Friday, April 22, 2011

Art Imitates Life



Nice to meet you.

I like you.

I really like you.

I love you.

No really, I love you. And you aren't getting any younger. Just sayin'- you could do a lot worse than me.*

I "love you," but I'm not "in love" with you.

We don't have as much in common as I thought we did.*

I need my space.*

I can't stand the sight of you anymore.*

Can't you read a simple restraining order?*

Let me tell you about my new boyfriend.

--Unedited Version of this New York Life commercial.

*Not actual moments from my own life
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4 comments:

  1. JamesApril 23, 2011 at 11:10 AM

    Oh, is that how it works?
    I guess buying life insurance (rather than an ATV or a TV for the garage) requires extraordinary selflessness based on irrationality in the form of this "luv" concept. I mean you REALLY have to luv someone to an almost unimaginable degree to spend money, on their behalf, the fruits of which you yourself will not be able to enjoy first-hand. Thanks, NY Life, for explaining how being married and caring for someone works. I had no idea.

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  2. John F JameleApril 23, 2011 at 11:15 AM

    I like someone.

    I really like someone.

    I love someone.

    I love someone enough to take out insurance so that when I die, that Someone will get a pile of money to enjoy while her new love is courting her.

    That's NY Life.

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  3. DreadedCandiru2April 23, 2011 at 2:51 PM

    I remember reading a book that explains what NY Life is really selling: immortality. The idea that's behind ads like this is "You might be dead but your insurance policy means that you're still providing for your family." Of course, it falls to bits when you realize that the dead guy can't control much more than how much dough his widow has to spend on screwing every man he hates 'cause he croaked before she got sick of him.

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  4. John F JameleApril 23, 2011 at 2:56 PM

    When I got married, my wife and I decided that unless we had kids, we would not buy life insurance, because if either of us died, the other could just move on without a sack of blood money.

    As it turns out, we divorced after a few years without more than a few nickles in the bank to split up anyway.

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