A mom and dad who look like they could be cast in any typical sitcom are staring out the bay window drinking steaming cups of coffee, watching their teen-aged son and daughter shovel the walk.
"How did you get them to do that?" Mom asks dad.
Ok, hold it right there while I enjoy a laugh at the image of my mom asking my dad "how did you get him to do that?" when she noticed me shoveling the driveway, mowing the lawns, taking out the trash, feeding the dog, or doing all of the other things I did as a child. That scene never took place, because when I was a kid, I did chores because I was told to.
But back to our commercial-
Dad responds "I told them that I'd let them talk and text their friends all they want."
Mom replies with one of the most unintentionally depressing lines I've ever heard in an advertisement- "but they can do that already, we have Unlimited Talk and Text." Groan.
"They don't know that" dad deadpans. Mom and Dad enjoy a silent victory over their kids, and resume watching their back-breaking labor from the comfort of the family living room, drinking coffee which is mysteriously still very hot, as we get a "burned myself" throwaway line from Dad.
So, which is the saddest aspect of this commercial- that Mom and Dad feel they have to bribe their kids to do chores they ought be to doing anyway? That Mom and Dad think it's a good idea to let their kids use their phones nonstop? That the kids are so desperate to have zero restrictions on their phone usage that they are willing to risk frostbite to earn it? That Dad is so anxious for a "victory"- ANY "victory"- over his kids that he's willing to use their cell phone addiction against them? You make the call.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Thursday, March 4, 2010
I guess I'm just evil
Three skiers are trapped on a lift, waiting for help. How do they pass their time?
By talking to each other? Don't be stupid. Haven't you been paying attention at all?
Each one of them uses their cell phones (which all have cool/overbearingly cutesy names, like "Curve" and "Hero" and "Pixie") to listen to music, download Apps, check on business, etc. etc. Heck, each one is probably delighted to be stuck on that Lift, because they haven't figured out how to text and actually ski at the same time anyway.
This is a mildly obnoxious commercial, as far as Sprint's Assault on Humanity campaign goes. I actually find some enjoyment in it, because I always find myself imagining a perfect ending -- three self-absorbed morons who are now frozen corpses sharing a ski lift, phones still held firmly in their mittens, lifeless eyes staring at non-functioning screens-- because none of these people thought to actually call for help. Ah, it makes me all warm inside. Thanks, Sprint!
By talking to each other? Don't be stupid. Haven't you been paying attention at all?
Each one of them uses their cell phones (which all have cool/overbearingly cutesy names, like "Curve" and "Hero" and "Pixie") to listen to music, download Apps, check on business, etc. etc. Heck, each one is probably delighted to be stuck on that Lift, because they haven't figured out how to text and actually ski at the same time anyway.
This is a mildly obnoxious commercial, as far as Sprint's Assault on Humanity campaign goes. I actually find some enjoyment in it, because I always find myself imagining a perfect ending -- three self-absorbed morons who are now frozen corpses sharing a ski lift, phones still held firmly in their mittens, lifeless eyes staring at non-functioning screens-- because none of these people thought to actually call for help. Ah, it makes me all warm inside. Thanks, Sprint!
Monday, March 1, 2010
That's an awesome kid you're raising there, "dad"
I'm pretty sure this is another commercial for Sprint, which is currently leading the "don't ever do anything that doesn't involve using your phones" charge among cell service providers. But really, does it matter?
A bemused (or deflated, defeated, and probably never made much effort at imposing simple, necessary discipline and self-restraint) dad is asking the disembodied voice of the commercial's narrator for "help" in handling the family's cell phone bill. "What if you have a daughter who sent 35,000 texts last month?"
Zombie Daughter, staring at the screen of her phone with an intently focused, "why won't the non-cell phone world just go away" look on her face-- "that's an exaggeration."
Deflated Dad: "No it isn't."
Of course, the commercial doesn't address the real problem- that this daughter has a serious addiction to her phone, which has taken over her life in an alarmingly unhealthy way. According to Sprint, it's not even worth noting that 35,000 text messages in a month means 1166 messages per day. Assuming sixteen hours of wakefulness per day (considering how many of my students fall asleep first period because they've been online or on their phones until 2 AM, maybe this is a misguided assumption,) that's seventy-three texts per hour-- just over one per minute. No, the "problem" is the cost of all these messages, which is "solved" by getting Unlimited Texting from Sprint.
I wish a parent would explain to me why this commercial is amusing and helpful, rather than sad. I wish a parent would shoot me an email telling me that they couldn't care less if their children are basically doing nothing BUT texting people- and that the only problem they associate with this "activity" is the cost involved.
I wish kids who do a lot of texting would explain to me how and if they manage to carry out actual conversations with human beings in the vicinity while they are texting others. I wish they would explain to me why texting is preferable to talking, not to mention preferable to engaging in sports, reading, or any of the wide range of activities you simply cannot participate in fully with a cell phone attached to your hand.
Most of all, I wish Sprint and all the other cell phone companies would explain to me why they think that the pursuit of the Allmighty Dollar is worth crippling an entire generation of young people, who will one day look up from their screens to notice that something called Real Life has been going on around them, and all they have to show for their youth is an overloaded In Box and callouses. Oh, and bad grades- at least four of my students will be taking history again next year, because they spent the 2009-10 term in the bathrooms tapping away at their beeping little toys.
A bemused (or deflated, defeated, and probably never made much effort at imposing simple, necessary discipline and self-restraint) dad is asking the disembodied voice of the commercial's narrator for "help" in handling the family's cell phone bill. "What if you have a daughter who sent 35,000 texts last month?"
Zombie Daughter, staring at the screen of her phone with an intently focused, "why won't the non-cell phone world just go away" look on her face-- "that's an exaggeration."
Deflated Dad: "No it isn't."
Of course, the commercial doesn't address the real problem- that this daughter has a serious addiction to her phone, which has taken over her life in an alarmingly unhealthy way. According to Sprint, it's not even worth noting that 35,000 text messages in a month means 1166 messages per day. Assuming sixteen hours of wakefulness per day (considering how many of my students fall asleep first period because they've been online or on their phones until 2 AM, maybe this is a misguided assumption,) that's seventy-three texts per hour-- just over one per minute. No, the "problem" is the cost of all these messages, which is "solved" by getting Unlimited Texting from Sprint.
I wish a parent would explain to me why this commercial is amusing and helpful, rather than sad. I wish a parent would shoot me an email telling me that they couldn't care less if their children are basically doing nothing BUT texting people- and that the only problem they associate with this "activity" is the cost involved.
I wish kids who do a lot of texting would explain to me how and if they manage to carry out actual conversations with human beings in the vicinity while they are texting others. I wish they would explain to me why texting is preferable to talking, not to mention preferable to engaging in sports, reading, or any of the wide range of activities you simply cannot participate in fully with a cell phone attached to your hand.
Most of all, I wish Sprint and all the other cell phone companies would explain to me why they think that the pursuit of the Allmighty Dollar is worth crippling an entire generation of young people, who will one day look up from their screens to notice that something called Real Life has been going on around them, and all they have to show for their youth is an overloaded In Box and callouses. Oh, and bad grades- at least four of my students will be taking history again next year, because they spent the 2009-10 term in the bathrooms tapping away at their beeping little toys.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
More Disgusting, Manipulative BS from Cancer Treatment Centers of America
This latest pile of steaming crud from the anti-doctor vultures who prey on the fears of desperate people reaches new levels of utter vileness. We see a series of people throwing out talking points like "Strength" and "Character" and "Taking Control" when discussing their diagnosis of terminal cancer:
"I wasn't interesting in 'managing' my cancer, I wanted to fight it. I wanted this cancer out of me."
"I was determined to beat this thing."
"It's all about taking control, about finding the strength, about having the character to see the fight through..."
"When I walked in the doors, I knew this is the place I wanted to be..."
"They did more than help us fight. They gave me my father back."
Not one damn word about treatments. Nothing about medicines, or therapies, or machines. Nothing but buzzwords- as if all you really need to fight cancer is a strong personality and the right kind of "character."
These people are scum-sucking maggots. I have nothing but contempt for any organization which preys on the fears and desperation of people who have been told by actual DOCTORS that they have cancer and that managing it is the only real option they have. As the son of a cancer survivor, I can only hope that there is a special, extra-hot level of Hell reserved for monsters who are willing to make money telling sick, scared, desperate people that with a little "Can-Do Spirit," they can somehow will the cancer out of their bodies, and that they should start by dismissing the heartless "experts" who used "xrays" and (chuckle) "modern medicine" to diagnose their problems.
Oh, and I apologize to vultures, vampires, and scum-sucking maggots who may be reading this blog. I didn't mean to cause offense by comparing you to the good people at Cancer Treatment Centers of America.
"I wasn't interesting in 'managing' my cancer, I wanted to fight it. I wanted this cancer out of me."
"I was determined to beat this thing."
"It's all about taking control, about finding the strength, about having the character to see the fight through..."
"When I walked in the doors, I knew this is the place I wanted to be..."
"They did more than help us fight. They gave me my father back."
Not one damn word about treatments. Nothing about medicines, or therapies, or machines. Nothing but buzzwords- as if all you really need to fight cancer is a strong personality and the right kind of "character."
These people are scum-sucking maggots. I have nothing but contempt for any organization which preys on the fears and desperation of people who have been told by actual DOCTORS that they have cancer and that managing it is the only real option they have. As the son of a cancer survivor, I can only hope that there is a special, extra-hot level of Hell reserved for monsters who are willing to make money telling sick, scared, desperate people that with a little "Can-Do Spirit," they can somehow will the cancer out of their bodies, and that they should start by dismissing the heartless "experts" who used "xrays" and (chuckle) "modern medicine" to diagnose their problems.
Oh, and I apologize to vultures, vampires, and scum-sucking maggots who may be reading this blog. I didn't mean to cause offense by comparing you to the good people at Cancer Treatment Centers of America.
No one who actually does this deserves to live even one more day
Remember "what would you do for a Klondike Bar?" It was the first ad campaign I ever saw which featured people acting like brainless assholes in the service of some stupid tag line. I remember people clucking like chickens, flapping their arms up and down, and performing all kinds of brainless, pride-stripping stunts in order to "win" a 79-cent ice cream sandwich.
In more recent times, we've got people willing to squeal with delight at the smell of Maxwell House coffee ("Frrrreeeeeeesshhhhh!") and dance for the cameras to the tune of "Five Dollar Foot Longs."
And now, we have Punch Dub Days at your local Volkswagen Dealer. "What's this Punch Dub Days?" the prospective male customer asks the salesman when he notices the huge PUNCH DUB DAYS sign (oddly enough, the salesman has apparently gone through an entire pitch without even mentioning the ad campaign.)
"Oh, you know- when you see a Volkswagen, you punch the person next to you."
Oh God please, make it stop. It was called Slug Bug, and I vaguely remember playing it when I was about eight years old and the world seemed to be filled with little Volkswagen bugs. My parents had one, and my grandfather's became my first car. It was an innocent, stupid little game, which had nothing to do with selling today's Looks Like Every Other Car on the Road version of Volkswagen. But naturally, the ditz Please Die Tomorrow female companion of our Prospective Customer buys right in, looking around the show room and noticing that- I'll be darned!- it's full of Volkswagens!
"Red one!" she shouts, hitting her Soon To Be Ex Male Friend in the arm. "White One!" Another punch. "Blue One!" Another punch. Yes, it's very amusing, watching this deranged lunatic hitting her friend. (And I'm sure it would have been just as acceptable if it was the guy hitting the girl. Sure I am. Expect to see that commercial real soon.)
It finally ends with the male customer taking a break from rubbing his sore arm to hit the salesman. Oh, the hilarity.
Congratulations, Volkswagen. This vile "Hit someone when you see a Volkswagen" campaign actually manages to reach Cell Phone Commercial loathsomeness. Along with you, I hope this leads to a lot of mentally challenged doofuses hitting each other and yelling "Slug Bug." I hope the mayhem escalates, and weapons are ultimately involved.
Because gosh, think of the publicity!
In more recent times, we've got people willing to squeal with delight at the smell of Maxwell House coffee ("Frrrreeeeeeesshhhhh!") and dance for the cameras to the tune of "Five Dollar Foot Longs."
And now, we have Punch Dub Days at your local Volkswagen Dealer. "What's this Punch Dub Days?" the prospective male customer asks the salesman when he notices the huge PUNCH DUB DAYS sign (oddly enough, the salesman has apparently gone through an entire pitch without even mentioning the ad campaign.)
"Oh, you know- when you see a Volkswagen, you punch the person next to you."
Oh God please, make it stop. It was called Slug Bug, and I vaguely remember playing it when I was about eight years old and the world seemed to be filled with little Volkswagen bugs. My parents had one, and my grandfather's became my first car. It was an innocent, stupid little game, which had nothing to do with selling today's Looks Like Every Other Car on the Road version of Volkswagen. But naturally, the ditz Please Die Tomorrow female companion of our Prospective Customer buys right in, looking around the show room and noticing that- I'll be darned!- it's full of Volkswagens!
"Red one!" she shouts, hitting her Soon To Be Ex Male Friend in the arm. "White One!" Another punch. "Blue One!" Another punch. Yes, it's very amusing, watching this deranged lunatic hitting her friend. (And I'm sure it would have been just as acceptable if it was the guy hitting the girl. Sure I am. Expect to see that commercial real soon.)
It finally ends with the male customer taking a break from rubbing his sore arm to hit the salesman. Oh, the hilarity.
Congratulations, Volkswagen. This vile "Hit someone when you see a Volkswagen" campaign actually manages to reach Cell Phone Commercial loathsomeness. Along with you, I hope this leads to a lot of mentally challenged doofuses hitting each other and yelling "Slug Bug." I hope the mayhem escalates, and weapons are ultimately involved.
Because gosh, think of the publicity!
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Another disgusting yogurt commercial.
A woman is sitting in her office, enjoying her cup of Light&Fit Yogurt. And I mean really enjoying it. She is scooping it out with her finger. She is tipping the cup back and tapping the bottom as she presses it against her face. She's sucking at the cup. And then she's back to scooping it out with her finger.
Her thoroughly grossed-out and disgusted (I hope) co-worker says "Um...do you always eat your yogurt like that?"
Mentally Ill woman who simply cannot accept that she's finished her yogurt (imagine her drinking a milkshake- she probably makes loud slurping noise for thirty minutes before someone yanks the cup out of her hand and tosses it away): "I love it."
Not really an answer, but...
Ok, here are my two biggest problems with this ad (there are more than two, but I'm a bit pressed for time today:)
1. It's easy to image that this woman will next pull out out a pair of shears and cut the plastic cup into slices, and then lick the slices. Right there, in public.
2. The narrator tells us near the end that Light&Fit has "only 80 calories." Yes, indeed it does. And it's such a substantial treat, that this deranged woman is desperate to get every single fraction of those calories into her body before she admits that she just consumed 80 calories of something exactly as filling as a glass of milk. Imagine if Olive Garden tried to sell it's 500-calorie menu by showing a guy frantically scraping the empty plate with his fork, and finally picking it up and licking it until it shone like new. Might as well use the tag line "You'll Still Be Very, Very Hungry When It's Gone."
Hey, honesty in advertising! Got to give Light&Fit some points for that, at least.
Her thoroughly grossed-out and disgusted (I hope) co-worker says "Um...do you always eat your yogurt like that?"
Mentally Ill woman who simply cannot accept that she's finished her yogurt (imagine her drinking a milkshake- she probably makes loud slurping noise for thirty minutes before someone yanks the cup out of her hand and tosses it away): "I love it."
Not really an answer, but...
Ok, here are my two biggest problems with this ad (there are more than two, but I'm a bit pressed for time today:)
1. It's easy to image that this woman will next pull out out a pair of shears and cut the plastic cup into slices, and then lick the slices. Right there, in public.
2. The narrator tells us near the end that Light&Fit has "only 80 calories." Yes, indeed it does. And it's such a substantial treat, that this deranged woman is desperate to get every single fraction of those calories into her body before she admits that she just consumed 80 calories of something exactly as filling as a glass of milk. Imagine if Olive Garden tried to sell it's 500-calorie menu by showing a guy frantically scraping the empty plate with his fork, and finally picking it up and licking it until it shone like new. Might as well use the tag line "You'll Still Be Very, Very Hungry When It's Gone."
Hey, honesty in advertising! Got to give Light&Fit some points for that, at least.
Friday, February 19, 2010
I can't Imagine why we are in the middle of an Obesity Epidemic. I really can't.
"Mrs. Jones is freeing her family from restricted calling plans by switching to Sprint..."
Freeing her family. Yes, Mrs. Jones is a regular Harriet Tubman. She's breaking the chains of Limited Minutes Slavery. We aren't told what prompts her to do this, but I think it's easy to guess- she wants to be Mommy the Hero to her cold, distant, wrapped-up-in-themselves housemates.
"Now her daughter isn't, like, limited to like, lame calling plans."
Sprint's contempt for families having long since been established, the company now takes aim at teen-aged girls. Like, they are so, like, lame, ya'know?
"And her son can talk All. Day. Long."
Which means her son doesn't have to fill his days with friends, homework, reading, sports, exercise, school because he's out of minutes. Thank God.
"And when her husband pocket-dials half the country, it's no big deal."
Of course. Daddy is a stupid dick who used to create a huge phone bill because he's too inept to avoid accidentally calling people by- what? Fingering his phone while it's in his pocket? Is this really that common? Doesn't matter- Daddy is stupid. Message sent and received- again.
What's this all about? Seems to me that it's just another chapter in the Encourage Your Family to Devote their Lives to their Phones theme created years ago and promoted with increased aggression by Sprint and their ilk. I can't see any other explanation for commercials which invite customers to spend every waking moment of every day talking themselves hoarse and developing that next layer of callouses on their thumbs. I can't see any other explanation for commercials that encourage kids to replace every other possible activity with talking and texting. Maybe these ads appeal to parents who don't really ever, ever want to talk to their kids again. Maybe they appeal to wives who lost interest in their husbands years ago ( and vice versa) and are grateful that there's this electronic gadget out there that just might keep the spouse occupied while they do their own thing (talk and text to someone else.)
All I know for sure is that this is like, a totally, like, lame commercial. And no, giving a cameo to Flava Flav at the end doesn't help. At ALL.
Freeing her family. Yes, Mrs. Jones is a regular Harriet Tubman. She's breaking the chains of Limited Minutes Slavery. We aren't told what prompts her to do this, but I think it's easy to guess- she wants to be Mommy the Hero to her cold, distant, wrapped-up-in-themselves housemates.
"Now her daughter isn't, like, limited to like, lame calling plans."
Sprint's contempt for families having long since been established, the company now takes aim at teen-aged girls. Like, they are so, like, lame, ya'know?
"And her son can talk All. Day. Long."
Which means her son doesn't have to fill his days with friends, homework, reading, sports, exercise, school because he's out of minutes. Thank God.
"And when her husband pocket-dials half the country, it's no big deal."
Of course. Daddy is a stupid dick who used to create a huge phone bill because he's too inept to avoid accidentally calling people by- what? Fingering his phone while it's in his pocket? Is this really that common? Doesn't matter- Daddy is stupid. Message sent and received- again.
What's this all about? Seems to me that it's just another chapter in the Encourage Your Family to Devote their Lives to their Phones theme created years ago and promoted with increased aggression by Sprint and their ilk. I can't see any other explanation for commercials which invite customers to spend every waking moment of every day talking themselves hoarse and developing that next layer of callouses on their thumbs. I can't see any other explanation for commercials that encourage kids to replace every other possible activity with talking and texting. Maybe these ads appeal to parents who don't really ever, ever want to talk to their kids again. Maybe they appeal to wives who lost interest in their husbands years ago ( and vice versa) and are grateful that there's this electronic gadget out there that just might keep the spouse occupied while they do their own thing (talk and text to someone else.)
All I know for sure is that this is like, a totally, like, lame commercial. And no, giving a cameo to Flava Flav at the end doesn't help. At ALL.
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