What year does Tide think this is?

Sometimes I think that the advertising agency hired by Tide Detergent only just recently emerged from a bomb shelter after forty years, ala Brendon Fraser in "Blast from the Past." How else can one explain these "laundry is the natural domain of Women, so let's shock and amuse the audience by showing men doing it" commercials?

This guy prattles on and on about what most of us guys who live in the real world already know- that men are perfectly capable of adding detergent, moving the wash to the dryer, and ultimately folding it properly- hey, some of us even manage to put it away in the proper drawers without setting the house on fire, no fooling!! The vibe I get is that he expects some kind of freaking medal- or, at least, is trying really hard to convince us that he's still a Man ("I'm going to do crunches in the other room") despite the fact that he's doing "women's" work.

Seriously, Tide? Could you be just a LITTLE more condescending, insulting, and retrograde? I do laundry. I also vacuum and cook (and by "cook," I don't mean stir up a pot of Kraft Mac' n Cheese, either.) I don't have any kids- but if I did, I wouldn't refer to myself as a "Mom Dad" (I really want to hurt the dickweed who came up with that one) because "Dad" would work just fine. Probably because I wouldn't feel insecure about DOING MY SHARE. Ugh.

You know, it's easy to imagine the fungus down at the neighborhood bar reminding Mom Dad of the fact that he folded laundry and referring to it as the "second unmanly thing" he did that day. I'd hope he would respond with a not very polite rejoinder before getting back to his family- but judging from this guy's defensiveness, he'd probably just order a Miller Lite.

You'd think Tide would invest a few dollars in field research before approving junk like this- and "field research" does NOT include screening "Mr. Mom." I'd settle for the ad men who threw together this tepid mess crawling back into their bomb shelter. You won't be missed, guys- and I suspect that sentiment is shared by the women in your lives.

Tells us everything we need to know about the last forty years

Once upon a time (the Seventies, I think,) there was this nice-looking guy named Peter who found himself far from home on the holidays. Peter, you see, was working his butt off studying Medieval English Literature up at State University, and his job soliciting money for Clean Water Action just didn't bring in enough spare cash to pay for a plane ticket. However, at the last minute, and thanks to a Need A Ride post on the Student Union bulletin board, Peter got a ride to his front door in a rolling icebox with wheels (or what they used to call a Volkswagen Bug- what regular readers of this blog know was my very first car, btw) on Christmas Eve. It was a miracle worthy of a Hallmark Holiday Movie.

Peter was very quiet as he walked into the house, knowing that it was very, very early, but Cindy Lou Who heard him come in, and she came down to let him know that "everyone's asleep." Peter isn't all that interested in just crashing on the couch until Mom, Dad, Brother and Sister in Law (this is how I always saw it, anyway) want to get up, so he opens a can of really awful coffee and gets the automatic drip machine going. Showing very little common sense, he puts the lid-less glass carafe and cups out to get cold in roughly three minutes, but never mind. Everyone smells the coffee and gets up. Mom exclaims "Peter!," handshakes and hugs are passed around, yay Christmas.

Flash forward to 2011. The Volkswagen Bug has been banned for manufacture in the United States, so some overindulged choad gets to show up in plenty of time for the festivities in his new, $60,000 Audi. He pulls up to Mom and Dad's palatial winter palace. Instead of getting a greeting and a hug as he enters the house he grew up in, he finds that Mom and Dad have sneaked out behind him and stolen his car. Son is left standing in an empty living room, asking if anyone is home, while Mom and Dad are off on a freaking joy ride in Son's vanity purchase. Oh the joy. Oh the hilarity.

I'm really hoping that his next step is to call the police. When Mom and Dad are hauled in, he denies the relationship and files full charges. He spends the holidays at Mom and Dad's house, cranking the thermostat to 85 and leaving beer cans everywhere. When Mom and Dad are released on bail, he heads back to his brick townhouse in his Audi and changes his last name.

Oh, and then everyone associated with this commercial dies. Because this is not progress. This is just gross. We used to be kind of sweet, in a saccharine, cloying sort of way. What the hell happened to us?

I'm Thankful commercials like this are few and far between

It's not like there's nothing to snark on here. We could easily point out that Doofus Dad at the Store is so clueless that he needed an electronic list consisting of a whopping FOUR items, lest he forget "milk." We could snark on the fact that he is willing to do anything his phone tells him to do, and for quite some time refuses to question what The Phone is saying- so he allows himself to believe that at the last moment, the Wife remembered that she needed soda, coconuts, candy.....

We could even share stories about how often we've found ourselves behind the Not Quite Done Shopping guy, who normally has an accomplice running around the store grabbing stuff off the shelves while he is taking up our time getting his cart scanned. You know the guy- the one who thinks that it's perfectly ok to ask you to wait while the Rest of his Stuff shows up to be scanned. Because you have all the time in the world.

But I'm not going to do either of those things today. The fact is that I'm full of food and happy to have the day off to watch football, and even if I wasn't in a good mood, I'd find this a pretty darned cute commercial. I especially like the kids at the end- their expressions look perfectly legitimate and unscripted. So good for whoever made this ad- your only real fail is that when it's over, I don't know what you are trying to sell me.

But please, advertising agencies, don't try to make more good commercials like this. You'd put me right out of a hobby.

"Ummm...tastes ok. Now where's my Lexus?"

Ugh, almost a full thirty seconds of watching these grinning examples of the Whitest People To Ever Occupy This Planet go through what they apparently think is a super-cutesy way to present Mommy with this year's Just Because The Economy is Collapsing Doesn't Mean You Shouldn't Buy It stupid, super-indulgent little toy.

Mommy just LOVES her morning Latte. Well good for mommy- mommy also LOVES her suburban palace with the hardwood floors that is so damned big that she can't hear people come and go from her bedroom (oh, and check out the dimensions of the kitchen, too. Yes, I can SO relate to these people.) Mommy really LOVES her grinning, Brady Bunch-wannabee Husband and Child, who are so gosh-darned thrilled out of their freaking minds to be playing this Oh God Won't The Neighbors Love Hearing about this little joke on Mommy. I can't tell you how glad I am that this family had such a WONDERFUL time setting up the PERFECT way to provide Mommy with her newest little appliance, just right for that spot next to the SodaStream, Brewbot and automatic bagel slicer. And I don't even mind that it's clearly not Christmas morning- nope, this isn't a Christmas present, it's Just Because. Lovely.

I hope they find a way to describe all the freaking grinning that goes on in this ad. Jesus, even the woman of Uncertain Ethnicity at the No Longer Necessary Trendy Coffee Place Mommy Loves gets into the act, as Daddy and Child act like stealth yuppies, dashing in to grab a cup and lid (on Daddy's signal, no less) and leaving exact change on the counter (probably the only time in the past year Daddy has been careful with his money.) And back home, we simply MUST use milk out of freaking GLASS bottle, because otherwise, well, it just wouldn't be perfect now, would it?

Yes, it's all so Delightful and Nice and Cloying and I sure hope they show this commercial again and again and again in the next month, I really do. Because I just can't get enough of watching Rich White People get Every Single One of their hearts' desires fulfilled. Tis the season, after all.

Oh my God, tell me I am just imagining things....

What just happened here? What did we just miss?

Why does this woman look like she's just been injected with a serious cocktail of tranquilizers, or is just waking from a ten-year coma? Why does she look like she has not seen the sun in decades?

Why are these people outside in the snow, laying flat on their backs, looking up at nothing? Why does the guy think this is the appropriate time to hand this girl a rock?

And I'm sorry, I just have to say it- should these people be dressed? I mean, the entire vibe of this sixteen-second nugget of nothing is that something that can't be shown on non-premium cable has just happened between these two. How did they get back into their six layers of winter gear?

Oh and by the way, am I the only person out here who wants to track down the "artist" who wrote and sang the smarmy soundtrack and beat him to death with a heavy blunt instrument? I mean, Christmas is still more than a month away. And then there's Valentine's Day. Just think how many times we are going to be seeing and hearing this "all she wants is a trinket" garbage between now and then.

Between this and the ubiquitous Pretty White People Giving Each other Lexuses ads, it's going to be a very, very long winter.

A Step Ahead of What?

Know what is really depressing about cell phone commercials like these? It's that they are becoming increasingly familiar and believable.

A few years ago, we couldn't really imagine seeing people walking around staring at their cell phones and muttering at the carbon-based life forms in the vicinity about what they happened to be looking at on their cell phones. A few years ago, we couldn't imagine snarking at other people because their phones were almost 3 percent slower at downloading information than ours. A few years ago (well, ok- maybe seven or eight years ago, now) we would have thought that the sight of two people eating lunch together but not looking at each other, and instead spending all their time and attention on their stupid f--ing phones was just plain silly, and totally unrealistic.

Not anymore. What we see in this ad is the New Normal- ditzy losers who simply cannot tear themselves away from their portable idiot boxes, constantly attempting to one-up each other in the field of "connectivity"- never mind that we won't see another population of less-connected losers until the next commercial for cell phones offering super-fast download speeds. Oddly, all this lightning-fast accessibility does is allow people to do what is basically Nothing, more Quickly. I have yet to see a cell phone ad which shows anyone's life being improved one iota by technology which allows for 24-hour availability and blink-of-an-eye downloading. In fact, all these commercials ever show me is how incredibly, mind-numbingly stupid and antisocial cell phones make people in tv land.

And in real life. Because like I said before, scenes like this are becoming more and more common every day. Not just in the exaggerated world of television, but in parks, libraries, restaurants, and everywhere else one has "connectivity." Which is just about everywhere now. Keeping us a step ahead- of actual conversations? Of exploring our own thoughts? Of taking a moment to enjoy the scenery? Someone, help me out here- why is this a good thing again?

Quick Soul Check

If you think that life is all about staring at a little glowing screen as you walk down the street, sit on park benches, ride buses and trains, or are supposed to be playing with your kids or socializing with that person you for some reason agreed to have lunch with, I feel really sorry for you- but even more sorry for the people who know you. Because your soul is suffering from a lack of oxygen.

If you aren't already angry at the idea that your life would be in any way improved by No Limit Data Downloading on your I Phone, it's on life support.

And if your heart doesn't break at the 21 second mark- if that final scene doesn't want to make you call Child Protective Services, or at least offer to settle for joint custody- you don't have one.

That's all.