Give the Gift of Nothing (If you're lucky!)

I'm quite thankful that I've never known anyone who would appreciate getting lottery tickets as a Christmas present. It seems to me that the only difference between giving a regular lottery player a handful of scratch tickets as a holiday present and giving a raging alcoholic a case of Heineken is that the alcoholic might at least have some friends over to share the gift. This is just so wrong, on so many levels.

Besides, as Norm MacDonald explained in an old stand-up bit, no one who gives lottery tickets as gifts could possibly want the recipient to actually WIN anything. Just think about it for a minute- you spend ten bucks on scratch-offs because you can't think of anything else to give your mail carrier. Next thing you know, your mail carrier is standing in a tv studio holding a novelty check for $45 million- and is now your FORMER mail carrier, heading off to Bermuda for a few weeks in the sun to consider how he's going to spend the rest of the dough you unwittingly handed him. What a nightmare!

So the people who give these things are either feeding a sad addiction, or playing a cruel, cynical game of Let's Feed False Hopes, And I'm Really, Really Hoping they ARE False. The best the giver can hope for is that the recipient has a few moments of "fun" scratching numbers before the flimsy pieces of cardboard end up at the bottom of a trash can. Happy Holidays to you too, Pennsylvania Lottery.

I wish he would stick to racing down hills on a Norelco razor

If it's December, it's time to portray Santa Claus as a creepy stalker with a taste for high-end trinkets and a really bad case of Tourette's.

How else can you explain Saint Nick's yearly approval of the ugly pieces of rock guys choose to waste their money on in desperate attempts to be semi-worthy of the women they've already talked into marrying them?

And why does Santa always act so damned deranged in these ads? He's not being jolly- he's just being irritating. And I'm sorry, I'm just not capable of the suspension of disbelief required for commercials like this- if a fat old man in a flashy red suit suddenly appears in my living room, I'm not having a casual conversation with him. I'm going for the gun. Especially if I've got kids. Instead, we always see this ho-hum "oh hi, Santa- kind of thought you were just a myth my parents told me when I was young- so, you're real, huh? Live and learn, I guess." Not even a "oh man, I KNEW I shouldn't have guzzled that egg nog I found in the back of the fridge from last year- how long is this vision gonna last, and when does the vomiting take over?"

In the long version of this commercial, the guy sits under the tree with his wife on Christmas morning (in his PAJAMAS, because that's what grown men wear when they are alone with their wives, on some planet) and hands her the string of pebbles that is supposed to symbolize his love for her, but actually only serves as a reminder of his pathetic lack of imagination or interest in discovering what the Love of His Life really wanted for a gift. He tells her that "Santa knew you'd like it," she gives him a totally appropriate odd look, and instead of adding "Um, I mean the guy dressed as Santa at the jewelry store" like a sane person, he attempts to keep the joke going with a "no, really."

Because Wifey is too exhausted and past her prime to consider putting herself on the market again, and after all it IS a pretty nice looking trinket, she just shuts this crap up by kissing him. Pretty good move, actually, considering the lack of alternatives. This is all supposed to be charming and sweet- again, on some planet. Just not the one I live on.

What a pity Thomas Nast or Coca Cola couldn't have maintained the copyright on the Santa Claus character. Would have saved us a lot of garbage like this ad. Sure, there would still be plenty of commercials featuring guys blowing enough money to feed a hundred homeless people down at the shelter on a string of hardened dirt, but at least they wouldn't be able to enlist Santa in the cause.

And don't even get me started on Al Sharpton....

I don't know about you, but as far as I'm concerned, there's nothing quite so satisfying as being lectured and talked down to by multimillionaire tv yakkers who make a living pretending to be "Progressives."

1. Chris Matthews: Recovering cheerleader for the Iraq War Chris Matthews. "Bush looks awesome on that flight suit" Chris Matthews. Romney's "shoulders you could land a jet on" Chris Matthews. "Tingle down my leg" Chris Matthews. The Chris Matthews who never, EVER lets anyone he is interviewing finish answering a question or expressing a thought, because can't disguise the fact that he really isn't interested in what anyone else thinks or is saying, ever. The Chris Matthews who makes bucket loads of money to blather about how much "fun" it would be to have a "brokered convention" and wax poetic about "tough Irish kids and tough Italian kids playing stick ball on the streets of Brooklyn" (don't ask.) The Chris Matthews who mysteriously remembers stuff that happened before he was born, and who provides deep insight into events which occurred when he was a child with the authority of a guy who was in the room. The guy we wish had really run for the Senate in 2010, because no one in this country needs an ego smackdown more. That Chris Matthews.

2. Ed Schultz. He of the ridiculously fake, forced laugh who, when not pontificating on how great it is to be "just one of the folk," will occasionally lapse into fond memories of his $3900 first class flight to a private airfield in Minnesota "to do a little fishin'." The guy who used to suck up to "Progressive" Senator Kent Conrad one minute, and bash Progressive Senator Al Franken the next. The guy who acts like a drunken Huey Long wannabee whenever he does his show in front of a live audience. The guy who once strongly considered a run for Congress from North Dakota- as a Conservative Republican. That Ed Schultz.

3. Rachel Maddow- the brightest bulb of the lot, and probably the closest to being a sincere Progressive, but still a pedantic, ponderous, plodding, squeaky, finger-wagging schoolmarm who seems eternally convinced that her audience consists of nine year old kids who Won't Ever Quite Get It unless she dazzles them with cutesy props and spells out the subject very. Very. Slowly. The Rachel Maddow who eventually will admit that the "Moment of Geek" segment of her show might as well be called "See, Rachel Maddow's store of knowledge is vastly larger than yours and goes way beyond politics!," just as on her old radio show she finally admitted that the segment entitled "Ask Dr Maddow" could have been retitled "Ask Dr Maddow to look up something on Wikipedia for you." That Rachel Maddow.

Hey, guys? Tell you what- when you stop pretending that the Occupy Wall Street movement is somehow aimed entirely at the Republican party and is ideologically in sync with the Democrats, when you stop trying to convince me that the President and the Democratic Party represents the future of Progressivism and aren't every bit the Corporatists that the Republicans are, and when you stop cashing those checks written out to you by "Progressive" General Electric, I might start taking you a bit more seriously.

Until then, save the overbearing ego-stroking ads for "Morning Joe," ok?*

*The AM offering from Progressive MSNBC, which will probably get it's own post here, eventually.

There are no winners here

It would take way too long- time I simply don't have- to go through this truly awful, mind-numbing pile of steaming dreck line by wretched line. It would be almost as painful to describe the main characters- scruffy, hopelessly addicted, desperately trying to keep up with each other hipster doofus wannabees. Everyone in this ad is so utterly loathsome, so pretentious, so utterly devoid of the traits we generally use to describe the human condition, that to watch this thing the four or five times I would need to get a good snark going- well, you know what? Some things are simply not worth it.

I'll just note that none of these monsters dressed in human disguise seem to have anything better to do with their time but spend hour after hour waiting in line for the Next Big Thing. Are they unemployed or self-employed? Are they "living" with their parents (the word "living" used very loosely here?) Did they just call in sick so that they could blow a day in front of their favorite electronics store, getting an upgraded phone Just Because?

And I'll also note the deceptive, hypocritical tone of this ad- the people who made it are clearly making fun of these warm bags of moving refuse, and yet...are also trying to sell us a phone based on it's Cool Big Screen and 4G capability. The joke seems to me that you don't have to stand in line to get one of these Samsung phones, which are every bit as good as the latest I Phone or whatever these ugly morons are devoting a day to snatch up. Not that being obsessed with junk like this is stupid- it's just stupid to stand in line for it.

I think the bottom line is that there never seems to be an 85-year old man in a pickup truck mistaking his accelerator for the brake pedal when you need one.

I guess it's never too early to start learning your place, "Todd"

Beautiful women manipulate men to get what they want, reducing said men to pathetic, whiny, desperate dishrags at their beck and call. Doofus, overweight, loser men live in constant terror of ticking off beautiful women, and have not the slightest clue how to avoid doing it- and if two beautiful women are involved, well, Doofus Overweight Loser might as well just call it a day. All this equals just another day in TV Land. I get it. Nothing new to see here.

Except....who told the geniuses at Subway that children sound like they spend the day breathing in helium? These "kids" don't sound like anyone I know- and I'm a teacher. I wonder- does anyone at this advertising agency ever spend time with real, actual kids? Because there's no evidence here that they do- OR, if they do, they really, really hate those kids.

And based on these "funny" commercials, they aren't that thrilled about adults, either.

Am I just the Savage who refuses to take his Soma like a good boy?

Here's a woman whose entire "life" consists of playing with her cell phone. And I mean her ENTIRE life- from the moment she wakes, she's on that phone, transmitting "data" (that's an important-sounding word which now generally means nothing more than sending people "LOL" and "N PRK NOW SO BORED U?" messages,) watching movies, and "downloading an App....and another App...and another App...." (The narrator uses the term "status updates," which I think is just hilarious, since the only thing this woman needs to "update" concerning her "status" is where she is currently wasting her "life" staring at her freaking phone.)

And this is just how far we've gone as a nation in our goal to achieve a total state of societal torpor- not only is what this woman is "doing" described as normal ("you'd be shocked at how much data you use in a month..") but any problems she may seem to have to us sane, not-as-yet-assimilated humans (disconnectedness, addiction, severe crick in neck, eye strain) are presented as perfectly solvable- with Unlimited Data.

Oh, thank goodness- because for a very brief moment at the very end of this ad, it does appear as if this woman is actually going to have to try to find something to do other than play with her electronic security blanket. She proves her ability to Look Up. But the look on her face is really more than a little depressing- she's not noticing the rest of the world for the first time that day. Instead, she seems to be in quiet, brief reflection of the Wonder that is Unlimited Data. VERY brief, because now it's back to that phone. And downloading another App.

This is a picture of the world as our wonderful cell phone companies would like it to be- and as it's rapidly becoming. Everyone sitting or walking or (more and more frequently) driving around in their own little worlds, their electronic cocoons, pretending that they are somehow staying in contact with the Great Big World out there through their manipulation of tiny glowing screens (and Apps.) I feel more and more like a voice in the wilderness here, but help me understand- why would anyone want to live like this? When are we going to have an Emperor Has No Clothes moment with these damn things?

I nominate "Dinosaur! Ball! Dinosaur! Ball!" as the first great Catchphrase of 2012

Man, I love these cheap, late night, amateurish advertisements for "miracle" junk. Eagle Eye Sunglasses, Food Choppers, Magic Jacks, Snuggies- they are all so awesome in their brilliant awfulness, I almost hate to snark on them. But hey, I've got a job to do here, so....

Can we start with those kids, who for some reason are planted like stereo speakers on either side of I Swear I Am This Close To Getting Out The Gun dad, inexplicably screaming "Dinosaur!" "Ball!" "Dinosaur!" "Ball!" (What IS that argument about, anyway? One kid has a dinosaur, the other kid has a ball. What is the freaking problem? Maybe it's a contest- "let's see how long we have to keep this up before dad snaps and kills us?") We have to love these kids- they've been given one line each, and they are making the most of it.

Let's continue on to Nagging Wife in Bed, who once again reminds Daddy that he's living in a house with other people, and simply can't blast the television at the volume he'd like (a volume which may allow him to briefly forget that he's living in a house with other people?) Dad needs to explain to Mom that he's just trying to avoid the creation of any more offspring, because God Damn It if he has to listen to "Dinosaur!" "Ball!" "Glow Worm!" he really IS going to start hurting people.

The answer to this guy's horrible dilemma is a pair of headphones which allow him to drown out the world around him with the roar of the wonderful television. When he's wearing these amazing, Get An Extra Pair Just Pay Separate Shipping and Handling headphones, he can pretend the family he woke up and found himself with does not exist. Maybe he can forget- again- about that appointment his wife made to have his freaking hearing checked.

The point is that for Only $19.99 (Plus Shipping and Handling, and don't think you are getting off the phone without ordering that "free" extra pair) you can keep your sanity by escaping from your dismal existence for a while- and nobody has to get hurt. Sounds like a bargain to me.