There are a lot of these "if (fill in blank) ran the world" Nextel commercials, and they are all totally snark-worthy. There's the "if lumberjacks ran the world" one, in which some incredibly filthy dick holding one of those incredibly annoying chirping phones decides a divorce case by having his minions chop everything the couple owns in half, brilliant. There's the one featuring a cliche'd Bridezilla in which we hear one of my favorite questions ever- "Why is it raining?" Ummmm......
But I'll focus today on one that touches a subject near and dear to my heart. I teach AP US Government, and I take the concept of Democracy and the teaching of the genius of our remarkable, enduring system very, very seriously. So the "What if Firemen ran the world" commercial really ticks me off.
The firemen are sitting in what looks like the floor of the House of Representatives. The Speaker bleats into his phone "New Roads?" The "Representatives" reply into their own god-damned chirping phones "Aye!" "What about the budget?" asks the Speaker. "Balance it" chants the "Congress."
Done and done.
Except, NO. Here's the "problem" with a Democracy: Services and Costs must be balanced, which requires careful deliberation among 435 Congressmen, 100 Senators and 1 President in accordance with the rules set down by a 222-year old document. The decisions concerning the raising and spending of money involve the wants and needs of some 300 million people with widely divergent opinions, all of whom have the right to be heard. This commercial feeds what I like to call the Conceit of the Common Man- the conviction, fed not only by Nextel but also by Hollywood movies from Mr Smith Goes to Washington to Man of the Year and Dave, that if ONLY "average" people could be put in charge, all of our problems would disappear in the wink of an eye. Such a conviction might make us feel good about ourselves, it might fit nicely into our already well-established but largely ignorant distaste for "politicians," but it's about as rooted in reality as Swing Vote.
I don't think that corporations have an obligation to educate the public. It would be nice, however, if they didn't feel it necessary to reduce the national IQ to pimp their crappy products.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Progressive Insurance: Where are the Damned Windows??
These ads for Progressive Insurance really creep me out. For one thing, each one features the same scary-pale brunette who looks like she ought to be auditioning for the community theatre's upcoming presentation of Snow White. Seriously, does she EVER get outside?
Secondly, the "store" in these ads look like the inside of a florescent bulb, or that lab where Mike Teevee got turned into a billion floating specks in Willy Wonka And The Chocolate Factory. Shouldn't they be handing out sunglasses at the door?
Third, if the dope who asks about discounts is planning on buying Online ("DISCOUNT!"), why is he even there, talking to the scary-pale brunette? Isn't the reason that the "store" is gleaming white is that it's supposed to be a representation of a web site anyway? I'm so confused.
Fourth, the "guy hogging the remote" bit: Congratulations, Progressive- you somehow managed to fit in the prerequisite "all men are self-absorbed idiots, watch as their women roll their eyes in resigned disgust" message in.
--and on a related snark, the little balding man who asks "what if mother won't let me drive?" Um, why are you in this commercial? Oh yes, to play Beaten Down P-whipped Guy. Ever think of doing any yogurt commercials?
Fifth, the "name your own price" gag? Please. I go on to Progressive.com and type in that I want to pay a hundred dollars a year for car insurance. Progressive.com responds that no insurance is available at that price. Yeah, that makes me feel "empowered." You know what, I can save big money on my food budget too, if I just quit eating. And I can "name my own price" for rent by living in a piano box. Give me a break.
And I didn't even get to the "you must be interested in motorcycle insurance" ad, where the Scary-Pale girl brags about her bike. No need. These ads have already worn out their welcome, and need to go, now.
If only we could find a way to get Scary-Pale girl to take that Gecko and the Cavemen with her....
Secondly, the "store" in these ads look like the inside of a florescent bulb, or that lab where Mike Teevee got turned into a billion floating specks in Willy Wonka And The Chocolate Factory. Shouldn't they be handing out sunglasses at the door?
Third, if the dope who asks about discounts is planning on buying Online ("DISCOUNT!"), why is he even there, talking to the scary-pale brunette? Isn't the reason that the "store" is gleaming white is that it's supposed to be a representation of a web site anyway? I'm so confused.
Fourth, the "guy hogging the remote" bit: Congratulations, Progressive- you somehow managed to fit in the prerequisite "all men are self-absorbed idiots, watch as their women roll their eyes in resigned disgust" message in.
--and on a related snark, the little balding man who asks "what if mother won't let me drive?" Um, why are you in this commercial? Oh yes, to play Beaten Down P-whipped Guy. Ever think of doing any yogurt commercials?
Fifth, the "name your own price" gag? Please. I go on to Progressive.com and type in that I want to pay a hundred dollars a year for car insurance. Progressive.com responds that no insurance is available at that price. Yeah, that makes me feel "empowered." You know what, I can save big money on my food budget too, if I just quit eating. And I can "name my own price" for rent by living in a piano box. Give me a break.
And I didn't even get to the "you must be interested in motorcycle insurance" ad, where the Scary-Pale girl brags about her bike. No need. These ads have already worn out their welcome, and need to go, now.
If only we could find a way to get Scary-Pale girl to take that Gecko and the Cavemen with her....
They'll be lucky to have you, after a few minor adjustments
Middle-aged guy nervously adjusts his tie in the mirror as he tells his teen-aged daughter doubtfully "it's been a long time since I've had to wear a tie..."
Teen-aged daughter: "Dad, you're going to get this job, I know it." And she holds up a box of Just for Men hair coloring.
(Yes, I've snarked on Just for Men before- check the archives. Some companies just keep gift-wrapping presents for me. )
The guy uses Just for Men to change his hair from gray to brown. Next thing you know, he's walking through the door and telling his anxious daughter "Honey, it looks like I'm going to need......some more ties!"
"YES!" Exclaims daughter, and she gives her dad a hug. Aww, how sweet. I guess Dad can keep custody now.
Ok, so what's the big deal? What's so snark-worthy about this commercial. Simply this: As in all "Just for Men" hair coloring ads, we are being sold the concept that there's something WRONG with having gray hair. Gray hair means you don't get dates. Gray hair means that the cute girl at the bar won't give you a second glance. Gray hair means that you are doomed to remain unemployed and your teen-aged daughter is going to have to go live with mom Upstate.
And what happens if gray-haired guys use Just for Men? They get dates. They get picked up by the cute girl at the bar. They get jobs. They get their daughters' respect and admiration.
Really, why stop there? Why don't we see commercials where the daughter hands her father not just a box of hair coloring, but a paper bag which contains Hair Coloring, Lifts, Botox, a two-month supply of Dexatrim and a Gym Membership? Because "they'd be lucky to have you," but they aren't going to give you a second glance unless you are younger-looking, taller, and slimmer, right?
I wish Just for Men would include the tagline "Because Once You Have Gray Hair, nobody is interested in you, period." I also wish their commercials would stop implying that every guy out there who has gray hair is a divorced loner who needs affirmation from the Little Girl in His Life. There's something really creepy about seeing daughters begging their dads to pretend to be younger than they actually are. But maybe it's just me.
Teen-aged daughter: "Dad, you're going to get this job, I know it." And she holds up a box of Just for Men hair coloring.
(Yes, I've snarked on Just for Men before- check the archives. Some companies just keep gift-wrapping presents for me. )
The guy uses Just for Men to change his hair from gray to brown. Next thing you know, he's walking through the door and telling his anxious daughter "Honey, it looks like I'm going to need......some more ties!"
"YES!" Exclaims daughter, and she gives her dad a hug. Aww, how sweet. I guess Dad can keep custody now.
Ok, so what's the big deal? What's so snark-worthy about this commercial. Simply this: As in all "Just for Men" hair coloring ads, we are being sold the concept that there's something WRONG with having gray hair. Gray hair means you don't get dates. Gray hair means that the cute girl at the bar won't give you a second glance. Gray hair means that you are doomed to remain unemployed and your teen-aged daughter is going to have to go live with mom Upstate.
And what happens if gray-haired guys use Just for Men? They get dates. They get picked up by the cute girl at the bar. They get jobs. They get their daughters' respect and admiration.
Really, why stop there? Why don't we see commercials where the daughter hands her father not just a box of hair coloring, but a paper bag which contains Hair Coloring, Lifts, Botox, a two-month supply of Dexatrim and a Gym Membership? Because "they'd be lucky to have you," but they aren't going to give you a second glance unless you are younger-looking, taller, and slimmer, right?
I wish Just for Men would include the tagline "Because Once You Have Gray Hair, nobody is interested in you, period." I also wish their commercials would stop implying that every guy out there who has gray hair is a divorced loner who needs affirmation from the Little Girl in His Life. There's something really creepy about seeing daughters begging their dads to pretend to be younger than they actually are. But maybe it's just me.
What kind of "Party" is this?
Here's a guy walking through an opulent-looking house filled with people engaged in conversation, holding a bag of Chex Party Mix (maybe. I think it's Chex Mix. It hardly matters.) His problem: People keep sticking their hands in his bag of snacks. They are eating his Chex Mix! What a bunch of jerks!
The narrator offers a helpful solution: Stick your bag of GOOD snacks into a bag of "Boring Chips." Seriously, the Brand X-style bag is labeled "boring chips." Presto, the guy is now free to walk about the house, chatting it up with people, with no fear that any of the other guests will want any of his well-disguised GOOD snacks.
Um, huh? Raise your hand if you've ever been to a "party" which is not merely BYOB, but also requests that you bring your own snacky-type foods, too. Who threw this party? What did the invitation say- "hey, come to my house Saturday night. I'm asking everyone to bring whatever they want to eat and drink, and to eat and drink it at my house?" I've been to parties where I've been asked to bring a dish of something for everyone to share. I've been to parties where people have brought snacks which are then poured into big bowls and placed in centralized locations. I've never been to a party where people bring their own snacks and walk around hoarding them.
I've got a suggestion for this selfish pig: the best way to avoid having to share ANYTHING is to avoid human contact. The next time you get an invitation to attend a weird "bring your own Everything" party, just politely decline and stay at home with your precious snacks. Trust me, you won't be missed.
The narrator offers a helpful solution: Stick your bag of GOOD snacks into a bag of "Boring Chips." Seriously, the Brand X-style bag is labeled "boring chips." Presto, the guy is now free to walk about the house, chatting it up with people, with no fear that any of the other guests will want any of his well-disguised GOOD snacks.
Um, huh? Raise your hand if you've ever been to a "party" which is not merely BYOB, but also requests that you bring your own snacky-type foods, too. Who threw this party? What did the invitation say- "hey, come to my house Saturday night. I'm asking everyone to bring whatever they want to eat and drink, and to eat and drink it at my house?" I've been to parties where I've been asked to bring a dish of something for everyone to share. I've been to parties where people have brought snacks which are then poured into big bowls and placed in centralized locations. I've never been to a party where people bring their own snacks and walk around hoarding them.
I've got a suggestion for this selfish pig: the best way to avoid having to share ANYTHING is to avoid human contact. The next time you get an invitation to attend a weird "bring your own Everything" party, just politely decline and stay at home with your precious snacks. Trust me, you won't be missed.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Smoke Assassin: Sometimes, the Snark Writes Itself!
There are days when I really have to reach to add to this blog. I realize that I haven't posted in a while, so I write up some snark concerning an ad that I find only mildly annoying. Then there are days when I'm so irritated and/or angry at a commercial that I can't WAIT to blog about it.
And now, I have to add a new kind of day: A day where I hear a commercial so blandly unenthusiastic about it's product that the snark seems to be built in, and all I have to do is repeat what I heard.
The product is something called Smoke Assassin, and right off the bat I know it's going to be a winner: "the price of cigarettes just keeps going up, the taxes just keep going up, and it's just not fair." Um, pardon me? What exactly is not "fair" about cigarette prices rising? What exactly is not "fair" about cigarette TAXES rising? I've heard enough of Cigar Dave to know that there really is an army of self-pitying idiots who think that they have a God-given right to blow smoke in my face, but let's get real.
It gets better: "Smoke Assassin- it looks and feels like the real thing, but emits water vapor instead of smoke. We're not saying you'll stop smoking, but thousands quit every day." I just LOVE this line! Imagine a car dealer telling you "I'm not saying this car will operate properly, but millions of people drive every day." Or Rosetta Stone informing it's customers "We aren't saying that you'll learn a new language, but thousands are learning a new language every day." Brilliant!
It gets even BETTER: "We're not saying it's a healthy smoke, but you do the math: no nicotine, no tar....." Again, I just love it: this company comes right out and says "our product might not be good for you either, but it's not bad in the same way cigarettes are."
I don't know what Smoke Assassin actually is, and I'm pretty positive it doesn't work (heck, the commercials basically TELL me it doesn't work) but I have to applaud the radio commercials for their honesty and built-in snark. Maybe in the future the makers of Smoke Assassin will come out with a ten-second version- "Try Smoke Assassin- it might not help you quit, it's not healthy, but--- um, well--- Try Smoke Assassin." I'd love it.
And now, I have to add a new kind of day: A day where I hear a commercial so blandly unenthusiastic about it's product that the snark seems to be built in, and all I have to do is repeat what I heard.
The product is something called Smoke Assassin, and right off the bat I know it's going to be a winner: "the price of cigarettes just keeps going up, the taxes just keep going up, and it's just not fair." Um, pardon me? What exactly is not "fair" about cigarette prices rising? What exactly is not "fair" about cigarette TAXES rising? I've heard enough of Cigar Dave to know that there really is an army of self-pitying idiots who think that they have a God-given right to blow smoke in my face, but let's get real.
It gets better: "Smoke Assassin- it looks and feels like the real thing, but emits water vapor instead of smoke. We're not saying you'll stop smoking, but thousands quit every day." I just LOVE this line! Imagine a car dealer telling you "I'm not saying this car will operate properly, but millions of people drive every day." Or Rosetta Stone informing it's customers "We aren't saying that you'll learn a new language, but thousands are learning a new language every day." Brilliant!
It gets even BETTER: "We're not saying it's a healthy smoke, but you do the math: no nicotine, no tar....." Again, I just love it: this company comes right out and says "our product might not be good for you either, but it's not bad in the same way cigarettes are."
I don't know what Smoke Assassin actually is, and I'm pretty positive it doesn't work (heck, the commercials basically TELL me it doesn't work) but I have to applaud the radio commercials for their honesty and built-in snark. Maybe in the future the makers of Smoke Assassin will come out with a ten-second version- "Try Smoke Assassin- it might not help you quit, it's not healthy, but--- um, well--- Try Smoke Assassin." I'd love it.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Maybe you wouldn't be so Damned Depressed if you'd just put down that doll
Did you know that ads for Prescription Drugs used to be illegal in this country? I'd like to see them made illegal again, mainly because while the principal task of ALL commercials is to make you feel crappy about your life and then offer you a solution through the purchase of some product, there seems to be something downright evil in using the same marketing strategy to sell drugs. The constant "suggestion" that you "Ask Your Doctor" about this drug or that if you feel this symptom or that has at it's base nothing more complicated than a desire by Big Pharma to turn this country into an army of pill-poppers constantly harassing their doctors for more. And, of course, turning doctors into well-paid pushers who would rather hand out the drugs and collect the fees (not to mention the junkets to "medical conferences" and free goodies ranging from golf trips to ball-point pens) than actually talk to their patients.
The most recent obnoxious drug ad I've seen is one for something called "Pristiq." It features a truly creepy-looking, pink-cheeked doll with a massive windup key attached to it's back. A woman tells us that "every day, it was as if I had to wind myself up to get myself going." (Shot of doll being wound, and then slowly walking across a table, sad look on face, arms moving back and forth slightly, and quickly winding down.) "Then I'd have to wind myself up again." (Repeat scene of creepy doll taking tiny steps across the table.)
Narrarator tells us that we should "ask our doctor about Pristiq." What's Pristiq? One of a dozen or so prescription medications designed to treat Depression. How does it work? Well, this is interesting- we are told that "Pristiq MAY work by...." followed by the industry-standard cartoon graphics suggesting that the movement of little pink and blue squares from one synaps to another limits the effects of depression, or something. So it seems that the manufacturer doesn't know, either.
But back to that doll. Now the woman has a slight smile on her face, and so does the doll (I don't want a doll that changes moods along with me. I'm happy with my portrait in the back room.) The doll marches across the picnic table, and the woman just stares at it with this insipid half-grin. In the background, her husband and children are playing happily, and they interrupt this woman's Doll Time by running to No Longer Depressed Mommy.
I don't want to make light of Depression- I know more about it than I'm willing to discuss here- but maybe one problem this woman was having was that she was spending way too much time playing with the Most Depressing Toy Ever Invented. Seriously- a doll with a massive key in it's back, which takes tiny steps when wound? Yeah, that's a better choice than YOUR HUSBAND AND CHILDREN, WHO ARE RIGHT THERE! Cripes, poking a dead squirrel with a stick would be less depressing than this doll.
At least those sad floating heads in the Zoloft commercials have an obvious excuse for being depressed- THEY DON'T HAVE BODIES. But this woman is just bringing it on herself with that stupid doll.
The most recent obnoxious drug ad I've seen is one for something called "Pristiq." It features a truly creepy-looking, pink-cheeked doll with a massive windup key attached to it's back. A woman tells us that "every day, it was as if I had to wind myself up to get myself going." (Shot of doll being wound, and then slowly walking across a table, sad look on face, arms moving back and forth slightly, and quickly winding down.) "Then I'd have to wind myself up again." (Repeat scene of creepy doll taking tiny steps across the table.)
Narrarator tells us that we should "ask our doctor about Pristiq." What's Pristiq? One of a dozen or so prescription medications designed to treat Depression. How does it work? Well, this is interesting- we are told that "Pristiq MAY work by...." followed by the industry-standard cartoon graphics suggesting that the movement of little pink and blue squares from one synaps to another limits the effects of depression, or something. So it seems that the manufacturer doesn't know, either.
But back to that doll. Now the woman has a slight smile on her face, and so does the doll (I don't want a doll that changes moods along with me. I'm happy with my portrait in the back room.) The doll marches across the picnic table, and the woman just stares at it with this insipid half-grin. In the background, her husband and children are playing happily, and they interrupt this woman's Doll Time by running to No Longer Depressed Mommy.
I don't want to make light of Depression- I know more about it than I'm willing to discuss here- but maybe one problem this woman was having was that she was spending way too much time playing with the Most Depressing Toy Ever Invented. Seriously- a doll with a massive key in it's back, which takes tiny steps when wound? Yeah, that's a better choice than YOUR HUSBAND AND CHILDREN, WHO ARE RIGHT THERE! Cripes, poking a dead squirrel with a stick would be less depressing than this doll.
At least those sad floating heads in the Zoloft commercials have an obvious excuse for being depressed- THEY DON'T HAVE BODIES. But this woman is just bringing it on herself with that stupid doll.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
A Totally Incomprehensible Heineken Ad
Two guys are being lead to their seats in the nosebleed section of an basketball arena. Just before they can sit down, some dope jumps up and knocks the tray of beers out of one guy's hand, drenching their seats. "No problem" says the guy to the usher. "Don't sweat it."
The usher is enormously impressed with the coolness of these two guys, who are apparently about to take their seats without even asking him to, I don't know, towel off the massive puddle of beer that now occupies them. (There's no word from the guy who knocked the beers over, either- apparently he's gone right back to watching the game, without so much as a "pardon me," let alone an offer to replace the beers.) How impressed IS the usher? Enough to mutter "you know what? Follow me" and lead the guys to seats right on the court.
Before we move on, let's analyze this sequence of events thus far. Guys get their beer spilled, and don't make a fuss over it. Their reward is to be taken from the cheap seats to the floor level- and handed seats that are reserved for VIPs like Jack Nicholson and which retail for thousands of dollars. Because they are cool with getting their beer spilled. Riiiiiiiiiiggght.
Tag line- "Enjoy the Upgrade."
Then we get the commercial's Happy Conclusion- a leggy beer girl offers the guys bottles of Heineken Light. They sure look like glass bottles. Glass bottles on the floor of an NBA game- oh sure, I can't see any danger inherent in that. Not at all. Why not offer the guys spiked shields to hold in front of them during the action, too?
And finally- Eva Longoria asks them to hand her a bottle of Heineken. So, the leggy beer girl is just standing there after the guys got their beers? The leggy beer girl isn't willing to walk over to Eva Longoria to offer her a beer?
Well, whatever. Let's never mind the choad who spills the beer and doesn't offer word one of apology. Let's ignore the leggy beer girl with the glass bottles. Let's instead focus on the utterly logic-bending idea that an USHER at an NBA GAME has the authority to hand two dopes in the nosebleed section two seats reserved for CEOs, Oscar nominees, or stars of the music industry. I'm so sure that this happens in real life without serious money being exchanged. I'm so sure that ushers are always handing these seats to nameless working-class stiffs on a whim. Jesus, at least show us one of these guys sticking a few hundred-dollar bills into the usher's jacket pocket before he leaves. I mean, come on, Heineken.
At least give us a sequel, where Spike Lee shows up and wants to know why these two white guys are sitting in his seats.
The usher is enormously impressed with the coolness of these two guys, who are apparently about to take their seats without even asking him to, I don't know, towel off the massive puddle of beer that now occupies them. (There's no word from the guy who knocked the beers over, either- apparently he's gone right back to watching the game, without so much as a "pardon me," let alone an offer to replace the beers.) How impressed IS the usher? Enough to mutter "you know what? Follow me" and lead the guys to seats right on the court.
Before we move on, let's analyze this sequence of events thus far. Guys get their beer spilled, and don't make a fuss over it. Their reward is to be taken from the cheap seats to the floor level- and handed seats that are reserved for VIPs like Jack Nicholson and which retail for thousands of dollars. Because they are cool with getting their beer spilled. Riiiiiiiiiiggght.
Tag line- "Enjoy the Upgrade."
Then we get the commercial's Happy Conclusion- a leggy beer girl offers the guys bottles of Heineken Light. They sure look like glass bottles. Glass bottles on the floor of an NBA game- oh sure, I can't see any danger inherent in that. Not at all. Why not offer the guys spiked shields to hold in front of them during the action, too?
And finally- Eva Longoria asks them to hand her a bottle of Heineken. So, the leggy beer girl is just standing there after the guys got their beers? The leggy beer girl isn't willing to walk over to Eva Longoria to offer her a beer?
Well, whatever. Let's never mind the choad who spills the beer and doesn't offer word one of apology. Let's ignore the leggy beer girl with the glass bottles. Let's instead focus on the utterly logic-bending idea that an USHER at an NBA GAME has the authority to hand two dopes in the nosebleed section two seats reserved for CEOs, Oscar nominees, or stars of the music industry. I'm so sure that this happens in real life without serious money being exchanged. I'm so sure that ushers are always handing these seats to nameless working-class stiffs on a whim. Jesus, at least show us one of these guys sticking a few hundred-dollar bills into the usher's jacket pocket before he leaves. I mean, come on, Heineken.
At least give us a sequel, where Spike Lee shows up and wants to know why these two white guys are sitting in his seats.
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