Fortunately, the Emergency Room is always open, too

Just in case you thought that Cici's, KFC, and The Golden Corral had the market cornered on destroying our health: the "four" in this ad is for Denny's "famous" Fried Cheese Melt which, believe it or not, consists of deep-fried mozzarella sticks swimming in melted cheese and served between slices of butter-infused toasted bread.

No kidding. Almost 900 calories of greasy, artery-clogging, valve-damaging dairy product served up at a price which just screams "come in often, and don't forget to get the hot cakes and bacon on the side!"

So, who would actually eat any of this junk? Well, I think the answer is pretty obvious. This is Food for the Drunk and Starving. Your favorite watering hole is closed for the night, there's nobody waiting at home in your dark, chilly apartment, and the last time you checked, the only thing in your refrigerator was bottle of flat coke and half a jar of mustard. Sure, you could hit 7-11 for a heat lamp dog and a bag of chips, but that's more of a study break thing. It's Saturday night after all- or maybe it's Sunday morning. No matter. There's Denny's, with the big orange sign all warm and glowing and inviting, where nobody's going to criticize your food choices and the coffee is going to just keep coming, and you can eat at a booth instead of your car like they make you do at 7-11.

The combination of alcohol, hunger, and the desire to stave off loneliness for another hour or so finds you ordering fried cheese sandwiches, flapjacks layered with cheesecake, and buttery hash browns- and actually enjoying it. Or at least that's what you tell yourself- when you aren't trying to convince your conscience that you are going to be rising at dawn the next day (or later that same day, who knows?) and walk 25 miles to make up for the massive calorie overload you are subjecting your body to. (This is all hypothetical, I'm not speaking from experience or anything.)

I'd also like to add that anyone who fits the description of the person described above is NOT a loser- probably more like a sweet, smart, good-looking but terribly under-appreciated guy who has been experiencing a run of bad luck, which could happen to anybody. The people who eat this stuff when entirely in their right minds, like in the middle of the morning or after church- TOTAL losers. Man, I pity THOSE idiots.

She'll be sneaking back in for a $5 walnut brownie as soon as she can ditch her friend at the office

Ok, look- one of the reasons I avoid pretentious coffee shops is because whenever I find myself in one, I'm behind idiots like these. They want incredibly complicated coffee drinks involving shots of this and dollops of that, and don't even try to explain to me how they ever developed a taste for any of it (I can only imagine that back in the dark ages--the 1980s-- when most people were still brewing coffee at home instead of visiting one of the 900 Starbucks within walking distance, these weirdos were experimenting with whipped cream and espresso shots and spices at 5 AM every morning.)

The woman who picks out the Yoplait is worse than any of the people I've bumped into in real life, however, because she adds an unjustified level of smugness to her asshattery. "You know what, I'll just have one of these" she titters, leaving her friend to consume her 400 calories- 400 hot, delicious calories- over the next very satisfying ten minutes or so. Which is about nine minutes longer than her disgustingly bony, idiot companion will be "enjoying" her crummy little cup of yogurt.

Hey, stupid skinny woman- here's why Yoplait has hardly any calories: it has hardly any mass. It has virtually no taste. It certainly won't give you anything resembling a feeling of fullness. (Full disclosure: I actually eat a lot of yogurt, but it's always topped with whole grain cereal. I like the calcium, but don't care for milk. See how fascinating I am?) Oh, and it's nothing resembling a decent substitute for a high-calorie drink, I don't care WHAT this Even Dumber Than Usual ad is trying to tell me.

Oh, and here's another little tip, Miss Pretension, just in case you aren't picking out that yogurt just to show up your friend: If you are going to eat yogurt, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense to choose a coffee shop as the place to buy it. Ever check out the price of a bottle of water or a bagel at a Starbucks?

Proof Positive that all Sitcom Creators are Males

Wow, who says that there's nothing fresh and different on television anymore?

I mean, take a look at this new sitcom "starring" Rob Schneider- you know, that guy who was on SNL several decades ago, perfecting a character who worked in an office dropping catch-phrases right and left ("makin' copies! Copyreeno! The Copylator!" etc. etc.) Somehow Schneider managed to parlay this "talent" into a bit role in Unnecessary Roughness. How good was Unnecessary Roughness? Well, it "starred" Scott Bakula, Hector Elizondo, Sinbad, and Kathy Ireland. 'Nuff said?

This delightfully Outside-The-Box Fun For The Whole Family gift from TV land features Schneider recently married to- get this- a MEXICAN. Oh, and not just any Mexican- a really hot Mexican. Now there's a delightfully quirky new concept- a very average looking, rather dithering and often clueless guy married to a smart, beautiful woman. We've never seen that before. I mean, except for when Bob Newhart was paired with Suzanne Pleshette. Or Courtney Thorne-Smith appeared as Jim Belushi's wife. Or when we were treated to Michael Gross married to Meridith Baxter Birney. But that's it.

Oh wait, there's also the Leah Remini-Kevin James pairing. And Megyn Price matched with Donal Logue. And Jamie Gertz mysteriously ending up with Mark Addy.

Come to think of it, this isn't fresh at all. In fact, it's the most overused cliche in the history of situation comedies. But there is a bit of a twist here- because Schneider's hot wife is a Mexican, there's endless opportunity for "funny" misunderstandings, racial slurs, hurt feelings- you name it. Get the popcorn and settle down on the couch with your family, this should be a lot of fun.

Or maybe it will just be redundant, played, Been There Done That Fill In the Blank Junk from whatever computer spits out the "ideas" for crap like this. Junk with all the freshness of last year's yogurt or that chunk of bagel you found under the passenger seat this morning. With all the flavor and excitement of a box of instant potatoes. Junk that leaves anyone with two brain cells to rub together and an ounce of taste asking "haven't I already seen this show- many, many times? Hasn't this show been on for as long as television has been in existence? Why would I watch this?"

I can think of only two reasons why ANYBODY would tune into this rehashed, rewarmed, hackneyed cow pie of dumb. First, if you are a single guy who likes to watch gorgeous women not only tolerate, but actually adore, incredibly average looking dumbass males. Second....well, come to think of it, there is no second reason. Because I can't bring myself to imagine that there are actually Rob Schneider fans out there. Not after Unnecessary Roughness.

"Hey, I had a bagel with seeds in it last week! What do you want from me?"

Ugh, I don't know what's more obnoxious here- the fact that this is Yet Another Episode of the longest-running show on television, My Husband Is A Clueless Jackass Who Would Be Dead If He Hadn't Married Me, or that it's also Yet Another This Thing Has Some Fiber Therefore It's Good For You commercial which feeds on the myth that there's a magic bullet to good health. Let's call it a tie.

Doofus Moron Hubby whines like an eight-year old at the very suggestion that maybe he should eat something that has more fiber than a bowl of chocolate pudding. He grimaces at the broccoli and asks his Mom--errr, wife-- if he should just "eat the bag." (My suggestion: Yes. Eat the bag. But please, soak it in gasoline first. Come on, I dare you.)

Long-suffering but What The Hell He Makes Six Digits And The Clock Was Ticking Mom---errr, Wife, fascinated with the ingredient panel of the box of sugar-infused dirt in her hand, is perfectly willing for the Doofus Moron She Shares The House With to believe that she's a hypocrite because she's eating aforementioned sugar-infused dirt.

And here's where the ad really jumps the shark. Designated Male Moron thinks that this stick of nuts and granola held together by honey, drenched in chocolate syrup and sprinkled with chocolate chips, is a candy bar. Never mind that it doesn't look like any candy bar I've ever seen. And he seems to continue to think it's a candy bar after taking a bite. Never mind that if this thing is a candy bar, it's the most god-awful tasting candy bar imaginable.

Ok, I'll give the guy a little credit here- if your choice when trying to classify this thing is to either call it a candy bar or an intelligent part of a high-fiber diet, I have to go with candy bar. It's chocolate and sugar- LOTS of sugar. It has slightly more fiber than a Milky Way. As part of a plan to put more fiber in your diet, well...let's just say there are many, many more effective ways to accomplish that than chowing down on these calorie-dense sweets.

Sorry, lady, but you lose this one. I think that makes the score You 11,000, Him 1. I wouldn't call this a sign of an impending comeback. Just a tiny glimmer of hope.

Please let this turn into "Deliverance II- This Time, You Root for the Hillbillies"

Sometimes I think that I could very easily create a spin-off blog which deals exclusively with these "Man Up" (or "Man Card")-themed beer commercials, they are so damned insulting. They are also all exactly the same- only the scenery and the actors change. The story in each are identical- three guys drink Miller Lite, one guy does not, Outsider gets trashed by his Miller Lite-worshiping friends, who have so completely wrapped their "manliness" in their choice of Lite Beer (I will NEVER be able to get my head wrapped around that one) that they proceed to humiliate, belittle and intimidate the "friend" who refuses to go along.

In this particular ad, The Guys are off hiking or camping or rock-climbing or something. I've never gone rock-climbing, but I've done a lot of hiking and camping, and it's never even occurred to me to bring beer along. Any kind of beer. In any kind of container.

Come to think of it, it's never occurred to me that a weekend of hiking, rock climbing and camping with three scruffy jackasses with a fixation on Lite Beer and being Manly would be anything approaching fun. If the guy with the rolling backpack is willing to put up with this kind of shit, just imagine what his home life is like.

Somehow this all ends with The Guys sitting way too close to each other around a campfire, still giggling about the rolling backpack, which mysteriously goes flying down the side of a mountain. Right in front of them. I don't know how this happened- is there a fifth Guy up there who, upon seeing the rolling backpack filled with offending beer, decided to destroy it? Did it's owner leave it on the top of the mountain? Did the bag just decide it could not deal with the humiliation of being owned by someone who would hang around with assholes like this and commit suicide? Whatever, it's All So Hilarious to the jerkwad friends. And to the cheering section over at YouTube, which was nice enough to stop shoveling Chicken McNuggets into it's face long enough to post missives on how much it loves this ad.

Can someone explain to me why anyone would take cues on "Manliness" from these choads? Since when did "Manliness" depend on being a rude, watered-down-beer-swilling prick? Oh yeah- since beer commercials first started to appear on television. Sorry I forgot- I guess that will cost me a point on my "Man Card." WTF-ever, Miller Lite.

Kay Jewelers (and Tide) would like to have a word with you, young woman!

We've identified a subject for assimilation.

Who do you think you are? A GUY? Buying ropes and boots and climbing rocks instead of changing diapers and bundling the Miracles into the minivan for soccer/swim/dance class? Heading off for a vacation with your boyfriend instead of rolling a cart around the local supermart looking for the Pedisure and the Indian guy offering free samples of twigs held together by honey? Drooling over climbing equipment instead of chocolate diamonds?

You, lady, are the reason the birth rate has been dropping in this country since the 1960s. You and women like you, who insist on pretending that there's more out there than the house in the suburbs and the next meal and the next Miracle. For shame.

On the other hand, you aren't a hopeless case. You've got the "use your credit card constantly in order to build up 'Rewards Points' and then use those points on something wasteful and stupid" thing down cold (remember those "you can donate your points to charity" ads that came out a while back? I can- just barely- because I don't see them anymore. Didn't test well, I guess.)

But enough is enough. When you are finished posing on the top of your rock (how much did the guy in the helicopter with the attached camera cost?) get yourself to Jerad or Kay and tell that man of yours that the game is up, it's time to fork out for another kind of rock- the kind that sits on your finger and announces to the world that you've earned your MRS degree. And get to work on those Miracles. We're counting on you.

Speaking of Tools....

This commercial falls into the category of "A little knowledge in the hands of a drooling moron is a dangerous thing." Someone over at Crappy Ads R Us got a hold of a Biology 101 textbook and found some stuff about Homo Sapiens being separated from the "lower animals" (kind of hard to call them that, when they aren't the ones spending half their days texting LOL to each other) by "the tools we use." A very weak (maybe forty watt) light bulb when off in this guy's head, and ten minutes later he he had a very lame idea for a very lame commercial for a very unnecessary Minivan.

You see, "we got to the top of the food chain" by "using the right tool." It must be true, because it's bleated at us in a deadpan, matter-of-fact, professorial tone. The "right tool" may be a bungee cord, or it might be a flatbed truck. But if you don't use the right tool, expect to get "why don't you go back to walking on your knuckles" looks from the guy in the Dodge Caravan who thinks he understands that chapter in his kid's biology book.

By the way, we got to the top of the food chain because we knew what kind of tool to use? I suppose- we learned to use noise to make ourselves more threatening to bigger, stronger animals. We learned to sharpen sticks and shape rocks into knives, and we learned that hunting in packs was more efficient than hunting as individuals (but wild cats and dogs figured this out long before we did.) How did all this evolution lead us to the point where we are driving around in Minivans sneering at people who don't have access to our "tools?"

Can I tell you how much I hate ads which feature Big Strong Guys placidly explaining to us that There's One Way To Do Things, And This Is It, And If You Do It Any Other Way You Are A Loser Who Is Embarrassing Me? Who appointed this guy (or Dennis Leary, for that matter) as arbiter of Which Tools Are Proper For Which Truck?

I don't know which guy is supposed to be in charge of telling me what to do if I want to be a Real Man using the Right Tools for The Job, whatever the hell that means. I can tell you one thing, though- whoever he is, no matter how out of shape he is, no matter how unshaven he is or how serious he sounds as he narrates his thoughts, he isn't driving a candy-apple Dodge Caravan. Because that can't ever be the proper tool for any job. Chew on that, you mouthy, preachy, judgmental dick.