Oh, Please. Grow Up!

There isn't a lot out there more tedious than watching a group of middle-aged dreamers waxing poetic about how amazingly creative and giving they are going to be as soon as they (giggle, aw aren't they the cutest?) "grow up." But here's one thing- that these middle-aged dreamers think that the people around them care to hear about their daydreams.

One guy wants to open a restaurant. One wants to travel. In another ad, a pastry chef wants to "fall in love again." In this one, an elderly banker-type wants to "teach kids." (Aside here: as a teacher, I am SO DAMNED SICK of the common implication that teaching is something that anyone can pick up whenever they get bored or tired of doing their "real" job. Hey jerkoff- when I "grow up," I want to be a CEO who is paid to sit around daydreaming about being a teacher. I'm sure I'll have no problem, looks like an easy gig, right?)

What really ticks me off about these ads is the "life starts when you retire" vibe. Sorry, but AARP or no AARP, for more and more people retirement itself is an unattainable mirage. Stagnant wages, deflated 401(k)s, mounting credit card debt- these are all realities for a growing number of middle-aged Americans, which means they are going to be holding on to their jobs and deferring their daydreams as long as they can. And when they find themselves out on the street due to downsizing or the company's bottom-line decision to hire someone half their age for half their salary....well, let's just say that their aren't a whole lot of options out there for older people these days. Just for Men is on Aisle 5.

And here's another thing- for most of these people, the things they plan to do "When they grow up" are available right now. If they make enough money to go on vacation when they retire, they have jobs that give them vacation time RIGHT NOW. If they want to work with kids, that's great- thousands of full-time workers find time to volunteer RIGHT NOW. Fixing up old houses is something you could be doing on the weekends- lots of people out there need assistance like that RIGHT NOW. What's this "life is for when you are done working" crap? When I hear people talk about what they are going to do when they have time, what I hear is people making excuses for not doing things.

(Another Aside, to the guy who sees a young man playing guitar to ply coins from passer-bys and is inspired not to open his wallet but to announce "I'm going to start a band:" Please, just Don't.)

Here's what you are going to do when you "Grow Up:" you're going to ache. You're going to get up very early and spend three hours reading the newspaper and doing the crossword puzzle. You're going to watch a lot of television. You're going to eat breakfast at 7, lunch at 11, dinner at 4, and be in bed by 7. And that's if you really were successful at socking your money away and retiring on your own terms.

As someone who is (G-d Willing) still 20 years from retirement and who doesn't waste one moment of the day imagining what I'm going to do "when I grow up," I strongly advise these dopes to enjoy life to the best of their ability NOW, rather than waste time and energy imagining some Nirvana awaiting them in the future. Perhaps youth IS wasted on the wrong people, but that's the way it is. We go this way but once, and deferring dreams until you are too old to make good on them is at best a waste, and at worst a tragedy.

Let's Start "Americans Against Bitching Constantly About Everything"

I could spend the entire post making fun of this woman, who I have no doubt flunked the screen test for "Americans Against Food Taxes," "Americans Against Gas Taxes" and "Americans Against Seat Belts" commercials, but that would be mean-spirited.

So let's focus on the kids instead. Jeeeeeeesshh, who are these people? Relatives of the producer?

The woman We Won't Be Picking On Today tells us that even without Debit Card taxes (or whatever the hell it is we're protesting nowadays, it's really hard to keep up) her family is hard to feed on a tight budget- "especially with HIS appetite." Get a load of that grin on the boy's face- this has got to be the first teen-ager in the history of television to be shown appreciating his mom's sense of humor- and she didn't even say anything funny!

Then it gets strange- Daughter turns over a carton of OJ. Her response is to cry out "I'm ok!" Umm..what? Does this girl have a habit of hurting herself while attempting to put away groceries? "I'm ok?" What does that even MEAN?

And the response of her brother is just classic- what the heck IS that noise that comes out of his stupid, grinning mouth? Did the sound sync get screwed up? Because that does not seem like the kind of sound we should hear coming out of a teen-aged boy. Is it a giggle, a chuckle, a laugh, or some weird hybrid of all three? And if so- what is he laughing at? Why is the spilled juice, followed by Sister's panicked cry, something to snigger at? What the heck?

All this is still running through my mind as the commercial fades to black, and I barely catch the name of the Americans Against Paying Anything organization funding this mess. But does that really matter? The real point isn't the Whine of the Month. It's the non-effort made by the writers and the actors in this pointless, confusing little lump of an ad. I can only conclude that ad men have awesome job security to feel comfortable turning out glurge like this. And that I chose the wrong profession.

When you don't want to listen to your body, OR your food

Here's another ad which practically begs you to either turn the channel or, failing that, at least to hate the product being sold.

So this guy is trying to eat the wing of some poor dead bird who never did anything to him, but is now getting some small measure of revenge for being decapitated, gutted, breaded and slathered in sugary barbecue sauce by slapping this idiot in the face with it's wing. Except that this is not an ad for vegetarianism- if it were, it would be pretty cool. No, the pathetic little tag line- "is your food fighting you?" reveals that it's actually a commercial for TUMS.

Since Tums is a product you take AFTER you eat, to AVOID or relieve the symptoms of heartburn, I guess we are supposed to figure that the knowledge that the coming pain will be dealt with somehow renders the chicken wing depressed and defeated in it's attempts to avoid being eaten, and this greasy idiot- made more greasy by the sauce stains on his face (the disgusting pig- jeesh, ever hear of a napkin, buddy?) chomps happily into his handful of food. Ah, don't we just love a happy ending?

Except- hey buddy, maybe your body is trying to tell you something. Sure, the hot sauce and fat and oils aren't causing you momentary gastronomical discomfort if you follow them with a couple of Tums, but that doesn't mean chicken drowning in heavy sauce is good for you. Your stomach and heart are still going to have to deal with the excess calories. Your arteries aren't going to be helped one bit by you popping a Tums for desert. All you've managed to do is mask the damage, which I guess makes Tums like those magic No Hangover Tablets they sell during broadcasts of Arizona Diamondbacks games- if you can't actually FEEL the impact, there isn't any, right? No pain, no foul?

Here's a better idea. Sometimes, your body knows when you are putting it in danger. When you touch a hot stove, you automatically jerk your hand away- do you want to find some medication which allows you to keep your hand on the stove as your fingers burn off? No? Then why do you want to take a pill which allows you to pretend that the crap you are shoveling down your cake hole isn't killing you?

In other words, when food causes you pain- that's a signal to STOP EATING THAT FOOD. Seems pretty darned simple to me.

A Slim Step toward Honesty in Advertising

Remember back in the 80s, when it was "Give us a Week, We'll Take off the Weight?" Remember all those commercials where women (no men, ever) would talk about how darned EXCITED they were to be replacing meal after meal with Serve Very Cold So You Can't Taste It cans of Carnation Instant Breakfast disguised as some great diet breakthrough? Remember how they tried so hard to convince us that you could get a "full feeling" that "lasted for hours" by drinking 12 ounces of chocolate milk?

Well, it's a new century, and let's give the people at Slim-Fast a little credit. They've finally admitted that no, those cans of Basically Nothing are no more filling than a cup of Yogurt, and yes, your ears will be ringing with hunger roughly 30 minutes after consuming one. So instead of being angry at being lied to all these years, we're supposed to just say "thank you" and buy this NEW product- Slim Fast Candy Bars, designed to keep us Slightly Less Famished For Real Food for up to four more hours!

Super. An hour after guzzling your overpriced can of sand and milk, you can "enjoy" a rice cake laced with enough sweetener to trick your brain into thinking you are eating something resembling a food product- almost.

Since all of this really does nothing except constantly remind the user that he or she is ON A DIET and therefore REALLY HUNGRY ALL THE TIME, may I make a small suggestion? Forget the Magic Pill diet "food" crap and spend that money on whole grains, skim milk, and veggies instead. Whole grains have this really cool way of making you feel full BECAUSE YOU ARE FULL. They don't leave you desperate for something further to eat ten minutes later. Carrots and Celery do the same thing. And here's a bonus, which you probably don't care about- these things are REAL FOOD which is GOOD FOR YOU, and it's stuff you can eat for the rest of your life, not just until you've dropped the weight.

Just something to think about before you walk out of the grocery store with your cart filled with Slim-Fast Fake Food Products- Slim-Fast shakes, bars, cereal, etc. etc. ETC. But heck, it's your money. And your sanity.

I'm a total void, but that's ok because my Ancestors were awesome!

There's absolutely nothing significant about me, or my life. In fact, my life is so incredibly devoid of meaning, I spend roughly a third of it clicking "refresh" hoping that something will show up in my Gmail and obsessively checking my Facebook page for Notifications.

Then one day, I heard about this website called Ancestry.com. I heard that it involves a lot of typing and clicking, and that's right up my alley. So I went to the site and started typing in the names of my mother and my father and my grandparents. And just when I was getting kind of bored, I found a leaf! Wow, a LEAF!!

Naturally, I clicked on it. And there it was- my grandfather's uncle's old library card!! You can bet I printed that up fast! Then I kept going- and more leafs popped up! I started clicking, and I found all kinds of fascinating crap- did you know that one of my second cousins twice removed was a good friend of Dwight Eisenhower's barber's best friend? Or how about this- MY Great-Grandfather once lived within fifty miles of Wendell Willkie's tailor's mother!

Nobody ever told me any of this! It may be because it's inane, trivial, seriously-who-could-possibly-give-a-flying-damn bullshit. Or it may be because my family likes to hide things from me. I've often suspected that I'm adopted.

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah- about 16 hours in, I hit a snag. No leaves! So I typed in alternate spellings, imaginary addresses, and finally started to just pull names out of old movies. When I typed in "Atticus Finch," I got more leafs! Thank God, because I was THIS CLOSE to actually getting up off my butt and doing something!

Well, I ended up learning so very much about my family that I never knew or even imagined I could ever possibly care about- like, one of my ancestors wore this really funny hat. And I had another relative who took a train to California once. WEIRDNESS!!

And all it took was Ancestry.com, a hefty subscription fee, and four straight days in front of the computer obsessively clicking and printing away. Sure my back hurts pretty much all the time now, and living on cheetos and diet coke for 72 hours isn't for everybody, and everyone I know runs screaming from me whenever I approach with my cardboard box of Really Cool Information I Found, but it was sooooo worth it.

Because now I know I'm Somebody. Or at least, someone in my family once was Somebody. Maybe I didn't defend Tom Robinson from a trumped-up rape charge, but I'll always be remembered as the person in my family who cared enough to use up his personal days gathering up all this awesome data. I bet that gets me my own Leaf someday!!

Remember, you don't have to know what you are looking for. You just have to start looking. Why? Well, to tell you the truth, I haven't the slightest idea.

Oh right, I forgot- because you're online anyway. And no one wants to chat with you on Facebook.

Ok, tell me that this little pile of nothing is a "successful" ad

Two worthless dicks who can't be bothered to keep their suburban land monster on the highway or streets instead drive the damn thing into the middle of the desert, dress themselves as Indiana Jones wannabees, and spend a day trampling over wildlife in the desert. Lovely.

And the hi-LARIOUS punchline comes when these jerks can't find where they parked their Subaru Outback, no matter how many times they shatter the peace and quiet of the desert by pushing the "lock" button on the key remote (I'm sure that all hikers in the area appreciate the little reminder of suburbia, assholes. But just in case, don't forget to crank down the windows and blast your favorite "music" as you exit nature and make your way over to the Golden Corral for a few hours of "comfort food" after your day of stepping on lizards and poaching cacti.)

Of course, the showroom-shiny SUV (yeah, it looks like it's been sitting in the middle of the Mohave for hours. Of course it does) is sitting right behind that rock. Of course, the two glue-sniffers can't find it because...well, because they are really, really stupid. They've got this $30,000 SUV, but I've got an $80 wrist GPS- guess which one of us going to find our car?

I have two suggestions for Subaru- first, stop being so cheap with your ads. I'm sure these two "actors" earned next to nothing, but really, Paul Hogan is probably still available for not much more. Second, please give us the Conclusion to this "funny" slice of life- I'm thinking bleached bones, being picked at by vultures.

But that's the same suggestion I gave to the music industry when I was harassed with the video for Shania Twain's "That Don't Impress Me Much." They didn't listen, either. So I'll just finish up by pointing out to Subaru that every single comment on this video posted on YouTube refers not to the car being advertised, but to the stupid song in the background. Well done, Subaru- you've created a demand. For a stupid song.

So much to hate, so little time to post. Thanks for Nothing, Sprint!

Good lord, what is going on in this commercial?

We've got what might laughingly be referred to as a "family" sitting around the table in a disturbingly bright, unnaturally clean suburban mansion-- I guess they are eating dinner, except this lifeless, pale group of zombies is clearly so drained of life that all they can do is mumble questions softly in between texting away on their stupid phones.

This is a seriously sad advertisement for Sprint's Now Network, apparently set sometime in the very near future, in which people can only communicate through Facebook posts and Tweets even when they are sitting two freaking feet away from each other. This would be downright heartbreaking, except....why would anyone want to communicate with these people AT ALL?

Husband: "you just posted on your Facebook page that your parents are moving in with us?" (The parents would be elderly people sitting at the table....either they are drunk, or this is what long-term exposure to these life-sucking dickweeds does to you...)

Wifey gives the usual "Oh don't worry, it didn't cost me anything to post that" bs which is standard for these hateful, smoking piles of excrement which pass for "commercials."

And now it gets REALLY creepy-- bloodless, Has Obviously Never Seen The Sun And Has Zero Interest In Doing So Daughter gets a tweet from mom announcing that Grandma and Grampa's corpses will be occupying daughter's room. Mommy, with all the warmth and understanding of Joan Crawford- or maybe Elly Patterson- offers to help her put together a tweet which expresses her feelings on the subject. What the HELL is going on with Mom here? Why is she acting like she's got a gun in her ribs, or is one broken dish away from painting the house with the blood of her relatives? Why do I suddenly suspect that this family does not want to know dinner's Secret Ingredient? Why do I worry that this woman has gone running for the shelter of her Mother's Little Helper just one time too many?

Sprint- why do you insist on showing as your primary customers such THOROUGHLY DISTURBED PEOPLE who are clearly SOCIOPATHS who desperately NEED PROFESSIONAL HELP? Are you telling us that only amoral sub-humans would want to use your service, or that using your service turns people into amoral sub-humans? Because based on your commercials, I can't see any Option C.

Look, guys, you've won: Based on my daily observations of life in this Year of Our Lord 2011, a large segment of the population can't find it's way out of the driveway without consulting a cell phone. I see far more texting and cellphone yakking than I do face to face conversations. See that white flag? That means we give- Society was a nice experiment while it lasted, but it's over now. We are a nation of the Walking Dead, and our number one goal is to avoid eye contact while reducing all communications to typed characters on a screen.

So why can't you be good winners, at least, and stop subjecting us to this hateful trash?