Just like the rest of us, Santa gets dumber, duller and more helpless every year

Since his first appearance in popular literature, which was probably "A Visit From Saint Nicholas" (published in 1823,) Santa Claus and Christmas have, for many people, gone together like turkey and Thanksgiving. Thomas Nast gave him a recognizable face in the 1870s, and soon the jolly fat guy's run as the most successful marketing gimmick of all time was under way.

In the 20th century, we got Santa Claus-themed greeting cards, candy, cartoons, car commercials- heck, there was hardly a product the big guy WASN'T selling between Thanksgiving and New Year's Day. But whether he was helping Jim Varney save Christmas or sliding down a hill on an electronic razor, one thing remained constant: Santa was always on top of the situation, always in charge.

Not anymore.

On television, Santa has joined the rest of the electronics-addicted population in being totally incapable of taking a step without first consulting a product assembled by a preteen girl in China. A product which provides instant information concerning topics he Needs to Know About Right Now- the current temperature in cities 3000 miles apart, for example. Or how many billion more people he has to visit tonight.

(Quick aside: I've had more than enough of the insufferably arrogant "all humans are materialistic Christians on December 25" theme. No, Santa does NOT have 3.7 billion people to visit tonight- he can skip the Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, Jews, Calvinists, etc. , not to mention all the Christians who believe that Christmas has nothing to do with maxing out one's freaking Visa card on presents and ostentatious light displays. Ok, now back to my original rant....)

I'm used to being Santa Claus portrayed as a silly, more than a little creepy stalker this time of year (that "Santa Claus as Truck Salesman") ad is REALLY weird- would you really buy a vehicle from a guy who looked like that?) But until this year, he always seemed to be the boss of each situation. Now he's begging for information every five seconds and being admonished by a disembodied voice to "take it easy on the cookies" (Santa has to "take it easy on the cookies" on the one night they are provided, free of charge, in unlimited quantities?) Suddenly it's not magic that gets Santa to every house on the planet (again, groan...) but a downloadable App.

Never mind how silly this all makes everyone else who uses this device (not that they didn't look plenty silly already.) Does the average human need to know any of this information? Isn't it already available with a quick online search or (gasp) a call to an actual human being? (What am I thinking? Phones aren't used to talk to people any more- just to "stay connected.")

Anyway, at least this ad ends before Santa asks his phone for directions back to his sleigh. That's probably coming next year, because by then Santa- along with the rest of us pampered idiots- will have become so damned helpless we'll be getting lost in our living rooms without the assistance of turn by turn directions. Bah Humbug.

There's Hope for Me in 2012!!!

Check out the guy who makes his appearance four seconds in, and at the very end of this ad for Bank of America. Greasy hair. Beard. Tight buttoned-down sweater, with a pink shirt sticking out the bottom. In other words, a guy who looks like he's totally incapable of washing or dressing himself. Not to mention a total femme.

He's got a baby in his cart. So unless this is a Baby Store and he's making a purchase, it looks like this guy has found someone to have sex with. Greasy hair. Beard. Tight, buttoned-down sweater. Pink untucked shirt. This guy can find a sexual partner serious enough to be willing to produce a child by him.

Now, maybe this is more about the power of desperation. Or alcohol. But I'll put those ideas aside for now, I don't need my balloon popped with New Year's Eve only a few days away. As a better-than-average looking guy who knows how to shower, shave and dress, this commercial gives me a lot of optimism about the future.

And hey, I'm better with money, too. I don't "save" my using a Bank of America credit card. I save by using cash and avoiding debt. Pretty hot, eh ladies?

Or maybe greasy hair, beards, tight sweaters, untucked pink shirts and no money management skills are in now? I think I'm probably out of luck then. I mean, I might be willing to convert for the right girl- but this is asking a bit too much. I have my pride!

I guess he couldn't afford to rent the Jumbotron?

Here's another episode in the Adventures of The Guys Who Live To Make Total Jackasses of Themselves. It's a very long-running series (this particular ad is several years old) and has included such classic, unforgettable moments as:

--The time The Guy gave his girlfriend a ring to interrupt her singing the praises of her Egg McMuffin, or

--the time The Guy tried to work up the courage to propose, but could not distract his Intended from her Progresso soup with the Big Chunks of Potato, or

--the time The Guy held up the football game because both teams had to stop and admire the rock he was handing to his Secretly Mortified Future Wife in front of 100,000 people, or

--the time The Guy drove his girlfriend all over town hoping she would finally get her head out of her ass long enough to notice the airplane with the streaming "will you marry this pathetic, cowardly, fat excuse for a man?" banner.

In this particular installment, The Guy proves himself a bit too classy to propose at a burger joint, or maybe too poor to hire the scoreboard or an airplane (though it looks like they may be in Europe here, can't really tell for sure.) At any rate, he's not happy enough with the fact that the woman he's with can tolerate being with him. Or, he's decided that being with him is not in itself quite mortifying enough. So he stands in the middle of the square and screams "I LOVE THIS WOMAN!" at the top of his lungs (because everyone really cares. And needs to know. Odd- when I was dating the woman I would eventually marry, just letting HER know seemed good enough.) Long-suffering girlfriend, who quite some time ago learned to mask her distress at her boyfriend's boorish behavior behind a "No Really he's Adorable and Hey I'm Pushing Thirty" smile, responds by repeating the mantra which has been engraved into her brain since the day she realized that It's probably not going to get any better than this guy- "I love this man. I love this man. I love this man." Yes, you keep telling yourself that, honey. Quietly, so no one else can hear-and wonder "why?"

(And I just can't shrug off the suspicion that yelling "I LOVE THIS WOMAN" very loudly was a ploy to distract this girl from noticing that the rock is somewhat smaller than she might have hoped, and that yelling loudly didn't cost this guy a dime.)

My dream is to be at a major sporting event when The Guy proposes to someone on the scoreboard-- and gets rejected. Because there has to be a woman out there, somewhere, who does not appreciate being put on the spot by awkward, passive-aggressive, classless little boys like this.

Wait- this is new? So it's just going to get WORSE now?

Let me see if I can get this straight- self-absorbed moron of Uncertain Ethnicity has cranked up his music to such an insane decibel level that it is flattening the world around him. Totally detached, said moron listlessly jaywalks through the set of Inception as his eardrums are assaulted by an endless wave of drivel until he gets a call on the same device he's used to download this....umm..."music."

He answers the phone, and whatever the person on the other end said, his reply is "yo, I'm on my way." Well, I'm sure that's a relief to the caller. Because I can't imagine the party getting started before this guy shows up.

Here's what I don't get- this is somehow new technology? How can that be? I've seen (and HEARD- ear buds are next to worthless when it comes to keeping your music to yourself) this guy everywhere for the past two decades. He's always in the same subway car, treating me and everyone else within thirty feet to free "entertainment" in the form of leaked garbage. He's next to me at the gym, mysteriously assuming that I want to listen along with him instead of paying attention to what is on my own headphones. More and more often, he's in the fricking library- because what is a more appropriate place to listen to music at a high volume than a library?

Or am I missing the point of this ad- is the message here that the earbuds are so effective, only the wearer can hear the music? If so, I don't think this latest offering is going to be very popular- from what I've seen, people who own cell phones, MP3 players, etc. see being boorish and rude as a fringe benefit that comes with ownership of these things. What, I'm not advertising that I own a little toy which lets me download music and force anything resembling thoughts out of my head, and yours too? Pass!

"And..... everyone you've ever met will be glad to hear this happened to you."

It's almost horrifying to realize that this commercial chronicles the life of exactly ONE disgustingly entitled dickwad. It would be bad enough if we saw four separate episodes in the life of four separate people- to believe that all of this crude nastiness exists within a single semi-human makes me think that we've found the subject of the next installment of the Omen series.

It starts with his formative years, when Damien introduced himself to the world with his flat refusal to accept an ice cream cone until it's been decked out in colorful sprinkles (he can't ask for the sprinkles, of course- that would be...what is the word I'm trying to think of? Oh yea- POLITE. He has to treat the poor guy behind the counter like a worker drone who should be eternally grateful for the opportunity to serve. Anyway, this kid has learned a very valuable lesson- being a demanding, rude jackass pays off. It's a lesson he will, unfortunately for us, never forget.

Later, Mr. Loathsome Choad has grown into a skinny, scruffy (but what guy on tv isn't scruffy these days- jesus, when is the To Hell With Shaving look going to go out of style already?) but still Very Much Determined To Demand Everything jerk, not satisfied with being offered a nice job until the interviewer grants him stock options, too. Because this guy looks like someone you'd want to encounter at the water cooler every day. Of course.

And now it gets really, really bad- Disgusting Proof that Fecal Matter Can Be Trained To Walk Upright is complimented on a pair of jeans he's trying on, but the compliment is only good enough if the saleswoman offers sex in exchange for the chance to earn the commission. For the next three seconds or so, the commercial becomes an ad for Enzyte or K-Y Jelly (it's certainly nothing you want to have to explain to your kids who were just trying to spend a few hours of quality time watching football with you.) What, this guy is James Bond now? Are we supposed to find him attractive? Or is it just more of the Hot Women on TV are Easy theme?

At the conclusion of this brain-numbing, steaming cow pie of an advertisement, Our Hero takes a swig of Coke Zero and gives us an indication that THIS is the best thing that's happened to him all day. His friends at the table seem mystified at his reaction. I'm mystified that Mr. Smarm has friends. And that anyone could possibly get this excited over Coke Zero, which is just like Diet Coke if Diet Coke came in a black can and included a nasty aftertaste.

Anyway, we are left wishing that a gas leak in the restaurant kitchen would suddenly level this place and kill everyone in it. Sure, we only really hate that one guy, but if he ends up with his face burned off and with shards of that can jammed halfway down his throat, I'd call them acceptable losses.

(I'd like to be the paramedic on the scene who tells the guy "sorry, you're going to die now." When he responds with the inevitable "And...?" I would respond "and you aren't doing it fast enough" or "and you will not be missed.")

Hoping it's not just a kiss that begins with Kay

"I--know--this--may--seem--strange---coming--from--a--guy--who--has--known---you--for--such--a--short--period---of--time--that---he--hasn't---learned---to--effectively--communicate---with---you. I---mean,---expensive---jewelery--is--generally---the---kind---of---gift---reserved---for--serious---couples--who---have---developed---a--relationship...but....

"The--fact---is,---I---just---think---you---are---really---hot...ok? I've---been---trying---to--get--into---your---pants--ever---since---our---first---date, and---frankly---don't---really---care---for---this---'communication'---bullshit. I---mean, it's---not--like---I---really---have---anything--to---say---to--you--other---than--that--I'd---really---like---to--land---you---in---the---sack."

"So---let's---just---cut---to---the--chase, ok? From--what---I've--seen---in---commercials, all---girls--really---want---before---they---put---out---is---a--shiny--trinket. So--here---you---go---can---you---just---say---thank---you---and---strip---already, 'cause---God---knows---I've---put---in---the--hours, don't---you---think?"

(BTW, whose house are these people sitting in? Whose tree is that, and who is getting all those presents? The vibe I get from these people is that they are fairly recent acquaintances-- again, the guy hasn't learned how to communicate with the girl with any level of competence yet--not a married couple with their own home. What the hell IS going on here?)

Calling the ASPCA!

So the old guy in the tasteless sweater who lives in a McMansion was experiencing a little problem- his electric bills were "breaking the bank." His solution- to buy some guinea pigs and teach them to slave away rowing to generate power which then allows him to "surf the web all day long."

Ugh, where to start? As long as this noxious prick was willing to torture animals into generating power, wouldn't it have made a lot more sense to just use an f---ng hamster wheel? Those exist in real life, you know. And it's not hard to see how they could be used to produce actual electricity. Even without teaching the little critters how to row a boat, let alone learn the word "row" (God this is stupid.) Heck, I bet a few days of tiny electronic shocks or perhaps food deprivation could pull it off. What this guy did to teach his guinea pigs to perform a complicated task- well, I don't really want to know.

And why did this disgusting jerkwad with the deadpan expression go through all of this for? Why, to allow him to sit his fat ass down in front of his computer and stare at a screen all. Day. Long. Well, that's nice. I hope those guinea pigs are eventually intelligent enough to realize that while they endured horrible pain to learn to manipulate tiny oars, and continue to experience endless suffering at the hands of their lord and master, at least it's all in a good cause. So this guy can surf the web. All. Day. Long.

Naturally, the unattended YouTube Children think that this commercial is so very funny and Epic- one proudly tells us that he loves it so much that once when it came on he cut himself trying to peel an orange, or something (to tell you the truth, I'm not quite sure what the point this Pudding for Brains was trying to make.) And of course, this is not actually an ad promoting the abuse of animals (please DON'T hook up your hamster's wheel to generate electricity. PLEASE.) It's just another commercial that reminds us how very little GEICO thinks of us. Like the YouTube comments are there to remind us that we deserve the contempt.

Meanwhile- this guy spent six months manipulating innocent creatures into generating energy- so he could surf the web. I hate to see how he reacts to a rise in the price of bread- maybe adopt some dogs and then train them to operate a grain mill? Hey, I hear cats can be taught to soak up heat on the roof all day- and at night, you can stuff them into the drywall for insulation. And we already know that monkeys can be trained to do pretty much anything. Thanks for letting us know the possibilities, GEICO.