Thursday, July 22, 2010

Not the Answer to any Question I can think of

This ad by the bottom-feeding, soulless scum buckets who prey on the most desperate among us opens like a trailer to a really, really bad movie-- but instead of "she thought she had lost her true love" or something equally cliche'd and treacly, we get a message about how getting over your head in debt can...

1. Cause bouts of uncontrollable...crying? Vomiting? Laughing? I really don't know what the woman sitting on the stairs is doing. Perhaps because I watched this commercial without sound. Perhaps because I wasn't paying all that much attention, which will tick off some people who take this blog WAYYYY too seriously, I'm not naming names here.

2. Subject you to scary middle-aged guys in dress shirts "harassing" you by (gasp) calling you at home and work and knocking on your door with intimidating questions like "when do you plan to repay that money you borrowed?" You know, super-abusive, threatening stuff like that, which "threatens the security of your family." Except that, by law, one phone call to each creditor will stop them from calling you at home or work, or coming to your home. Not that any of these Debt Consolidation predators will ever tell you this- nope, if you are two days late on your VISA payment, expect Rocco and his brass knuckles to show up at your doorstep in a very foul mood.

However, signing up for the offered "service" can lead to

1. Tranquil moments with one's laptop, sitting on a beach while (presumably) making your "one easy monthly payment" and giving yourself a "YES!" fist pump as you pretend that you made something resembling a sound financial decision when you hired these bums to do what you could have done yourself, for FREE

2. Watching your savings "grow" quarter by quarter in a huge pink piggy bank....actually, I have no idea what this is supposed to mean. Because I didn't pay close enough attention, because again, I don't take this blog seriously enough.

Sigh. Look, as everyone with half a brain realizes, all companies like "Credit Answers" do (besides buy roughly 90 percent of the ad time on XM/Sirius) is get people to add to their debt by either

A. Hiring them to do "complicated" things like call the creditors and make offers-- again, something the debtor can do all by themselves, just as well, for FREE, while acting as "friendly banker" to the debtor by collecting monthly deposits to build a settlement payment-- paying themselves first, of course, or

B. Offering people who are already in trouble yet ANOTHER high-interest loan to replace the multiple creditors they have now. Is "one easy payment" really better than several monthly payments? Almost never. Why not? Ask the operator about a little something, hardly worth mentioning really, called the "fund transfer fee." Then ask how on Earth any credit company can justify charging hundreds of dollars to push a button and send money that you are already going to pay a high interest rate on into your bank account.

(The answer is, of course, "because we can.")

Most of the time, I blog about commercials that just irritate me. Sometimes, I blog about commercials because I think they insult the intelligence of the viewer, or fail to put a good face on the product being offered for sale. In this case, I'm blogging because I'm just plain angry. It's one thing to pitch junk food or cell phones to people who have money to be foolish with. It's another thing entirely to offer an anvil disguised as a life raft to a drowning person. The amoral jackasses who target the desperate with these ads really need to be slapped down, hard, by truth in advertising laws.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Hyundai asks, "How gullible are our potential customers?"

"We wanted to find out what people really thought of the new Hyundai, so we installed cameras in our cars. Some may call this eavesdropping. We call it Hyundai Uncensored."

Some may call it a stunningly tone-deaf invasion of privacy and a great way to alienate customers- I can tell you that if I were told, after taking a test drive, that a camera had been fixed on my face and every word I uttered picked up by hidden audio equipment, I might call an attorney, but I certainly wouldn't be buying a car from these voyeuristic creeps.

Except, of course, that just a few seconds into the ad, we know that this has to be a come on. Check out the "unsolicited," "uncensored" over-the-top gushing from the drivers, who if they are sincere have clearly never driven anything more advanced and comfortable than a 1973 Pacer. Come on, Hyundai- you can't tell me that these idiots didn't know damn well that they were being filmed, and that if they read their lines with sufficient enthusiasm, they'd find their sorry, grinning faces on the TV.

I mean, let's be reasonable here. If this wasn't a set-up, we'd see at least one person saying SOMETHING that didn't sound like he was having an orgasm over one of your cars. We'd hear a curse word now and then, or something, ANYTHING negative about the car being driven. This is supposed to be "uncensored," right? Oh, but maybe that's different from "unedited," as in "here at Hyundai we think it's perfectly honest to show you five seconds of conversation from a 20-minute test drive and call that 'uncensored.'"

So, "hidden" cameras catching "unsuspecting" drivers in ecstasy over the prospect of purchasing a Hyundai- yeah, right. But then, what can we expect from a car company that encourages us to seek out "second opinions" concerning Hyundai from the Official Hyundai Website? I'm sure that's at least as "uncensored" as the clips from this commercial.

"Here at Hyundai, we just assume that our customers are easily-deceived morons who can be bought off with the promise of a few seconds of tv face time, OR have no respect for their own right to privacy. Either way, we think we should be your car company." Pass.

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Enjoy your last day on Earth, you little prick

There is so much wrong with this commercial for Chrysler's archaic behemoth, the "Town and Country" (so called, I figure, because it's big enough to have it's own zip code.)

First, it seems to be operating on the premise that there's something very funny about a little kid being threatened with a beating after school. I thought we were way past the Being Beaten Up Is Hilarious theme, but ok- this is going to work, I think, because the intended victim is going to escape the bullies. Yay intended victim!

So the kid dashes down the road and escapes the bullies because his mom inexplicably leaves the hatch to the family land monster open for him to leap into (Do Not Attempt, kids.) Since the car is a fortress, complete with security cameras (for Christ's sake, how f--ing helpless can we get, people?) the bullies have been defeated. Yay intended victim! Yay mom (though her "there you are sweety!" is a bit treacly for me- I'd rather hear her ask "what did you do, propel yourself into the back of the car? Why did you do that? Come to think of it, why did I have that hatch open- is this how you get in the car EVERY afternoon?")

Ah, but being a little kid, Intended Victim just can't leave well enough alone. Suddenly he becomes an ass, stinging his tongue out at his tormentors and giving them a mocking leer as Mommy takes him home in the family's life-saving Suburban Tank. And now we get a little insight as to why this kid was a target- he's not a little kid worthy of our sympathy after all. He's that insipid little creep we all remember from school- the one who was the bravest guy in the world when holding on to his mom or dad's leg, and nowhere to be seen when mom and dad were not around.

The one who was always too damned stupid to remember that tomorrow is another day, and the people you torment have long memories. Tomorrow, you'll get no sympathy from me, you idiot. I suggest you discuss the situation with your mom over a nice hot plate of Kraft Mac' n Cheese tonight.

A Hotel which lets Me be Me

As opposed to Best Western, Red Roof, and Comfort Suites, which all require that I be "someone else" in order to pay through the nose for a cramped room next to the ice machine featuring overstuffed beds and the enticing offer of a $4.50 bottle of water.
Whatever, Holiday Inn.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Ribs are splitting over at YouTube

1. Take two bored and boring young men with the combined brain wattage of a firefly in late summer who are so vapid that all they can think of when they see a hamster in a cage is "can you milk a hamster?"

2. The deadly mixture of boredom and vast stupidity leads one of these idiots to reply "let's KGB it." Sure, let's. Because this is something we have to know right now, not in the approximately 8 seconds it would take to Google it for FREE.

3. Neither of these guys can figure out why their cell phone bill is so damned high every month, and why they never seem to have any money. I'm sure it's got nothing to with the impulse to "KGB it" every time a pathetic, childish non-thought pops into an otherwise empty skull.

4. At the KGB Command Center, we learn that when you "KGB it," you are really just passing your question on to people who really have no idea, but are willing to take your money and provide a "why the hell not" answer, which is exactly what you deserve if you use this "service."

5. Here's where it gets really ugly. A guy who could only be their boss, sitting in what could only be a break room, is putting milk into a cup of coffee and asking "what is this, soy milk?"

Do I really have to continue?

We are left with the unmistakable impression that these two worthless sacks of bile actually went ahead and milked that hamster.

Then brought the milk to work.

Then let their boss put it in his coffee.

And thought this was funny.

And this is supposed to make us want to use this product. Not throw a brick through the screen, not recoil in disgust, not take a solemn pledge to never, ever be so stupid or drunk that we find ourselves wasting a dollar to indulge that really, really idiotic notion that happened to occur to us while the trusty cell phone was within reach.

Coming next- "I wonder if frogs are flammable." Oh, the hilarity.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

When Teens Become Homeowners

Here's a little nugget from Lowe's new ad campaign, which I believe is entitled "you are an idiot and can't screw in a lightbulb without our help, so plan on living at Lowe's." Two gawky 14-year olds who you can't imagine doing anything more intimate than holding hands have inexplicably put together the capital and credit required to buy a pretty damn substantial-looking house in the suburbs. Hilarity ensues, as the two refugees from Kraft Mac' n Cheese commercials attempt to play Grown-Up and "do it themselves." At some point, I imagine, all that yappity-yap they got from their smothering parents about "using a licensed real estate agent" and "having a thorough inspection done before you sign" as they updated their FaceBook accounts with "OMIGOD TODD AND I R BYING A HOUSE LOL!" will come back to haunt them. Probably around the time winter sets in and they flee to Lowe's to ask what all this "insulation" stuff is about- "we've heard it's pink, and there's this cartoon panther that sells it, or something."

It occurs to me that if you are calling Lowe's in response to your washing machine going bezerk, or finding four feet of water in your basement, you really aren't ready to move out of your mom's basement anyway. Every consider renting, kids? No? Well then, let me put on my Middle Aged Man cape and give you some practical advice- if your washing machine is on the fritz, consult your warranty information and call the dealer for service. If you have a lake of water in your basement, call an f--ing plumber.

Tomorrow, I'll show you how to make toast without killing yourselves, ok?

(I'm so proud of myself. I got through the entire post without even pointing out the girl's bizarre forehead which, if these arrested-development troglodytes on YouTube are accurate, has it's own FaceBook page. Good for me!)

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Please, Kill Me Now

I's been a while since I've done a cell phone commercial at his site, so I feel like I'm returning to safe, familiar ground with today's post. This I Phone commercial is aimed squarely at all of us idiots who are perfectly happy with cell phones which allow you to call and text- who don't need Apps, who don't need cameras, who don't want to Tweet or Twitter or check email on the go, and despite a few years of aggressive marketing have not yet become convinced that we NEED all these bells and whistles.

The gloves are off- phone companies are tired of trying to sell us crap- now they are going to simply warn us that if we DON'T buy in, we are doomed to social isolation. Hot girls will have nothing to do with us once they realize that we can only use our phones for actually making calls. If we can't check our email ( 27 emails? Hey buddy, she's too popular for you, anyway) she's going to move on to someone more likely to ignore her during dates to check the box scores on his Blackberry. This makes sense, somewhere.

Still, the way this woman flees the scene of the "crime," as if the guy just blurted out that he's really into crystal meth and his Barbie collection- is a bit over the top. Are girls really this turned off by guys who don't have the newest phone technology? Really?

"Don't live with phone shame." Much better, I guess, to live with bad credit, which is just around the corner if you buy in to the notion that the way to impress people is by purchasing the newest shiny things the moment they hit the market. Sure you won't have any money- but the big screen and cool apps are sure to get that cute girl you just met in the sack, and quick. Bleh.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Ok, One More

I thought I was done with these ads, but like the Smirnoff Vodka "I Was There" campaign last summer, they just keep coming and coming, begging to be snarked upon. I really hope this is the last, because I'm running out of ways to describe the product.

This one is even more nasty and vile than the three previous gag-worthy offerings from Kraft. Once again, we have a sneering little creep speaking directly into the camera, whining about an idiot parent who isn't satisfied dishing out cheap, trailer-trash food (well, it does have calories, so I guess it qualifies as food) to his offspring, but insists on "stealing" some of it, too.

For a change of pace, the "victim" this time is a boy, otherwise there's not much new to see here. As usual, we are shown a white family living in an upscale suburban mansion inexplicably eating junk which is a staple for minimum-wage workers, poor college students, and single moms. But here's an extra-nasty little twist- the kid tells us that he's been put in "time out" in the middle of the meal "for a minor dinner table infraction." Setting aside the all-too-common ploy of sticking advanced vocabulary words into the mouths of little kids (real original, Kraft,) how retrograde is the "kid punished by being sent away without his dinner" theme? What is this, 1960?

And not only is this kid being punished by being made to go hungry, but the rest of his family could clearly not give a damn. Dad is helping himself to the kid's mac 'n cheese, never mind that he has to repeatedly lean over the table while pretending to listen to his other offspring to do it. Daughter (who has apparently slipped into a preservatives-and-fat coma by the conclusion) pretends to converse with Dad without offering one word of protest for his vile behavior (if this is acceptable, I don't want to imagine what Exiled Boy's "minor dinner table infraction" was.)

The final scene is just tacked on, making no real sense for anyone who thinks about it for more than a fraction of a moment- the kid suddenly appears at the dinner table like Banquo's ghost, apparently visible only to Dad- "Are you finished?" Then he walks off without waiting for an answer from stunned dad. I'm sure the YouTube mouth-breathers find this hysterical, but seriously- that's the punchline? "You banished a growing boy from the dinner table and ate his food- are you done?"

Here's what would have been more amusing- if the kid had said "I'm asking my teacher to call Child Protective Services tomorrow. Because it was bad enough that you're such a cheapskate that you are willing to raise your family on this crud, but it's even worse when you use food deprivation as punishment." Hey, I bet even Daughter would have taken notice of that.

Friday, July 9, 2010

Bag This, State Farm

This is one of those commercials which just doesn't seem complete without one of the characters just kicking the crap out of several of the others.

Here's a reasonable-looking guy with his head firmly planted on his shoulders, trying to save a little cash by brown-bagging it. Times are tough, and eating out can get seriously expensive, and every dollar counts, right? Well, check out the response he gets from his friends- derisive laughter that I wouldn't tolerate for two damn seconds before getting up and walking the hell out.

And check out the smarmy little prick sitting in the booth- "what some people won't do to try to save money!" Yeah, what a freaking nut, bring lunch from home! What's next- bringing coffee in a travel cup instead of hitting Starbucks? Where will the insanity end?

Thankfully, Mr. State Farm is available to give us REAL clues on how to save money, so you don't show poorly for your "friends" by demonstrating what I thought was just common-sense frugality. I'm sure that after a few minutes on the phone with an insurance agent, you'll be back to blowing $30- $40 a week with the guys at the lunch counter.

"When you are on date, do you bring two of those?" No, asshole, when I'm on a date, I take her to a nice restaurant. Because I can afford to do that, saving so much money by not eating out every day. It's called budgeting, and it's not dumb, or worthy of derision. It's smart, which is a lot more than I can say for the people I thought were my friends.

Seriously, why would anyone want to have lunch with these jerks? This commercial just makes me angry at State Farm, which is actively sneering at the idea of saving money unless it's done by purchasing their insurance.

The Summer of Mac 'n Me

Why is it that every woman in these mac'n cheese commercials is on the phone while her kid is eating?

Why is this girl, who looks well past three years old, eating dinner by herself? Way to model good eating habits, lady. Why the hell aren' you sitting with your daughter, with your OWN food? Better yet, why aren't you serving your kid real, nutritious food that might actually be good for her, instead of this crap? Oh yeah, I forgot- because it's something you can throw together while you blather away on the phone.

Why are all the kids in these commercials so damned creepy-looking? I mean, really- each and every one of them looks like they are one chant away from summoning up the power to wish their loathsome, lazy-ass parents into the cornfield. They look sooooo pissed off to be Only Children living in massive suburban palaces with their wealthy but utterly clueless, senseless and tasteless parents. Yeah, we really feel for you guys. Other than the fact that you'll be needing heart surgery before you graduate from High School, you seem to be doing ok.

Finally- if this kid knows that her idiot, disgusting mother is going to return again and again to "poach" a forkful of this orange crud, why doesn't she just eat the damned junk already? I's like she knows it's really, really bad for her and she's actually quite satisfied to have mommy take the fall by consuming it.

I mean, she does kind of look like that girl from the original "The Bad Seed," doesn't she?

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Remember when it used to mean a book and a hot bath?

Who writes this crap? Let's take a look at the four people in this commercial that we are supposed to identify with. They all have two things in common- they are all insufferable idiots, and they all have magically fresh McDonald's "Frappes" (give me a break, they are coffee-flavored milkshakes) overflowing with whipped cream in their hands:

Jackass No. 1 works in customer "service." We know this because he's sitting in a cubicle wearing a headset. "My Me Time is when I'm dealing with a problem I had nothing to do with" he sighs as he continues to pretend that the caller is Very Important To Him as he drifts into a Me Time coma. He clearly is paying no attention to the caller's complaint, and it's equally clear that the caller will get zero satisfaction from this douche. I only hope that the call really is Being Monitored, so this asshole finds himself and his precious milkshake out on the street soon. Plenty of Me time available then, jerkoff.

Next, we come to a lovely couple inexplicably trying to crowd themselves on to an inflatable mattress while they balance their milkshakes. Groan. Her "Me time" is "when my inlaws are in town" the female tells us. Haha, nothing fresher than a "I hate my inlaws" joke, is there? But, for Christ's sake, accepting the idea that the inlaws have taken the master bedroom and the hosts must make do on an inflatable mattress in the den, WHY do they have to sit on it NOW, while balancing their milkshakes? Wouldn't it be more comfortable just to stand or sit in a chair? Is taking a milkshake to bed just part of their daily routine? Is there a McDonalds across the street in this poorly-zoned suburb? Stupid, Stupid, Stupid!

Finally, we have an angry-looking consumer of air travel standing by the baggage carousel, informing us that his "Me Time" is when his bags go to Bermuda- but he doesn't. This should be the most realistic of the segments, because yes, there are a lot of McDonalds Restaurants in airports, so that unlike the other characters we aren't left wondering where the hell he bought his milkshake or how he managed to convey it to his current location in straight-from-the-machine condition. But still, I wonder what this guy is still doing at the airport, still standing next to the baggage carousel, when he KNOWS his bag was sent to the wrong place-- does he plan to stand there gaining weight with every sip with a stupid grin on his face until the bag is returned?

Who writes this crap? People who don't mind poaching other ad campaigns for ideas, obviously. Some years back, Haagen-Daz gave us a series of ads in which people were encouraged to "have some more" in response to personal disasters, a terrific "fatty food makes everything better" message well-suited to the current McDonalds campaign. But I suppose that the idea that we should fill our down time by consuming calorie-dense crap has been around for at least as long as mass-produced ice cream and the golden arches. Watching alleged grown-ups consider drinking milkshakes as a form of "Me Time" is still pretty pathetic, though.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

We end the day with the traditional burning of a giant, cross-shaped celery stalk

There's a place- a very magical place- where people aren't afraid of vegetables. A place where white Anglo-Saxon Protestants gather with their children to joyfully consume huge amounts of vegetables in a wholesome (did I mention WHITE?) setting. Where boys wear pants and girls wear their moms 1960s-era hand me down skirts. A place which just looks so gosh-darned lush and green and wholesome, you just want to pick it up and hug it to death. Or take a photo of it and use it to create a Hallmark Card, or a commercial for your Republican candidate for the Senate.

That place is Hidden Valley.

In Hidden Valley, nobody attempts to distract their spouses when the word "vegetable" is uttered in front of small children. You won't catch anyone banging pots and pans, or crashing grocery carts into pyramids of soup cans, to drown out the "v" word. In fact, in Hidden Valley, vegetables are to be celebrated, not shunned or disguised as junk food.

Yes, in Hidden Valley, people love their veggies. Specifically, they love them drowning in thick, fatty tar called "salad dressing." Pouring Hidden Valley Ranch dressing all over your salad isn't EXACTLY the same as deep-frying it or encasing it in fudge, but it's pretty darned close. And teaching kids that vegetables are really yummy if you can't taste hem isn't QUITE as bad as hiding a single serving in a can of Chef Boy-R-Dee's Big Ravioli, but almost. And eating salad dressing mixed with vegetables is a far better idea than daily trips to the local McDonald's where you can watch them sugar the french fries as they explain to your toddler why the Shrek Over and Over Again Collector's Glass she's been shrieking for was too dangerous to keep adding to Happy Meals, but it's still not the way to develop healthy eating habits (especially the way the people in these commercials do it- jesus, is a bottle of Kraft Salad Goo a "single serving," or what?)

Oh yeah, one more thing- in Hidden Valley, self-satisfied suburban parents think that they are being responsible caregivers for their Precious Little Ones by keeping them away from Mac n' Cheese and Canned Ravioli and feeding them food that was naturally green, red and orange before they slathered it with bottled white crap? Can't you just see these pretentious idiots carefully selecting each piece of produce at the local farmer's market, paying upscale prices for the stuff labeled "organic," and then wrecking their own good intentions by adding loads of fat and salt to their groceries?

The Stupid! It Burns!

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

And He and his Kin lived Happily Ever After

I think that the following are fair assumptions, based on my observation of people who seem to be obsessive-compulsive when it comes to using their cell phones in public places:

1. Cell phones, far from making life "easier" or "more fun," simply create more work. It's been years since I first heard a person complain "Now that I have a cell phone, I'm on call 24/7!" and then gave me a dirty look when I asked why they

A. Had a cell phone, if they wanted to be out of contact, or
B. Had a cell phone they did not know how to turn off, or
C. Felt that just because they received a call or text on their cell phone, they were compelled to answer it (has Voice Mail ever achieved the same usefulness as an Answering Machine? Apparently not.)

(Actual quote from my twenty-something niece: "the problem with texts are, you have to answer them.")

2. FaceBook, far from being a fun distraction from the real world and a new way to engage in "Social Networking," has become a time-sucking obsession for people who are convinced that

A. If they note what they are doing, someone, somewhere, will care, or
B. If they throw themselves at the mercy of the World Wide Web, one of the other 5 billion people out there will find them interesting enough to want to talk to them, or
C. If they spend enough time on FaceBook, they will somehow convince themselves that they have this really cool life which includes lots of friends and fun.

Assuming these two things, I have to make one more assumption about anyone who would buy a KIN, this new gadget which combines the obnoxiousness of the cell phone with the fantasy life offered by FaceBook: Judging from how long this idiot spends scrolling through photographs, maps, contact lists, etc without ever actually accomplishing anything of value other than managing to avoid eye contact with his fellow carbon-based life forms and developing a crick in his neck, I believe that it's reasonable to conclude that the photographs shown on the screen (especially the one of the girl at the beach, which appears in multiple ads) of people having fun dancing, hiking, mugging for the camera, etc. are all pre-loaded. Because there is simply no way that anyone who owns one of these stupid things actually knows any of these people or does any of this stuff. What the KIN offers is another element for the weird parallel universe some people began to live in when they realized that no matter how many times it was updated, The Sims just didn't cut it for them. FaceBook allows one to indulge in the seductive fantasy of popularity- "look how many friends I have"- without fear of rejection or loss. KIN takes it a step further, making it easy for you to take your FaceBook with you, so there's no excuse for you to not update it constantly with photographs of random people doing random things, with whom you can now claim to have a strong interpersonal bond.

It's only a matter of time before we hear someone complain "Now that I have a KIN, I have to add to my FaceBook page 24/7!" But don't worry about answering- they aren't really talking to you, they are just repeating what they just texted onto the internet. Because really, if they wanted to start a conversation with you, they might have to look up sometimes. Can't have that.

Kind of odd, though: if the guy in the AT&T Commercial hadn't looked away from his phone for two seconds, he would never have met his destiny and we would never have been blessed with their offspring, the 57th President of the United States. Now I don't know what to believe.

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Happy July 4th from our friends at Budweiser

Anyone who has been alive for more than a few years has probably become numb to the weirdly hypocritical way in which America treats it's historical icons. On one hand, we've got an entire "news" network dedicated to elevating them to the level of sainthood, arguing that their every utterance was inspired by God, and everything they wrote was meant to guide this nation for all eternity. Support of slavery? Disdain for the idea of equality for women? Look away, nothing to see here....

On the other hand, the Founders have always been used to sell, sell, sell everything from mattresses to automobiles. They've been part of the ad culture for as long as there's been an ad culture. Washington's image appeared on cigar boxes in the 1880s. I used to play with Lincoln Logs. Ben Franklin Paint. Ethan Allen Furniture. Turn on the Hotel Channel in Philadelphia, and you can watch some fat oaf in a costume urge you to visit every single attraction the city has to offer 24/7.

This Budweiser ad makes me wonder if we might want to tone down our treatment of the Founding Fathers as readily-available, public domain pitchmen in the future. I mean, presenting Washington , Jefferson and Franklin as beer-crazy, party-loving leches is a bit much.

Well , Ok, maybe you can keep Franklin in there. But do we really need to see The Father of Our Country propositioning a woman with a line like "how'd you like to be the 'Second Lady?" First of all, the line is ridiculously awkward. Second, dammit, George Washington was almost legendary in his devotion to Martha, who outlived him. It's one thing to use GW to sell me beer. Don't slander him while doing it, please.

How about this revolutionary (no pun intended) concept- for one weekend a year, ad agencies leave off exploiting the vague, cloudy memory that most Americans have toward the people who fought for our Independence from some country, wrote some Declaration, and then wrote something else that isn't the Declaration but which, according to Glenn Beck, still calls us to be a nation which worships Capitalism, God, and Guns, not necessarily in that order? You know, that document that Obama is spending every day huddled with William Ayers and Jeremiah Wright and George Soros plotting to destroy?

Nah. Pass the beer and Hillshire Smoked Brats, I've got to post LOL THS IS THE FUNNYST COMMERSHAL EVAH on YouTube.

Friday, July 2, 2010

Keep on Living the Dream, Guys!

What do guys do? I mean, what do they do when they aren't throwing big heavy filth-covered pieces of machinery into Ford F-150s, having orgasms at the sight of beer, or pumping gallons of Round Up on to that one weed sticking out of their driveways?

Well, we knew already what they DON'T do-- they don't shave. They don't comb their hair. They don't make themselves presentable in polite society in any way, shape or form.

Thanks to Hillshire Farms, we have a pretty good idea of What Guys Do, at least on the weekends. They stand in their designated cubicle-yards grilling artery-hardening, environment-robbing meat products, pouring god knows how many toxins into the atmosphere (and into their bodies) in the process. Ah, suburbia, ain't i wonderful?

And as they turn the one or two sausages they used an entire bag of charcoal and half a can of lighter fluid to slightly brown, they attempt to make contact with the other Neighborhood Guys, who are producing their own clouds of pollutant in their own cubicle-yards, standing next to their own suburban palaces, which by the way are all made out of ticky-tacky and all look just the same. The dominant Guy of the Herd sings out the marching orders- to pay homage to Meat- and his supplicants (one of which is, judging from the mustache, a retired 70s porn star) respond appreciatively. My guess is that the one guy on the block busy putting the final touches on the beet salad keeps his mouth shut. No point in upsetting the Neighborhood Association, after all.

None of this looks at all familiar to me, which means that either I'm not a Guy, or I'm not a Real Guy. But that's ok- being a Guy doesn't look like a whole lot of fun in commercials, and not especially healthy, either.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

The Awkward, Creepy Way I Met Your Mother

It used to be so hard for stalkers to ply their trade. Before the age of GPS and Internet-connected cell phones, one might spend days or even weeks carefully watching one's Object of Obsession, making crude maps detailing her daily routine, scribbling notes into hand-held ledgers, etc. And just when you thought you had it down to a science, she'd do something out of character, like jump on a train or point you out to a cop. Stalking was an art.

Now, thanks to modern technology, anyone can become a stalker on a whim. Check out this commercial- guy notices a cute girl on a train; specifically, he notes that he can stare at her without her becoming repulsed at the gawky, scruffy creep standing on the platform. With the touch of a button (perhaps using the same magic service that idiot who left his presentation in the taxi did in an earlier commercial- you remember, the guy who managed to access an unfamiliar copying machine and send the presentation to it in roughly six seconds flat) this clown adjusts his itinerary so that he can leap aboard the train and park himself next to the poor girl, who really needs access to the same service so she can adjust HER travel plans, and quick.

Where's the train going? Doesn't matter- this girl is on it. And when she gets off the train? So will he. How adorable. I guess.

Ah, but this is just the beginning, it turns out- the start of a relationship which ends with this couple raising "The 57th President of the United States."

First of all, Barack Obama is the 44th POTUS. Let's assume he's defeated in 2012, and of the next dozen Presidents, half serve two four-year terms, and half serve only one. Let's also assume that none die in office or resign. This would result in the 57th President of the United States taking the oath of office on January 20, 2085. Well, ok- I guess that's plausible- the couple meets in 2010, dates a few years, gets married, and has the future Leader of the Free World a few years later-- does the guy we see waving to the crowds at the start of the commercial look to be seventy years old? Maybe. Do his adoring parents, shown beaming in the crowd, look anywhere near 100? Absolutely not.

Second of all, as a friend pointed out after seeing this ad, isn't it nice to know that when the peddlers of pointless "essential" technology sought out a guy to play "the 57th President of the United States," they immediately thought "gray-haired, slim, non-ethnic looking white guy?"

It seems that while our stalking technology can be expected to continue to grow by leaps and bounds in the coming decades, we'll be going right back to our old habits when it comes to electing Presidents as soon as the Age of Obama is over. Thanks for letting us know, AT&T.