(Specifically, the two people in this ad, which is running roughly every ten freaking minutes on several of the televisions at my local Planet Fitness and would probably be even more cringey if I could hear whatever awkward weirdness these two idiots are stammering at each other.) Fortunately, PF is a No Judgement Zone so they won't throw you out for repeatedly yelling "OH MY GOD GET A FREAKING BOWL!" roughly every ten minutes, either.
So the sight of a clunky old typewriter in a pawn shop inspires this woman to become a writer? Is it safe to assume that if this commercial took place in the 1970s, she'd be starting her "writing career*" by purchasing a number of quill pens and jars of ink?
How long does she think that typewriter is going to last before it needs a new ribbon- and where is she going to find that? How long is the charm of a noisy, user-unfriendly, heavy chunk of metal with keys that jam every few sentences and a very lame back-erase feature (and another tape that has to be replaced) going to hold up? How long before this woman remembers that it's 2025 and we've got light laptops and printers now? How long before she realizes that the stupid typewriter might as well have a disclaimer that reads TALENT NOT INCLUDED? How long before she realizes that if she wants anyone to actually read her travel journal (instead of the four million travel journals already available on YouTube, Tiktok ,etc.) she's going to have to digitize it anyway, making the whole tappa tappa tappa typing thing just a stupid, pretentious extra step that would impress absolutely nobody even if they were told about it?
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go my neighborhood pawn shop (I live in suburban Maryland. There are at least five pawn shops within a five-minute drive) and pick up a guitar so I can start my career as a rock star. Because that's how that works.
*I believe it was a Woody Allen character who critiqued the work of a wannabee novelist by remarking "that's not writing, that's typing." Whoever did say this, he was exactly right; battering away on a typewriter doesn't make one a writer any more than traveling to other countries makes one interesting. Try harder, lady.
Obsession(n): an idea or thought that continually preoccupies or intrudes on one's mind.
This, to Verizon Fios, is a GOOD thing. And Verizon has got you covered, whatever your "obsession," as long as that Obsession involves being immobile on the couch staring at a glowing box and getting no fresh air or exercise or engaging in any actual social activity whatsoever.
As near as I can tell, what we're seeing is four or five Adults of Diversity playing a board game on a table decorated with rapidly-cooling junk food someone brought in (Uber Eats?) from Burger King. I guess at some point, the black woman has a temporary victory which causes her to go into a little dance, but it's only a temporary victory because at the end we see Not Bryce Howard being crowned with a greasy piece of cardboard so I guess she actually won the game- and meanwhile, that food hasn't been touched at all. Which means it's cold. Cold food from Burger King; if this is "ruling," I'll continue to refuse to participate in this political system, thanks anyway.
Seriously, though. Why is that food even there? Nobody really seems interested in consuming any of it. At the end, at least pop the junk into the microwave. I mean, yuck.
Can we agree that "Land Cruiser" is the most pretentious name Toyota could possibly have invented to label this more recent version of Gas-Guzzling, Parking-Space Straddling, Bank Account-draining Suburban Grocery Hauler?
I'll give Toyota a little credit for truth in advertising, at least- "Land Cruiser" suggests that this thing is basically a passenger ship that glides over pavement* instead of water. It's not a car, it's not a truck, it's a freaking Boat. It doesn't roll, it Cruises. It's massive. We get it, Toyota. And yet, we don't get it at all. Why IS this even a thing?
*We all know that not one person in a thousand who purchases one of these land-dwelling dirigibles is actually going to get it dirty with intent. These things are going to be used to bring kids to soccer practice on Saturday and everything else home from Costco on Sunday. Give me a break.
This one really brings me back to those special occasions in which I would receive an invitation from my mom and dad to grace them with my presence at dinner. I'd get dressed up, call a taxi, and head off to the spot designated on the invite at the specified time, all the while wondering what special event was being celebrated to rate such an event.
In the middle of dinner, mom or dad would make the announcement- usually it involved deciding to change paper towel providers, or getting the car washed, or some other once-in-a-lifetime moment that could only be marked properly with a sit-down meal at a restaurant. Sometimes the event was tied to the place we were celebrating at- I remember being summoned to the local McDonald's, 6 PM sharp Tuesday Next, to mark the temporary return of the McRib. And the time we were called to dine at Applebee's to toast the $10 coupon dad got for Applebee's. Magic Moments.
So I can definitely relate to this ad; it's a real slice of my own life. I don't get what this kid is saying about "making varsity" or some such, but it's certainly uncouth of him for trying to step on the designated Reason for the Meal- the availability of rubber low-grade beef and microwaved fish-flavored bread crumbs. What's his deal, anyway?
So in what I have to assume is a desperate attempt to get customers to pay good money for grade-B quality garbage, Golden Corral now allows you to fill up a plate and bring it home so that you can continue to punish your digestive system and heart at your convenience later on.
That being said, I have two things to add about the exchange between the mom and kid in this commercial:
1. It's bad enough that you are modeling the idea that eating at this pig trough is a good idea, stupid mom. At least have some level of economic acumen and don't encourage your kid to use the one plate he's got for broccoli. As cheap as those frozen butterfly shrimp and that "steak" is, they are still more valuable than that green weed. Let the kid go for the protein, such as it is.
2. Never in the history of Anything has a kid been this excited at the prospect of eating leftovers. The only way this makes sense is if the kid is expressing relief at having his order be take-out and being spared the experience of actually sitting in one of these "restaurants" (which, I promise, look nothing like the brightly-lit, spacious, clean sets we see in these ads.) As bad as that stuff must take when it's freshly microwaved, I don't want to think about what shoe leather it turns into once it starts to cool down. Hard Pass.
