Saturday, November 30, 2013
1. Yes, "everybody knows that." Of course, what "everybody knows" is not that "fifteen minutes can save you fifteen percent." It's "everybody knows that's been Geico's motto since roughly the Polk Administration."
2. Why does this woman feel compelled to voice the vapid non-thought which popped into her brain when she saw the commercial? Is she showing off her reading skills? Like "check me out, I can comprehend what the screen says. Impressive, huh?"
3. If you are working out and you can carry on a conversation like this, you aren't working out. These women achieve a more rapid heartbeat sprawled on their couches, surfing their cable selection.
4. If you didn't know way in advance that the stupid tree falling in the stupid forest was going to say "little help?" you were either not paying attention, REALLY stupid, or a liar. Because wow, talk about an obvious line.
5. Is Geico even capable of producing a commercial which effectively sells it's product? Because there's no evidence of this that I have ever seen.
I guess the e-cigarette wins her approval because hey, it's not a vaccine. But anyway....
Maybe now that you've embraced a way to quit smoking, maybe you could break free of your apparent addiction to plastic surgery?
Seriously, woman. You are 41 years old. It's not a death sentence. Own it. Before you contain more plastic than the Barbie doll you are desperately trying to resemble.
(Oh, and BTW, congratulations on your success in quitting smoking. I'm told that it's an extremely difficult addiction to escape. However you actually managed to do it, good for you. Now please, just grow old gracefully already. And learn something about vaccines before you do any more harm, moron.)
Friday, November 29, 2013
It's not this particular commercial, which seems to feature entire families who are so stunted in their ability to show emotion that they think handing someone a deep-fried bird part is an acceptable alternative to using words (but seriously, just look at these weirdos- their whole lives seem to revolve around the ritualistic Sharing Of The Chicken. What the hell?)
It's not the implied message that Greasy Crap=Love. Because in a world where Cars=Love, Texts=Love, and Consumption in General=Love, this is pretty tame.
Nope, what has always bothered about me with KFC ads is the Magic Overflowing Bucket which appears in every single one. It doesn't matter if two people are sharing the chicken, or twenty. When you see a bucket of KFC, it's always bursting with over-sized legs, thighs and breasts. At one point in the commercial I embedded here, a leg is delicately lifted from a mountain of pieces which looks in real danger of collapsing under it's own weight. Anyone who has ever actually purchased a bucket of chicken from KFC knows that in real life, the bucket is maybe 2/3 full with a greasy white plastic lid shoved into it. The overflowing bucket is only possible if you take two buckets and try to shove them together into one. And that STILL won't get you the huge golden-brown plastic things you see in these ads- generally the fried chicken I've seen from this place is much smaller, darker and drier-looking.
Next time you find yourself watching one of these ads, note that there might be a dozen people sitting around, each one eating chicken- yet at the center of the room you'll see the bucket, still overflowing as if has yet to be touched. Like some mythical food-providing table cloth or cauldron from an ancient kid's story, except I'm not sure I would actually want to refer to KFC as "food."
However, there is one good thing that comes out of these KFC ads- they give me the opportunity to share one of my favorite scenes from one of my favorite films (skip to 1:16 to see it.) A bottomless bag of coffee- now THAT'S something I could really use!
Thursday, November 28, 2013
It's hardly surprising that the official version of this ad on YouTube not only forbids embedding, but even commenting. It's as if JC Penny KNOWS this is atrocious, disgusting garbage and simply doesn't want to hear about it or share it's shame.
So why did they even bother to put together an ad which features people literally begging to say goodbye to the family and giving thanks and all that crap and head off to the crowded mall and overworked, underpaid minions and shop shop shop shop shop, shop shop shop shop? Do they WANT us to hate them?
If so, mission accomplished. I'm cutting up my JC Penny card. And sharing this on my blog, well aware that the video will probably be yanked from YouTube before the end of the day because while Penny's wants to you get the message, they sure as hell don't want you to reflect on it, comment on it, or share it. Because they know that while they are revoltingly greedy, amoral dickwads, they also know that most of us aren't and will be repelled by this if we just think about it for more than a few seconds.
In the sequel to this stupid little nub of nothing, the fat doofus looking to buy a truck here comes back with his equally vapid, dumb-looking spawn and re-introduces himself to Jan, our favorite frozen-smile Toyota spokeschoad. I'll be sure to post that one when it pops up on YouTube, but because we all like to be reminded of the original before we catch Part II....
Fat Moron wants a car "to pull his boat." He lets us know very quickly that it's a Big boat. Hmmm...big truck. Big boat. Big gut. Big, stupid, flabby face. Everything about this guy seems to be big. Well, everything visible, anyway. Because check out his inability to admit to Jan that his boat is smaller than the freaking SPACE SHUTTLE. Yeah, that's one confident male you are working with, Jan.
Now we know that fatass drove off with a Toyota Tundra, because less than a year later he's going to be back to purchase a brand new one, ready to hand off the 2012 model to his son (no, seriously. I'm not kidding. I need to figure out a way to get this guy to adopt me, so I can get myself a free truck next November when the shiny 2015 models come out and this guy gets distracted by the glowing chrome again.) Are we supposed to relate to an obese douche who can just belly up to the counter at Toyota every 12 months and sign up for lease payments on a new truck? What planet am I on again?
And who the hell gives a kid a practically-new truck anyway? Oh wait- that's in the sequel. Got to save some snark for that one. Sorry.
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
Stereotype Nerd Name: Check.
Stereotype Everyone In Offices With Even a Rudimentary Knowledge of Computers is a fat, pasty, chinless geek: Check.
As for the rest- kind of makes you wonder why the average office desk jockey would feel the need to seek advice from Your Company's Computer Guy on a question so mundane as "where can I buy a tablet." So only Computer Guys notice the endless stream of commercials for tablets? Only Computer Guys know about this mysterious corporation called "Verizon?" What the hell?
Oh, and Pointlessly Obvious Geek is also Neurotic and Lacking in Basic Social Skills: Check. "Could you move your beverage away from the keyboard...." Beverage? "..it's making me Anxious." Anxious? Oh yeah, we get it- you are tech-savvy, which means you must be tech-paranoid, besides being incapable of talking to fellow carbon-based life forms without using stilted language. Sigh. Whatever.
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
The only way this commercial makes any sense at all is if we have finally reached the day I kind of thought we would get to within a few years anyway: The day where it's perfectly reasonable to believe that someone would "send like a hundred texts," get no response regardless of the urgency of the messages, yet never once actually use her phone to MAKE A PHONE CALL.
The woman in this ad fell off her bike and broke her arm, but still found it more convenient to text her boyfriend instead of calling him. She got to the hospital and texted him again. She needed a ride home, and texted him again. She just kept texting and texting. From the dialogue in this ad, it never even occurred to her to JUST STOP TEXTING AND DIAL HIS FREAKING NUMBER YOU BRAINLESS DUMBASS!!
Maybe they aren't the kind of "friends" who can actually talk on the phone. Seems kind of odd, if she was expecting him to rush to the hospital and give her a ride home. Plus, he calls her "baby." Maybe I just don't get Relationship Etiquette in 2013. That's plausible.
Still- "send like a hundred texts" and not a single actual call made? Oh wait- are there cell phones that don't have calling options anymore? No, no- I'm not that far behind the curve...am I?
And by the way, what kind of contract doesn't allow you to actually replace a broken phone? I thought all phone companies spent their time trying to get us to "upgrade" our perfectly GOOD phones- this guy is working with a company that won't LET him swap out a BROKEN one?
Seriously. What the hell?
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Before I get to Amy and the sad shipwreck that is her life, I just have to spend a moment snarking on the concept of a "Mayday Button" on the new Kindle Fire. I mean, jeeesh....I have an old-fashioned Kindle, with e-ink and no color. Doesn't sound familiar? It's for reading books. Still doesn't sound familiar? Sigh....
Anyway, my lame, black and white non-TV streaming Kindle doesn't have a Mayday button because it doesn't need one. What Kindle is telling me here is that their new version is so damned complicated, it has to include what is in effect a panic button that puts the owner in contact with a grinning zombie eager to guide you around your new little toy, You Clueless Dumbfuck Why Don't You Just Ask One Of Your Kids To Help You?
Ok, enough of whole "Mayday Button" thing- is Amy the Kindle Sprite related to the Magic State Farm Insurance Genie? Because if those ads are at all realistic, it means that there is an army of Eternally Happy to Be Of Service At A Moment's Notice women just waiting to be summoned by clueless morons who Need Help Right Now. Anyone else think that the instantaneous appearance of Amy is more than a little disturbing? What was she doing before this guy pushed that Mayday button? Staring at a blank screen, wishing some drooling moron would rub the Kindle in just the right way and summon her from her freaking bottle?
Come to think of it, Kindle and State Farm aren't the only commercials which sell the idea that there is an entire population of people out there just waiting to fly to our assistance whenever we are befuddled by anything for more than a few seconds. There are those Lincoln Concierge ads, where all one has to do is stare lustfully at a particular car to have someone magically materialize in front of you to explain how awesome it is an book a test drive. There's those spots for OnStar which feature disembodied voices thrilled to death to have the opportunity to book reservations and buy flowers for thoughtless moron buttmunches who are simply too busy to remember to do that shit for themselves. The message is pretty clear- if you've got money, you are a button-push away from getting some drone sitting in a cubicle to wipe your nose for you.
So my question is- who the hell are these people who respond to the pushing of buttons labeled "OnStar" or "Chat with an Agent" or "Mayday?" What happened in their lives to drive them to being handmaidens for loathsomely clueless fucktards who can't be bothered to read a manual (or a website) or anything else if hey, look, here's someone who will do it for me? Do they ever think about it? Do they dream of being on the other end of that button some day? Or are they just grateful to be picking up a paycheck?
Oh, and one more thing- come on, seriously. Amy- and all the other "click here to talk to someone right now" minions- live on the other side of the planet, right? Like in Pakistan? And they don't look at all like Amy, do they? Much darker and significantly less blonde? And there's nothing about their paycheck that justifies this level of giddiness- am I right?
There are several of these Best Buy "'twas the night before Christmas" ads.
They all feature "parents" congratulating themselves on buying something expensive for their kids.
And being appreciated by those kids, if only for a day.
They find this joyous. We are supposed to find this charming.
We are disgusted, and grossed out, and frankly very, very sad.
And then we realize that oh my god, they were actually rhyming this. And we remember fondly the times we half-watched, half-listened to these ads and didn't notice. Those times when these ads were just depressing, and just made us want to cry a little, and didn't fill us with rage at what has become of the season.
And I didn't even comment on the whole "Holy Grail" imagery.
I have to go lie down now.
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Oh, and why can't this guy just fall and break his stupid neck? Why don't I ever get anything I want?
There are a few things I've never understood about ads for BMW, Audi, Cadillac, Jaguar, or any of the other high-end car companies.
First- they always feature people who seem to be married (or at least, living together) buying each other these very expensive cars as holiday presents. When I was married, my wife and I had a joint checking account. All the money we made was deposited into that account. There was no "her money" and "my money," there was "our money." So when one of us bought something for the other, we were using OUR money to do it. I'd skip meals at work and find other ways to save to make sure I had enough money to buy her something very nice- but "very nice" never meant a freaking $40,000 car. If she had wanted a car, she would not have hinted at it like the child in this commercial does- she would have told me "hey, honey? WE need to replace my car. Let's figure out what WE can afford." She would not have dropped hints that I should find an extra several thousand dollars somewhere and buy her a toy with four wheels, because again- her money and my money was our money.
Second, who the hell can relate to these ads, anyway? White people living in suburban palaces (where are the perfect kids?) who would like it very much if they got a BMW in their stockings? I mean, come on- does this happen in real life, anywhere? Should I just be grateful that this isn't a Lexus December To Remember You Are Better commercial, and we don't actually see the Appropriately Not Clean-Shaven Guy being handed the keys to a car with a massive ribbon wrapped around it? Because I'm not, really (mainly because I know that's coming, very soon...)
Third, what kind of materialistic jagoff wants one of these cars anyway? Maybe they are supposed to tell the world "I've arrived, I'm successful, get out of my way while admiring me." All they say to me is "I'm shallow, I've got money burning a hole in my pocket, and my soul is so dark that this is all I can think of to do with that money in a world which is starving to death around me."
There's so much missing in this Dunkin Donuts Ad!
Where's the cursing? Were's the "Oh no you DID-n't?" Where's the word "bitch" used at least twenty times in thirty seconds?
Come on, Dunkin Donuts! If you are going to portray African American women as insecure, possessive, paranoid weirdos, and African American men as neutered puppies in mortal fear of them, why not go all Mamma's Family on us? Let's see some head-and-finger wagging, hip-swinging, nose-to-nose bug-eyed action here!
What's with this Brady Bunch-level, inoffensive bs? What are you afraid of? Come ON, Dunkin Donuts! Go there! You KNOW you want to!
Friday, November 22, 2013
1. Where are the guys? Oh wait- this commercial features parents supervising children. They aren't hauling bags of dirt around in pickup trucks or spraying weed killer on to lawns or using sledgehammers to "remodel" houses or grilling dead animal parts. Why would there be guys around?
2. "Own the Season." Yeah, that's nice. That would be the Season which starts right around the same time the Halloween candy goes on sale and ends around the time the Attached Among Us are reminded that we haven't given our Significant Other a piece of jewelry for a few months, so.....'tis the season to fill our carts with cheap crap from Walmart. And pretend we are doing something worthwhile and not just shoveling money into the bloated pockets of Sam Walton's evil spawn.
BTW, don't try to tell me you don't want to borrow a sledgehammer from one of those Guys and use it on the smug faces of these awful women. Because I won't believe you. Not for a moment.
Thursday, November 21, 2013
So I'm sitting here in front of my Toshiba Satellite Laptop Computer eating a Snickers Bar (Snickers Really Satisfies and besides, You're Not Yourself When You're Hungry) when I happen across this clip from a soap opera I've never actually seen in real life, really I haven't so stop suggesting that I'm a regular, ok? I haven't watched a soap on a regular basis since they pulled Natalie (or was it her evil twin?) out of that well on All My Children back in the early-90s. And I didn't even watch that show very often, so shut up.
Anyway, the very subtle Cheerios commercial embedded in this clip barely registered on the consciousness, don't you think? I mean, I sure wasn't hungry for the Toasted Whole Grain Oats after I saw it, though I did find myself craving a cup of coffee when it was over- maybe the wrong subliminal message came through? Or maybe I just don't have any Cheerios in the house?
I'll ponder it as I gulp down another Diet Coke (Just for the Taste of It) and channel-surfing my Verizon Fios menu (when you get Fios, that's when you Get It.) And try to remember what I thought was so compelling about this--- umm, television drama clip, and why I thought it belonged in a blog about commercials. Maybe it's the blonde. She is awfully cute. I wonder what her favorite cereal is?
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
I hope Davy Crockett falls, breaks his leg, and dies cold and alone out there. Being eaten by Bambi's dad
"As a hunter, I know the thrill, the raw excitement involved in hiding halfway up a tree for several hours waiting for one of God's Innocent Creatures to wander by in it's endless search for food. I know the electric tingle that crawls up my back as I pull an arrow from my quiver, bend back my $900 PSE Dream Season Compound Bow with Mossy Oak Infinity Camo (seriously) and let a sharp metal shaft fly into the guts of a strong, healthy buck. I know the moment of exultation which erupts in concert with the great beast's collapse to the forest floor. I know the flow of adrenaline when the arrow doesn't quite hit true, and I engage in the pursuit of a terrified, wounded, bleeding animal as it attempts to carry off the very expensive arrow (they can cost $10 or more each- again, seriously) that continues to rend it's internal organs."
"I wouldn't wreck that experience with chewing or smoking tobacco. Chewing tobacco can cause mouth cancer. Smoking tobacco is even worse- prey usually have a very well-developed sense of smell, and one cigarette can give your position away and ruin my best chance all weekend to bring down a large mammal that was just minding it's own business until I came along with my medieval concept of communing with nature."
"So when I'm sitting in my deer stand waiting for something to wander into range (just like my rugged ancestors used to do) I stick to several cans of beer (just like my rugged ancestors did.) No way I'm going to let tobacco cut my years of slaughtering wildlife short, no sir."
Sunday, November 17, 2013
I am not surprised that the network which has assaulted us with Judge Judith Sheinlin's non-legal version of "Justice" managed to find dozens of people to pull this crap. I would not be surprised if each and every one of the people who took part in this did it for nothing but a few moments of face time on tv, and absolutely no money was transferred.
Here's why: "Judge" Judy's show has, for 17 years, been nothing more than a parade of barely-literate mouth-breathers who have loaned the wrong people money surrendering their last shred of dignity in exchange for the opportunity to be on television. Seventeen years of obese high-school dropouts who are all aspiring actresses (and real-life hairdressers) who are pissed at ex-boyfriends/ fathers of some of their children (who are all Temporarily Between Jobs I'm Trying to Get My Life Together Judge Construction Workers) and who thought that they were paying the rent and electricity and taking him on trips as Favors which would be Repaid, while he was quite clear from the start that This Was All Her Idea and he Never Promised Anything in Return and all the money and favors were Gifts, Your Honor. With a few minor tweaks- sometimes there's a bb gun and a dog involved, and sometimes the scene is a trailer park instead of a low-end suburb or downtown LA- that's the drill, twice a day, five days a week- for seventeen freaking years.
What exactly are we "celebrating" here? The popularity of a "Judge" who more often than not decides cases with Solomon-level wisdom like "I don't believe you" or "no you didn't?" That millions of people think that what she does has something to do with being an actual judge and deciding actual cases? That millions of people think this is what "law" looks like? Why would we want to celebrate that?
Saturday, November 16, 2013
I actually liked the first Despicable Me movie. I thought it was a sweet, entertaining little surprise. The sequel? Ten minutes in I felt like I was watching a film that had been cobbled together with no sense of direction by people who had so many dollar signs in their eyes that they couldn't be bothered with a script. The only guiding principles of the sequel were "stick the Minions everywhere" and "use the fart gun (which was just a MISTAKE and a TEN SECOND GAG in the first film) as many times as possible." I didn't care about Gru finding a wife, I didn't care about the little girl finding a boyfriend, I thought "El Macho" came off like a stale remnant from some racially insensitive 1960s Saturday morning cartoon, and was pretty darned happy when the whole experience was over.
Ok, now on to this commercial. We see Minions being Minions, doing things we really don't want to see your kids mimicking if and when we ever go to McDonalds. They seem to be settling down to a "meal" of four Chicken McNuggets each which has magically become "good for you" because it's being washed down with milk. Uh-huh. And if you would like to make it "even better," hey, you can get apple slices! Double Uh-huh. Doesn't really change the fact that you are eating greasy fried chicken things (and, let's face it, greasy fried potatoes, too. Because kids who willingly pick apple slices over french fries are being raised by parents who wouldn't bring them to McDonalds in the first place, ok?)
Here's what McDonald's should say in this ad, just to make it a little honest: "Hey, check out these guys- they are the reason why your kids dragged you to see Despicable Me 2 and will drag you to see Despicable Me 3, 4 and 5 if we can crank them out before your kids outgrow them (remember how you thought you dodged a bullet because they were too young to demand to be brought to the yearly Shrek abominations?) Well, guess what? Your kids love them, so you'd better haul their fat asses to McDonalds if you want anything resembling peace in your home."
"Oh, and if you listen to this commercial carefully, you'll note that we only implied that Happy Meals are 'good for you' if you are an imaginary cartoon character, and not an actual human being with nutritional needs. Our lawyers have checked it out, and we are covered."
First- "everything's fine?" Really? Some guy just tried to break into your house, doing some pretty severe-looking damage to your door and setting off the alarm. "Just fine?" Well, you are a calm little cucumber, aren't you?
Second- what's the fireman kneeling down to tell the little girl there? "You see, little girl, sometimes natural gas comes out of the ground and if Mommy and Daddy are so plastered that they don't even notice the smell which has been added as a safety precaution, and no matter how hard you shake them they aren't going to respond. So it's a good thing that on one of the rare occasions that your parents had a clear mind they took the precaution of installing this ADT Security System."
"We make you safe"- by bathing your house in a glowing blue light lifted straight from the memory of your favorite disco. It's a well known fact that disco lights are a strong deterrent against home invasion, but until now I wasn't aware that it's also great at detecting radon.
"After all, someone's got to look after you, and it sure as hell isn't going to be one of THESE people."
Friday, November 15, 2013
This girl's family congratulates her--- not for her first job, but her first paycheck. Ok, whatever.
And she's got a tripped-out phone which allows her to deposit checks by snapping pictures of them, which she acquired before she got her first paycheck. Priorities, priorities.
Now all we need to do is introduce her employer to the concept of Direct Deposit.
Thursday, November 14, 2013
About a decade ago, this same stupid song was used in a reprehensible, downright creepy Dr. Pepper ad. In that commercial, "Stacy's Mom" could not contain her delight at her ability to get a group of soccer-playing preteen boys to mob her minivan's supply of sugary soda. The ick factor was strong with that one- Stacy's mom clearly enjoyed being the object of....umm....something to these little boys, and if it took ten bucks worth of Dr. Pepper to get them to swarm her, it was money well spent.
I couldn't find that commercial on YouTube, otherwise I would have included it along with this Not Quite As Squicky But Pretty Damned Close Cadillac commercial. In this one, we are grateful that the guy ogling Stacy's Mom (actually, her car- as in the Dr Pepper ad, there's nothing especially attractive about the woman being featured) is at least an adult. The creepiness comes in the way he's transfixed by what looks to me like a very typical SUV type vehicle to the point where he has to be shaken out of his Car Lust Coma by his kid, who may or may not get that what he's getting hot over is the car and not the woman driving it.
Oh, and the super-pleased-with-herself woman in this ad-- jesus, lady, do you realize that you are actually settling for being admired for your car? That's just depressing.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Here at Washington Metrorail, we are always working to find new ways to make your commute more...um, interesting!
Because of our tireless efforts to keep your travel as delightfully unpredictable as possible, we've added a few special weekend attractions, like our Guess When The Next Train Is Coming game. It's basically a more family-friendly version of our old classic Next Train Arrival Time? None of your Damned Business game.
This weekend-only (for now) offering is available to all Metro riders, except of course for the ones who are on buses because their station is closed for repairs.* Are you among THAT lucky group? Check back late in the week to find out, and good luck!
And don't worry, the regular weekday services will continue to be available. Services like
Elevators out at the following four Metro stops, hope you aren't in a wheelchair
Try to find the Exit Gate that will accept your SmartCard, Go on We Dare You!
Try to find the FareCard Machine that will actually take debit and credit cards, We Dare You!
Which Metro Station will have an actual employee sitting in his cubicle this week?
Not to mention the classic Metro benefits your parents once enjoyed and which have now been passed on to you, like the calorie-burning Stationary Escalators ("Don't Call Them Stairs, Stairs Don't Have Jagged Teeth!") and the laugh-out-loud "radios must be used with headphones" signs (since the advent of earbuds, and the apparent willingness of Metrorail to pretend that earbuds are the equivalent of headphones even if everyone on the train can hear what the earbud-user is listening to, these really are quite funny.) Some traditions are just too good to give up, don't you agree?
*Single-Tracking is all about Serving You Better, of course. So shut the f--up and get on the bus, you ungrateful, car-less loser.
Monday, November 11, 2013
Right around the fourth or fifth consecutive grunt-as-a-replacement-for-a-severely-defective-vocabulary, I hit the mute button rather than continuing to enjoy fake home movies featuring LeBron James enjoying quality time in his palace with his family.
Because really, who gives a flying damn? LeBron James is massively rich. LeBron James has a big house and a big driveway and a Humvee (several of each, I imagine) and a little kid and a wife and an electronic device which allows him to capture moments of his perfect existence. Awesome for him. What the hell any of this has to do with anything I'm supposed to buy is totally beyond me.
It's also totally beyond all the witless drooling YouTube glue-sniffers, who have conned themselves into thinking that they are seeing something genuine and warm that does not involve a lucrative marketing contract for a guy who really doesn't need any more money. Hey, YouTube losers, here's a desperately needed clue: there are a whole lot of dads out there who do crap like this with their kids all the time, even when there ISN'T a professional camera crew hanging around.
Sunday, November 10, 2013
1. This "elimination" bit has been done to death over the past several years. I've seen it used to pick out cars and (bizarrely) to convince a family to eat dinner at Golden Corral. It's not only unoriginal, it's boring and played and really, really stupid.
2. The only way this commercial ends logically is with the woman being confronted with absolutely no Disgusting Crap Frozen Pizza choices. And with this woman either
A) accepting that if she wants a "pizza her family will love" which is also reasonably good for them, she'll have to get off her lazy, shortcut-taking ass and buy the ingredients that will permit her to make the damn thing herself, in her own kitchen. The entire time I was growing up, I was never once "treated" to a piece of formerly frozen pizza-shaped cardboard because my mother (who worked outside the home) regularly found the time to actually make wonderful homemade pizza. For five kids.
B) exclaiming "fuck it, I did my best" and buying whatever nasty frozen monstrosity laughingly referred to as "pizza" is on sale that week.
Maybe I'm being cynical, but I kind of suspect this woman would go for Option B. Because it would be nice to find a pizza "her family would love," but what she really wants is something that will shut them the hell up for another night or maybe even convince Hubby to take them out more often. Maybe to Golden Corral.
Saturday, November 9, 2013
Hey, Mr. Jackson? If you really want to sell us on the idea that a bottle of sweet syrup which is basically just a substitute for coffee keeps you active, you might think about showing us images of you actually doing something other than looking out a window or sprawling on a chair while gazing at your Blackberry. Because seriously, that's stuff that this non-Two Sport Superstar From the 80s can do in his sleep.
BTW, I'm sure you've heard this a million times, but once more won't hurt- you freaking idiot you could have been the greatest baseball player of all time why the HELL did you have to get greedy and insist on playing football too you MORON!
Ok, done. I'm just angry because I was forced to watch this crap before each and every World Series highlight clip presented by MLB.com. Which means I really hate the abuse heaped upon me by MLB.com, and am taking it out on Bo Jackson.
Friday, November 8, 2013
All of these commercials for the half-dozen companies which have inexplicably decided that Robert Griffin III is an icon despite absolutely no record of success in the NFL use the terms "great" and "elite" and "sensational," etc. All of this hype for a guy who has QB'd in exactly one playoff game- which he lost .
Can someone explain this to me?
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Jeff and Karen don't know it yet, but their lives as individual human beings are about to come to an end.
You see, Jeff and Karen are about to meet. They'll be physically attracted to each other, they'll go out to dinner and have long, involved talks and gradually realize that they really, really like being together and don't even notice when hours have gone by. They'll go to movies and take long walks in the park and when they aren't together, they'll think about each other a lot.
But then, because there's this thing called Society which has Expectations, they'll fuck it all up by getting married. Then they'll get a house with a mortgage which they'll spend extra hours at work laboring to pay off. Sex won't be fun anymore- it will be a chore and a duty and naturally Karen will start popping out children, because yes those Societal Expectations again. Jeff will get crow's feet around his eyes staring at his laptop screen maneuvering money here and there, because he Must plan for being dead someday and leaving the fruits of his labor to that girl he used to really enjoy sleeping with and those kids.
Jeff and Karen won't be running off to the beach at a moment's notice- no more grabbing a bottle of wine out of the fridge and slipping into a park for a little slightly illegal but ever so much fun naughtiness, because there are those kids and, again, those Societal Expectations. It's all so By the Book for Jeff and Karen, but that's ok because this is the way it's Supposed to Be.
Jeff and Karen have long since been rendered cold, and in the all-too-near future they will be rendered dead as well. That's ok, though- they've had the required boy and girl who will grow up to have a few brief years of fun before becoming square pegs in square holes. Buying houses. Having kids. Getting old. Worrying about money. And pretending that somehow this is all worthwhile, because after all, Society approves.
Congratulations, Jeff and Karen. You represent all that is suffocating and noxious in a life rendered lifeless all too quickly. Here's society's reward for you- a pat on the head, and another little nudge toward the abyss.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
So, to sum up:
This kid gets an IM from his mom which reads "we need to talk." This guy is so attached to his mom, he quickly types back the equivalent of a "wtf-ever, mom" brush-off. Ok, this happens- sometimes my mother contacts me and I'm halfway out the door or in the middle of something very important, and I have to put her off for a bit. But I've never put my mom on the back burner so I can play some dumb-ass video game. Jerk.
Mom eventually gets his attention- by sending a photo of the kid's dog with the note "Boomer's not doing that well." Ten seconds later this kid is heading to the airport so he can be at his dog's side. Kind of sweet, except that it's been made very clear that if it were MOM who was "not doing that well," chances are this kid would still be playing his brain-dead Really You Need To Grow Out of This I Mean You Are On Your Own And Everything game while quietly cursing out Mom for continually interrupting him.
Because Boomer is vastly more important than Mom, we next see the kid waiting for the bus to take him to the airport so he can dash home and be with his dog. He learns that his flight has been cancelled, so he does what anyone would do if he were an Inexplicably Independent Moron with the means to jump on planes and fly off to distant places at a moment's notice- he whips out his phone and asks the Magic Google "how do I get home?"
At this point, my suspension of disbelief has gone right off the cliff. The credibility of this commercial has been stretched so far that it's snapped and left a welt on my face. For a moment, I actually think that Google has responded with a matter-of-fact, "here's your route it's only 500 miles have fun" response- but no, it's informed him that there's an express train that can get him down the East Coast in no time. Which instantly tells me that wherever this commercial is taking place, it sure as hell isn't the United States. Unless "Train" translates to "Amtrak" and "Express" means "inside of 14 hours, unless it's raining."
I'm going to assume that this butthead gets back to his mother's home to comfort his dog, and mom reacts with "what the hell are you doing here? Jesus, you can't get home for Thanksgiving or Christmas or Mother's Day or my birthday, but I tell you that your dog is sick and you act like someone lit a fire under your ass?"
"I hope your electronic best friend got you hotel reservations, because I turned your room into a library. And take your sick dog with you."
Monday, November 4, 2013
Coming next: "When Katniss isn't hunting squirrels to sell in the District 13 meat market or inexplicably finding herself attracted to a whiny, pasty, manipulative stalker when she's already got a handsome, rugged and self-assured soul mate, she really loves digging into a Sriracha Chicken Sandwich available for a limited time at Subway!"
Or how about "Subway salutes the release of the second film of The Hunger Games Trilogy by reminding you that when YOU'RE hungry, you don't have to put your name into a horrifyingly futuristic (yet hackneyed) lottery- just head down to YOUR district's closest Subway Restaurant!"
"And don't forget to see Catching Fire, the deeply inferior sequel to the already-overrated Hunger Games! But don't go hungry- drop by Subway first!"
Sunday, November 3, 2013
I saw these commercials back to back in the wee hours of the morning while entering my fifth straight hour of writing notes, and while on my seventh or eighth can of Diet Coke. Not once, not twice, but about nine times.
Around the sixth time, they became indistinguishable. They were no longer two separate ads, but one long one, featuring a member of the Hitler Youth joining with the Pillsbury Dough Boy to barbecue hamburgers and corn on the cob while lacing cheap pastry with sugary icing. I think Tony Shaloub might have been involved too. Or maybe I had a Monk marathon on.
Saturday, November 2, 2013
So this woman just woke up one morning and totally forgot that she had a trip to take? It sure looks that way- her phone tells her that she has to get to the airport ( for a few moments, I thought maybe we'd find out that she just had to pick someone up there, but no....) and she dashes off, showing us how much a hurry she's in by frantically pressing the elevator button, etc...
Naturally she never takes her eyes off her phone, which tells her what gate to go to and which baggage claim to use, and never mind that both pieces of information are readily available even to us losers who don't have tripped-out phones. I get the idea that after she picks up her bags, the phone will let her know where she is, why she is there, and how long she's going to remain.
Friday, November 1, 2013
I'm not even going to do the usual anti-"connectivity" rant that comes so naturally to mind when I see an ad celebrating the ability of privileged first-class douchenozzles to stare at their glowing screens for five hours during an international flight. Or how little I care that the dick at the center of all this can keep track of "The Market' while he's resting his pampered ass on his oversized, comfy business-size seat.
I'm too busy being horrified at the idea that this plane appears to be traveling 500 miles an hour at an altitude of 80 feet above the freaking ocean. How the hell can these people keep the water from flying out of their ostentatious wine glasses? The turbulence must be unbelievable!