I wonder if CitiBank would give me a line of credit for my guillotine factory

As a typical American, I was just quietly enjoying my mineral water/facial mud treatment while sitting in a steaming pool of volcano-heated water in Iceland when I thought to myself "surely the age of Imperialistic raping of a nation's natural resources can't be over already, can it?"

So I called CitiBank and told them that since this Icelandic Mud was doing wonders for my skin, I figured I could make a whole lot of money by packaging it and shipping it back home to the good old USA, a nation fortunately populated by wan-faced losers so desperate to stay young-looking that they'll buy the idea of "Icelandic Mud." A hundred thousand plastic tubs, a few ice cream scoops, a little elbow grease and twelve UPS trucks later, my Icelandic Mud Facial Treatment was really drawing in the suckers---- errr, customers-- to my Exclusive Spa.

As a side note, my success in using stolen Icelandic Mud to increase the size of my bank account has had trickle-down benefits for my cleaning staff. Frederica, Rosa, and Rosa's eight year old boy, I don't know his name, I just call him Pepe because it seems to fit- are really grateful for the extra time I have to employ them to mop up the muddy footprints of the Beautiful White People With Money who populate my world.

Know what's weird? I keep hearing this stuff about "recessions" and "99ers" and "high unemployment" and "Under Water Mortgages." It's as if everyone wants to bad-mouth the economy, like there's something wrong with it. If you ask me, as long as there are people willing to drop serious dough at my Spa to cover themselves in mud from another country, we are doing just great, thank you very much.

I also hear that Americans have lost their historic edge in innovation and entrepreneurship. Well, I think I've single-handedly smashed that myth. Maybe we don't lead the world in "Education" or "Production" or even "Credit Rating." But how many countries have people with the vision and confidence to imagine making money by selling mud?? And how many countries can brag a population of consumers willing to buy watery dirt so they can spread it all over themselves? Take that, Japan!

And I bet the Icelandians- Icelanders? Whatever!- don't even MISS their mud.

So thank you, CitiBank, for allowing me to take my Dreams and make them into Realities. I wish you had been around years ago, when I had other Dreams- I think they may have involved teaching, or being a doctor, or doing something socially uplifting and soul-redeeming and useful. Not sure, it's been so long since I've thought about ANYTHING other than money and how to make more of it. But you are here now, which means I don't have to worry about any of that silly stuff any more.

Indescribably Bad

Some commercials are just so darned awful, they actually defy my ability to snark on them. I mean, what can one say about an ad which starts off with two ugly little kids sitting at the kitchen table staring at their dad, waiting with baited breath, just hoping he'll notice the plate of cookies sitting right in front of him and eat one?

And what can one say about the sheer excitement and joy these kids express when they see that their dad shares their enthusiasm over this particular brand of cookie?

And I really don't know what else to add to the stream of adjectives used to describe the experience of eating one of these cookies.* We get the point long before the ad is over, but because no commercial can ever be allowed to end until at least ten seconds after we've begun to grow very sick of it, the inane blathering of this severely ill and bored Family with Zero Life continues, ending with Grandpa's "Franklin Delano!" punchline (is it called a punchline because it makes you want to punch someone? Because if it is, it works here.)

So I guess it's Mission Accomplished for the kids- by investing in a bag of Fudge Slavered Oreos and placing them in front of parents and grandparents, they've managed to hook the whole family on a brand new cavity-and-body fat promoting taste treat. I suspect it's now time to rush to Facebook to LIKE these things. Congratulations, kids- the next thousand bags are on the "adults" of the house.

Funny- I can remember when there was only one kind of Oreo cookie on the market. Then they came out with Double Stuff (I guess they noticed that kids were creating these on their own by discarding half the wafer sections.) Then there were multiple flavors, and now they come dipped in fudge. I suppose the next step is to coat them in sugar and butter and deep fry them? Thanks in advance, Nabisco!

*According to YouTube posters, "Shut the Front Door" is already appearing on t-shirts. As if I need another reason to want to hit somebody...

How could she read his mind over all that rattling noise?

1. Remember when salespeople used to introduce themselves with greetings like "May I Help You?" The way this woman pounces on the potential customer is extremely aggressive and off-putting. I'd like the guy to respond to her "oh, this is what you were looking at" opening barrage with a "yeah, I know, I was just looking at it, if I need some help, this isn't a large store, I'm sure I'll be able to find you..."

2. The guy thinks to himself "how can I convince my wife...." convince your wife of what? Your need for this stupid, pointless, money-sucking little toy, this high-priced excuse to spend more time on your ass looking at stuff instead of out in the world doing stuff? Is that what you want to convince her of? Well, if you are a pathetic, technology-obsessed "information" addict, I suppose what the saleswoman says next may give you a hint. However...

3. What DOES this woman say? Seriously, this bizarre gibberish goes way over my head every time I hear it. I think the word "packet" is in there somewhere. And the word "love." As in, something like "your wife will LOVE the fact that this thing has PACKETS." But I don't know- I watched it three times, and that's my limit. I'm not getting paid to do this, you know.

There's also something about this device being able to do what this guy almost certainly can already do on the I Phone we know he already has- find a dentist, or something. Oh, but with this device the map is in 3D, I guess. Seriously, whatever.

I'll conclude with my favorite line- "did this woman just read my mind?" Well, you know what, buddy? My guess is, it wasn't that hard. This woman works at a Verizon store, and it's her job to convince idiots with money burning holes in their pockets that they "need" just one more glowing screen in their lives to make themselves complete. A guy like you walks in wearing a $500 suit and starts staring stupidly at The Next Cool Thing- and she figures out that you want to be talked into buying it. I don't think that necessarily means that her name tag reads "Nostradamus," but feel free to be impressed.

Doesn't seem to take much, anyway.

Or maybe it's just an ad for birth control?

There is so much to hate on here despite the brevity of this commercial, but I have to get to school to give my final exams, so let's just run down the list, shall we?

1. The I Phone isn't just another item in a pile of merchandise being purchased at Wal-Mart; it's actually OUT OF IT'S BOX already. AS IT'S BEING SCANNED. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

2. The living room that has been taken over by this little girl and her pink toys. What the hell? Is Wal-Mart afraid that we won't be convinced that this little kid is a female unless she's buried in pink? Good thing her dad's not looking for the Pepto-Bismol.

3. Do the people who make this ad really believe that "permanent mounting tape" really hold things permanently? If that were true, the posters of the Presidents I put up in my classroom every September would stay there forever, and I would have to teach in the same room, every year.

4. This is the worst- this girl's father can't get the phone unstuck from the thin plastic wall (in real life, the whole house would have ripped and fallen apart at the first tug- I had a baby sister, so I know how sturdy these Barbie playhouses are) so he actually gets on his hands and knees to plead with "Mr Stockton" and assure him that "I'm looking at the figures right now." Seriously, Wal-Mart? The "if you have an I Phone, you are always at work" theme is bad enough (I would have preferred that the guy tell his boss "I'll be in the office on time, as usual, and we'll discuss the fucking sales figures then, ok Mr. Stockton? Because there's the time in my life I work for you, and then there's the time where I am with my family and NOT working for you. Having a phone that can download sales figures doesn't mean I am on the clock 24/7, you slave-driving bastard..") but....

I'm sure I'm just being overly sensitive again, but a black man on his hands and knees, eyes bugged out, letting his unseen boss know that he's on the job and everything is just fine- well, ugh. This is just wrong. Not to mention an argument against getting an I Phone, not an argument for getting one.

BTW, is this a commercial for Wal-Mart, I-Phones, Barbie Playhouses, or permanent tape? I'm surprised the guy didn't buy a case of Coke, a bag of Doritos, and a bottle of Advil while he was at it- and didn't stop by McDonald's to pick up a Happy Meal and iced coffee on the way home.

For people who know the price of everything, and the value of nothing

This dog reminds me of people I actually know. They are the kind of people that those cultish "Join Us" Edward Jones or just plain stupid "Ask Chuck" ads appeal too. You know who I am talking about- the people who spend their lives obsessing over money, unable to enjoy today because they live in a state of terror over the thought that Tomorrow might not be all wine and roses.

Like this dog, they like having a nest egg, but that bundle of savings brings them no real pleasure- in fact, it keeps them up at night, tossing and turning, worrying that their "portfolio" isn't "working hard enough" to provide "long term financial security" and what TIA-CREF likes to call "guaranteed income" (quick tip: the words "guarantee" and "lie" are synonyms.)

Like this dog, they worship that bundle of savings. They cuddle it, they stroke it, they check it and recheck it and seem certain that if they let it out of their sight for more than a few hours at a time, it will disappear. Someday, someone will explain to me how this is preferable to having no savings at all.

Because sooner or later, real human beings understand that Money can't buy anything that is of any value. As Charles Foster Kane admitted to his financial mentor in the greatest movie ever made, he was always using money in the worst way imaginable- "to buy things." Sooner or later, most of us realize that The Beatles were right when they sang that Money can't buy you love, and the cliche about it not being valid currency when seeking to purchase happiness is also true.

Money can buy Things- Things that provide momentary pleasure and comfort, but ultimately do nothing but gather dust and crumble away. Money can buy some people- I know of at least one or two people who sold themselves cheap, trading the uncertainties of Independence for the mirage of Security. Money can buy stuff that fills rooms but can't take the place of what John Steinbeck called the Pearls of Great Price- the things that don't come with a tag.

Sometimes, money does allow for a great investment. It's almost unbelievable that a dollar and a quarter can put a bagel in a kid's hands and reward the buyer with a smile whose worth cannot be measured in coin. The look on the face of a kid getting an unexpected slice of cake on an otherwise dreary school day- how much is that worth in dirty green paper? But examples like this just demonstrate how pointless and ugly it is to lock money up in a safe, or hoard it in a thousand other ways.

Money will always cost more than it's worth. In this commercial, it costs the dog peace of mind. It brings misery and restlessness and maybe ulcers. The treasure weighing heavily on this dog's mind isn't working for the dog- the dog is suffering for IT.

Aren't enough of us already like this dog?

(I include with this entry a scene from one of my favorite films, "Meet John Doe," because it includes two awesome lines that more of us should really take to heart. One is "I know the world's been shaven by a drunken barber." The other is an explanation of what the Pursuit of Money does to people, starting with "before you know it, you'll have a bank account." Believe me, it's worth the time investment.)

I'm a WHAT, Honda??

Oh, this is really appropriate. I'm sure the good people in marketing at Honda were just a little too busy making this stupid, pointless nub of a commercial to notice that the song they decided to use is about a teen stalker who is in a mad rush to get to the house of the object of his obsession so he can watch her undress. No kidding. Check out the lyrics (no, I'm not providing a link- go find it yourself if you are really that interested. Pretty sick.)

I guess they were also too busy to look around and notice that it's not 1985 anymore, and nobody is driving to the Arcade to play cheap-graphic video games. Not even Hoodie Ninjas (seriously, what does that even mean?)

Is it too much to expect that as soon as someone taps an executive at Honda on the shoulder and explains to them how inappropriate the background music is, or how "Do Not Attempt" should not refer to this "ninja's" use of the featured car as a freaking TIME MACHINE, this ad will cease to exist? Bleh- of course it is. My guess is that nobody at Honda ever actually bothered to listen to the song beyond the "I'm a Hoodie Ninja" line, which a focus group of People Who Really Ought To Just Die Now decided was really cool and catchy. (Focus Groups do more damage to this country than Republican governors, I swear....)

So thank you, Honda, for making me ashamed of my chosen mode of travel. My Civic EX has given me eight years and 103,000 miles of excellent service- but now I feel associated with this ugly, clueless ad campaign. Believe it or not, I don't want to be a Hoodie Ninja, whatever the hell that is. I had planned to buy a new car next year, and just assumed it would be another Honda, but now I have to rethink the situation. Toyota hasn't irritated me for a while, and the last time I checked, it wasn't using disturbing, violent lyrics to sell it's product.

Worth a second look this time, in any case.

And only four died in the whiskey-induced, post-funeral brawl

During the Great Storm of 1781, John Jameson, your typical, average whisky-swilling Irishman, lost a barrel of his beloved hooch, which broke loose and fell into the raging sea.

Did I mention that John Jameson was Irish? 'Cause that's kind of important in understanding why he would proceed to commit suicide by diving into the storm-tossed ocean in an attempt to recover one of the roughly 10,000 barrels of fermented corn his ship was carrying.

I'm not even going to touch the "he said goodbye to his crew" line, which accompanies a scene in which John Jameson is giving an open-mouthed, passionate kiss to a decidedly feminine-looking crew mate. Bad writing? Bad editing? You make the call.

And now we've come to the LOL EPIC punchline. You see, all of Ireland- roughly one million potato-munching, famine-fleeing, pasty-skinned, red-haired, hot-tempered and above all Liquor-Obsessed cabbage junkies- turned out for John Jameson's funeral. As the legend goes, John Jameson himself appeared during the ceremony, crawling out of the sea with the wayward barrel of whiskey on one shoulder. Good times, we may assume, where had by all.

After all, these are Irish people. And now they have whiskey. What else could they possibly want- food? Land? That's what America is for!

I wonder how many posters who complained about my take on last year's racist (sorry, but that's what it was) State Farm ad will let me know that this commercial is in no way offensive to anyone with Irish ancestry (full disclosure: I'm one-fourth Irish myself, though I don't look it.) Maybe it's just poking fun at a beloved, cherished stereotype and I just need to let it go.

Or maybe it's time for advertisers to figure out that "Irish =Alcohol-Loving Idiots" is not really an appropriate way to sell us their product in the 21st century. After all, we haven't seen "Mama Mia thatsa Spicy Meatball!" in more than thirty years (and as someone who is also one-quarter Italian, I really appreciate that.)

By the way, why did this ad even bother with the octopus? Did they think that jumping into the ocean during a hurricane wasn't lethal-looking enough?