A guy and his clearly retarded girlfriend are sitting in an outdoor cafe, drinking Miller Lites. The girl has the prerequisite headache-inducing perkyness, the guy has the prerequisite two days of stubble on his face.
Perky girl immediately lets us know that this couple has long since run out of things to talk about: "Let's say me and your dog were hanging off a cliff, and you could only save one of us, who would it be?" The tone of her voice reminds of those little notes we used to pass each other in middle school- "Do You Like Me Check Yes or No?"
Guy: "Ummmm... YOU!"
Girl giggles. Not satisfied, she continues: "Me or your Mom?"
Guy: "Sorry, Mom!"
Girl (not satisfied with the fact that being this guy's sexual partner has elevated her in his eyes to a level somewhere above a dog and his mom) continues "Your Miller Lite?" Apparently, this person is so empty-headed that she can't think of anything else that might be important to her boyfriend- she's already mentioned his mom, and the dog that is sitting right there, what else is there? Well, he's drinking a Miller Lite- I'll compare my worth to THAT! (If the guy had replied "you, of course," would she then have asked "Me, or your shoes?" I suspect that if she had asked "me, or your Blackberry?" she would have gotten the same response she gets now, which is:
"Um....hmmmm......ummm....."
Girl throws silent fit by getting up and stomping off.
It would take several more paragraphs to analyze exactly how totally lacking in effort, creativity or logic this rank pile of steaming dreck is. What happened to make this girl so pathetically insecure that she has to create morbid scenarios involving people and things important to her boyfriend falling off cliffs? Did her last boyfriend let her plunge into the rocky surf below as he lunged for his bottle of Smirnoffs? Or did he just dump her when he realized that she had nothing to add to any conversation beyond hints that she needed to know that she was, by FAR, the most important thing in his life?
Why doesn't the guy just LIE and say "what, are you kidding? I can always get another Miller Lite. It would take me almost a whole week to find another woman of your quality out there."
I wouldn't know personally, because unlike the guy in this commercial, I don't date 13-year olds.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
A Few Quick Questions for Bret Favre
1. Are you at least the quarterback for both teams in your Red-blooded, All-American pickup games?
2. With all your millions, couldn't you have found a better place to bring your suck-ups and hangers-on ---err, I mean "friends"-- to play your pickup game than a muddy swamp? I mean, I'd think there'd be plenty of parks, schools etc. more than happy to provide you with a field...
3. Are Levis jeans part of the Official Uniform when you play these Just For Fun Because We Are Men and This is What Men Do games?
4. Is there some rule that when you play these games, no one on the defense may come within ten feet of you while you are setting up your passes? I mean, seriously- I know you are moving in slow motion here, but still, I never see any defender come even close to rushing you.
5. Does the Minnesota Vikings Head Office know that it's star quarterback is risking injury playing pickup games on muddy pasture land? I can't believe that your contract doesn't forbid this kind of activity.
Finally- do the suck-ups you pay to play football with you ever complain about the lack of running plays? I mean, how much fun is this for anyone but you? And how much DOES it cost to surround yourself with fortysomething never-wasses willing to get filthy catching passes from television's favorite Quarterback Not Named Manning?
PS- did you ever decide on a big-screen tv?
2. With all your millions, couldn't you have found a better place to bring your suck-ups and hangers-on ---err, I mean "friends"-- to play your pickup game than a muddy swamp? I mean, I'd think there'd be plenty of parks, schools etc. more than happy to provide you with a field...
3. Are Levis jeans part of the Official Uniform when you play these Just For Fun Because We Are Men and This is What Men Do games?
4. Is there some rule that when you play these games, no one on the defense may come within ten feet of you while you are setting up your passes? I mean, seriously- I know you are moving in slow motion here, but still, I never see any defender come even close to rushing you.
5. Does the Minnesota Vikings Head Office know that it's star quarterback is risking injury playing pickup games on muddy pasture land? I can't believe that your contract doesn't forbid this kind of activity.
Finally- do the suck-ups you pay to play football with you ever complain about the lack of running plays? I mean, how much fun is this for anyone but you? And how much DOES it cost to surround yourself with fortysomething never-wasses willing to get filthy catching passes from television's favorite Quarterback Not Named Manning?
PS- did you ever decide on a big-screen tv?
Friday, December 4, 2009
The True Spirit of Christmas
Isn't it nice to know that even in a time of 10% unemployment, two wars overseas, and general malaise and anxiety, some families still know what's really important during the holidays?
Take this commercial, for example: We see four good-looking, obviously successful siblings leaving their six digit-salary jobs and heading off to what I suppose is supposed to be the Old Homestead, a palatial mountain retreat located at the end of a winding, well-maintained road. They are driving identical 2010-model silver Cadillacs, and they've timed their exit from the big city so perfectly that they can create their own Caravan of Success as they toss glances which can only be interpreted as "Look what I've got" at each other. The commercial is accented by jump cuts to these materialistic, shallow jackanapes sitting around a table toasting eachother's bank accounts (using only the finest wine, chilled just right, I'm sure.)
Just in case we don't get the Kick-To-The-Face subtlety of the commercial's message, the narrator tells us "there's nothing like a little sibling rivalry." Ah, ok. Before you head off over hill and dale to go to grandmother's house for the holidays, you'd better make sure you show well to your parents, brothers and sisters. Because nothing says "Christmas" like a little game of "let's compare bank accounts, stock options and retirement plans" with those people you grew up with.
To make a bad commercial even worse, this mess ends with the four silver Cadillacs fanned out in the driveway of Mommy and Daddy's ranch home, the better to impress passer-bys and neighbors, I guess. I notice that in pretty much all car commercials, the cars end up parked in the most ostentatious way possible, but in this instance, the final camera shot leads me to ask three questions:
First, how long did it take to maneuver those cars into that fan shape? Why would anyone do this in real life? You pull up to a house, you get out. You don't turn the car around and back it up so that it's pointed at the road.
Second, the cars are parked so close to the door, how does anyone get in or out of the house without taking a tour of the trunk of one of them?
Third, does Cadillac really think that Christmas is all about one-upping your brothers and sisters by advertising your wealth in the most obvious way possible? I strongly suspect that if Mommy and Daddy had a four-car garage, the siblings in this film would refuse to use it- if the Cadillac is in the garage, how can they point it out to Mommy and Daddy, or stare lovingly at it from the living room window?
Can you imagine being the member of this family who owns a Prius or even (gasp) a 2009 Cadillac? Get ready for the condescending smirks and snickers from your Betters, Mr Runt of the Litter. God, I hate Cadillac.
Take this commercial, for example: We see four good-looking, obviously successful siblings leaving their six digit-salary jobs and heading off to what I suppose is supposed to be the Old Homestead, a palatial mountain retreat located at the end of a winding, well-maintained road. They are driving identical 2010-model silver Cadillacs, and they've timed their exit from the big city so perfectly that they can create their own Caravan of Success as they toss glances which can only be interpreted as "Look what I've got" at each other. The commercial is accented by jump cuts to these materialistic, shallow jackanapes sitting around a table toasting eachother's bank accounts (using only the finest wine, chilled just right, I'm sure.)
Just in case we don't get the Kick-To-The-Face subtlety of the commercial's message, the narrator tells us "there's nothing like a little sibling rivalry." Ah, ok. Before you head off over hill and dale to go to grandmother's house for the holidays, you'd better make sure you show well to your parents, brothers and sisters. Because nothing says "Christmas" like a little game of "let's compare bank accounts, stock options and retirement plans" with those people you grew up with.
To make a bad commercial even worse, this mess ends with the four silver Cadillacs fanned out in the driveway of Mommy and Daddy's ranch home, the better to impress passer-bys and neighbors, I guess. I notice that in pretty much all car commercials, the cars end up parked in the most ostentatious way possible, but in this instance, the final camera shot leads me to ask three questions:
First, how long did it take to maneuver those cars into that fan shape? Why would anyone do this in real life? You pull up to a house, you get out. You don't turn the car around and back it up so that it's pointed at the road.
Second, the cars are parked so close to the door, how does anyone get in or out of the house without taking a tour of the trunk of one of them?
Third, does Cadillac really think that Christmas is all about one-upping your brothers and sisters by advertising your wealth in the most obvious way possible? I strongly suspect that if Mommy and Daddy had a four-car garage, the siblings in this film would refuse to use it- if the Cadillac is in the garage, how can they point it out to Mommy and Daddy, or stare lovingly at it from the living room window?
Can you imagine being the member of this family who owns a Prius or even (gasp) a 2009 Cadillac? Get ready for the condescending smirks and snickers from your Betters, Mr Runt of the Litter. God, I hate Cadillac.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Ask your Daughter--errrr, Doctor- about Plavix
Daughter with waaaaayy too much time on her hands- and too much control over her dad- is staring at a laptop screen conveniently (?) located on the kitchen table when she commands her father's attention- "Dad? Your PAD could lead to heart attack and stroke!"
Dad agrees to pay attention, by placing his head as close to his daughters as possible to watch the animation provided by Plavix.com. "Look," daughter continues, "blood platelets can be blocked in your arteries, increasing the likelihood of heart attack and stroke...Ask you doctor about Plavix?"
Father whispers something inaudible to her- "yes, I'll ask my doctor about Plavix" seems the most likely response, because she smiles, but considering the fact that the commercial has another thirty seconds to run, I think he probably replied, "Doctor, what about Plavix?"
Seriously, this commercial goes on and on AND ON, as the daughter takes the role usually reserved for the unseen narrator, bleating the entire text of any Plavix brochure, right down to the "Plavix is not for everyone" throwaway disclaimer line. Daughter and Dad are riveted to the cartoons featuring blocked arteries and glowing entire human bodies.
Two quick questions: First, this guy knows he has PAD, but doesn't know about Plavix- if his doctor actually diagnosed him and didn't prescribe some expensive medication, I find that very, very strange. More likely this guy has been diagnosed only by Doctor Daughter, who is apparently determined to scare her dad into believing that his aching right leg is a sign of a much more serious disease that is likely to kill him at any moment.
Second- why doesn't this commercial end when the dad agrees to see the doctor, as he clearly is when he smiles and nods, and the daughter smiles and nods back? I can only imagine that it's because the makers of Plavix don't want you to actually ASK your doctor about their medication- they want you to be so terrified that little walls are being built in your arteries that you will DEMAND the drug, RIGHT NOW.
There was a great Tom Toles cartoon a few years ago in The Washington Post which featured a man sitting in front of a television set, watching a pharmecutical commercial. The TV says "Ask your doctor if this medication is right for you." The man watching TV responds "Is this medication right for me?" Pharmecutical commercials and websites aren't interested in keeping you informed about your "options." They are designed to send you running in terror to your doctor, armed with the "information" you "need" to convince him to prescribe this or that expensive, probably unnecessary drug (as if doctors really need convincing anyway.) Drugs are being sold like cars, fast food, and cell phones- "these are things that you NEED, right NOW, so go get them!" Because doctors are still being used as middlemen because of our annoying prescription drug laws, prospective users must be given the weapons needed to get the doctors to sign off.
Your leg aches? Maybe it's because you don't exercise. Maybe it's because you sleep on it. Maybe it's because the train doors slammed on it the other day. Better not take any chances- go get an expensive prescription for Plavix. Big Pharma, and your daughter, will thank you.
Dad agrees to pay attention, by placing his head as close to his daughters as possible to watch the animation provided by Plavix.com. "Look," daughter continues, "blood platelets can be blocked in your arteries, increasing the likelihood of heart attack and stroke...Ask you doctor about Plavix?"
Father whispers something inaudible to her- "yes, I'll ask my doctor about Plavix" seems the most likely response, because she smiles, but considering the fact that the commercial has another thirty seconds to run, I think he probably replied, "Doctor, what about Plavix?"
Seriously, this commercial goes on and on AND ON, as the daughter takes the role usually reserved for the unseen narrator, bleating the entire text of any Plavix brochure, right down to the "Plavix is not for everyone" throwaway disclaimer line. Daughter and Dad are riveted to the cartoons featuring blocked arteries and glowing entire human bodies.
Two quick questions: First, this guy knows he has PAD, but doesn't know about Plavix- if his doctor actually diagnosed him and didn't prescribe some expensive medication, I find that very, very strange. More likely this guy has been diagnosed only by Doctor Daughter, who is apparently determined to scare her dad into believing that his aching right leg is a sign of a much more serious disease that is likely to kill him at any moment.
Second- why doesn't this commercial end when the dad agrees to see the doctor, as he clearly is when he smiles and nods, and the daughter smiles and nods back? I can only imagine that it's because the makers of Plavix don't want you to actually ASK your doctor about their medication- they want you to be so terrified that little walls are being built in your arteries that you will DEMAND the drug, RIGHT NOW.
There was a great Tom Toles cartoon a few years ago in The Washington Post which featured a man sitting in front of a television set, watching a pharmecutical commercial. The TV says "Ask your doctor if this medication is right for you." The man watching TV responds "Is this medication right for me?" Pharmecutical commercials and websites aren't interested in keeping you informed about your "options." They are designed to send you running in terror to your doctor, armed with the "information" you "need" to convince him to prescribe this or that expensive, probably unnecessary drug (as if doctors really need convincing anyway.) Drugs are being sold like cars, fast food, and cell phones- "these are things that you NEED, right NOW, so go get them!" Because doctors are still being used as middlemen because of our annoying prescription drug laws, prospective users must be given the weapons needed to get the doctors to sign off.
Your leg aches? Maybe it's because you don't exercise. Maybe it's because you sleep on it. Maybe it's because the train doors slammed on it the other day. Better not take any chances- go get an expensive prescription for Plavix. Big Pharma, and your daughter, will thank you.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely
This guy is cruising along in a luxury car, while the narrator tells us about all it's super-cool and obviously ESSENTIAL new bells and whistles, including "voice recognition technology."
Ok, here we go- in your car, you can pretend that you have some control over your joyless, hopeless life, which after all is just a mad pursuit for money so you can purchase cars with voice recognition technology and phones with pop-up maps of places you'll never visit. You can bark "Play Smashing Pumpkins! Call Office! Increase temperature of butt to 72.6 degrees!"
But this particular commercial ( I don't know what the make of the car is, does it really matter?) goes a bit too far. The driver sees a detour sign and makes an unscheduled turn. He commands his GPS system to "Update Map."
Huh? I have a Garmin GPS in my car. When I take a detour, pull over for coffee, or whatever, I don't talk to the little box on my dashboard. I don't tell it to "Update Map." It just does it. Doesn't that mean that the portable GPS in my 2003 Honda is superior to the pre-installed GPS in this luxury car, which apparently won't update your route unless you order it to?
I have a better theory, though. I think that the driver has just gone insane with power. Having the car respond to every command has gone to his head, and now he can't stop talking to the electronics. Pretty soon he'll be ordering the AP Network News guy to "give update!" or the batter at the plate to "swing at pitch!"
When he tells the wheels to "revolve faster!" as he presses down on the gas pedal, we'll know he needs serious therapy.
Ok, here we go- in your car, you can pretend that you have some control over your joyless, hopeless life, which after all is just a mad pursuit for money so you can purchase cars with voice recognition technology and phones with pop-up maps of places you'll never visit. You can bark "Play Smashing Pumpkins! Call Office! Increase temperature of butt to 72.6 degrees!"
But this particular commercial ( I don't know what the make of the car is, does it really matter?) goes a bit too far. The driver sees a detour sign and makes an unscheduled turn. He commands his GPS system to "Update Map."
Huh? I have a Garmin GPS in my car. When I take a detour, pull over for coffee, or whatever, I don't talk to the little box on my dashboard. I don't tell it to "Update Map." It just does it. Doesn't that mean that the portable GPS in my 2003 Honda is superior to the pre-installed GPS in this luxury car, which apparently won't update your route unless you order it to?
I have a better theory, though. I think that the driver has just gone insane with power. Having the car respond to every command has gone to his head, and now he can't stop talking to the electronics. Pretty soon he'll be ordering the AP Network News guy to "give update!" or the batter at the plate to "swing at pitch!"
When he tells the wheels to "revolve faster!" as he presses down on the gas pedal, we'll know he needs serious therapy.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Lowes: Your Place for Tools
Lowes is a Proud Sponsor of NASCAR. Why is this a selling point? Even if I were a fan of NASCAR, why would Lowes' sponsorship of Jimmie Johnson make me want to go to Lowes?
And what's with these phony employees in the most recent Lowes Commercial- there they are, wearing their stupid Lowes vests, jumping up and down hooting and hollering and giving eachother high-fives ("Four in a row, baby! Woo Hoo!") because of COURSE they are all Jimmie Johnson fans and of COURSE they will just DIE if Jimmie Johnson doesn't win the Sprint Cup Series. Does Lowes only hire Jimmie Johnson fans to work in their stores? Does the fact that their employer is a Jimmie Johnson fan somehow make Lowes employees gravitate to NASCAR and Johnson? Would expressing support for Jeff Gordon result in a pink slip and an order to get your sorry ass back to Burger King, you traitor?
Assuming that none of these is the case, why are these overworked, underpaid idiots so fucking excited at the prospect of Jimmie Johnson OR Lowes winning ANYTHING?
Is it just that working for Lowes is so all-consuming and soul-sucking that these people don't know why they are so excited about someone who happens to be sponsored by the mega-conglomerate they slave for? Do they realize that they are making the baggage handlers over at Southwest seem almost normal by comparison?
Maybe it's the vests.
And what's with these phony employees in the most recent Lowes Commercial- there they are, wearing their stupid Lowes vests, jumping up and down hooting and hollering and giving eachother high-fives ("Four in a row, baby! Woo Hoo!") because of COURSE they are all Jimmie Johnson fans and of COURSE they will just DIE if Jimmie Johnson doesn't win the Sprint Cup Series. Does Lowes only hire Jimmie Johnson fans to work in their stores? Does the fact that their employer is a Jimmie Johnson fan somehow make Lowes employees gravitate to NASCAR and Johnson? Would expressing support for Jeff Gordon result in a pink slip and an order to get your sorry ass back to Burger King, you traitor?
Assuming that none of these is the case, why are these overworked, underpaid idiots so fucking excited at the prospect of Jimmie Johnson OR Lowes winning ANYTHING?
Is it just that working for Lowes is so all-consuming and soul-sucking that these people don't know why they are so excited about someone who happens to be sponsored by the mega-conglomerate they slave for? Do they realize that they are making the baggage handlers over at Southwest seem almost normal by comparison?
Maybe it's the vests.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Verizon Hates Me, Christmas, and West Virginia
"Santa" walks into the dark, cold barn and asks his reindeer if they are "ready" (to travel the world delivering toys, I guess.) Those stupid Verizon "maps" pop up above all the reindeer- but, oops! Blitzen has Inferior Coverage, because he's got AT&T. What a stupid reindeer!
Ok, I just have three questions for the makers of this brain-dead, childhood memory-crushing, manipulative bullshit. First: Why is it important that every reindeer have the same cell coverage? Aren't they going to be hitched together when they pull their sleigh? Is it really going to be necessary for Blitzen to be able to text Dasher mid-flight? I mean, what the hell?
Second: Check out those pop-up maps. Compare the Verizon Map with the AT&T Map. On both, there's this big blank spot sitting like baby spit-up all over West Virginia. So, neither Verizon nor AT&T offer coverage in West Virginia? What is the consequence of this lack of service? Santa just going to skip the Mountaineer State?
Third: I know this is too much to ask, but could cell phone companies please, PLEASE keep their grubby, filthy paws off of our cherished childhood memories? Santa Claus doesn't give a damn what kind of coverage his reindeer have, because they are REINDEER. He doesn't care what kind of coverage HE has, because he's Santa Claus. He wasn't invented to pimp for Verizon.
He was invented to pimp for Coca-Cola. And let's never forget it.
Ok, I just have three questions for the makers of this brain-dead, childhood memory-crushing, manipulative bullshit. First: Why is it important that every reindeer have the same cell coverage? Aren't they going to be hitched together when they pull their sleigh? Is it really going to be necessary for Blitzen to be able to text Dasher mid-flight? I mean, what the hell?
Second: Check out those pop-up maps. Compare the Verizon Map with the AT&T Map. On both, there's this big blank spot sitting like baby spit-up all over West Virginia. So, neither Verizon nor AT&T offer coverage in West Virginia? What is the consequence of this lack of service? Santa just going to skip the Mountaineer State?
Third: I know this is too much to ask, but could cell phone companies please, PLEASE keep their grubby, filthy paws off of our cherished childhood memories? Santa Claus doesn't give a damn what kind of coverage his reindeer have, because they are REINDEER. He doesn't care what kind of coverage HE has, because he's Santa Claus. He wasn't invented to pimp for Verizon.
He was invented to pimp for Coca-Cola. And let's never forget it.
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