"Famous" being a relative term, of course

Once upon a time, this kid would have contorted himself for a few minutes to the sole amusement of this one guy ("Show me something cool? What the hell? Who are you, anyway? Looks to me like this kid just walked into the kitchen looking for a glass of milk- why does he have to perform on demand because this guy has a phone, anyway?) A good laugh would have been had by the two guys, and life would have gone on as normal, with no else the "wiser."

Once upon a time, you could trip and fall and know that at the very worst, you'd suffer momentary, swiftly-forgotten embarrassment if there happened to be a few people around. Hey, these things happen. Your face turns red, there are a few giggles, and the moment passes.

It's not Cisco's fault that those days are gone, but The Human Network would like to claim at least a LITTLE of the "credit." Now, every stupid thing you do in a moment of God Please Don't Make Me So Desperate I Pick Up a Book boredom can be captured for the "entertainment" of the entire planet. Every little dance, every bad joke, every alcohol-induced moment of foolishness or frightful honesty can be captured by any jackass with a cell phone and broadcast around the world in roughly fifteen seconds. That moment may be forgotten- God knows that 99.999% of it is utterly forgettable- but it's been cached and filed and is available to anyone with internet access and a search engine.

Remember this the next time someone holding an electronic device asks you to "just do something." And hope that when it happens, you aren't drunk or otherwise have your usual defenses down (or does this generation even have defenses against invasions of privacy anymore? Does the word Privacy even hold any meaning these days?) Know that what you choose to do is going to be fodder for internet-addicted strangers all over the world before you have a chance to rethink your actions ("rethink" implying that there was a thought process at work in the first place), let alone sober up.

These Days, thanks to Cisco, anyone can be Famous. And that's a good thing- umm, why, exactly?

The 99ers? Let them eat cake- somewhere else

Is it especially evil of me to want this police officer to club these two bleating jackanapes senseless with his nightclub before hauling them off to the local Bastille to await the National Razor? I mean, wouldn't that just be a public service to the poor job-hunting, "just stepped in to rest my aching feet and read the want ads before standing in line for another three hours at the unemployment office" population?

Who the HELL wants to listen to this self-congratulatory, "hey listen up everybody I've got money to play with in the stock market" BS? My guess is that the outsourced father of three wondering where the next mortgage payment is coming from wouldn't mind being deprived of a conversation consisting of buzzwords like "market trends," "double bottom patterns" and (groan) "gap reversals."

I know ScotTrade has a product to sell, and the right to market it as best it can. But that doesn't mean I have to like the flood of "make money by pushing it around and not by actually producing anything or providing any value to society" commercials, does it?

I hope not. Because right now, all I really want is to see the torsos of these two grinning WASPS deprived of their empty heads, and those empty heads gracing pikes on the city walls. Instead, what we are all going to get is an extension of tax cuts which primarily serve to put more money in the pockets of people like these guys. The lovers of Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity will just have to wait.

Our Favorite Smirking, Eyeless Weirdo is back!

The look on the face of the guy in the first few seconds of this commercial says it all- he's just sitting outside the cafe, minding his own damned business, and the look he gives us so is clearly "oh jesus, THIS shmuck again!" makes me wonder if State Farm doesn't realize it's milked it's Wandering Sack of Smarm campaign dry and is just kidding with us now.

The rest of the commercial is more of the same- our favorite Eyeless Smirking Wonder strolls pointlessly through some hip coffee shop, barely avoiding collisions with customers and employees alike, all the time spewing some focus group-approved bs about how State Farm, and ONLY State Farm, can guide you to the Promised Land of Savings. It concludes with this overpaid sack of doorknobs settling down at a table and being handed a cup of coffee he didn't even order, for which the waitress gets barely an acknowledging nod. He didn't even have to conjure it up by bleating the magic State Farm jingle!

I'll note that the guy's coffee is delivered in a To-Go cup; is that a subtle hint, or what? Hey buddy, you found your way in- now PLEASE, find your way out, and stop lecturing us about the awesomeness of State Farm, ok?

But when you do walk out, don't expect to find Exasperated Black Guy still sitting outside- he saw you coming, gulped down the last of his joe, and took off, rather than risk listening to any more of your pointless banter. Can't say as I blame him.

'Tis the season of revolting excess- Again.

If it's December (and it isn't even, yet) it's time to watch White, Upper Class Spoiled Rotten Repulsive devotees of materialism using Family Money to buy luxury cars for their Significant Others, and to then display their total lack of taste or dignity by wrapping them in huge red bows (or, in a twist introduced this year, encasing them in massive boxes or stockings- oh how fucking imaginative and delightful these "givers" are!)

Because in an age of 17% unemployment (that's the REAL number, when you factor in the people who have simply stopped looking,) underwater mortgages, crushing credit card debt, and prohibitively expensive health "care," who couldn't relate to people handing each other $40,000 cars to grace the driveways of their $2 mil homes?

And if you are in a position to actually give someone who lives in your house a freaking BRAND NEW LUXURY AUTOMOBILE for Christmas, why WOULDN'T you advertise that fact in the most ostentatious way imaginable? I mean, it would be a real shame if everyone else in the neighborhood wasn't made aware of how great life has been for you while the US economy crashed and burned around them, wouldn't it?

Don't you just know that people who give each other cars wrapped in bows are the same type who bitch about the mere possibility that the Bush tax cuts for the top 1% will be allowed to expire next month? Don't you just know that these are the kind of people who cheer on slimebags who hold up extending unemployment coverage unless an extension of those tax cuts is included?

When society finally collapses under the crushing weight of these self-indulgent pigs and we finally start ordering Guillotines from whatever visionary French company still makes them, people who took it upon themselves to trumpet their monetary superiority like this should be moved to the front of the line. As consolation, we should assure them that they will be buried with their pretty bows. Or in some other package which reminds us that they were Better Than We Are in life, and continue to be so in death.

Derivitave Studios Presents....

Is it just me, or has Due Date (which is NOT Planes, Trains, and Automobiles with a different cast and a tweaked storyline, so stop saying it is) been in theaters for roughly six months now? What, did the marketers discover an unspent $2 million in the advertising budget and decide "what the hell, we might as well chop up the original trailer and broadcast it again during college football?" Or is more like "our film is being buried underneath new releases- quick, let's remind people it's still not quite available on Netflix yet!?"

Sorry, guys. If I wanted to see this movie, I would have done so when it was first released- what was it, back in August? Or, I would have popped in my copy of...oh wait, I keep forgetting. This is a totally different film. Of course it is.

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.