If I’m ever stranded in a broken elevator with six strangers, I’d avoid divisive topics: politics, religion, AI, and pizza. Instead, I’d pass the time discussing one man: Homer Simpson. Homer and I go way back. He was there in 1st grade, when my school banned Simpsons from the dress code. He was there in my latchkey pre-teen years of cooking dinner for the family with the house to myself. And he’s been there in memes ever since, gingerly fading into boxwoods when things get awkward. Homer also happens to…