

Chloe Fineman's "Busy Philipps" has some obvious pleasures; as with "Drew Barrymore" and "Elizabeth Holmes," this is a sharp portrait of an entitled white lady being oblivious.

The short film is a story and also a persuasive essay. The story: Busy has had A DAY. She has a cold; she recently enjoyed chips and guac; she had her hair colored.

There's never a suggestion that this story might be less-than-enchanting. In fact, Busy is so confident in her intoxicating narrative gifts, she ends with an idea: "I was thinking, I SHOULD HOST THE OSCARS. My thinking I can't host the Oscars is just a bit of internalized misogyny...."

I'm delighted by all of this, but I'm especially thrilled by the mysterious, crazy laugh that follows the chips-and-guac line. Why is Busy suddenly lost in hysteria? And why doesn't she bother to explain?

That insane laugh is a sign of genius. It's what separates Chloe Fineman from the rest of the world.

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