Unfunny Role Reversal by Vonage

The first time I saw this ad, I had the oddest feeling that something wasn't quite right with it. I didn't know why, but it left me feeling confused and a bit disoriented.*

So I watched it again to try to find what it was about this commercial which seemed off-kilter. It's not the appearance of the "dad" here- he looks appropriately scruffy, as if he just rolled out of bed a few moments ago and it's not one of the two days a week he shaves or combs his hair. It's not the "mom"- she's appropriately flat in her manner and speaks in the monotone usually reserved for harried women with two kids (one which has to be pampered, fed, and constantly catered to, and the other which wears diapers.)

At around the third viewing, I finally got it- in THIS ad, it's the GUY who seems genuinely taken with his offspring (even using that grating old "blessing" cliche.) He isn't distracted by the Big Game on the Big Screen, and he isn't juggling the kid and a phone conversation at the same time. He isn't bitching about the economic burden the "blessing" is putting on Mom and Dad. And he doesn't look as though the kid is in constant danger of being dropped or otherwise injured by Thoughtless, "What is this thing I'm carrying" doofus dad.

Now of course, dad is STILL the nitwit here- he seemed to miss the part where Mom pronounced judgement on the Phone-Cable "bundle" and instead quickly assumes that she's talking in dismissive, cruel, bloodless tones about their child. "My bundle? Isn't it OUR bundle?" Still, he seems to care and be genuinely concerned that Mom wants to "dump" the baby. In pretty much every other commercial featuring a Mom, a Dad, and a Baby, the guy would be blathering about expensive "bundles" while the woman wrapped her protective arms around the "blessing" and protested. But just the image of a loving dad is a step in the right direction, seems to me.

Now, if these two nitwits would stop referring to their baby as "the bundle," as if it's just another piece of freaking furniture, we'd really be getting somewhere.

*of course, the cause of my disorientation might be the simple fact that the baby's blanket, the towel on the mommy's shoulder, and the room's curtains all seem to be cut from the same cloth. Maybe the reason Dad doesn't put Baby down is because if he does, he may never be able to find him again.

"No, it's a death trap. Sign here, moron."

Ok, I get it- fifteen years ago, this jerk was a tow-headed dope who wanted a bike, but only if it was "fast." The guy at the bike shop told him "hey, it's ten speed," which may or may not have convinced him that the answer was "yes." Hard to say, considering that fifteen years ago there were plenty of 18-speed bikes out there. Maybe if the guy in the final scene looked closer to fifty than thirty, this part of the ad might have made a little more sense.

Then, ten years ago, a slightly older version of this twat we have absolutely no reason to care about wanted to buy a scooter (I guess he wasn't being beaten up regularly at school already.) He asks "is it fast?" This is a bit confusing- why would anyone interested in speed want to buy a scooter? Why not just buy a motorcycle? He also looks a little old to be taken in by a lightning bolt sticker- but then, this guy doesn't strike me as the sharpest tool in the shed...

The punchline is that now he's looking at a crappy German import and, knowing that a Jetta is about as close to the opposite of a sporty, fast vehicle one can get without going right over the edge and purchasing a SmartCar, he asks "is it safe?" Oh wait, it's not because his wallet won't let him buy a fast car- it's because he's managed to find someone to breed with, which now means he's Mature and Responsible, Yadda Yadda Yadda You Know The Rest Because God Knows You've Seen It A Million Times Already.

This doesn't make the question any more intelligent. How is the car salesman supposed to respond to "Is it safe?"

"Oh, you want a SAFE car? You are in the wrong place- these cars explode if you look at them wrong." Or how about

"Yeah, I get it. You got a girl to have sex with you, and now you have a kid. And you brought that kid in here in one of those stupid harness things. And now you are desperate to convince me that you are an awesome dad because you put safety first when choosing an automobile, PLUS you carry the thing around in one of those stupid harness things. You're a dad. I GET IT." Or maybe

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your question. I was too busy sniggering at that stupid harness thing." Or just

"What's with that angry look on your kid's face? I mean, did you go and tell him you are his dad, or something?"

Ahh, if only Dorian Gray had heard about this stuff....

The thought that there are people out there who will happily (read:desperately) shell out good, hard-earned money for this stuff doesn't dampen my thorough enjoyment of this commercial.

I really do love ads like this; commercials for products which are so obviously snake oil. Work at Home Millionaire, the Joy of House-Flipping, Beat the Stock Market, Pay off your Credit Cards at pennies on the Dollar, Beat the IRS at their Own Game- it's all good.

What makes commercials for exercise machines, acne products, weight-loss drugs and "Restoring Youth" creams especially delightful is the testimony of doctors which is always included; in this one, a guy we have never heard of (and will never hear of again) assures us that he would never "risk his reputation" endorsing this product if he wasn't sure he worked. Wow, that carries so much clout with me. I mean, check out that official-looking white jacket. He MUST be a doctor.

Not to mention that it makes SO MUCH SENSE that a company which has basically discovered the Fountain of Youth would announce the discovery on a commercial running during "The Secrets of the Knights Templar" on the Planet Green channel on a Sunday afternoon, rather than hold a press conference and turn the formula over to the Food and Drug Administration for evaluation. After all, what could they get out of approval of the FDA? Just access to every pharmacy in the United States, coverage from every major network and newspaper, and potentially billions in sales. Who needs that when you've got some doctor to give a five-second blurb promising to "stand behind" it's product?

Now, I myself have not aged in years. But I don't use this cream- I've taken the old-fashioned (though rather expensive) route of hiring a painter to capture my likeness on canvas, and then transferring my soul to the finished product. (It's not like I was using it anyway.) Sure, it's not a strategy endorsed by any doctors I know of. But it also doesn't involve rubbing stem cells on my face. I mean, that just sounds gross.

Our future heart transplant patients*

Children represent the future. Or at least, they represent the future of the pharmaceutical and avoidable illness and surgery industries. Just as long as we keep raising them to enjoy the pleasures of plastic "fruit" snacks, oil-infused potato and corn, soda, and fatty semi-dairy products like Kraft Cheese Slices.

Not to mention that all of these soon-to-be-obese, asthmatic, suffering from back pain children are contributing to America's wonderful landfills by pushing mom and dad to buy these individually wrapped squares of orange poison. The greatness of a nation is measured in the waistlines of it's youth and in the height of it's slowly-corroding garbage dumps, you know.

Yes, children are our future. And children who are taught at a very early age to find pleasure in eating crud like this mean a very fat, sick, unhealthy future indeed. A future filled with expensive medications if they are fortunate, even more expensive surgeries if they aren't. Surrounded by refuse which won't decay until great-grandchildren are enjoying their own generation's form of fun, tasty death.

*When I wrote up this post yesterday afternoon, it's original title was "I believe that children are our future." Events later in the evening convinced me that I ought to tweak it a bit or suffer the wrath of Whitney Houston fans. That being said, I'm sure not looking forward to a week or so of "let's remember why we switched the channel whenever one of her songs came on" salutes from XM Radio. However, if they drown out the hideous ads for Ozzy Osbourne's new show, all is forgiven.

Stupid, sexist soft porn from the Green Mountain State

Apparently there are only two types of women on this planet- the type that wants the Guy in their life to show his affection through the purchase of ancient chunks of pretty rock, and the type that wants that affection shown through the purchase of gigantic plush toys.

I'm not going to get into a whole discussion here about which type of woman is less mature than the other. Personally, I don't find being thrilled over a shiny pebble any more "adult" than flipping out over a fluffy package of mostly air. I'm not going to spend a lot of time here making the obvious comparison of this advertisement to commercials for Enzyte or K-Y Jelly, except to note that there isn't a trace of class or subtlety in any of them.

Instead, I'll just make two quick remarks about this repulsive, Not at All Romantic little crumb of a commercial. First, tell me that this enormous bear thing doesn't become a major hassle to own once the "thrill" of receiving it on Valentine's Day fades out. Where does one keep something like that? I wish the girl had responded by asking "Am I supposed to move to a two-bedroom apartment now so I have room for this?" I can see it's owner quickly ordering one of those vacuum storage bags things and using it to reduce her bear to the size of a waffle, and then slipping it into the closet next to the SodaStream Mr. Thoughtful picked up for her last year.

Second- do the Males who give these things just have a problem with showing affection? Because it seems to me that giving the woman you love one of these monstrosities is a passive declaration that "I really don't like hugging you, and I'm sick of your constant demands for physical contact, so here, hug on this instead?" Why would any normal guy want to provide a "fun" alternative for his Significant Other to shower hugs and kisses on? (By the end of the ad, that woman sure seems taken with her bear, doesn't she? And where's the guy? Back with his buddies in front of the big screen, playing Worlds of Warcraft, mission accomplished?)

You think DEPRESSION hurts? Try Cymbalta!

First- Sadness? Loss of Interest? Anxiety? These are the symptoms of Depression? Jeesh, who ISN'T depressed?

Second- I have seen a lot of commercials for anti-Depressant medications, but this is the first one I've ever seen which lists "yellowing of eyes" as a possible side effect. Suicidal thoughts? Check. Insomnia? Check. Bleeding out like a stuck pig? Check. But yellowing of eyes? Sorry, that's the deal breaker for me. My eyes are my meal ticket!

They are also the windows to my soul. I can't have those windows anything but rich brown- so I guess I'll have to stay depressed. I don't even have to ask my doctor of Cymbalta is Right for Me. Ulcers, severe stomach cramps, deafness, vomiting, paranoia, delusions, hallucinations, sudden irrational fear of sock puppets- I can learn to adjust to pretty much anything. But leave my eyes alone, Cymbalta!

By the way, I see that Cymbalta isn't recommended for Children under 18. What do children over 18 look like? Let me guess- they spend most of their time texting, downloading the newest version of Angry Birds and playing Call of Duty in their basements, right?

Zales shows us how to deal with a restraining order

"Must not come within one hundred yards, huh? Well, that's NOT going to prevent me from proposing marriage in an amazingly stupid, childish, cloyingly insulting way!"

"First, I know where you live because after all I've been following you home for months now. And I know the building across the alley from yours almost as well- God Knows I've used the fire escape enough times to get to the roof and find exactly the right angle to keep an eye on you as you sleep (I love you so much, I can't bear the thought of anything ever happening to you!")

"And when I climbed on to your ledge to attach one end of this string, I wasn't technically in violation of the judge's instructions, because you weren't home at the time (where were you? You might as well tell me, I'm going to find out!)"

"And when you FINALLY wake up (not that I minded staring at you as you slept for hours and hours- not the first time you've made me wait, but this time I'm not ducking behind the chimney when you look out your window) you'll see me on the roof. This time, you won't scream and reach for the phone in that adorable way you usually do, because now I'm ready to meet your price. Here's a big rock for you, plus evidence that there's plenty of money where that came from, since I am clearly not at all concerned that the string might break and the ring might fall into the street and be lost."

"No, I'm quite certain that the moment you see this ring, I will no longer be the stalker you fear and pretend not to love. Once you put it on, you'll recognize me as the man of your dreams. And you'll tear up that piece of paper you foolishly got the authorities to write up when you didn't understand that I am your destiny, and this was Meant To Be."

Thank you again, Zales, for showing us the true meaning of Love. Sick.

(BTW: Anyone else think that this whole ring-on-a-string bit is just a little too similar to the idea of baiting a hook? Anyone else more than a little put off with the continued use of the "women are for sale, and can be purchased with the right rock" message that permeates every. Single. Ad. for jewelry? Or is it just me?)