Your Car is Gay, and so are You

Here's that black Volkswagon beetle again, speaking in a faux-German accent worthy of Bernie Koppel in Get Smart, pitching the benefits of the Jetta to us unlucky viewers. This time, it's sitting in the driveway of a typical suburban home, casually discussing how great the Jetta is with some fat slob who is innocently washing his Prius, not aware that he's about to get a smackdown from a car with no heater, no seatbelts and a lawnmower engine.

The Volkswagen tells Unfortunate Fat Suburban Slob that the Jetta is just the most awesomely popular car in the United States. Fat Slob, who for some reason feels he needs to explain himself to a car that hasn't been built in the US for more than thirty years, replies "well, this is a Hybrid."

"Ahhh..." responds the black Volkswagen. "But the Jetta is rated at 58 miles per gallon."

Idiot fat dope coughs up water he's been drinking out of the hose. "Fifty-eight?"

The smartass Volkswagon continues "and when you step on the gas, you hear RRRRRRRR..."

Fat moron chimes in "RRRRRRRRRR!!!"

Volkswagon, having set up Fat Suburban Moron, adds "what sound does YOUR car make?"

Guy freezes. Oh man, he's been owned! Because his car is QUIET and it doesn't make man-noises when you push the gas pedal down! It doesn't tell the neighbors that you are home! It doesn't give you that sexual thrill that "RRRRRRR" does! It's as Unmanly as having a "Man-Step" or a Heated Steering Wheel!

And he doesn't just freeze- he lets out this sick wheezing sound like he realizes for the first time how he looks washing his Japanese Hybrid "Car," which not only doesn't use much gas, but it doesn't make noise either!! It's BARELY even an AUTOMOBILE!! Quick, get that Liberalmobile to your local Volkswagon dealer and beg him to take it off your hands in exchange for a Jetta!

Then, apologize to your neighbors for having once owned a quiet, environmentally-friendly automobile. And be sure to rev your engine while doing it.

OnStar: First the Soft Sell, then the Hard Sell

OnStar Commercial #1: (on television) Picnicking family makes a mad dash to the SUV as the rain comes pelting down. Wet, smiling mother presses the OnStar button and says "we're going to need directions to the nearest movie theatre."

OnStar Commercial #2: (on the radio) Onstar operator intones "our alert system has gone off, indicating that you have been in a crash. Stay still, we are sending an ambulance." Heavy breathing can be heard in the background.

OnStar Commercial # 3: (on television) Jeff Gordon of NASCAR fame casually taps his OnStar button and declares "I'll be needing turn by turn directions to the nearest car wash." Operator is more than happy to assist Mr. Gordon with this trivial matter (because really, what are the odds that someone recently impaled by his own steering wheel is trying to get an operator on the line?

OnStar Commercial #4: (on radio) we hear crying, and a frantic-sounding woman pleading for help because "I think my husband has had a heart attack, we hit a tree and there's (sob) blood (sob) everywhere...."

Cripes. So happy images showing OnStar's convenience when it's a TV commercial, with the frightening sounds of impending death and the unmistakeable message that you will probably die without OnStar reserved for radio. I think I've got it.

Except, I'd like to know exactly how many OnStar operators are working at any one time-- if some idiot is calling to ask where the nearest movie theatre is, isn't he taking up the time of an operator who could be helping someone who just drove into a flooded ravine? If Mr. Gordon is getting directions to the fricking CAR WASH, is someone trying to free what's left of his right arm from what used to be his steering wheel on hold? I mean, I simply can't buy the idea that a real human being is just waiting to spring to action the moment that button is pushed, every second of every day.

I'd also like to admit right here that the job of Operator at OnStar is simply not for me- I wouldn't have the patience to deal with self-absorbed choads who really think it's ok to use OnStar's service to find car washes and movie theatres. I'd probably end up asking if they need their diapers changed while I'm at it.

Oh, and just heard today, OnStar Commercial # 5: No horrible accident, no dipshit casually calling for directions to the nearest potty, just an announcer admonishing us for thinking that our cell phones are an adequate substititute for the OnStar service: "How do you know your cell phone will even work after an accident?: (Well, it's not actually attached to my car, like OnStar would be, so it seems like a pretty good bet...) "What if your phone is thrown clear? What if you can't reach it?" Message: You are as good as DEAD if you are in an accident and don't have OnStar. Your pathetic cell phone (which, judging from what I see from drivers on a regular basis, was probably in use at the time of the accident) won't save you. Only that life-saving Blue Button above the console stands between you and eternal rest.

Besides, what if you need to find the nearest 7-11? You got an APP for that?

Nice to meet you. While we're on the subject, ask your doctor about....

Old guy is sitting on a lawn chair at a backyard barbecue, with a bat balanced between his legs. Young guy walks up to him and asks, "you aren't playing?"

"Not with these legs" old guy sighs. I've got P.A.D."

Young guy: "Peripheral artery disease?"

Ok, stop right there. Have I been living on another planet for the past year or so? Has Peripheral Artery Disease suddenly become as common and well-known as Swine Flu, or what? If I were the old guy, I would have fallen out of my chair in surprise that I just happened to bump into someone who knew what "P.A.D" means without any further explanation.

But wait- this young guy not only knows what P.A.D. means, he also knows all about this drug called Plavix, which (I'll be damned!) may provide relief for some people who suffer from this disease. For the next thirty seconds or so, Young Guy regales Old Guy with the rundown on Plavix, including possible side effects and the usual admonition that "Plavix is not for everybody" (why do we always need to be told this? Are there really people out there who share their prescription drugs with others?) And all this time, Old Guy takes this all in as if it's perfectly normal that Young Guy who just happened to ask why he's not playing ball is a freaking expert on the subject of P.A.D. and Plavix.

According to the official website, "Heart-related chest pain, heart attack, ischemic stroke (the most common type of stroke) are all serious medical conditions." What? Heart Attacks and Strokes are "serious medical conditions?" Stop the presses!!! And "poor circulation of the legs, which may cause heaviness and pain in the legs, which may be relieved by rest" is also a serious condition- maybe. Or, it might be the normal result of overexertion. Melon-sized tumors, beheadings, impalements, and unconciousness caused by complete immersion in water for more than six hours are all serious conditions as well- why aren't they mentioned in the commercial for Plavix?

I'm still trying to understand how Old Guy just happened to bump into a Walking Medical Dictionary just sitting on a chair. I'd also like to see one of these commercials end with the recipient of the unsolicited advice explaining to the "helpful" know-it-all that he is capable of discussing his condition with his doctor and getting good medical help without the prodding of strangers, Thanks Anyway. Nosy dick.

XM/Sirius-- stop begging me to bail you out! You get enough of my money already!

"Get Ready!!!! Starting May 18, XM/Sirius subscribers get a FREE WEEK OF HOWARD STERN!!"

Cymbals Crash!! Howard Stern roars "This is GLORIOUS!!" Apparently unrelated laughter and guffaws ensue!!! All because for one week and ONE WEEK ONLY, the Howard Stern show will be available FOR FREE to XM/Sirius Subscribers!! I mean, if that's not worth shouting about, please tell me WHAT IS???

Ok, a little perspective and history, if I may:

For the better part of twenty years, Howard Stern was available on Free, Terrestrial Radio in pretty much every market in the US. I used to listen to him on my morning drive to my substitute gigs in Western New York, way back in the early-90s. That is, I used to listen to him until he made me feel dirty for the experience- usually about five minutes a day.

Then, Stern was offered a massively bloated contract by Already-Heavily-In-Debt Sirius Satellite Radio. I think it was something like 10 years, $500 million. Which is more than Alex Rodriguez makes. Barely.

To the shock of the suits at Sirius, the signing of Stern (how's that for alliteration?) did not result in a flood of new subscribers. In fact, it had only two immediate results: First, Sirius tried to renegotiate it's contract with Stern. Second, Sirius became much more interested in a bankruptcy-avoiding merger with rival XM.

(In the meantime, XM had made it's own share of brain-dead financial decisions, including signing dimwit yakkers Opie and Anthony to a bloated long-term contract, offering the show first as a "premium" to XM subscribers, then quickly pulling back and offering it for free when they realized that the number of people willing to pay extra to hear two adults yuk it up over situations and jokes aimed primarily at 12-year old boys and mentally underdeveloped "men" was not as large a universe as they were conned into believing.)

Which brings us to the merger, and the preposterously wasteful Howard Stern contract becoming the shared responsibility of both XM and Sirius. Which means that I must be subjected to the desperate pleas of XM radio to open my wallet and pay even MORE money (I already pay for three subscriptions, at $6.99 a month each) for the "privilege" of listening to a middle-aged shock jock interview strippers.

Earth to XM/Sirius: Bed. Made. Lie. Like the Yankees with A-Rod, you overpaid through the nose because you insisted on bidding against yourselves, and now you expect the fans to bail you out. Well, guess what? No one's buying those $3000 home plate seats at new Yankee Stadium, and all the shouting and screeching in the world isn't going to convince me to pay extra to listen to a guy I wouldn't give more than five minutes a day to when he was FREE.

May 25 can't come fast enough.

Ohh.... you're the slut I slept with once, years ago! Oh, you aren't? My Bad!

I had to go find this commercial on YouTube just to make sure I got it right, I was so taken by the bizarre, sick premise:

A guy is going down the escalator at some mall, and he's tapped on the shoulder by a woman who says "excuse me, I think you are the father of one of my kids." The guy looks taken aback, but only for a moment- then replies "Ohhh.....Cancun, Spring Break?" She answers "Um, No."

The guy freezes with the mortification of realizing that he just exposed himself as a guy who at one time regularly had sex with anonymous strangers while on vacation, AND suggested that the woman who tapped him on the shoulder is the girl who put out for him some years back. The narrator intones "Not Smart."

Then we see the guy guzzling out of a big bottle of purplish Minute Maid juice, which apparently has some kind of Anti-Asshat chemical designed to prevent social faux pas like this one. We rewind. The woman asks again "excuse me, I think you are the father of one of my kids." This time, the guy responds "And my daughter is in your art class- Sister Mary Catherine!"

Wow, double "fun" whammy here. Not only is this woman NOT the girl he remembers shagging in Cancun, she's a teacher- and a NUN. Oh, the hilarity!!

Of course, to get to the rib-splitting "punchline," we must accept that any woman would walk up to a guy she believes has a child in her class and say "I believe you are the father of one of my kids." Not "I believe your kid is in one of my classes." Not "I believe I teach one of your kids." Nope. "I believe you are the father of one of my kids"- which makes NO sense, unless...

---and this is why I had to check it out on YouTube, because I couldn't believe my ears....

The guy whose shoulder being tapped is a PRIEST (you know, a "FATHER?") When I first heard this commercial, I thought that the punchline was that the guy was a Priest who teaches this woman's kid at a Catholic School-- whose response to the woman's question was to instantly assume that his illicit tryst during his college years had finally come back to bite him in his nether regions. The odd "Sister Mary Catherine!" closing line implanted this impression in my brain. Since I was mistaken, this commercial doesn't fall into the Burn In Hell, You Soulless Creeps category, but it's still pretty sick.

I mean, think about it: A guy gets his shoulder tapped, and within seconds he's telling a woman he clearly doesn't recognize that Yes, I Suppose I Am The Father of Your Baby. You really get the sense that this has happened to this guy before- maybe the last time he went to the laundramat, while watching a film at the local cineplex, waiting in line to pay for his coffee at 7-11.....

Maybe he's visiting the mall pharmacy to refill his prescription for Valtrex.

What's in your wallet? Nothing the rest of us want to see.

I have a credit card. It's a Capital One card, in fact. So yes, I am actually going to snark on a company that gets my business. I feel justified, because I don't use the feature being pimped in Capital One's "build your own card" commercials-- the "put the picture of your choice on your credit card" feature.

Seriously, why would anyone want to do this? I can see having a credit card featuring your favorite sports team. But a picture of yourself, or someone else, on your credit card? Don't you people realize that you are going to have to show this card to waitresses, drooling Best Buy employees, etc.? And you want to personalize it?

Here's a commercial for Capital One I find particularly grating: A mommy is looking over pictures of her toddler son, trying to decide which one she wants to use as the personalized image on her new credit card. One by one, she eliminates different images, finally deciding on-- "Spaghetti Jimmy"- an image of her idiot moron kid sitting in a highchair with a bowl of spaghetti on his head. And smiling.

Um, Ok. Mommy finds this image funny and endearing- why, exactly? Is she actually going to wave this credit card in the faces of all the merchants in this town- "check out my son, Jimmy- he's a freaking slob who drives his mother to drink by dumping spaghetti on his head!" Hey, was the spaghetti HOT when Mentally Deficient Jimmy decided to use it as a baseball cap? 'Cause that would have been even funnier!

Actually, my first thought upon being shown this card would be "so, you dumped a bowl of spaghetti on your kid's head thinking it would make a cute picture, huh?" My second thought would be "how long did it take you to get out the camera to take this picture? Did the sauce burn the kid too badly while it stayed on the kid's head? Did you have to yell at the kid not to take it off?" My third thought would be "your kid looks awfully happy to have a bowl of spaghetti on his head. Is he getting therepy? Are you?"

Seriously, why didn't Witless Mommy in Capital One commercial go for "Torturing Cat Jimmy" or "Sticking Fork in Wall Socket Jimmy" or "Eating Lead Paint Jimmy?" I mean, as long as showing your kid acting like a retard passes as public entertainment, why stop with the cliche'd Spaghetti-on-the-head bit?

Better yet, why not spare your kid the public humiliation and leave his image off your credit card, you dim bulb moron? Here's a tip: People really aren't all that interested in seeing pictures of your kids. Don't subject the poor sap down at Giant Food to uploaded images of your idiot spawn, please. Believe it or not, he's no more impressed by your kid's ability to make an ass of himself than I am.

Best Buy: Image v. Reality

All Best Buy commercials are basically the same: An employee who looks like working at Best Buy is the absolute thrill of her life tells us about this time when this person came in without Clue One what they wanted, and Omigd it was so Kewl to be able to hold their hand and guide them to whatever overpriced piece of junk the store was trying to pawn off on customers that week, and gosh you should have seen the smile on the customer's face when they walked out the door, it was priceless and it's the reason Life is Still Worth Living.

The most recent one I've seen uses Mother's Day as an excuse to drown us in Good Customer Service Treacle. "This kid came into the store, looking for something for his Mom for Mother's Day, and he knew he didn't want to get just anything, or a video game, but he didn't have a lot of money to spend, so I showed him this really neat keychain, and he could put images of himself with his mom (aside: raise your hands if you carry around downloadable images of yourself with your mom. Anybody? Anybody?) and his mom would look at it and say 'wow, this kid really loves me!'"

As if we arent' already drowning in sickly syrup already, the commercial ends with the Deleriously Happy Employee gurgling "we all think about our moms." Um, ok. Good "point."

Look, it's not that this commercial is so bad- it really isn't. It's just that I've been in a lot of Best Buy stores over the years, and I've never been approached by anyone who looks like my satisfaction as a customer is the Most Important Thing to Them Ever. More often than not, all the Best Buy employees I encounter in a store are forever jabbering away on their Blackberries (I heard one of them tell the person on the other end- LOUDLY- how bad it sucked to work at Best Buy, don't apply here, the manager is a FUCKTARD and he won't give me Saturday off the MFing MFer....) or playing the video games set up to entice CUSTOMERS to buy the latest Brain-Dead Delay Your Adulthood Pointless Toy being peddled to the thirtysomething crowd. The most I have ever gotten out of a Best Buy employee is "you need anything?" or "finding everything ok?" And that's actually all right- I don't want advice from people who I'm sure know which new cell phone is the Must Have Phone of the Month but who probably can't tell a toaster from a clock radio, anyway.

So how about a little honesty, Best Buy? Let's have a commercial in which an employee rags about how she had to stop texting her BFF for five minutes to help some lame-ass loser pick out
a vacuum, like she knows anything vacuums I mean they are all the same, like, right? And then this idiot even asked about a warranty, and I had to go in the back and get Bob the manager 'cause he's like middle-aged and he knows about shit like that. And then you know what happened, Bob rang up the sale under his code key so I didn't even get credit for the sale even after I stopped texting to help and all, the prick.

I'd appreciate that commercial. Because just once, I'd like to be able to watch a commercial and say to myself "that is so what really happens. I am so there."