Keep on Living the Dream, Guys!

What do guys do? I mean, what do they do when they aren't throwing big heavy filth-covered pieces of machinery into Ford F-150s, having orgasms at the sight of beer, or pumping gallons of Round Up on to that one weed sticking out of their driveways?

Well, we knew already what they DON'T do-- they don't shave. They don't comb their hair. They don't make themselves presentable in polite society in any way, shape or form.

Thanks to Hillshire Farms, we have a pretty good idea of What Guys Do, at least on the weekends. They stand in their designated cubicle-yards grilling artery-hardening, environment-robbing meat products, pouring god knows how many toxins into the atmosphere (and into their bodies) in the process. Ah, suburbia, ain't i wonderful?

And as they turn the one or two sausages they used an entire bag of charcoal and half a can of lighter fluid to slightly brown, they attempt to make contact with the other Neighborhood Guys, who are producing their own clouds of pollutant in their own cubicle-yards, standing next to their own suburban palaces, which by the way are all made out of ticky-tacky and all look just the same. The dominant Guy of the Herd sings out the marching orders- to pay homage to Meat- and his supplicants (one of which is, judging from the mustache, a retired 70s porn star) respond appreciatively. My guess is that the one guy on the block busy putting the final touches on the beet salad keeps his mouth shut. No point in upsetting the Neighborhood Association, after all.

None of this looks at all familiar to me, which means that either I'm not a Guy, or I'm not a Real Guy. But that's ok- being a Guy doesn't look like a whole lot of fun in commercials, and not especially healthy, either.

The Awkward, Creepy Way I Met Your Mother

It used to be so hard for stalkers to ply their trade. Before the age of GPS and Internet-connected cell phones, one might spend days or even weeks carefully watching one's Object of Obsession, making crude maps detailing her daily routine, scribbling notes into hand-held ledgers, etc. And just when you thought you had it down to a science, she'd do something out of character, like jump on a train or point you out to a cop. Stalking was an art.

Now, thanks to modern technology, anyone can become a stalker on a whim. Check out this commercial- guy notices a cute girl on a train; specifically, he notes that he can stare at her without her becoming repulsed at the gawky, scruffy creep standing on the platform. With the touch of a button (perhaps using the same magic service that idiot who left his presentation in the taxi did in an earlier commercial- you remember, the guy who managed to access an unfamiliar copying machine and send the presentation to it in roughly six seconds flat) this clown adjusts his itinerary so that he can leap aboard the train and park himself next to the poor girl, who really needs access to the same service so she can adjust HER travel plans, and quick.

Where's the train going? Doesn't matter- this girl is on it. And when she gets off the train? So will he. How adorable. I guess.

Ah, but this is just the beginning, it turns out- the start of a relationship which ends with this couple raising "The 57th President of the United States."

First of all, Barack Obama is the 44th POTUS. Let's assume he's defeated in 2012, and of the next dozen Presidents, half serve two four-year terms, and half serve only one. Let's also assume that none die in office or resign. This would result in the 57th President of the United States taking the oath of office on January 20, 2085. Well, ok- I guess that's plausible- the couple meets in 2010, dates a few years, gets married, and has the future Leader of the Free World a few years later-- does the guy we see waving to the crowds at the start of the commercial look to be seventy years old? Maybe. Do his adoring parents, shown beaming in the crowd, look anywhere near 100? Absolutely not.

Second of all, as a friend pointed out after seeing this ad, isn't it nice to know that when the peddlers of pointless "essential" technology sought out a guy to play "the 57th President of the United States," they immediately thought "gray-haired, slim, non-ethnic looking white guy?"

It seems that while our stalking technology can be expected to continue to grow by leaps and bounds in the coming decades, we'll be going right back to our old habits when it comes to electing Presidents as soon as the Age of Obama is over. Thanks for letting us know, AT&T.

"Shhh! We're Out of Pediasure and Mac'n Cheese!"

Here's another episode in The Adventures of Awesome Parenting. Soon To Be Obese Brat is happily chowing down on lard-laced faux food- this time, it's "'Chef" Boyardee's Big Ravioli. He thinks it's crap (and he's right) but it tastes good, so who cares?

Dad comes in and does a "bad" thing, trying to tell his son that hey, that mystery meat he loves not only has a full day's supply of fat and salt, but it also contains an entire SERVING of vegetables. Mom is mortified- if Son realizes that sometimes vegetables taste good, he might- umm, what exactly? Become more open-minded about eating vegetables? Can't have that!

So mom witlessly whacks away at the pots and pans in order to drown out the word " vegetables." Oh, the hilarity. Son will be spared the knowledge that "vegetable" does not necessarily mean "yucky," and he'll finish his lunch thinking mom is a freaking lunatic who likes to remind daddy that he has no business talking to her son about anything, especially nutrition.

After all, if dad was encouraged to do a little research, he might discover that the "serving of vegetables" hardly evens out the fact that this stuff is basically poison, and encouraging your kids to lie quietly on the couch and eat Cheez-Its every weekend would be only slightly less neglectful than serving this rubbish. He might start to ask mommy questions like "how did our kid get control of the family menu so completely that the word 'vegetable' is now verboten in MY HOUSE?" or "We obviously have plenty of money- can't we do better than a $2 can of tomatoey sludge for the guy who is going to carry on our family name?" or "Umm...shouldn't we be teaching our child to appreciate fruits and vegetables instead of catering to his childish prejudices- I mean, don't we have some responsibility here beyond making sure he has clothes and a place to sleep?" or "Is this why you insist on being a Stay At Home Mom? Because you were afraid the Daycare would spoil our son with celery sticks, carrots and yogurt?"

Better watch it, dad- Mommy is pretty handy with those pots and pans, though obviously she doesn't use them much for cooking.

Or maybe I've got Mom all wrong- maybe she's afraid that if her son finds out that Big Canned Ravioli is even remotely good for him, he'll demand it at every meal. "Hey, I want my VEGETABLES, Mommy! Get the can opener!" Then all she'll be able to look forward to is seeing Her Precious One on The Biggest Loser in a decade or so. By then, Dad will have snapped under the pressure of Mom's oppression, filed for divorce, and started life anew with a sane woman.

What tax cuts for the wealthy hath wrought

Can I just take a moment to note how much I hate the idea of people having so much damned money that they would choose to have something like this installed in their home? I mean, Jesus, how many thousands of dollars does this gluttonous monstrosity cost? Does it come with a yard sign which reads "the inhabitants of this suburban castle have one of those room-sized showers which allow the user to personalize the water temperature and pressure, so feel free to allow your dog to despoil this lawn?" "The residents found within can be seen in commercials bitching about brokerage fees- feel free to 'brokerage' a window as you pass by?"

"The middle-aged self-satisfied jackasses living inside are delighted with the recent comments of Rand Paul and certainly hope that the Unemployed of the United States get off their lazy asses and pull themselves up by their bootstraps, like their grandparents did?" Although you know, it's funny but in none of the dozen or so Horatio Alger books I've read has the hard-working, frank, honest and dutiful boy risen from the ranks to achieve such a pointless symbol of conspicuous consumption.

BTW, are we really supposed to feel any empathy for these pigs when they realize that the Kohler guy tested the installation by showering? They look mortified at the thought that their beautiful new bathroom has been defiled by one of the great unwashed (no pun intended.)

I suppose that if I just worked a little harder, maybe I could afford to convert half of my living space into a fricking shower. If I wanted to, and if I could first afford to have my social conscience surgically removed. Because commercials like this make MTV's Teen Cribs almost palatable. Almost.

Good to see that McChrystal has landed on his feet

I actually love commercials like this- completely amateurish, featuring people without the slightest hint of acting ability, unabashedly cheesy and apparently proud of it. I'm only including it as a This Commercial Sucks post so I can express my disdain for the dangerous, irresponsible idiots who have to resort to buying auto insurance from a service called simply "The General."

Nice young couple cooperate with a balding stereotype of a car salesman to create a High School Production skit entitled "buying a car." When the word "action!" is barked offstage, car salesman pretends to shuffle Paperwork Important in the Purchasing of an Automobile and announces "all I need now is proof of insurance."

Because this is the year 2010, cute girl (who is apparently cute guy's secretary) pulls out a mini-laptop so that her boss-boyfriend-child groom can "get a quote from 'The General.'" Ok then.

We learn that The General sells auto insurance, and can sign you up regardless of how many times you've slammed your car into trees, fence posts, mail boxes, other cars or human beings, how many times you've been caught speeding, driving on the median, or operating a motor vehicle while under the influence of legal or illegal drugs, or how old you are. Apparently The General has seen too much carnage in his life to judge you based on a few minor points like other insurance companies do. And for a down payment "as low as $59" (the small print reads that the average down payment is $125) you can get insurance with "low monthly payments." Wow, how convenient. Just like Rent-A-Center.

Except....hmmm. Down Payment? Is that subtracted from your monthly bill until it's paid down? "Low Monthly Payments?" Who pays their car insurance monthly? Oh yeah- the kind of people who have to make a down payment and buy insurance from a cartoon character dressed like Patton who drives around in a convertible with a penguin. The kind of people who can't buy insurance from an established company.

Still- who wouldn't want a quote from The General? Look what it did for Rolling Stone.

More Future Heart Disease patients endorsing everyone's favorite deadly orange goo

Here's the second of two annoying new Kraft Macaroni and Cheese commercials, this one featuring the new "Homestyle" recipe which is supposed to appeal not to kids who can be excused for eating what their parents put in front of them and choosing favorite foods based on taste alone, but on adults who really ought to know better. I mean, really- eventually, most people realize that it's a good idea to brush your teeth even though your mom isn't there to make you anymore, regular bathing is important even if no one is dragging you to the tub, and making fatty garbage part of your regular diet is a mistake even if no one is watching and you are buying the "food" with your own money.

Oh, and putting bread crumbs on garbage and baking it doesn't make it less garbage, or more healthy. For the record, a "serving" of prepared Kraft Mac n' Cheese (one cup!) has 400 calories, 29% of the RDA for sodium, 19 grams of fat, and virtually no fiber. Bad enough for an adult, even worse for kids still developing the concept of "comfort food." Way to model good eating habits, idiots.

As for the commercial itself: Just like the previous one, this ad features an inattentive mom gabbing away on the phone in the background. Just like the previous one, it features a "precocious" little girl- this one is trying really, really hard to be a young Christina Ricci- muttering vague threats into the camera. This time, however, Dad isn't the target of the kid's venom. Dad doesn't even make an appearance- maybe he's already been wished into the cornfield. Mom's the one making the icky baked mac and cheese, yet she escapes blame, as the kid prefers to attack Kraft itself. Wednesday Addams's little missive is completed with a rather odd "as an eight-year old without any assets of my own and totally dependent on my parents for support, I'm warning you" declaration and a "please, Hollywood, can't you see I'm perfect for Casper II" eyebrow twitch.

I won't even comment on "Whatever happened to Cheesesaurus Rex, I loved that guy!" because I have no f--ing idea what the hell this girl is talking about. My guess is that she's referring to some lame ad campaign which fizzled out quite some time ago, when the makers of Kraft Mac and Cheese suddenly remembered who actually buys their product- adults with no cooking skills or common sense, and parents with no time or sense of responsibility or taste.

Happy Father's Day, from our friends at Kraft

This is the first of two posts I’ll be providing looking at Kraft’s new “precocious kids v. parents” ad campaign. They are pretty similar, but also different enough to deserve two posts- besides, it’s June and it’s hot and my summer vacation (I’m a High School teacher) is getting underway and I’ve got two weddings to attend in the next two weekends, so I’ll take easy gigs where I can get them...

In this ad, we return to the theme which is to ad agencies the bread and butter of the industry- overly intelligent, mouthy little brat and fat doofus slob dad. It’s SO familiar, in fact, that we “get it” before any words are spoken- there’s the kid facing the camera with way-too-serious look on her face. In the background, there’s dad hovering over a pot of simmering Heart Attack holding a wooden spoon. What comes next could NOT be more predictable (and no, that isn’t a challenge, ad agencies.)

Like all tv children, this one is thoroughly disgusted with her father, who can’t stop adding his personal spittle to the family dinner by constantly dipping the germ factory ladle into the pot of orange “cheese” and macaroni. Like all tv fathers, he’s a fat slob who has no idea he’s being panned by his offspring.

The final line- “dad, you’re embarrassing yourself” is a little more harsh than usual for these “let’s pick on the fat male in the room” ads, but not shockingly so. But here’s what I find particularly unsettling– just a few years ago, this could have been shrugged off as a “kid saying out loud what she’s thinking” slice of life. Today, it’s entirely possible that this little creep has activated her laptop’s camera and is filming the next episode of “My Fat Disgusting Father” for YouTube, and that dad really is embarrassing himself- in front of the whole, voyeristic, insane “privacy? what’s that?” modern world.

All that being said- that’s one nasty little creep you’re raising there, Dad. Time to have the “Daddy makes the money, Daddy buys the Mac and Cheese, Daddy skims off the top and is nice enough to share what’s left with Daughter” talk. And fast.