Andy Warhol

Andy Warhol survives into the 31st century the way so many celebrities do on Futurama: as a disembodied head bobbing in a jar of glowing green preservative. He turns up in crowd scenes and museum-style cameos, offering deadpan, detached little pronouncements, as unbothered by immortality as he apparently was by everything else.

The joke is built entirely on flattening a legendary aesthete into a talking jar, and David Herman's flat, bored line readings sell that indignity perfectly. He never overplays it — a single dry aside is funnier than a bit would be — which is exactly the show's gift for treating pop-culture icons as disposable furniture of the future.