The word "man" being used very loosely here...

Can someone PLEASE just kill these two fat losers? I mean, really- they are actually challenging each other's "manliness," using their willingness to construct their "lives" around playing a stupid, utterly pointless video game as the measuring stick.

Fat Slob No. 1 is in Wal Mart's parking lot at the moment that this new, brain-numbing, Pretend To Be Somehow Connected To Actual Soldiers offering by the soulless cretins who somehow managed to pick up the baton dropped by the last generation of game developers, who gave us silly, fun nonsense like Donkey Kong and Frogger. Fat Slob # 1 is convinced that because he picked up Battlefield 3 as soon as it was available (does anyone admit to doing this in real life?) he is more of a Man than Fat Slob # 2.

Ah, but wait one moment- Fat Slob # 2 has driven his mobile home, furnished with several large HD TVs, to the Wal Mart, saving himself that painful ride that most of us have to take back to our residences before we can play with our brand new toys. Fat Slob # 2 calls the mobile home his "Man Cave." Fat Slob # 1 and Fat Slob # 2 now engage in a dick-measuring contest, except that it's all about video games. Considering the importance these "men" place in video games, not to mention the double chins and expanding waistlines that no doubt come with the "Gamer" lifestyle, I'm not especially surprised that their view of what a "Man" is has nothing to do with Women.

(As a quick aside, let's update what "manliness" means in tv commercials these days: To be a man, one must a) treat women like crap, b) wear wrinkled shirts that are never tucked in, c) shave no more often than every fourth day, d) drink Miller Lite, and e) buy the latest "Look Mom I'm a Soldier" video game the moment it becomes available at Wal Mart. Glad I could help.)

Anyway, back to these disgusting, fat, loathsome wastes of skin. I am really looking forward to the day when the games that make up the center of their existence are available through quick downloads, so they never have to leave their "man caves" and blight the lives of us non-"Gamers" with their pasty, sweaty, Refuse to Shower Until I've Reached Level Four presence in the real world. And you know what? I bet they are, too.

Have you hugged a gas company executive today?

Hey, we all like white kids, right? I mean, we all like white kids when they do adorable things like look up at the sky and daydream, and stack books so that they can reach other books, and become sunny-faced, innocently flirtatious teenagers who walk through fields in slow motion and graduate from High School wearing purple gowns and lay in circles in those fields we were just talking about, right?

Well, all that shit takes energy, you know. And the only energy that is really available, and isn't just an Al Gore yeah right pipe dream funded by George Soros and the other billionaire Commiecrats, is Oil. So shut up about spills and the rape of the environment and air pollution and and global warming (do I have to refer to Al Gore again?) Unless you hate fresh-faced white kids, education, and everything that makes Alaska---err, AMERICA-- the Officially Sanctioned Greatest Country That Ever Was.

But just in case you ARE one of those America-Hating What Do You Want Us To Live In Caves Global Warming Loons, don't despair- we are spending billions of dollars improving our Natural Gas technology as well. Because Natural Gas is the Cleanest Practical Energy available, if only the Government and the Tree Huggers would stop their whining about fracking and flammable water coming out of faucets, the Progress-Hating Nanny State babies.

Oh, and both industries create jobs. Don't you like jobs? Don't you want children provided for? Don't you want America to have a future? Then shut your hole and back off. If you MUST say something, how about a "thank you?" I mean, this stuff doesn't come out of the ground by itself, you know.

Don't worry, I won't make a habit of this

One of my fondest memories as a boy was sleeping over at a friend's house on Saturday nights. We'd pitch a tent in the back yard and run an extension cord out to it, so we could plug in a tiny black and white portable television and watch Saturday Night Live.

I remember very few of the skits. What I do remember, very fondly, was hoping with each passing minute that the night would not end without a "Mr. Bill" sketch. Crowded into that tent, huddled around that television, watching through the static, occasionally having to adjust the vertical hold or the rabbit ears, hoping our favorite tribute to Claymation would end the evening on just the right note.

We never tired of seeing Mr Bill get pummeled by Mr. Hand and Sluggo in all sorts of imaginative ways (of course, Spot had to get his first.) I don't know why it was funny. Maybe it was the simplicity of it. But I remember laughing so hard every time.

So, I'll save my anger for the ad agencies who think nothing of stealing classic rock songs in order to peddle their crap. This isn't stealing- this is reminding us of something that people of my age group really found precious, once upon a time. Oh, and I kind of like the product, too.

Ok, enough of the positivity. Next time, I'm back to spewing venom, I promise.

(Where IS Spot in this ad?)

I get it. KFC is trying to kill us.

It's bad enough that the narrator boasts that KFC's latest monstrosity just may be "the world's best tasting full meal." I mean, come on- this is a bowl of mashed potatoes, fried chicken, gravy, and corn. It's Shepherd's Pie, if being served Shepherd's Pie were akin to assault with a deadly weapon.

But now, the geniuses at Kentucky FRIED Chicken have found a way to take a disgusting pile of Heart Attack even more revolting. Diabetes in a bowl now comes with BACON!! Yay, because who doesn't like bacon? That's like not liking double chins, sweating while tying your shoes, or dying before your kids graduate High School!

I'd ask "what's next," but after all, these are the guys who gave us the Double Down Sandwich. It's pretty safe to imagine that the geniuses who peddle cardboard cups of fried batter as "Popcorn Chicken" are exploring ways to add fried eggs and caramel sauce to the "Cheesy Bacon Bowl" (ugh, just typing that gives me chest pains.) Maybe we can fit some pasta in there? A wedge of Texas Toast? A slice of cheesecake (hey, more cheese! Everybody likes that!?) Hell, why not replace the plastic bowl with one made of double-stuff Oreos and dip the whole damned thing in the deep fryer before serving?

I've been to the Kentucky Visitor's Center in Louisville. I've had my picture taken next to the giant statue of Colonel Sanders holding a bucket of what looks to be about 30 lbs of fried chicken parts. I've read the "Colonel's" inspiring bio explained with black and white framed photos along the wall of the center. I know this guy was an entrepreneur who devoted his life to making money by pitching incredibly unhealthy, oil-and-butter-slathered "food." But I think even he must have had limits- when the Colonel was still with us, KFC sandwiches came with bread and if you wanted bacon, you went to a burger joint. And my bet is that if you wanted to kill yourself, he would have directed you to the nearest gun shop, and not offered to sell you the tools of your own destruction.

Hey KFC, know who else is "famous?" Assassins. But I guess you figured that out already, didn't you?

Wouldn't a trip to The Olive Garden have been a lot cheaper?

Another "classic" ad-- courtesy of my taped-off-television Mystery Science Theater video collection...

Ok, as near as I can figure it, this commercial is about a woman who travels to Italy and makes eye contact with a male local, who turns out to be a chef at the restaurant she later goes to with people she just met or is traveling with but didn't happen to be with at the time she made eye contact with the cute guy who turned out to be a chef.

The local guy hasn't been able to get her out of her mind (maybe it's the blond hair, rather rare in Italy? Because she doesn't strike me as all that hot.) When he sees that Fate has brought her to his place of work, he insists on picking out the bag of bland, white flour-based pasta himself, expertly dropping it into a vat of boiling water, and serving it to her. Because this woman's plans in traveling halfway around the world certainly included an evening at a fancy restaurant eating crap she could have picked up at the corner grocery store back in Jersey. I'm sure she'll be hitting Starbucks on the way back to the hotel, because Italy doesn't do it's own coffee either, right?

And because this is a commercial, she's super-impressed by the plate of boiled pasta this dope has decided she wants to eat. I'm sure they end up together, happily ever after, secure in the knowledge that no matter where they decide to raise their kids (the United States or Italy,) Barilla Pasta will be easily obtainable. I'm very happy for them, really I am.

Barilla pasta is "the choice of Italy." Yeah, so is Silvio Berlusconi. Point, please?

Define "Smart"

Somehow, I don't buy the Smart Car as the answer to our obsession with BIG BIG BIG (did the first ten seconds of this commercial give anyone else a headache?) vehicles. I'm very glad that the Age of the Humvee seems to have passed (it will not be missed,) though I am a bit concerned about how car companies will react if the price of gasoline continues to tumble, but I don't think that means we are all going to seek forgiveness by decking ourselves out in sackcloth and ashes and driving around in sardine cans with wheels.

I guess the "BIG BIG BIG" promotion strategy beat out "the price and gasoline mileage of an Accord, combined with the functionality and looks of a Go-Cart" sales pitch? Kind of surprising, since the Smart Car comes with so many cool features you just can't find on other, normal and not really stupid-looking vehicles: The Smart Locking Gas Cap, for instance, or the Smart Rear Window Wiper. Oh, and don't forget the Smart Sound System. What? You say you can get all these things for your Not a Four Wheeled Skate Board automobile? Maybe- but they won't be Smart.

I really want to apologize to the people who poured maybe two or three weeks of their lives into designing this pretentious Slightly Safer Than A Moped on the Jersey Turnpike cars. But a guy who lives up the street from me actually owns one of these things, and whenever I walk past his house and see it in his driveway, I expect a six year old kid to jump in it and start pedaling. Seriously, I wouldn't bet on it surviving a collision with a Big Wheel- and I think I'd look less stupid heading off to Giant Food in a Green Machine than zipping along in one of these things.

As long as I'm piling on- this has also got to be just about the ugliest motor vehicle I have ever seen. It's not ugly in the way a Humvee is ugly- it doesn't scream "I hate the world and the environment and I like to pretend I'm in Iraq without having to actually fight, and by the way I am too rich to care about the price of gasoline." I can deal with the stunning level of smug self-satisfaction that must go in to the decision to buy one of these things. But jeesh, just look at this eyesore. It makes the freaking Nissan Cube look like an Audi 8. The New Beetle is a work of art compared to this bizarre little toy (and it gets about the same gas mileage, too.)

So no, I'm not in favor of going BIG BIG BIG. But this is an overreaction. Just because I don't want to drive an armored jeep or a minivan (btw, do minivans come with Finding Nemo pre-installed in the DVD player? Because every time I find myself behind one, that's what's playing) doesn't mean I'm willing to putter around in a freaking fiberglass egg. I also don't want to be checking the driveway during windstorms to make sure my car hasn't joined the garbage cans in the street or is being carried off in some kid's backpack.

You did succeed in one respect, Smart Car- your commercials are every bit as insufferable and annoying as the ads for REAL automobiles.

The small print reads "Friends Not Included"

These commercials for Verizon and "4G" phones are such a riot, portraying the purchase of these stupid devices as tantamount to obtaining some kind of Holy Grail of excitement in the form of "connectivity." Because really, what could be more exciting than being able to update your Facebook page or listen to Chris Berman on the go?

Clueless No Life Dweeb #1 compares the anticipation of getting a cell phone to the coming of an amazing electrical storm, climaxing in the splitting of a tree by a bolt of lightning. The storm has come and gone, but it's gift to this weirdo has been left behind in the form of the shattered tree. No, this kid will not be carving a bat out of it's remains. He'll instead be "blessed" by a little glowing box which will give him more excuses to stay in his room and avoid contact with annoying carbon-based life forms.

Clueless, insufferable Dweeb #2 is doing his best Forrest Gump impersonation, running like mad down a 3-mile long driveway (it's actually only thirty feet, but it FEELS like 3 miles to a kid whose idea of a triathlon is texting, downloading and talking at the same time.) He looks into his mailbox, and YAY! The online purchase that will finally make his wretched existence bearable has arrived! And because Verizon is determined to convince us that these aren't just phones, the kid must then bring the box to his Special Secret Place in the barn ( I don't want to know what that Secret Special Place was used for before today, thanks anyway) before opening it. And of course, opening the box must be accompanied by a freaking laser show, no doubt signifying that, as in the case of Dweeb #1, something Very Significant has just happened in the life of this kid. Everything. Is going to get better. Starting. Right. Now.

Except...no.

I've said it once and, as regular readers of this blog know, I've said it a thousand times: All commercials carry exactly the same message: Your life sucks. However, there is a way you can make it suck less. And that's by purchasing this product. This product will make your sucky life bearable; strike that, this product will make your sucky life NOT SUCK ANYMORE. Your sucky life will suddenly become AWESOME if you buy this. And since you are only ONE PURCHASE AWAY from redeeming your sorry-ass existence, you'd have to be a complete and utter loser NOT to make that purchase. So what's it going to be? A life not worthy of living, because you are too damned cheap to buy just this ONE MORE THING? Or a life of lightning-bolt and storm-cloud awesomeness, all waiting for you once you open up that box?

If your choice is the latter, welcome to the wonderful world of ringtones and movies on 2-inch screens and turn-by-turn directions and all those other nifty things you thought were kind of nice but now realize are Absolutely Essential. If it's the former, well, enjoy watching life go by without you, Loser Who Will Never Be Loved By Anyone. And don't say we didn't warn you. On your death bed, you can ponder how you didn't make that One Purchase. You'll be doing it alone.