A Simple Transaction

You know Her. You know how much she costs.

Are you willing to pay the price?

Zales. The place to go when you are ready to pay through the nose for an ancient rock that will finally break down her defenses. No, she still doesn't care for you all that much-- but how many karats did you say this was, again?

Try to forget how much that rock costs when you go house-hunting and you realize you don't have enough cash for the down payment or closing costs.

And try not to kick yourself for ignoring the warning signs; you married a woman who uses the word "gosh." That should have been your first clue that it was going to be your job to explain where babies come from.

Oh no, State Farm. This isn't Racist. Not in the slightest!

State Farm really does a great job on the Laundry List of Offensive Stereotypes in THIS ad. We've got the Motormouth, Head-Waggling Black Woman who was apparently ready to spend the rest of the afternoon talking at the speed of light had her boyfriend not interrupted with the magic State Farm Jingle. We've got this woman giving us her version of a Fantasy Boyfriend- a rapper-type in tight jeans and with no shirt, and a gold chain no less (what is this, a casting call for I'm Gonna Get You Sucka II?

Then we've got her boyfriend's retaliation- his version of Fantasy Girlfriend. She's a leggy, busty MTV-video type whose breasts threaten to escape from her tank top and whose shorts are strictly a formality. Not to mention what my lovely ex would refer to as Fuck Me Pumps.* Beautiful.

Naturally, the narrative ends with New and Improved Motormouth playing Hypocrite of the Year by chastising her boyfriend- "I was perfect the way I was, blah blah blah..." whatever.

Still not convinced that State Farm has crossed a line here? Then I invite you to read my reaction to State Farm's "Hot Tub" ad (http://thiscommercialsucks.blogspot.com/2010/11/id-switch-but-i-hate-that-stupid-lizard.html.) Check out the white guy's fantasy girl- a fully-clothed, studious looking type who seems to have been caught doing something important with a laptop when suddenly whisked into the ad.

Need this explained further?

Black guy's fantasy= call girl spilling out of what little fabric is covering her body. White guy's fantasy= "girl next door" type, equal parts brain and skin-deep beauty.

Way to be a Good Neighbor, State Farm. Way to shrug off the fact that it's the 21st century and that these kind of disgusting stereotypes are bad enough when they are displayed in films like Lottery Ticket.

You'd think a reputable insurance company would stay away from crud like this. You'd be wrong.

Bottom of the barrel? State Farm is there.

*Ok, I know you can't actually see this woman's shoes after her "transformation." But you just know what they look like anyway, don't you? And I really have been dying to use the term "Fuck Me Pumps" for quite a while now.

Thanks for Nothing, Mom

So the message here is.....

This guy's mother is an internet-obsessed jerk who doesn't give a flying damn that she's invaded her "good son's" privacy and humiliated him in public?

This guy's mother is determined to ruin her son's life by posting every stupid photo that has ever been taken of him on the internet?

This guy's friends are total dicks who live for opportunities to laugh at him, secure in the knowledge that nobody THEY know would ever treat them like this?

Whatever the message is, where does "so use this credit card's reward points to do something nice for someone" come in? Because it sure seems to me that the clearest message is "people are assholes. Don't do nice things for them, because it will come back to bite you."

I mean, at least that jerk with the entitled parents who bought them Shea Stadium seats probably just got a simple "thank you," and weren't rewarded with an attack of cyber-stalking.

BTW, anyone have a guess as to why this guy can't just call his mother and tell her, as politely as possible, to knock this shit the fuck off? He DOES call her once a week, after all. Seems like this might be worthy of an unscheduled call home, don't you think?

Oh, NOW I don't know what's going on!

What I like about this commercial is that it's makers show real respect for their product's potential buyers. I mean, it's so chock-full of information concerning what the Turbo Boost Intel Whatsit does, how much it costs, and why we need it, I had a hard time not calling in sick from school so I could rush off to BestBuy and grab a....um, computer, I guess...for myself.

Ok, ok, enough snark. Obviously I'm not in the targeted demographic- 11 year-olds in the market for a new computer with superfast technology who are swayed by the marketing power of the penguins from Madagascar VII: The Milking Continues. You know, the 11 year-olds who have been handed several thousand dollars by their parents and told "I'm too busy, go out and make your own technology purchase decisions."

Ok, I'll be serious now, I mean it. What the hell is this? I don't know about you, but there are three common commercial gags that have never, EVER convinced me to buy a product:

1. Using children as pitchmen.
2. The appearance of Not Funny So Grow The Hell Up And Stop Trying To Convince Us They Are chimps.
3. Cartoons.

Here's a better idea: tell us what the product does, why that's important, and why it will make my life less of a sad, empty shell than it currently is. Would that really be so hard?

Meet Five Guys who've never had a good seat during the Super Bowl

This is too easy.

First- are we really supposed to celebrate and admire a handful of five rich choads who have so much disposable income that they've attended every Super Bowl? They aren't football fans (I don't care what the tag line says.) Spending huge amounts of money to watch two teams you don't root for in the regular season doesn't make you a football fan. It makes you someone willing to blow a wad on yourself. Not the same thing.

Second- I love the guy who fondly runs through his pristine collection of old Super Bowl tickets- they aren't even in plastic cases, for christ's sake. Good for you, buddy, really. Each ticket represents god knows how many Thanksgiving dinners that could have been provided at your neighborhood food bank, if not for your idiot obsession with "the big game."

"Going to the SuperBowl is like Fourth of July and New Year's Day put together." Really? Only if those two holidays involve spending huge amounts of money on tickets and travel so you can sit in a crowd of 80,000 strangers watching what looks like ants wearing uniforms of Teams You Don't Root For In The Regular Season running up and down a field.

Third- "when I get that ticket in my hands, and I realize I'm going again..." seriously, I'm pulling for you, man. Especially now that the NFL has agreed to play the game in NYC in the very near future. I'm hoping for snow and a wind chill of -80 F.
After all, you and your buddies want the REAL football experience, right?

I salute all these guys, who have somehow managed to convince their families that a couple of grand on tickets, travel, and hotel rooms is a lovely tradition to continue just as the Christmas Visa bill shows up. Have a great time at the next sterile-atmosphere neutral-site Super Bowl, played indoors and on carpet, surrounded by corporate hacks armed with Tax-Deductible tickets who care about the actual teams playing just as much as you do. As usual, I'll be watching the game from the best seat in the house, which happens to be the couch in MY house.

I won't miss a single play. You'll miss plenty. But hey, you get to brag on your "tradition" in a commercial for Visa. More power to you, idiots.

I can tell you that they don't make deer this tough in Vermont

Never mind the idiotic "pulling the spare car out of the trunk" gag. Decent visual, not all that interesting, and the only thought that came to mind during it was why the hell the nice-looking woman of uncertain ethnicity can't be bothered to lend a helping hand while the guy is struggling to extract an entire car from the remains of his old one. But, whatever.

I'm more interested in what exactly caused this wreck. We get a glance at a deer in the commercial's opening seconds, strongly implying that this little thing is somehow at least partially responsible. But obviously, there has been no collision, unless the animal is a refugee from Krypton or something. So what's the deal? The car isn't crumpled up against a huge rock or some other immovable object, it's just sitting there in the middle of the road. How did this happen?

Seriously, this is one mysterious commercial. How does a car end up completely totaled in the middle of the highway like that? And while we are at it, how fast was that car going, to create this level of damage? Neither of these people seem to have a scratch on them, or to be even the slightest bit upset or even disheveled. Of course, they DO have that spare, which I guess is such a perfect copy of the old car that it contains all of the luggage, CDs, etc that the trashed car did....

And they drive off and just leave their wreck in the middle of the highway? That's nice- leave a little surprise for the next young couple that comes cruising around the bend.

I know I think about all this just a bit too much, but I still want the back story. How DID that deer cause this accident? Because maybe I don't really need to know, but I'm sure the insurance adjuster would like an explanation. And I don't think she's going to buy the "we hit a deer" story.

Who wants to see this?

Is it really a good marketing strategy for a restaurant to make commercials which deprive the viewers of their appetites?

Seriously, this commercial isn't designed to make us hungry. It's more like a diet aid. Who the hell would be stimulated to run out and buy pork drowning in bbq sauce based on these stunningly unappealing images?

We start off with two unattractive weirdos with "we don't know how to act- is this what 'I'm in love' looks like?" expressions ultimately attacking these disgusting sandwiches. And it's all downhill from there, as we move from one slob after another finding emotional fulfillment in jamming this junk into their faces, naturally leaving blobs of greasy, oily crud behind to be slopped up with napkins (or, more typically, fingers.) Uck.

The only saving grace is that it's over quickly, and these ugly pigs get the hell off my screen before my stomach has completely flipped. Oh, and that for some mysterious but welcome reason, McDonald's refuses to put the McRib on it's permanent menu, so we only have to deal with this garbage every couple of years or so. But for the next few weeks, big screens and HDTV are not our friends.