Another Crazy Woman and her I-Phone

"We decided we wanted a dog." I can only assume that "we" means the female narrator and her f--ing I-Phone, because my brain rebels against the idea of this woman having a relationship with another human being. Anyway, allow me to paraphrase the next line- "I wasn't willing to get off my expanding ass to go to the shelter, so I ran my finger along the screen of my Life Partner until I found a local shelter which had conveniently taken photos of every dog it had available."

Back to the actual script: "We fell in love with Bailey." Well, that's nice. Cute dog.

"We took millions of pictures." Seriously? Millions? Of a dog?

"Of course, we sent them to all our friends." You mean ex-friends. Or Facebook friends- the ones you've never met, will never meet, don't give a damn that you live and won't bat an eye when you die. The kind that don't mind being buried by photographs of your dog, or being reminded that you are really, really nuts about your I-Phone.

"And when we couldn't take him with us..." we set up a webcam and kept an eye on him with....well, what else?

"Thanks to my I-Phone, our family is now.....complete!" Yes, it is. You, your I-Phone, and a dog. I hope you are all very happy together. And I guess it's some comfort that your dog will never know that he would have had no chance of being adopted by you if you hadn't purchased an I-Phone, because God Fucking Forbid you were going to flip through some philistine phone book to find a shelter and head over to, I don't know, actually look at a real live dog instead of picking one out based on a tiny photo. Because I'm sure I'm wrong here, but it seems to me that choosing a family pet might require a little more effort than ordering a pizza or buying a pair of sneakers online.

We all know that it's only a matter of time before people are adopting children through a downloadable App, right? Are we all ready to act surprised when this happens?

The Sad Demise of the "History" Channel

I love history. When I was a kid, I'd spend hours poring over old history textbooks, looking for maps, graphs and charts and reading about Abraham Lincoln, Daniel Webster, and Andrew Jackson. I'd draw maps of imaginary battle sites and imagine that I was the general leading troops to victory. I'd give speeches like I was Henry Clay addressing the Senate. I was what you'd call a geek, I guess- still am.

There used to be a cable channel made just for people like me. It was called The History Channel. Sure, it was overladen with World War II footage- there are only so many times I really care to see "Hitler's Generals" and "Dogfights!" and interviews with ancient vets, but I understood that the channel's archives contained several million miles of footage so what the heck? And sure, the channel's producers seemed to have a bit of an obsession with the occult- multiple "Salem Witch Trials" and "Secrets of Nostradamus" (and "Secrets of Nostradamus's SON") programs got a bit wearisome.

But something very tragic has happened to this history geek's favorite cable channel. It's simply not about "History" anymore. Check out this lineup: Axe Men, Pawn Stars, Monster Quest, Ancient Aliens: The Series, UFO Hunters, That's Impossible, Gangland, Ice Road Truckers (on the air roughly six hours a day.) I mean, what the hell? When did The History Channel decide to pick up programming ideas found in the dumpsters behind USA and TBS?

It's really depressing when your odds of finding a HISTORY program on The History Channel are only slightly better than your odds of finding a music video on MTV. I can't imagine why history geeks would want to watch the current version of The History Channel. Or non-history geeks, for that matter.

Hey, History Channel- how about getting back to showing us, you know, History? I imagine it's cheaper and safer to just copy the other lame, shoestring-budget cable offerings out there, but as one of the Axe Men opines into the camera you shoved in his face, "Life without Risks is Mediocre." So is your current lineup. Mediocre, and not History.

"Get a Garage!"

One of the most unintentionally hilarious moments of the putrid Star Wars prequels which littered the landscape throughout the turn of the century featured what I guess was supposed to be a "touching" scene between Natalie Portman and everyone's favorite overexposed adorable "droid," R2D2. If I remember correctly, the rolling trash compactor performed some pre-programmed function adequately, earning a preposterous gushing "thank you" from Portman's character- something along the lines of "we commend this R2 unit...." I can only guess that later scenes featuring Padme decorating a microwave and bestowing the Iron Cross on a toaster were cut due to time constraints. Anyway, watching a human expressing gratitude to a compilation of wires and light bulbs was funny for all the wrong reasons, and one of the few genuinely entertaining moments in the ill-advised second trilogy.

Which brings us to this commercial for Subaru. A solemn-looking guy pulls into the junkyard in a brand-new white Subaru, parking next to what clearly used to be an identical model which has been in a very bad accident. "A Subaru saved my life" our hero muses, as he looks over the mangled car, removes a journal of some sort, and then, apparently on a whim, twists the gear shift knob and takes it with him.

"I won't forget that" he concludes as he drives off with his memento. (Please note that as he's walking back toward his new car, he's putting the gear shift knob in his pocket. But then we see it sitting on the front seat next to the journal. Continuity Much, Subaru?)

Considering that he went out and bought an exact copy of the Car that Saved His Life, I'm willing to take this guy at his word- he Won't Forget That, Ever. I can see this idiot getting into bar fights with people who dare to casually insult Japanese cars. Or ask him why he's wearing a gear shift knob on a chain around his neck.

I was involved in a bad accident in my old Honda Civic DX some years back. It, too, was totaled. I suppose that one reason I wasn't badly hurt was because the car was engineered to protect the driver in the event of a crash. When I went to the junkyard to retrieve a few belongings from the trunk, it didn't even occur to me to pry off a piece of my soon-to-be-crushed car as a reminder of the day a drunken asshole slammed into me while I was waiting at a stop sign. I guess I'm just not that sentimental- in retrospect, I should have written a eulogy and taken a hubcap, at least.

What's this guy really going to do with that knob, anyway?

Is the Cure worse than the Disease?

I admit, this was a tough one. But last year, I managed to find some pretty decent snark in Lance Armstrong's "Stand Up for Cancer" commercials, so poking fun at KFC's "Pink Buckets for Breast Cancer" should be doable, shouldn't it?

I think it's very nice that for every bucked of grilled or original recipe chicken (FRIED, which has been a dirty word over at KFC for quite some time now, but damn it, I grew up with Kentucky Fried Chicken and I'm over forty so I KNOW what "KFC" stands for) the fast-food corporation which merged with Taco Bell a few years back will donate a whole fifty cents to the fight against Breast Cancer. I really do. After all, how much does a bucket of this stuff cost nowadays? $15? Heck, that means KFC is willing to donate a whopping 3% of the price of each bucket. Pretty darned impressive.

But if you really want to contribute to the cause, is purchasing (and, presumably, helping your Dear Beloved Mother consume) a bucket of greasy, artery-clogging chicken the best way to go about it? Ok, I'm willing to concede that this stuff probably doesn't actually CAUSE breast cancer, either in laboratory rats or Mommies. It's not like Ben and Jerry's joining the fight against diabetes or M&M Mars donating a nickle for every candy bar purchased to defeat gingivitis. But still....

"This is for you, Mom. I'm determined that you won't die of breast cancer. So chow down on this pile of sludge, and then we'll go out for Blizzards at Dairy Queen. Maybe tomorrow we can get you one of those Double Down sandwiches."

Or- you could skip the Heart Attack in a Pail and just cut a check. Just a thought. Because really- if Mom keels over from a stroke instead of Breast Cancer, what exactly got accomplished here?

The Continuing, Oddly Pointless Odyssey of Ellen Page

There is so much wrong with this commercial for Cisco featuring the apparently Aimlessly Wandering Ellen Page, I think I'll just be lazy and just list my observations:

1. Ms Page- star of such middle-school-age appropriate films as Hard Candy and Juno, is invited to be "this year's special guest" at Lunenberg Academy, a castle in the middle of nowhere which just SCREAMS Rich, Privileged, White Kids Only. Um, why? None of the kids seem to know who she is or care why she's there, because....

2. The only response to the oddly frozen, non-actress "teacher" (I mean, seriously- check out her total lack of emotional range during the three brief moments we can see her face) announcing that Ellen Page is here is a student announcing "We're Going on a Field Trip to China!!" Wow, Ms Page must feel really important right now- the kid might as well have yelled "who gives a shit? We're about to do something FUN!"

3. Miss Page, visibly startled, reveals that she had no set plan for the students of Aryan Academy by responding weakly "Gee....when I was a kid....we just went to the...farm...." followed by a clip of Not Ellen Page being frightened by a cow, which leads to....

4. An appreciative laugh from her audience. Now, unless these kids could actually see inside Ms Page's head, this can only mean that they are laughing at the fact that their guest had to settle for a field trip to "the farm." Again- Indulged little brats.

5. "No seriously, where are you going?" Ms Page asks--- followed by the revelation that the "field trip to China" is just a video hookup with a classroom of imprisoned, oppressed, "behave or your parents will spend the next two years in a Re-Education Center" children of Inner Party Members provided to Upper Crust Prep by Cisco. Warms the heart.

So, what is the message here? That Ellen Page has so few projects lined up that she's decided to kill time to revisit all of her old childhood haunts, only to be shown again and again how much the Old Stomping Grounds have been changed by the technological wizardry of Cisco? That this year's Special Guest was recognized as so insignificant and unworthy of attention that a video "field trip to China" was arranged on the same day? That only schools which charge $40,000 per year tuitions can afford Cisco technology? Help me out here.

Another "Crisis" narrowly averted, thanks to Verizon

These "Moment of Truth" ads are already getting old. I've had more than enough of watching people being "rescued" from minor annoyances masquerading as major life crises by their stupid phones. And I wonder how much longer Verizon is going to subject us to commercials which all have the same message- "you should never, ever experience anything that varies from your carefully-planned life script, and you never will, IF you have a Verizon phone."

Look at this latest example: Mom has supplied pirate plates, pirate hats, pirate tablecloths, pirate cake, pirate fucking EVERYTHING for her overindulged little bundle of joy at his birthday party. Oh, but look, there's a hair out of place- a COWBOY has shown up, instead of a pirate!! Oh noes, what to do, what to do?

Well, what else? This is, after all, the "moment of truth." Mommy whips out her phone and presumably contacts the agency she contracted to entertain at her Social Event of the Season to get this "problem" worked out, NOW. And faster than you can say "let's KGB it!" the actor in the cowboy suit has been replaced by an actor in a pirate suit. "Crisis" avoided!

Seriously, ick. Ok, mom, so your pampered little spawn wanted a pirate theme. Assuming you hired a pirate actor, the agency ought to provide a pirate actor. So when a cowboy shows up, why isn't the answer to just phone the fucking agency and explain the error? Is it conceivable that this woman, upon realizing that an error was made, reacted by contacting another agency and paying premium prices for a last-minute appearance by a guy with a hook and an eyepatch? Because her Little One must have Everything? I mean, wouldn't a NORMAL human being explain the mistake to the cowboy actor, and let HIM contact the agency and fix the issue? This mom doesn't even wait for him to reach the crowd of kids, who might actually WELCOME a break from the monotonous pirate crap if it means a chance to ride on a horse.

And as if all this is not disgusting enough, check out our "hero" at the end of the commercial- she's wiping sweat off her brow, as if she just avoided a major disaster. Jesus Christ, it's a birthday party.

"Moment of Truth?" Really?

It isn't hard for me to imagine this woman reacting to raindrops by attempting to find a "Bring back the Sun" service on Bing. Because dammit, if you have Verizon, you should never ever EVER get less than 100% of what you want.

And so Verizon continues it's crusade to turn us into a nation of whiny, spoiled little brats who have no idea how to handle even the smallest amount of inconvenience or disappointment. In another era, "the pirate birthday party which featured a cowboy" might be a funny story passed down among family members for years. Thank God those days are over, replaced by "the pirate birthday party saved by Mommy and her ever-present Verizon phone."

I don't know- just doesn't seem to have the same staying power to me.

"Take advantage of our offer. We dare you, wussy."

"Who's idea was this?" sneers the unseen narrator, as the camera slooooowwwwly zooms in on some new Dodge Gas-guzzling Behemoth. Sure, you can drive it for sixty days before you decide you want to keep it. But- sixty days? Who needs sixty days? Gays? Girly-men? Momma's boys? "Who is that indecisive?" concludes the thoroughly nasty disembodied voice.

"The sixty days even though you won't need it" ad campaign, I must admit, is a pretty bold move by Dodge. I mean, I expect my intelligence to be insulted by pretty much every commercial. But here's Dodge essentially telling me that the only way I would take advantage of their newest offer is if I have some kind of character flaw. Sure, you can bring it back- but if you do, expect to be sneered at and to have your manhood questioned.

Other companies ought to try this- coupons could come with little disclaimers letting you know that coupons are really stupid, and you'll look idiotic if you try to use one. New cars could come with two years of free oil changes- and a notation that only LOSERS change their oil that often- and you aren't a LOSER, are you?

Hey Dodge: I am not interested in buying one of your oversized crudmobiles. I don't want to drive one for one day, ten days or sixty days. I decided before the end of your commercial that I want nothing to do with you or your craptacular, smarmy, manipulative company.

Decisive enough for you?