Walk and Chew Gum at the same time? Only if there's an App for that

Ugly morons hanging around an office setting being about as Unproductive as possible: Check.

Ugly morons blathering about a "cool" phone:  Check.

Ugly morons "sharing" information by touching their phones together: Check.

Male in the ad ending up on top despite Female's attempt to stab him in the back and claim credit for work he did-- wait a minute, what the hell is THIS?

I feel like Cornwallis at Yorktown- maybe the world didn't come to an end on schedule on December 21, but it's certainly turned upside down.  At least in TV Land.  I mean, when was the last time one of these commercials ended with a Female looking foolish and paying a price for her asshattery, while the Male is portrayed as the Productive, Hard-Working One?  This would be a lot less unsettling if the Male had at LEAST accidentally started a fire, or had been caught playing Angry Birds on his phone during Company hours.  I'm really not sure how to take this.

For now, I think I'll just stop watching this ad at the moment where the Female takes credit for work she did not do.  Because that's when it stops making sense to my tv-trained brain.

I mean, the guy ending up smelling like a rose while the perplexed woman stands there wondering what happened....if this is the shape of things to come, I'm in for a very rocky 2013...

Droid Presents someone's idea of progress

You just know that when this commercial was over, a hundred thousand drooling idiots expressed disappointment in discovering that it's JUST a commercial.  Sorry, losers- you can't ACTUALLY have your precious phones injected into your bloodstream.  You'll just have to keep pretending they are already there.

But don't worry, guys- I'm sure you won't have to wait too long.  I'm sure we are only a year or two away before actually embedding phones into our "brains"  (plenty of room in there for a lot of us.)  Then you'll never, ever, EVER have to live one moment without your Facebook page and your Twitter feed- you know, those things that make your "lives" worth living.  Losers.

Convincing you that debt is good? For Bank Americard, it's as simple as....well, you know.

Ugh, I am so damned sick of the grinning idiots happily telling me how thrilled they are to be getting a tiny rebate every time they join the Never Pay Cash No Matter How Small The Purchase Is parade.  Does it ever, EVER occur to any of these jackanapes that if they weren't taking out tiny loans for everything from cups of coffee at Starbucks to gasoline at BP, they wouldn't be celebrating being handed pennies in exchange for their dollars, but would instead know exactly how much money they have, all the time?

I mean, think about what these people are telling us.  They borrow money constantly.  Which means they are constantly paying interest on that borrowed money.  BUT, Bank of America refunds them one, two, or three percent of their loan, depending on the enabled purchase.  This is supposed to be a great thing.

What they AREN'T telling us- each and every "Bank Americard" user is STILL paying interest rates of 9, 14, or 19% on balances carried over month to month.  Apparently, this simply doesn't matter to the drooling idiots who live off that piece of plastic in their wallets which lets them pretend that stuff is just free because it doesn't cost paper.  This is like regularly borrowing money from a friend because he hands you back a penny every time you borrow a dollar- then charges you $1.05 when you pay the dollar back.  And thinking this is a good deal.

What the hell is the matter with you morons??  There is no such thing as a "good deal" from a Credit Card Company, OK?  Use credit cards to get your car fixed, to buy plane tickets, or to deal with some emergency expense.  Toilet paper?  Coffee?  Gasoline?  Stop being morons with your money!!*

And if you MUST use Credit Cards, at least stop trying to convince me that there's something to be gained by it.

*Says the guy who spends hundreds of dollars a year buying chocolate, bagels, and lunches for kids he's not related to and who won't even remember his name three years after they've graduated, if it takes that long.

No No No No Noooooooooo!!!!

First- maybe this thing is small enough to use "anywhere, anytime" but please- just, don't.  Personally, I'd rather watch people eat McRib sandwiches and then floss than see a single person using this.  "If I see something I can just take it out and zap it."  Yes, and then you can order dessert.  And wonder where your date went so quickly.

Second- anyone else think that that Capislow, the "skin creme clinicially proven to slow hair growth" is likely just aloe used to dull the pain and retard the rash you just gave yourself when you "Crystallized" your hair follicles?

Third- CRYSTALLIZE YOUR HAIR FOLLICLES?  REALLY??

Fourth- why are these guys using this product?  For one thing, there are razors out there.  For another, I haven't seen a guy with at least three day's growth on their faces on tv in about a decade.  As near as I can tell, stubby beards are all the rage- so why would any guy want to use a device that slows hair growth?

Fifth- "three treatment levels to choose from?"  What are the levels- Ineffective, Not Very Effective, and Sort of Effective?  Ok NoNo Spokesperson, give me everything you've got.

Sixth- why am I listening to Dr. Dolev Rafaeli?  Because he's the President and CEO of Radiency, the company that produces this--ummm--- "miracle breakthrough product?"  And his incentive to be straight with me is- what, again?

Seventh- As usual, this thing is supposed to take the place of THOUSANDS of dollars in laser skin treatments.  To anyone slightly smarter than a turnip, shouldn't this immediately send up the BS flare?  I mean, how is this any different from the $20 rubber bands which replace oral surgery or the breath spray for dogs which replaces competent veterinary services?

And finally- isn't this the year 2012? Are there really people out there who are impressed by an LCD display?  Come on, my COFFEE MAKER has an LCD display- I wouldn't trust it to CRYSTALLIZE MY HAIR FOLLICLES!!

Some guys have all the luck

I know this commercial is supposed to be how embarrassed Mom is because she does this pretty damned awesome dance after coming home from Wal Mart.  And yes, being this excited because you've finished your weekly shopping (only 51 more weeks to go, 520 over the next decade, just a little under 1600 trips to Wal Mart over the course of a thirty-year mortgage, marriage or whatever) is not only embarrassing, but quite sad, too.

But I don't get that out of viewing this commercial.  What I get is that husband is nowhere near good enough for this woman.  I mean, come on- he's a fat, balding shlub whose genes helped produce an ugly, dumb-looking kid (HER genes sure as hell didn't contribute to THAT.)  She's a slim, sexy, athletic type who finds joy in shopping at Wal Mart.  Why can't I ever meet girls like this?

I mean, compared to most guys, I'm pretty damned cute.  Compared to this guy? PLEASE!

Cougar Town sure looks like no place I want to visit

I assume from the fifty or so stupid promos I've seen for this intensely dumb-looking show that it's a platform for a sadly aging Courtney Cox, who is apparently under the misapprehension that the camera still loves her and that if she surrounds herself with idiots who feed her straight lines, she can get her career back on track. In other words, a Friends for middle-aged people.

And if the promos tell the story, drinking red wine is as important to the daily plot as Courtney Cox, if not more.  Most of these ads show Cox drinking wine.  Sometimes she's just holding it.  Sometimes she's (very unconvincingly) sipping it.  Sometimes several of the other characters are holding glasses of red wine.  In one promo, all the characters are involved in a drinking game which they make look like a chore rather than fun.  This drinking game, btw, is taking place in the middle of the day.  And they all act like they are being forced to participate, and that the wine is really poor quality.  Acting Much?

Maybe red wine is a key plot point to every episode of Cougar Town.  Or maybe the heavy use of red wine is required to make any of this even remotely entertaining, or bearable.  Because man, this looks bad.  I thought the point of promos was to get people who don't know the show interested in watching it.  If I'm right, this fails for me on an epic scale.  I mean, I'm talking Big Bang Theory scale.  It's really that bad.

For a change of pace, why not offer her the next ring while wading in the surf?

1.  These are the same two people who were doing...umm...something....in the snow last year.  So their tradition is to cavort like little kids until He gives Her a piece of jewelry?

2.  Does the guy in this ad keep this woman locked in a dark room 364 days of the year?  I mean, could she be MORE devoid of color?  She looks like a freaking corpse.

3.  Is a snow-covered field really the best place to hand someone a diamond?  I mean, I really want to see the unedited version, where these two idiots are on their hands and knees, muttering curses under their breath, desperately searching for a tiny piece of transparent rock.  Now THAT would warm my heart.

Oh and BTW, check out the comments on YouTube- it's bad enough that you've got half a dozen idiots begging to know what this stupid song is.  But even when they are told, they keep asking.  What the hell?

All I want for Christmas is an end to these awful Volkswagen Ads

And I wish that everyone in this ad, and the people who wrote it, would find themselves in a dark wood, being slowly torn apart by animals with sharp teeth.  But that's just me.

Since that's not going to happen, I would settle for the salesperson in these ads showing just a tiny modicum of self-respect by not allowing himself to be kidnapped by dickwads who want the test drive to last "forever."  At LEAST drive off while the Asshat Couple is in the restaurant, for Christ's sake.

(BTW- you idiots who thought it was a good idea to lie on the hood of your cheap import?  Hope you like the car as much as you like wasting our time and behaving like childish morons.  Because- guess what? You own it!)

Meanwhile- It's "never been easier to get a Passat?"  What about when you pulled this "Sign and Drive" bit last year?  And the year before?

Actually, it's never been easier to hate Volkswagen.  Well, maybe it was a little easier during "Punch Dub Days."  But it's still very easy, thanks to stupid junk like this popping up on my television every ten minutes or so.

Holiday Ugliness from Buick

This tasteless horror might actually work if it went just a little further in developing the storyline.

Think about it- instead of just going the simple nastiness of a woman being delighted with her new gift- a freaking CAR-for five seconds until a much better car comes cruising slooooowwwllly down the street, let that Buick stop and reveal that the driver is, in fact, the girl's previous boyfriend.  Turns out that HE was dumped last summer when the hotel he booked for them in Acapulco wasn't quite up to her taste, and he's returned with a new hook and a bigger worm.

So instead of "shallow rhymes-with-witch harlot can't be happy and grateful long enough to respond with a decent hug before being distracted by something shinier," we'd get two guys desperately trying to one-up each other to win her....errr, "affection."  Probably ends with one of the guys taking out a second mortgage and buying the biggest rock on display at Jerad's.

That might be a little entertaining.  The commercial they actually give us isn't.  At all.  Instead, it's incredibly mean-spirited and cruel, and if I were a woman I would be really ticked at the portrayal of my sex in this ad.

Personally, if I were the guy in this commercial, I'd take back the keys to the car I just attempted to give her, and urge her to follow her dreams....err, that is, chase that Buick.  And consider myself very lucky as I watched her run down the street, panting as she went.  Bullet dodged- and hey, I've got this new car for all my trouble, too!

Three heartwarming little stories, courtesy of American Express

1.  Guy brings his Intended to the Upscale Jewelry Store to purchase the engagement ring, but he's told by the saleswoman that his VISA card is maxed out.  What does his sensible girlfriend-who-thought-that-she-was-about-to-become-a-fiancee respond with?  Is it

A.  "Wow, I had no idea you were so bad at money management.  You aren't ready to be married, let's continue to date, because I love you, but you need to mature a little more and get your act together?"

B.  "Wow, I thought you only used credit cards for emergencies, like sensible people.  You must be really irresponsible.  You aren't ready to be married- and I'm certainly not going to be marrying someone who doesn't know how to balance a checkbook or keep an eye on his spending.  Later."

C.  "Your VISA card is maxed out?  Well, that's a pain, I wanted my ring!!  Look, loser- get yourself an American Express Card.  They NEVER max out, which means you can buy my ring, and keep spending money in a reckless fashion, and you'll never humiliate me like this again by denying me what I want right now."

If you picked C, you were correct.  And my guess is, you've watched a lot of commercials.

2.  Guy and his Significant Other are Dressed to the Nines for a concert.  Dim bulb girl has never heard of TicketMaster, so she assumes that even though he invited her out and let her get all dressed up, he didn't bother to buy the tickets in advance.  American Express hopes we think that the only way to buy tickets to any event without using the box office window is through American Express.  Whatever.

3.  Middle Aged Idiot grins with pointless delight as a waiter babbles pretentious Italian at the Idiot's befuddled date (I don't blame Date for being Befuddled; after all, the job of a waiter is to inform the customer of what is on the menu and to take the order, not to impress the customer with his mastery of Italian.  At least, that's what I thought the job of a waiter was.)  Befuddled date, having given up all hope that Middle Aged Idiot will stop the humiliation and step in and ask the fucking waiter to speak English, grasps at a familiar word- "Tiramisu"- and interrupts with essentially "I'll Have That!"

Does Date really want Tiramisu?  I kind of doubt it.  She just wants this experience- which is delightfully funny to the guy but obviously painful to her- to end.  I just hope that when the stuff comes, she jams it into the guy's idiot face and walks out.

Anyway- great stories, American Express.  Seems to me that "Our cards are perfect for self-absorbed, clueless jackasses" could have presented in a shorter package, but at least a few actors picked up paychecks for appearing in this mess.

Consumer Cellular brings us the further adventures of those newly-connected Seniors

It's actually almost depressing to see these old stogies ramble on and on and ON about their stupid, AARP-approved phones as they enjoy their stupid, AARP-approved retirements, complete with RVs and cookouts and all the other things that the elderly are supposed to partake in until they finally die already.

Personally, if I spend one moment of my Golden Years (I'm not sure why the years we spend shuffling around, asking people to repeat everything, cursing at loud music while complaining that the television volume is never loud ENOUGH, going to bed at 7 and waking up at 4 are called "Golden," but whatever) chirpily discussing the advantages of a certain cell phone service with other overweight, sagging, blotchy seniors, it's one moment too many.  And I'm sure as hell not going RVing with some old woman, I don't care if I AM married to her.

I really hope that a lot of seniors who see these ads wince and angrily wonder why the hell they are always being portrayed as such witless dopes by Consumer Cellular.  It's like this phone company thinks that every Senior in America is a perpetually good-humored, financially secure (yet concerned with costs) overgrown troll finally living their Hard Earned Dreams, which always involve wandering aimlessly around suburban neighborhoods, fishing, barbecuing, and blathering away on phones ABOUT phones.  If my parents resembled anyone in these ads, I would NEVER visit them.

I can tell you right now that I'm never going to resemble any of these idiots, either.  And it's not just because I'm never going to get old (I'm not, though.  If these commercials have convinced me of anything, it's that growing old looks like a colossal bore and a waste of time, and I PASS.)  It's more because if this is what retirement looks like, I think I'd rather just keep working.  I mean, I don't even like RVs, and I sure don't want to spend every day talking to fat old geezers about ANYTHING, especially phones.

My New Years' Resolution, for Hollywood. Free of Charge.

Hey movie industry- don't take offense at this, ok?  This is not coming from a place of anger.  It's coming from the heart.  And you really need to hear this.  Consider it an intervention.

Please, for the love of G-d, make this pledge to yourselves, and to us, for 2013:

No more movies centered on the Pain and Suffering of Turning 40.

No more Seven Year Itch films.  You know the ones I'm talking about: The "I love you, but you aren't as young as you used to be, this isn't as fun as it used to be" themes featuring actors in their mid-30s who look like they could still get work as underwear models.

No more Biological Clock films.  I don't know anyone out there who enjoys watching women mope out discussing their changing biology in graphic terms on large screens.  Hell, I don't know anyone who wants to hear this crap in real life.  And while we are at it- PLEASE, no Women in Stirrups scenes.  I know you've always thought the Crying/Screaming/Sarcastic/Possessed Heavily Pregnant Woman Struggling to Give Birth bit was comedy gold, but (again, as a friend) I really feel like I need to let you know- it's not.  Never has been.  Never will be.

If you must have little children in these films, stop trying to convince us that they are blessings who burp, vomit and scream for no reason at all.  Because when they do that, they aren't blessings.  And no, we aren't interested in seeing children give their parents headaches and then be Loved More Than Ever For No Reason at the end.  Been there, DONE THAT.

And if you insist on giving us another year of this crap, at least do this for me:  Have the whiny, pathetic, treacly-sweet family live in something other than a majestic suburban estate or Manhattan Apartment.  Have them live in a trailer, or a crowded tenement in a crime-ridden neighborhood.  Oh, and have them get hit by a bus in the final scene.

Come on.  Give me SOMETHING for my efforts to help you out.  Oh, and Happy New Year.

Samsung continues to encourage us to Share the Fun Pain this Holiday Season

I'll give the makers of the latest horror from Samsung this much:  At least they didn't go the usual route of sprinkling a few Black/Hispanic/Asian faces among the partiers here.  Nope- this is a white family, enjoying what I guess is supposed to be a cute moment with their white friends and their white kids.  Not especially PC, and certainly not common these days- but I have to give them points for creating an ad that is more realistic than 99 percent of the commercials out there.

But that's about it with the praise.  Because the rest of the ad just adopts and endorses the Friends Is Just Another Word For Assholes theme we generally see in commercials for Cell Phones, Tablets, and all the other "Connectivity" garbage.  I don't know- maybe it's just me, but if I saw a guy trying to entertain my kids fall off the stairs, land on the hardwood floor, and lay there motionless, my first impulse wouldn't be to keep filming.  Because my first thought wouldn't be "OMIGOD LOL THIS IS GOING VIRAL UNDER THE TITLE 'SANTA FAIL!""  My first thought would be "Oh My G-d, are you hurt?"

But that's because I live in some weird alternate universe where people still give a damn, I guess.  Where "walk if off, Santa" wouldn't even occur to me.  And where capturing someone getting hurt on film is still accidental and regrettable, not an LOL EPIC bonus that will really improve my rating on YouTube.

I can remember a show called "America's Funniest Home Videos."  Pretty much every clip I ever (accidentally) saw on that show featured someone getting hurt (often badly) to the sound of people roaring with laughter.  That show had a pretty solid audience, but it was small, so I wasn't all that disturbed by the concept of a program which invited people to film each other suffering and then "share" it with the world.  But in the year 2012, capturing everything on--err, "film"--just seems to come naturally for a lot of people, and when a "friend" gets injured, that's just gravy.  It doesn't even matter if the friend was dressed up like Santa to spread a little joy to your kids.  It's just so great that he hurt himself, you can't wait to let the world know how funny it was.  Sick.

Samsung channels Orwell- "He Who Controls the Present, controls the Future."

Ugh, what a mess.

Here's a ridiculously large "family" (it would be more accurate to describe these idiots as "people who are accidentally related to each other") gathered together to "Share the Holidays" (it would be more accurate to describe this situation as "bear to be with each other instead of their friends and electronic devices for a day.")  If you look carefully enough you'll see that there's the prerequisite balance of males and females, a grandma, and a dog, as well as the usual racial ambiguity which the advertising world thinks it must be careful to include so that it doesn't tick off the obscenely easily annoyed among us.

It's all supposed to be very cute and sweet, I suppose- people who share common genetic code pushed into one side of a room so that the Patriarch can take a photo and prove to future generations that yes, these people existed and could tolerate one another on holidays.  Except- future generations are going to be conned into thinking this, and future grandparents are going to have very fuzzy, warped memories about what happened on this particular holiday.

Because thanks to Samsung (and The Cloud, and PhotoShop, and all of the other reality-bending technology that make our lives worth living these days) that messy thing called Real Life can be scrubbed, erased, and altered into Life As We Would Like It To Be But Aren't Willing To Put Any Effort Into Making Reality.  Kids won't stop fighting?  No problem- we can "swap in some smiles" (that's from an old Cloud commercial.)  Daughter won't stop texting (it's always Daughter who won't stop texting?)  Again, no problem- we'll erase the Real, and replace it with the Fantasy.

Snap.  Here's the photo.  Let's slap it on Facebook, stick it in a frame, use it to create a holiday card with Shutterfly.   In a few years (hell, with our rapidly decaying attention span, more like "in a few hours") it will represent what really happened.  And it was so easy- nobody had to behave like reasonable people who understood that Mom and Dad wanted a decent photo for a few seconds.  Kids didn't have to stop punching each other, and (Thank G-d) Daughter didn't have to stop texting.  Because that would have been tragic.

I wish Mom had finished this commercial by asking Dad "Can you make them disappear now?"  The answer certainly would have been "yes."  Brother-in-Law you really didn't want to invite can be erased from the photo.  Tree can be made more green, tinsel can be made more shiny, clothes can be made brighter.  Everyone can be made to look more happy, more content.  Reality?  That isn't perfect.  Toss it down the memory hole.

It's only Weird if he doesn't buy it

Let's see- I come home from work an hour early, looking forward to surprising my beautiful wife before settling down to watch the Monday Night Football Game.

When I walk into the kitchen, my wife is arranging beers, and there's this strange guy sitting on my couch, drinking a beer of his own.

I ask, "um, who is that?"  My wife responds "He used to live here- and he says he was sitting right there the last time the 49ers won the Superbowl."

If I want to be charitable, I quietly point out that the last time the 49ers won the Superbowl was in 1994.  That's 18 years ago.  Which means that if this guy is telling the truth, he's remembering something that happened when had his own apartment at the age of, what, TEN?

I'm not especially charitable, so instead I respond "Seriously?  You get caught with another guy in the house- and THAT'S the story you come up with?  It's bad enough that you are cheating on me- do you have to humiliate me, and YOURSELF, with the absolute worst alibi EVER?"

Of course, I'm not a TV guy, so it doesn't go that way.  I could never be a TV guy- I shave every morning, I try to dress neatly, I don't think it's funny when my friends get hurt, I don't live to laugh at my friends, and I'm not a beer, sex-and-cell phone-obsessed doofus.*  This woman's hubby IS a TV guy, so he buys the spectacularly unbelievable "this strange man is sitting in our living room because when he was a little boy the 49ers won the Super Bowl" yarn.

I'd say this woman is a real jerk, but I can't because if she's married to a TV guy, she must be a TV girl, which means she's smart and sensible and knows what she's doing at all times.  So I officially don't know what to make of this, except to think that it's probably not a good idea to try this at home, ladies.  Unless you are married to a TV guy- in which case, why not respond to "who's that?" by telling him to STFU and get to work on that damn lawn.

*I can't be.   Beer and cell phones are expensive.

If a fan massacres science at a football game, and nobody responds, does it make a sound?

I was going to go through the "labels out" choad's explanation to his fellow doofus pudding-brained loser moron friends how holding their not-beer bottles in a certain way would somehow contribute to their team's scoring the winning field goal.  I was going to- but after listening to it two or three times, I realized that I was getting nauseous, I'm not getting paid for this, and so-- to hell with it.

So instead, I'll just comment on that look the Unbeliever has when the field goal kicker- who is in the National Football League, is a Pro, and whose only job is to kick Field Goals- actually manages to...kick a Field Goal.  See for yourself- it's a look which says "Wow, it worked."

Now, I could be charitable here and assume that since it's the end of the game (it's implied that this isn't just any field goal kick, it's the deciding field goal kick) this is not the first Bud Lite Dimwitted, Easily-Duped Dunce has consumed over the past three hours.  I'll also assume that he's rather sensitive to alcohol, and is actually capable of getting buzzed by drinking Lite Beer.  But that's as far as my charity is willing to carry me with this guy.

That look makes it very clear that he honestly believes that because four guys in a crowd of 50,000 turned their beers,  it somehow influenced the trajectory of a football being kicked on a field eighty yards distant.  He doesn't smile appreciatively at the weird superstition of his friends.  He looks for all the world like he buys the gibberish he was fed by the Not-Physics Professor sitting two to his right.  That's not funny.  It's not charming.  It's really, really stupid.

Not as stupid, however, as the line "It's Only Weird if it Doesn't Work."  It doesn't work.  It's just the fans believing that somehow they can be something other than mere spectators, when in fact the only way they can have any impact on the game is by being really loud when their team is on Defense.  Even then, five idiots drinking Lite Beer in the cheap seats aren't going to pull it off.  But I can deal with multicolored socks, face painting, prayers, voodoo dolls, or any other Not At All Effective But Hell You Bought Your Ticket So Go For It idiocy.  But spare me the bullshit "science," ok, Bud Lite?  After all, if you guys knew anything about chemistry, maybe you'd be able to come up with a light beer worth drinking, instead of specializing in bad commercials not worth watching.

Use Shutterfly to help decorate my trash can

Here's another opportunity for disgustingly perfect, white suburban families to make sickly-sweet, treacly little reminders that they exist and that Their Lives Are Better Than Yours.  It's called Shutterfly, and as near as I can tell, it was created to stick another salt-encrusted knife into the stomachs of people like me who aren't married to beautiful women, don't live in suburban estates, and don't even have ONE offspring.  Not even ONE.  Man, am I NOT in the need for Shutterfly!

But if you have the standard white skin, pretty little palace, pretty little wife and pretty little kids who are apparently manufactured and shipped out of some factory in Utah but are only available to certain people, here's another way to show how Awesome you have it without buying a new SUV.  Just get your kids to pose for a few seconds, pick out some garish background like Santa's sleigh or a Christmas tree or a Snowman or something else so fucking cute that we just won't be able to stand it.  Your friends will be delighted to know things are still going great for you; they might even hold on to the card longer than they used to hold on those God-Awful annual updates people used to send out every year before they finally figured out that nobody gave a damn (or realized they could save postage by starting a blog nobody in their right mind would ever visit.)

You thought wedding invitations that included photos of the Lovely Couple were bad?  Wait till Shutterfly becomes all the rage among your Happily Married And Don't You Ever Forget It friends!  Man, I hate this time of year.

KFC's pitch: Silence is Golden. And Fat.

Here's a terrific holiday message from Kentucky FRIED Chicken:  When you find yourself between two obnoxious little monsters who simply will not stop playing their horrid "I'm not touching you" game, buy yourself some peace and quiet by simply poisoning them.

You might ask- why doesn't this slob just get up and walk away from these two spawns of Satan?  Well, just look at the guy- he doesn't look like Getting Up and Walking Away are activities that hold a whole lot of appeal to him.  However, he's probably on a first name basis with the girl behind the register at KFC.  Too bad, because this sure looks like a situation where a good, strong pair of legs would be a real life saver.

You might also ask- are these actual children, or well-trained dogs?  I mean, there is a bucket of chicken and a plate of cookies just sitting there.  But the kids are completely oblivious to their presence until their "Uncle" hands each of them a cookie.  First- I've never seen a kid shut up completely just because they have a cookie. These kids act as if they've never experienced one before, and are engrossed in the experience.  Second- that bucket is full of chicken.  So-- the kids didn't eat any chicken, but are skipping right to the desert?  Normally, I'd consider that to be rather poor modeling behavior for someone who is clearly supposed to be watching his nephews.  But then I remember this is KFC, and think that it's probably just as well the kids don't want to eat any of that stuff in the bucket.

And while I generally consider handing kids "food" like the grease-infused dead bird parts they serve up at KFC to be obvious child abuse, I can't say as I blame this guy for shutting these future heart valve donor seekers up by shoveling out the garbage.   I mean, just listen to them.  If this guy's waistline and asthma issues won't allow him to escape, he's got to do SOMETHING.

Oh yeah, leasing this Acura is MUCH more "Responsible." Sure it is.

I suppose this is supposed to be Acura's answer to the Lexus December to Remember Red Ribbons around the Ostentatious Overpriced Look at Me Machines commercials we are buried with every November and December.  The problem is- these ads are hardly less obnoxious.

We all know the drill- Upper Class Couple is considering a big purchase.  Suzie Orman, or Santa, or Bette Midler, or whoever pulls up to give a rude, uncalled-for and totally unwelcome lecture on how to be "responsible" with money.  Somehow, being "responsible" means heading off to your nearest Acura dealer to drop $3000 and sign up for payments of $429 per month for three years to rent a car you don't need.

(I know we don't see it in this clip, but these ads are ALWAYS being used to push lease "deals."  So bear with me...)

(BTW, what is the "Do Not Attempt" disclaimer supposed to refer to?  Do not attempt to kidnap people and preach at them about fiscal responsibility?  Do not attempt to take advice from celebrities while riding at high speeds in overpriced SUVs? What?)

"Santa" is a total corporate whore who will sell anything, I get it.  He got his start peddling Coca-Cola, for Christ's sake.  Bette Midler?  Who gives a damn?

But Suzie Orman is supposed to give good financial advice.  That's her f---ng JOB.  So when she pitches a shiny, overpriced Acura as a "Responsible" choice,  well, sorry- but this is like seeing your Nutritionalist scarfing Double-Down sandwiches at KFC or your AA sponsor stumbling out of a sports bar and vomiting into a trash can.  The other example I embedded here features "Dr" Phil.  That's not quite as bad- anyone who thinks that the crap this guy shovels out is of any value will get what he deserves, and like it.

But Suzie Orman-- really?  You need to have a talk with Dave Ramsey, lady.  Not about picking up a quick paycheck putting your name on a bad product- you already know how to do that.  But about posing as a Financial Health Guru and then peddling this overpriced, shiny import. For shame.  If you have any left.

Kmart is just asking us to be brave....

..that is, at least as brave as a fat, unshaven slob who thinks he's doing something worthwhile by sitting in his mommy's basement playing Black Ops.

You actually need a somewhat higher level of bravery to deal with the knowledge that Christmas is still weeks away.  And that there are a LOT of these commercials.  And that they all have to get lots and lots of airtime between now and December 25.

Maybe you can't get to the mute button every time.  But here's something you CAN do to make this a little more bearable:  don't go to YouTube and read the "What is this Song I want this Song where can I find this Song what is this Song" prattle from the knuckle-dragging mouth breathers who live to find the artist behind every 2-second bit of music that has ever appeared on television, ever.  I've often asked them what horrible thing has happened in their lives to make them such pathetic, bottom-feeding, SAD losers, but they always respond with a kind of garbled, sort-of-intelligible gibberish that I think is supposed to be a negative reaction to my query. Then, I imagine, they go back to hunting down commercials with music and asking about the artists and availability again.  Maybe they take a break from time to time to play Black Ops.  Or attempt to respond to me with their own very special brand of "English."  Whatever makes them happy and won't cause accidental cuts, I guess.

Maybe I'm being overly harsh here. I mean, it IS just Radio Shack after all....

All we need to put a big, bright Happy Ending to this nasty, obnoxious little mess of an ad is for a Killer Good Samaritan to give this idiot a Killer push into the next Killer oncoming train.   Since that's a little too nasty even for Your Place For Cheap Batteries, I'd settle for Idiot Girl to fumble her Killer Phone onto the tracks so we can see it getting smushed by said Killer oncoming train.

There are about a dozen of these god-awful "my new phone" ads from Radio Shack, that hole in the wall at the mall which used to be the place to go for junk remote control cars for Christmas that would be out of service and in the landfills long before summer came around.  And AM/FM signal "boosters" which boost absolutely nothing.  And "salespeople" who didn't have the slightest idea what they are doing.  Oh, and those cheap batteries.

Now, Radio Shack is apparently the place to go for phones if you are one of the 3000 or so people in the United States who don't live within two miles of a Verizon or Sprint store.

And apparently the only thing they teach you about your new phone at Radio Shack is how to hit the "Video" button and wave it in front of your stupid, fat face while you blather witlessly about your new purchase.  At least if you finished your little missive by slamming into a train or a car or a tree, you'd provide a little entertainment to the two friends you have left who can still bear to be near you.  Hell, you might even "go Viral" (ugh.)  But it looks to me like the people recording themselves singing praises of their phones are doing it only for their personal amusement (it's really hard to imagine that anyone would watch this unless they were doing it for their stupid blog, entitled "Look at this Self-Absorbed Twat.") Which is actually more sad than funny.

Still...would it be too much to ask that this woman fall into a stump grinder at around the 16-second mark?

It's December, which means it's time for Lexus to bring the Hate

If you don't absolutely loathe the people in this commercial, and everything about them, by the time the screen fades to black then all I can say is that you are a far, far better person than I am.

I mean, come on.  Disgustingly happy white family living in immaculately-decorated Suburban mansion head out to dinner at Upscale Trendy Restaurant in their tricked-out red Lexus SUV.  What more do you want?

How about that Mommy seems to see this weird recipe for Dead Bird on some restaurant's webpage, "Likes" it, and five minutes later is off to the restaurant to consume it?  What is that all about, anyway?  It says "Recipe"- but she doesn't attempt to cook it, she wraps up her Perfect Family and goes out to have it cooked and served to her.  I believe this is being sold to us as "better" than "Liking" it because...she gets to spend more time with her family?

How about that Mommy looks like a model for Clairol?  Or that Daddy has that prerequisite three-day's-growth Eurotrash beard going, not to mention the $100 haircut and the Just-Right wardrobe?  How about the perpetually delighted kids who finish up the package?  Or maybe it's all of the fucking "We are So Damned Happy All The Time You Would Be Too If You Were Us" grinning?

And how about that Upscale Trendy Restaurant, where emotionless wage slave Server (this place doesn't have waitresses, believe me) brings Mommy's three and a half mouthfuls of what looks like Garnished Nightingale in light wine sauce (I don't know what that's supposed to be.  I can only guess that it's the specialty of the Upscale Trendy Restaurant, it's something that the Help in the Back quietly snigger about whenever pompous rich dicks choose it, and that it costs around $50 a plate.  And that the people who order it have no idea how much it costs, and couldn't care less?)

So, again- if you don't really really hope that something horrible happens to these people on the way back to BetterThanYou Estates, you are a far better person that I am.  Not that that's saying much.  But still-what is the matter with you?

Later, the guy at the Honda dealership lets this kid take a Civic out for a test drive

As near as I can figure, Mommy has brought Junior with her to Best Buy to do some Christmas shopping in this ad.  There are an awful lot of commercials out there showing parents with their kids Christmas shopping. I've never understood this.  My parents never brought me shopping with them when they went to get presents.  Ok, so maybe Mommy can't afford a sitter (but she's checking out Apple products- Priorities, Priorities!)  Maybe she's not buying for Junior.  I don't know.

But never mind that, because now the ad goes cutesy, and then a little creepy.  Mom suddenly vanishes, leaving Junior free to play with all the Very Expensive Toys available at Best Buy.  The kid uses an I Phone to locate and attempt to call Santa (I think it's kind of sad that a kid this age knows how to manipulate the technology like this.  I would have no idea how to ask an I Phone a question like this myself.)  When that doesn't work, he looks for Santa online.  Another fail.

Then Best Buy Employee- who doesn't seem to mind that Mom has apparently decided that the store will make a perfectly good baby sitter while she runs off to do her REAL Christmas shopping (the employee TOLD HER that the Apple products were awesome- why is Junior the only one checking them out?  Is the final decision to purchase up to this kid?)  He makes a "helpful" suggestion to the kid to look for Santa on "Facetime" or something (no, I don't want to know what this is, thanks anyway.)  Frankly, if I worked at Best Buy and saw a kid this age fucking around with an a piece of expensive, fragile equipment, I'd give him a suggestion that didn't sound like "keep using that."

Except...maybe Best Buy Employee wants Junior to break the piece of expensive, fragile equipment so that if and when Mommy ever comes back, she might be forced to pay for it.  Not a great idea, Best Buy Employee, because Mommy could turn around and accuse you of steering your kid to inappropriate internet sites (I can imagine that "Talk to Santa" can lead to a hundred nasty places) and even if she ends up paying for the damaged device, the store manager isn't going to appreciate your methods all that much.  Hey, maybe Best Buy Employee is trying to get himself fired?  Or maybe he knows what his regular paycheck looks like and is just thinking "I don't give a flying damn if the kid breaks something I know I will never be able to afford as long as I work here, so to hell with it."

Wal Mart's salute to itself--err, I mean, Our Troops, of course

As near as I can tell, Wal Mart uses this manipulative pile of glurge to thank the US military for making the world safe for rampant Consumerism, exploitation, life-sucking Capitalism and the obsessive pursuit of the almighty dollar.  Thanks, Troops!

Meanwhile, I bet Billy's dad would have preferred an end to pointless, stupid, wasteful, bloody, morally indefensible wars which leave grieving widows and parents on both sides of the planet- or at least a few weeks of holiday leave- to a fucking blizzard.  Great wishing there, Billy.

This warmed-over serving of dreck reminds me of all those Hallmark Holiday movies which feature "angels" being sent down from "heaven" to teach nonconformist (non-materialist) losers The True Meaning of Christmas Before It Is Too Late ( I love Charles Dickens, but man...what he wrought with that one little story....) So children are suffering on every continent- starving to death, abused, maimed by machines, blown apart by drones and mines and rockets and IEDs- but G-d In His Wisdom feels compelled to send one of his celestial helpmates back to Earth because someone once took a "wrong" turn and Ended Up Not Really Happy.  You have to wonder about His priorities sometimes.

Hey, Billy?  If it turns out you've got G-d's Ear, might I suggest that you get a fucking clue, get out of your bullshit cartoon world, and make better use of your direct line to Paradise?  And if this is all about Santa's power, and not G-d's-- umm, Santa?  Strongly implied in Billy's pathetic "I just know my daddy won't mind spending Christmas dodging bullets in the desert if he can have a little snow" is the fact that daddy is in DANGER and just MAYBE what Billy would REALLY like is to have his Daddy home, where there is real snow- and where he doesn't have to wear a helmet and flack jacket.   Just a thought.

Meanwhile- Wal Mart?  I didn't think it was possible for me to hate your loathsome company any more than I already did.  Congratulations.  You topped yourself with this self-congratulatory, steaming lump of nothing.

Honda Family Values

Apparently, Laura got a new Civic as a reward for not killing her little sister at any time over the past year.  Normally I would think that a brand new car- ANY model- is a bit over the top as a Christmas gift for a girl who appears to be a teenager.  But after just a few seconds of listening to her obnoxious little snit of a sister, I think it's about right.

Not a particularly good sign that Laura is using her car to drive her presumably teen-aged friends around (aren't there laws in most states limiting the number of under-aged passengers who can be in the car with a minor driver?)  Not a good sign that Laura seems more interested in mastering the art of driving while texting and f--ing around with her sound system than in putting safety first ( a very BAD sign that Big Sister is willing to let Little Sister connect her I Pod to that sound system- is she worried about being wished into the corn field, or what?  And if that's the case, why doesn't Little Sister get to ride shotgun after calling it out?

And certainly not a good sign that Mom and Dad have no problem letting their teen-aged daughter drive all these kids around everywhere, including their younger one.

Come to think of it, where ARE mom and dad?  Was the Honda actually payment for 24-hour child care, provided by Older Daughter to Younger Daughter?  If so...Younger Daughter?  Maybe you shouldn't be bitching about your big sister not being quite nice enough.  If she's being paid to basically be your mom, you should save your angst and anger toward the person who birthed you and then turned you over to a sibling to raise.  You look pretty healthy.  Your sister isn't yelling at you to get the hell out of her face (or her car) and give her some damned private time with her friends.  Looks like a little gratitude is in order.

Where ARE Mom and Dad?

The slow progression from annoying to unbearable, courtesy of Verizon

"This is perfect" pathetic, lonely cat lady says.  You can tell she's pathetic and lonely because

1.  She's sitting all by herself on a couch
2.  She's sitting with a cat,
3.  She's got an empty carton of ice cream on the couch with her (hey, let's leave no Pathetic Lonely Friendless Woman cliche' left unmilked here, Verizon,)
4.  Watching tv on a phone is her definition of "perfect," and
5.  She's wearing glasses.  Yes, that really does mean she's pathetic to the people who wrote this commercial. Not to me- she does plenty later on to reveal herself as truly pathetic.  She didn't need the glasses or the cat.

So pretty soon, because she's got this Verizone NFL Mobile thingee, she's out and about and annoying the hell out of everyone unfortunate enough to be within earshot of her (and she gets louder and louder, so that distance increases throughout the ad.)  She becomes one of those disgusting, anal Know It Alls because she's become permanently attached to her stupid phone, and permanently attached to the NFL through it.

She's bleating stats and "AWW YAYAHH," which in my opinion should bring the death penalty to anyone who utters in in public.  She's holding up lines and forcing everyone around here to "enjoy" the NFL because God Fucking Forbid Anyone In These Commercials Ever Uses Headphones (of course, the non-use of headphones is always demonstrated as a plus in these ads- see, because she's willing to "share," she's made all these awesome friends.)

In the end, she insists on performing some juvenile little ritual that results in someone getting barbecue mashed in his face.  Seems like this is happening during a party of some kind, but that's not surprising- I can't count how many times I've seen people in commercials attending parties, weddings, family picnics, etc. yet are frozen to their God Damned Phones.  It's also not surprising that the guy who gets food all over him courtesy of Miss Verizon Jackass is completely nonplussed about the whole thing.  After all, Idiot Girl was watching her phone.  What did he expect?

Anyway, this ad kind of reminds me of the "Get DirectTV or horrible things will happen to you" ads in reverse- because this woman realized she had this awesome service from Verizon, she got herself out of the house, ditched the glasses, went to a hair stylist, changed her wardrobe and became popular with Fellow Brain-Dead Losers Who Can't Get Enough of the NFL.   Get the message?  Don't be a pathetic cat lady sitting quietly on the couch reading a book or watching non-NFL stuff on tv.   Get the NFL from Verizon.  Be a pathetic cat lady who annoys the freaking hell out of the planet.  Much better.

John Hancock presents the endless saga of the whiny Investor Class

Ah, yes, we all feel for you guys, we really do.

It must be so hard.  There you are, sitting in your enormous living rooms, in front of your roaring fires, with your SUVs sitting in the garages and twinkling holiday lights adorning your palatial suburban estates.  To the clueless who don't "get" your situation-  the overworked and underpaid who can't save a nickle because wages peaked in the 70s but inflation continues unabated- life looks pretty damned good for you.  Shows what they know.

After all, they don't have anything close to the headaches you have.  Like, deciding between the Aspen or Switzerland ski vacations.  The crowds over at Fresh Fields Market.  Keeping an eye on the cleaning lady (and calculating her Social Security deductions, if you decide to go the Hiring Only American Citizens route.)  Getting Cody to Tai Kwon Do and Keira to ballet and swim lessons.  Interviewing Au Pairs.  Seriously, it never ends.

And they really don't have a clue about the hassle of Disposable Income.  They are the lucky ones- they have to spend every penny they get.  They don't know about Investments and IRAs and Portfolios.  They might worry about paying the electric bill and keeping the heat turned on and getting enough food on the table for their kids, but they've never tossed and turned wondering if that $30K you dropped into Hog Futures is going to pay off, or maybe it would have been better to put it into that Lexus Cody has his heart set on.  They know they are going to work until they drop, and if they DO retire because they are so broken down no one will hire them, they've got that very limited, very easy to manage Social Security check as their sole means of support- simple.  They'll never have to juggle several Income Streams, manage multiple homes, or set up annuities.  Not to mention 401(ks)-- the tax implications alone can drive you straight to the chardonnay and brie.

So thank you, John Hancock, for giving the vast majority of us yet another reason to feel Thankful this Holiday Season.  Maybe we've got student loan bills.  Maybe we are overworked and underpaid.  Maybe we don't even HAVE jobs and aren't quite sure where the next rent check is coming from.  But at least we aren't getting the kind of ulcers reserved for the Most Productive.  Man, my heart really goes out to THEM.

Me too,Crazy Wal Mart Lady. Me too.

I live 550 miles from my parents and siblings, but I make it back for the big holidays most years.  This year I made Thanksgiving, and I'll be back for Christmas too.  Lots of traveling, lots of expense, but it's worth it.

A few years back, we gathered together to give gifts- and three hours later, we were exhausted, surrounded by paper and boxes and trinkets of affection that made several of us more than a little queezy with the excess of it all.  So the following year, we decided more than a month in advance- NO GIFTS.  Just being together was enough.  And every Christmas since then has been much less stressful, much more relaxing.  Sure, we are partially responsible for gutting the economy, but too damned bad.  This is better.

So, Crazy Wal Mart Lady who thinks that she's actually spreading happiness by purchasing hundreds of pieces of cheap crap made in China, putting herself in debt to continue the vicious Stuff=Happiness Cycle-- you fail, utterly.  The neighbors were right- you really are a loser.  That's why you find triumph in your ability to waste money and raise kids to think that Christmas is all about temporary pleasure found in shiny plastic crap purchased with shiny plastic cards.  I'm glad you're done, until next year.  When you can relive this empty triumph all over again.  Have fun.  I will- with my family.  Sans Junk.  Takes all kinds, I guess.

(BTW: Check out the banner in the background:  "More Christmas, Less Money."  Yes, because the amount of "Christmas" you have depends on the number of gifts you hand out.  Disgusting.)

Add "Being a Chef" to the list of things AmeriTrade doesn't have a clue about

On the first day of his new job, Joe's boss gave him two pieces of advice:  "Cook what you love, and save your money."

Very interesting.

Joe took his boss at his word- and proceeded to make beef stew with dumplings, and apple pie.  Because that's what he loves to cook.  And when the boss tried to remind Joe that he's working in a Pakistani Restaurant, Joe got very confused.  "Remember that hackneyed, bumper-sticker advice you gave me?" asked Joe.

When Joe's boss replied "Um, no.  I'm sure I was just talking out of my ass, because I had nothing to say that was actually constructive" Joe proceeded to remind his Boss about the whole "cook what you love" crap.

Boss's response was "umm...yeah, I guess I did say that.  But I say a lot of really stupid things.  What I MEANT was, cook what the customer orders."

Joe tells his boss that he now no longer has any confidence in the Boss's integrity, since he keeps changing his message.  It was bad enough when that asshole at the next table dumped flour on his head (an email has already been filed with Human Resources) but now Boss is going back on HALF of all the advice he gave on the very first day Joe was an employee!

Boss then asks "what was the second half?"  Joe responds "you told me to save my money."  Boss replies "now THAT was good advice.  Because if you make one more pot of beef stew and dumplings, or one more apple pie, you are going to be on the unemployment line."

"And here's some more advice- stop taking my BS as gospel.  Because if I knew anything about being a chef, I'd be cooking, not sitting in my office in the back trying to figure out how to get my waitresses down to ninety cents an hour."

Of course, all this could have been avoided if TD AmeriTrade had bothered to learn even a little bit about what it's like to be a Chef.  It's not Rocket Science.

(BTW, is there any place on Earth where people "work their way up" from busser, to waiter, to chef?  What does one skill have to do with the next?  When I notice that a familiar waitress is no longer at my favorite restaurant, should I assume that she's now behind the scenes, cooking?  Because I always thought she had just moved on to a different job.  Have I been wrong all this time?)

Chevy Steps All Over Its Message in this one

This is one of Chevy's more honest ads- sure, they exploit the whole Santa as a Car Salesman thing for roughly the 400th time, but at least they admit that their Cars Crashing Through the Wilderness and Big Strong Dirty Guys NEEDING Trucks to do Man Stuff ads are basically bullshit.  That's something.

In this ad, Stupid Not Very Good Car Salesman Santa ( who btw can come up with TWO items of praise for this truck- that it's "Dependable" and that it's "Long-Lasting, too"- which sounds a lot like one reason to me) doesn't get that when unshaven slob Alpha Male Wannabee says "I really need this truck," the proper response is "let's get to work on that paperwork so you can go about your rugged, masculine business, then" not "oh really?  And exactly why does a guy with a wife and three kids who lives on Happy Cherry Lane in Levittown "need" with a truck again?"

Because you see, Stupid Car Salesman Santa, it's your job to sell these pointless Man Toys, not talk potential shlub customers like this ugly doofus out of buying one by interrogating him about his non-existent hunting and fishing until he breaks down and cries on your shoulder about how pathetic and civilized his life is.   And it is pathetic- not because hunting and fishing is pathetic, but because this guy thinks that he needs to impress a fat oaf in a white beard by exaggerating what he thinks is the measure of his masculinity.

Personally, you'd think the guy would be satisfied with having even a small part of the package- he's scruffy, unshaven, and at least showing an INTEREST in buying a rugged Man Truck.  It's better than crying, which no real man ever does.  Right?

Droid's weird concept of time and space makes my head hurt

Sometimes commercials are so full of stupid, it's pretty much impossible for me to figure out what route to take in snarking on them.  I honestly have no idea what is happening at any moment in this advertisement for this month's Must Have Phone, the "Droid Razr," which is Cool Because There's No E in Razr.

This guy uses his phone as an alarm clock (hey, I can do that with my phone, it's Droid Razr-Like!)  He apparently gets out of bed fully clothed, including shoes.  Then he uses the phone to- watch tv?  Operate his sound system?  I don't know what he's doing.  You'd think a shower and shave would be higher priorities than Making Sure The Phone Does Everything You Used To Have To Do For the 200th Time Since Yesterday.

And then it seems that he's "trapped" in his bedroom, which has no roof, and which features what look to be rather easily-scaleable five-foot walls.  Because he's got some intensely juvenile game on his phone, he can blow a hole in the wall?  Or is this weapon an actual, downloadable App?  Again, I really don't know.

So I'll ignore all the Stupid which leads up to what I don't think is supposed to be a punchline-- "The Droid Razr.  Now, more than ever."

"Now more than Ever?"  The Droid Razr was introduced in alllll the way back in November 2011.  That's an entire Year Ago.  A YEAR.  The Droid Razr HD was introduced in SEPTEMBER, 2012.  Two months (or three versions of the Kindle) ago.  "Now more than Ever?"  Really?

What's on that Samsung Galaxy Video

Take your pick.  The video Mommy made for Daddy that he's not supposed to watch on the plane is

A)  A streaming video of a recent Sixty Minutes Report on the shocking discovery that more than half of all passenger planes have faulty cargo doors that tend to pop open at 20,000 feet, sucking the plane's contents into the stratosphere, or

B)  A Dear John Video- as in "Dear John, while you are away on yet another 'business trip' with that whore secretary of yours, I'm emptying the bank account and running off with the guy from the Samsung kiosk.  The kids are with your mother.  Don't call."  Or

C)  What we are supposed to think it is- an X-rated video this woman made to....umm..."entertain" the guy while he's away.  Which means she's not his wife, and those aren't her kids.  She's the babysitter.  Because married women with kids don't do this.

Whatever it is, her warning isn't going to do any good, of course.  Because it doesn't matter how inappropriate the video might be in an non-private setting.  We all know that owners of phones like this don't give a flying damn who is listening to their conversations (I have heard far more about the personal lives of total strangers through their phone banter than I ever wanted to) or who is within earshot of their music- they SURE aren't going to start caring about who is watching and listening to Babysitter be what she thinks is sexy on a video.*  So good luck, people who are sitting within three aisles of this guy- you are going to get an earful.  And if you crane your neck a little, maybe even an eyeful.**

*Yes, I'm going with Option C on this one.

**What I REALLY hope is that Babysitter is sick of Daddy and knows he's a clueless, inconsiderate douchenozzle who WILL watch her video on the plane- and the video consists of her yelling really loudly "I DID WHAT YOU TOLD ME TO- I PLANTED THE BOMB IN YOUR SUITCASE!!  ALL PRAISE TO ALLAH!!!"

(BTW, anyone else think that look Babysitter gives Daddy just after she says "don't watch it on the plane" is far more Creepy than it is Cute or Sexy?  Brrrr.)

Wal Mart, Black Friday, and the Triumph of Greed over Humanity

In case you hadn't heard, at Wal Mart "Black Friday," that annual celebration of gross excess and the unlimited power of marketing and corporate greed, will once again begin on Thursday Evening.  That's Thanksgiving Day.  You know, that secular holiday where the Banks and Schools and Post Offices are all closed so that we can all get together with our loved ones (or our families) to share our gratitude for getting through another year safe and sound.

Which means it's time for our friends over at FOX to send out the regular parade of scum-sucking, corporation-worshiping, subhuman pigs to rant against the GALL of minimum-wage workers wanting to (gasp!) spend an ENTIRE DAY with their families every last Thursday in November, the lazy ungrateful bastards.  Spencer Hughes over at Ultimate Corporate Whore Radio (XM/Sirius Fox Channel) is especially talented at this, raving that the shelf-stockers and floor cleaners and greeters and cashiers who are "lucky" enough to have a job at Wal Mart should be "grateful" for the opportunity to work, considering that so many people don't have employment at all in These Hard Times, and they'll Never Get Ahead if they don't give up their Slovenly Ways.  Hughes likes to call such people, who have the nerve to have Family Values like "I want to have dinner with my family like everyone else instead of rushing off to help people load 45-inch flat screens onto carts like I'll be doing for the next month anyway" even though they are are struggling to keep their heads above water "pathetic whiners," and then strongly encourage their Betters at Wal Mart to fire their useless, bitching asses.

Hughes and his braying ilk may take a call now and then from an informed citizen who tries to question the morality of a company which is owned by six siblings who were Productive and Hard-Working enough to accomplish being the spawn of Sam Walton, each of whom will make more money in unearned interest every month than most people will see in a lifetime of toil, squeezing even more unneeded profit out of  their tired, discouraged wage slaves by forcing desperate, frightened employees to cut their holidays short every Thanksgiving.   They'll respond by calling the questioner Jealous, Lazy and-- always-- Ungrateful.  The message will be received, and the next five callers will agree that the Waltons should just can all these losers and replace them with people who understand the virtue of hard work and unquestioned loyalty to the Boss- and then regale us with their own Rags to Riches story, and how they Worked Very Hard Since The Day They Were Born and how Nobody Ever Gave Them Anything and how they Earned Every Penny They Have.

Oh, and "Obamacare."   Just Because.

I'm not sure why these hosts don't include the sound effect of a whip cracking in the background during their "oh boo hoo you can't have dinner with your family, next year start a business and get rich like you are supposed to if you don't like it" spittle-thons.  It would certainly fit.  I mean, think about it- they are glorifying the success of a corporation built on the product of Chinese slave labor, sold by Americans they can pay next to nothing because of their success at Union-busting.  (Please, don't get these people started on UNIONS. They killed American business- which means, they killed America- you know.)

I wonder if, when these soulless dicks watch A Christmas Carol with their deductibles-- err, children-- they pause the DVD at the part where Scrooge complains that Bob Cratchit wants Christmas Day off and explain to the family how the scene would play better if Cratchit fell to his knees and kissed Scrooge's ass to show his gratitude- and how Scrooge would have been perfectly justified in just tossing Cratchit out into the snow (no Socialist Unemployment Insurance back then, either- ah, the Good Old Days!)  My guess is that they just explain that Cratchit is just like those lazy, stupid, 47% Takers not Makers who work at Wal Mart yet for some reason think that they are entitled to Holidays like everyone else, even though They Don't Even Pay Taxes.  The nerve. They clearly don't get that the Waltons are more deserving of another several hundred million dollars they can never spend than the workers are of a few more hours with their families.

Coming next year:  Wal Mart's Huge Enormous Can't Be Missed Post-Christmas Spectacular starts at Noon, December 25.  Better get those gifts unwrapped quickly- you are expected on the floor.

CRRRAAACK!!

Fidelity to what, exactly?

This woman has managed to land herself a very nice house and has socked away what I'm going to guess is a significant pile of loot, but she can't get the nasty little reminders of her fertility to shut the f--up for a few moments while on the phone?

Or she considers the future of her nest egg to be so unimportant that it's perfectly ok with her if she can't quite hear everything the Fidelity guy on the phone is saying because those stupid kids are running around the house (while the sun streams through the windows) tossing toys all over the place screaming their asses off?

And what's with the "can you hold on a minute" bit?  She "uses" that minute to walk five steps, pick up one of her kids, and move him off the green line which has magically appeared on the floor.  Why does she do this? And what's with that kid, that he needs to be picked up and moved, and can't just be asked to step off the freaking line?

Personally, I think this commercial works much better as an ad for a dating service.  Desperate, harried, "Oh crap what did I get into" woman, watching her children rob her of her youth day by day, calls It's Just Lunch, hoping to meet a nice guy who can sweep her away from all this.  A green line appears on the floor- the green line to freedom.  Just move the kids out of the way, drop the phone, and head out the door, lady.  This is the first day of the rest of your life.

Fidelity?  With THESE kids? To hell with that.

That is a tv-typical spacious house, though.  I guess that was the honey that baited the trap.  Old story.

McDonalds gives me a threemendous headache

Well, it certainly appears that the "I'm Smart Because I Buy Off the Dollar Menu" campaign is over at McDonalds.  It won't be missed.  Unfortunately, it's been replaced by commercials for something called the "CBO."  I think it's a Cheddar, Bacon and Onion burger, which sounds pretty good until you remember it's from McDonalds.

Because it IS from McDonalds, it must be sold to us by the most intensely stupid-looking non-actors the-- ahem, "restaurant" can find.  These non-actors must be willing to bleat the most god-awful, juvenile lines to each other while keeping a grin on their faces and holding- but never actually eating- whatever warmed-over pile of dreck McDonalds is peddling to our impressionable youth this month.   Very often, it's only one line, and this time, it's only one word.  One Non-Word.  And that non-word is "Threemendous."

McDonalds would like the non-word Threemendous to become lodged in our brain and create irresistible images of fried ground beef and pork and cheese and onions which cannot be removed until we've all rushed off to the nearest--ahem, "restaurant" and snatched up one of these life-shortening sandwiches.  Won't take long, since nobody in the lower 48 lives more than ten minutes from a set of golden arches.  Lucky us.

Oddly enough, I don't get an image of fatty, salty, oily, sugary, artery-clogging junk when I think of the non-word "Threemendous."  Instead I envision a pick ax, and me driving it into the skulls of everyone responsible for this abomination.  And then wondering why nobody at McDonalds seems to have a soul,  because that annoying little appendage might actually convince at least a few people over at Corporate that with this whole obesity epidemic going on, maybe peddling this crap might be....I don't know...wrong?

At LEAST McDonalds could be as honest as Golden Corral is in THEIR ads.  Golden Corral shows us actual customers- bloated, clueless, tasteless pigs swooning over the Amazing Chocolate Wonderfall and Cotton Candy machine.  McDonalds shows us freaking models enjoying their putrid crud.  In reality, I'm the only good-looking person who EVER walks into a McDonalds.  And that's just to get coffee.  They've got good coffee.  It's not Threemendous, because that's not a f--ing word.  But it is good.

Marie Callender's: The Best Reason to Get Out, Fast

Kids don't just grow up fast on a steady diet of Marie Callender's fat-and-salt-laden crap; they grow OUT fast, too.

And maybe they wouldn't grow up so fast if they weren't so damned anxious to get out of the house while they still had a few functioning heart valves left.  Seriously, it's amazing how many of these kids of Clueless, Lazy-ass parents managed to GET to adulthood, considering the warmed-up junk constantly being shoveled at them during their formative years.

And the final "touching" scene of the Prodigal Son coming home for a surprise visit, and instantly being reminded why he left in the first place- Mom and Dad immediately "treat" him to-- another serving of Marie Callendars.  I want this guy to respond "Jesus F---ing Christ on a Pogo Stick, did either of you EVER consider cracking open a fricking COOK BOOK, even ONCE?"

Santa has traded his Norelco for a Mercedes Benz. And we like him a lot less

Well, it seems that Santa has done rather well for himself in the past year, doesn't it?


We've got unemployment at just under 8% as the "new normal."   We've got college becoming an out-of-reach fantasy to more and more young adults every single year.  We've got a President who is concocting what he calls a "Grand Bargain" involving taking a machete to the social safety net, accepting the bullshit talking point that Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid are the principle drivers of the deficit and must experience "sensible cuts."

Oh, but he's going to "ask the wealthy to pay a little more," so it's all OK.  WTF-ever, buddy.

We've got wages which peaked in the early-90s and costs which continue to rise.  Subsequently, we've got a  large population using credit cards to buy groceries and gasoline.   We've got families who are REGULARLY in debt, with monthly payments to VISA as automatic as the electric bill and mortgage.  We've got kids being raised by schools and by other kids while Mom and Dad both work full-time jobs (if they are both fortunate enough to HAVE jobs.)

Ah, but someone is thriving in this Brave New World.  Santa has a car collection that would put Jay Leno's to shame.  Warms the heart, doesn't it?

I can just guess who Santa voted for this year.  He almost certainly cast his vote for the Corporate whore who worships at the Shrine of Business and lets Wall Street determine the economic fate of the nation.  Or maybe he voted for Mitt Romney.  He certainly didn't vote for Jill Stein or any of the Non-productive Whiners Who Want Nanny Government And Cradle To Grave Care.  Fuck THOSE losers.

Oh, and Merry Christmas.  Ho Ho Ho.  The first Lexus Wrapped in a Red Ribbon commercials appearing on a television near you in 3.....2.....1.....

McDonalds commercials are disgusting and stupid in any language. Why am I not surprised?

Well, it's good to see that the rest of the planet is not being left out, isn't it?

You don't have to know the words to this song (I didn't check- can I assume a lot of YouTubers want to know what the song is and where they can get it?) to see that this commercial might as well be the trailer of the most predictable, asinine, fill-in-the-numbers teen angst movie ever made.  I mean, it's got "Can't Hardly Wait" smeared all over it.  I guess I'd like to know what the little girl found so mesmerizing about this little boy her mom weirdly decided to hook her up with when she was six years old- but on second thoughts, not really.  We see that despite a steady diet of sugared french fries and hot fudge sundaes from the world's biggest pig trough, Cute Little Boy and Cute Little Girl grow up to be reasonably healthy-looking human beings (seriously- where's the acne?  Where's the flab?  Where's the flushed complexions and sweat and shortened breath?)  Cute Little Girl found herself another guy (in true celluloid style, she Never Realized That The True Love Of Her Life Was Right In Front Of Her All AlongTM.)  In REAL life, Cute Girl isn't really expected to stay attached to Cute Boy She Met One Day At McDonalds when she was at that age where girls generally haven't made sex distinctions or, at most, think boys are Icky.  In Hollywood/McDonalds Ad Land, this means they were meant to be.

Cute Boy shows he's not ok with Cute Girl having actually grown up, breaking the Hollywood rules, and moving beyond him by dipping his french fries into his hot fudge sundae.   This is supposed to stir something in Cute Girl's heart, I guess.  Again- in REAL life, Cute Girl respond with "ick, what the hell are you doing?  We used to eat bugs, too- are you going to do THAT in front of me?  Grow the f--k up!"  In Reel Life, all the---umm, "feelings" that Cute Girl felt for Cute Boy back when they still believed in Santa Claus come rushing back, and Cute Girl dumps the guy she's only known for a few months, not when she was wetting the bed over the prospect of lunch at McDonalds.

See?  Told you you didn't have to know the words to this song.

Why didn't Microsoft just go with "Shallow?'

It's cheap!  It's plastic!  It comes in pretty colors!  It's mostly disposable!

In other words, it fits in PERFECTLY with the modern American lifestyle!

It's called "Surface," and incredibly, it's NOT a parody product reviewed by The Onion.  As near as I can tell, it's a flimsy, thin piece of electronic junk which is JUST cheap enough to convince you that when it inevitably cracks and breaks it's no big deal, just pitch it into the nearest garbage can and get yourself another one.  And if you don't break it in the first two or three months of ownership, well- BONUS!!  It's been upgraded to be even thinner and lighter and fragile!  Yay!

I can see this becoming the next Must-Have product for a generation that has grown up with cell phones which go from being the Kewlest Thing Evah to Outdated Junk in less than half a year.  I can see kids with huge college debt and no jobs somehow managing to justify owning this shiny, rather inferior substitute for a laptop (or, better yet, a fricking notepad and pen- that was more than good enough for me when I was in college, which no was NOT fifty years ago.)

And I fully expect that around this time next year, I'll be seeing plenty of these things scattered along the side of the road as I take my day hikes (26 miles today, new record, yay me!) crowding out cell phones and beer cans for space among the piles of rubble.  Because there's no overestimating the stupidity of the American buying public.  Microsoft is, as always, banking on it.

Discover another reason why Death is not such a bad thing

Why a sudden, massive heart attack which leaves me cold on the floor would be welcome right about now:

1.  This commercial played during every commercial break of the Pittsburgh/Notre Dame contest.  Every. Single. One.

2.  The guy who wrote this commercial thinks he's clever.  You just know he does.  Douchenozzles are like that.

3.  The guy who narrates this commercial badly needs an iron spike applied to his skull.  Right now.

4.  The good people at Discover Card who signed off on this ad need to be huddled into a small, cramped room and made to watch it for 24 hours straight.  Because you know they'll never watch it voluntarily.

BTW, check out the "comments" from the children who populate the YouTube world.  For some reason only one of the drooling chimps who live over at YouTube could explain to me (and no, that isn't an invitation,) several posters felt compelled to type out the script of this god-awful, painful pile of steaming dreck.  Well, at least none of them are asking "what is this song wats the name of this song lol I love this song what is that song?'  At this point, I really have to thank God for small favors.

Sonic: this is how you die young, fat and boring

I've often wondered why Sonic commercials always feature two guys sitting in their cars holding food instead of consuming it in the--- ahem-- "restaurant."  I've never been to a Sonic- are they intensely filthy places?  Are they Golden Corral-ugly, with Golden Corral-like sweaty pigs ruining any sensible person's appetite shoveling greasy crap down their cake holes in between slurping thick gum-based milkshakes?

I mean, if you aren't in a hurry- and the guys in these commercials never seem to be, as they skirt around their sexual identity issues by obsessing over the fat and carb delivery systems they've just shelled out for at the drive-thru- why would you sit in your hot, cramped car to eat this crap instead of in a booth where you can spread out, loosen your belt, and most of all dump the paper and plastic the stuff came wrapped in right there instead of tossing it in the back of your automobile to attract bugs?

But I'm willing to continue to wonder about all that, if someone can explain to me-- Cheesecake bites?  Really?  Cheesecake bites?  Look, my life isn't exactly what I hoped it would be.  I'm lonely a lot of the time.   If it weren't for my students, I'd have a hard time some days getting up in the morning.  Sometimes I still have a hard time.  But I've never been so depressed, so disgusted with my existence, so devoid of interest in my future (such as it is) that I would consider ingesting something called "Cheesecake bites."  Things are going to have to get a lot worse than that.

The flatmelt sandwiches look pretty good though.  Ah, the power of television.

Nutella presents another episode of "How She Uses her MRS Degree"

Thank goodness for MommyWife and her ability to hold what is left of her soul and her brain together to be of regular service to her family!

In between singing the praises of Nutella, MommyWife astonishes one kid with her quick recital of the capital of West Virginia.  We aren't told why exactly Daughter needs to know the capital of West Virginia at this moment- we don't see her write it down, and God Forbid she reply with a "thank you."  And bubble-headed MommyWife, half her brain cells burned out of her skull by ammonia fumes and boredom, doesn't know why she has that nugget of information jingling around in her practically-empty cranium (some teacher probably taught it to her once, when she was a little girl and had some dream that did not involve chirpily spreading not-peanut butter on toast and bleating random factoids to idiot spawn.)  Daughter just gives Other Daughter a look which probably means "Told you Mom would know that," and MommyWife can add "knows state capitals" to "can spread Nutella on bread" and "am fertile" to her list of assets.

Another kid wants his backpack.  Naturally, MommyWife knows where that is.  She doesn't know where those old dreams are, she doesn't know where her soul is, and she hasn't been out of the house except to go shopping or to cart someone to soccer practice or swimming lessons in eight years, but she knows where the backpack is.

And here's the guy who made All This Possible, providing MommyWife with a suburban palace to keep clean, a new washer and dryer every few years, a different last name and a big SUV to park in the driveway in exchange for her personality and youth.  He's somehow managed to find the kitchen (probably followed the singsong voices of people asking about West Virginia and backpacks) long enough to get the lowdown on all the things he's forgotten because it's just so much easier to let MommyWife remember things for him these days (that's what she's there for, after all.)  MommyWife hands him his own slice of bread and Nutella, and the whole crew is off to do fun and interesting and educational things, leaving MommyWife to her Tide detergent and Swiffer.  We kind of hope that she goes running for the shelter of mother's little helper now and then, because at least that would be evidence that there's an actual human being somewhere behind that frozen smile and those zombie eyes.

And what a great message- "Say No to Sharing." Inspiring!

Ok, so apparently the intensely ugly little knob of a commercial featuring the intensely ugly, nasty family of an intensely helpless dickwad dad was such a hit with some focus group which needs to burn in hell forever that it's been turned into a series.  Lucky us.

Now that we've gotten the pilot out of the way, we move to Zany Sitcom Situation Number Two- Dad, who has already proven totally incapable and even more totally uninterested in being an actual Parent, has hired a "Data Coach" to follow the people living in the same house with him ( I don't think that the word "family" really works here) and order them to stop using their phones foolishly.

Naturally, Data Coach proceeds to stalk the kids, barking at them to shut their fucking phones (which they do not pay for)  off.  He catches mom hiding in the car, trying to get off a quick text to her lover without Mean Husband and his Data Cost Obsession breathing down her neck.  And he interrupts absolutely nothing by walking into Husband and Wife's bedroom to yell at Hubby to put his phone away.

It's all supposed to be very funny, but comes off as really pointless and stupid and a sad commentary on this "family's"  total failure to show even the slightest modicum of respect or understanding for each other.  The Dad acknowledges that there is this problem with high data charges.  Mom is pissed that Dad keeps bringing it up instead of just taking an extra shift at work to pay for them.  Son and Daughter don't give a flying damn how much it costs to use these phones, because as I noted before, it's not their money and they would rather die than stop texting and tweeting and talking and downloading and streaming.  (I'd rather they die, too.)  So Dad's answer is to bring in a total stranger to act as Surrogate Enforcer, accomplishing nothing except making him appear even more the unreasonable heavy- and even more a clueless douchebag who exists to ruin everyone's lives with his penny pinching.

As I've noted before- I don't have kids, so maybe I'm just out of line commenting on these ads, but....is it really so impossible for parents to work together to establish simple ground rules when it comes to the family budget?  Is it really inconceivable that the answer to high phone bills might be something other than Unlimited Data Plans?  I can't even imagine enabling my kids to use their phones nonstop like this- hell, I can't even imagine buying my kids cell phones that could do anything but actually CALL people.  (Oh, and if this makes them show poorly for their friends, let me demonstrate my tiny violin-playing skills. And hand them the Want Ads.)

Anyway, I really hope that this series gets the axe now, because I don't want to see what Dad tries next, I really don't.  And I don't want to keep getting told that the "solution" is Unlimited Data, and not a badly-needed lesson in moderation and budgeting.  But I'm nothing if not a realist, and I'm smart enough to know that this is probably going to get even worse, and will continue the downward slide until the people in these ads are happily gazing at their phones 24/7 with glazed-over eyes and drool dripping down their chins.

Oh and by the way, if you live in an Apartment, you must want the terrorists to win

Along with the treacly National Association of Realtors commercials which show happy, well-adjusted kids who will succeed in life because Mommy and Daddy did their duty and signed up for 30 years of payments to the local Megabank downtown (which sold the mortgage before their signatures were dry, but never mind,) here's another Real Americans Own Suburban Palaces ad.  Yay.

The message is blindingly obvious:  If you care about your country, if you care about putting people back to work, and if you care about maintaining the veneer of Middle-Class happiness symbolized by leaf-littered lawns, giggling children, Big Wheels, Speed Bumps and Lawn Sales, you'll get your ass down to the credit union and sign half of your next 3000 paychecks away in exchange for four walls, a garage and lifetime membership to the Home Depot Herbicide of the Month Club.

After all, Home Ownership is what being an American is all about.  That, and feeling permanently locked into your cubicle because hey, those mortgage payments are just going to keep coming for what feels like forever.  And nobody promised you (in writing) that the biggest purchase of your life was going to increase in value, or even stay stable.  So when you don't get a raise for the third year in a row- just zip it, House Monkey.

Hey, at least the kids are happy, even though they don't know why.  And speaking of whom, better get yourself some term life insurance.  Because it never, ever ends, this Being a Good American thing.   I'll have to try it myself someday.

SelectQuote presents: The most boring family in America!

I've been looking for this commercial for a long time.  A few months ago I actually gave up trying to find it, and instead referred to it in a post featuring another SelectQuote Commercial.

But now, at last, here it is:  Jim and Diedre and their Three Great Kids, sitting on the grass, doing....something.

What ARE Jim and Diedre and their Three Great Kids doing?  Well, Jim is smiling appreciatively as one of his Great Kids tosses a plastic hoop on to a plastic peg, which MAY be as much as 18 inches away.  This is so much fun that when Jim removes the plastic hoops and gives them back to the kid, the kid doesn't grimace and turn away, but goes right back to tossing the hoops.

Wait, it gets better.  Jim's daughter, who actually appears to be OLDER than the little boy who seems to be enjoying this mind-numbingly dumb, incredibly age-inappropriate, non-stimulative dreck of an activity, actually wants to join in on the "fun."  She quickly gets her share of plastic hoops and proceeds to lean forward slightly so she can drop them on the plastic peg.

Good lord, Jim.  Maybe you and Diedre should reconsider feeding your Three Great Kids exclusively on paint chips.

And what is Diedre doing with the third of the Three Great Kids (the only kid who looks young enough to actually get something out of the "put the plastic rings on the plastic hoops game?)  She's tossing a ball with him/her (how many times do you expect me to watch this?)  That ball is being tossed roughly the same distance as the plastic hoops.  Somehow, this is delightful fun to Diedre and her kid.  Good lord, what is going on with these people?

Anyone else think this looks a lot more like "keep smiling for a few more seconds, the photographer from White Christian Family Today Magazine will be done in a moment and then you can do whatever you want" than an actual family having an actual picnic?  Do the people at SelectQuote really know families that it any way resemble these chuckleheads?

Anyway,  Jim decided one day that all this was worth insuring.  Diedre the fertile idiot and their three pathetically uninteresting children.  Yes, we must make sure that if something happens to Jim, All This gets preserved.

After all, someone has to catch that ball, and someone has to take the plastic hoops off the ring so the game can start all.....over.....again.  Zzzzzzzz.

My kid with crappy eating habits can beat up your kid with crappy eating habits

A lot of YouTube posters watched this ad and thought the same thing I did- "why isn't this pompous, smug idiot's kid playing soccer wearing a Pediasure costume?"

I mean, if "you are what you eat," and if that fact turns her kid's fellow soccer players into french fries and donuts, why isn't her daughter a jug of milk, water, and sand?

That being a question that is not going to be answered by the good people at Pediasure, I'll ask this one instead- why isn't Pediasure Princess getting her ass handed to her by another little girl who started her day with oatmeal or whole grain cereal and a glass of orange juice?  Because in real life, that Pediasure would leave the spawn of My Child Doesn't Need Fiber gasping for breath by halftime.

You lost me at "Hello"

It all started in that high school football game when you accidentally avoided a tackle and some choad with a video phone caught it and responded by bleating "Hello," which I guess is the modern American version of "Wow."  I liked "Wow" better.

Then the moron decided to post your stunt on to YouTube- no doubt under the Uber-Clever title of "Hello," and it, umm, "went viral."  To speakers of the English language, that means it was shared all over the world.  In modern parlance, it "got a lot of hits."  I really hate the century I'm living in, but now is not the time for that particular rant, so I'll just go on.

Eventually, a scout for some Big Ten school caught your act on YouTube, and sent a recruiter to meet with you after a game (maybe the same game.  Why not? I think the idea is that AT&T makes these things happen really quickly.

And  before you knew it, you had agreed to accept a scholarship to come to the recruiter's college, pretend to take a few classes now and then, and play a lot of football.  When you accepted the scholarship, you agreed that it could be cancelled after the first year, the second year, or the third year, so you'd better have a few more "Hello" moves left in you.  You also agreed to that the school now owned your name, which it would plaster on everything from $5 sports drink bottles to $175 jerseys in the gift shop.  You also agreed that the NCAA now owned your image, which it would use in video games for the next several years without handing over one dime in residuals to you.  By the way, if you accept a free movie ticket or a discounted ride home for the holidays from a booster, you'll find yourself stripped of that scholarship and ineligible for the pro  draft- must protect the sanctity of the scholar-athlete ideal, you know.

When it's all over, if you've been very careful and allowed the NCAA and your---umm,  "school" to make big bucks off your sweat until both decided you were disposable, you have a roughly 1 percent chance of landing with an NFL team.  Which means you have a 99 percent chance of being on the unemployment line until an assistant coaching job at the local high school opens up.  Then you get to say Hello to life on a $19,000 annual salary.

But hey, awesome move in that game.  You can check it out on YouTube.