Let me see if I've got this right, Taco Bell

Taco Bell introduced some Dorito/Taco Hybrid thing in "just a few cities," cruelly denying it to classless, tasteless trailer trash who think this junk is worth eating.

Matt and his friends were so obsessed with shoveling this crap into their cake holes that they drove 900 miles in a 1970 Plymouth wagon to find a Taco Bell "restaurant" participating in this limited time offer. In keeping with the whole Retro mood of the advertisement, Matt and his friends didn't find the store using a talking GPS App on their Smart Phones- nope, they struggled with an old fashioned gas station map. Aww, these kids are such throwbacks, aren't they?

Let's hope that driving an ancient car and using laughably outdated navigation technology also allowed them to experience equally antiquated gas prices. I'm trying to imagine how much it would cost to haul this boat 900 miles at four bucks a gallon.

Or how many days it would take. Or why these loathsome slacker idiots have so much free time on their hands that they can devote a week to traveling halfway across the country to pick up a bag of greasy meat packaged in over-sized snack chips.

Coming next: Matt and his friends drive a 1969 Volkswagen Bus to Saskatchewan for half a dozen McRib sandwiches and St Patrick's Day milkshakes. Because they aren't available any closer to the suburb he and his fellow knobs currently occupy. Personally, I'd prefer that they undertake the journey in a Corvair. Step on the gas, kids- it's safe at any speed!

We've all encountered this woman, and mentally brained her with her own pocketbook

I recognize the woman in this ad.

That's not saying much, of course. I'm sure we all recognize her. In fact, anyone who has ever been to a grocery store recognizes this woman. We've all been behind her in line.

She's the Woman Who Isn't Quite Done Shopping But Is At The Cashier Anyway. She's decided to try to save some time by beginning the checkout process while an accomplice finds that One or Two or Six Last Few Things which will eventually join the rest of her pile on the conveyor belt. And if that person doesn't show up when the other stuff has been scanned and bagged? No problem- she'll just wait, glancing back and forth, standing on her toes for effect, shrugging at the cashier with an "I'm sure he'll be here any second now" look on her stupid face.

Here, the woman we all recognize has made the especially brilliant decision to use an eight-year old girl as her partner in crime. Daughter has helpfully been told to get some Yoplait. She's not given any specifics- just "one of each." Gee, that's nice- I'm sure Mommy expected this kid to handle every fricking cup of yogurt in the damned store looking for different flavors, leaving a delightful mess behind for the next customer (or a store employee*) to clean up. Mommy doesn't send Daughter with a basket, either- so Daughter has been told to come back with an armful of individual yogurt cups, each of a different flavor, and don't worry about dropping a few on the way (that's what aforementioned store employee is for, after all.)

I guess the "joke" here is that Mommy has no idea how many flavors Yoplait offers. As it turns out, we've moved beyond Strawberry, Strawberry-Banana, and Vanilla, and despite the fact that Mommy is a fan of Yoplait, she didn't even notice. I guess she figured Daughter would come back with three cups of yogurt and that would be that.

Mommy also figured that the people standing behind her would have absolutely no problem with her stunningly selfish, "my time is so much more important than your time" attitude. Maybe that's because Mommy is the only f--ing person in the whole f---ing universe, and TS for any of us who made the silly decision to finish shopping before getting on the f--ing line.

We all know this is going to end with Mommy either writing a check (and balancing her checkbook right there, while standing in front of the cashier) or picking change out of her purse- after remembering that oh yes, she has a coupon for Yoplait, somewhere in there.....

*I spent three years working in the dairy department of a Wegmans in Upstate New York. I know what kind of damage jackasses like this can do to stacks of yogurt without even trying- though I'm sure that when I was working, they were always trying. I hope those people are all dead now.

For the other 19 hours, I suggest Espresso and Red Bull

I guess it was inevitable that in a country drowning in high-fructose corn syrup, white flour and red meat-- a country that no longer believes in regular exercise that does not include shooting digital terrorists on a flat screen tv-- we'd see commercials encouraging us to swig two-ounce bottles of caffeine whenever we "hit the wall" during the work day.

"When do you take Five Hour Energy?" When I don't feel like staying in shape. When I eat crap which weighs me down and makes me tired. When I spike my blood sugar with candy, or the other stimulants- like that premium cup of coffee which has the same amount of caffeine that Five Hour Energy has- wears off.

When I want a quick fix to mask the fact that my diet is shot to hell, I'm being forced to work too damned hard, and I need to mask the symptoms of my body begging me to take it easy because The Boss can replace me in fifteen minutes flat if I try to sit down for a few moments from time to time.

What an awesome, Brave New World we live in. Don't worry about getting enough vitamins and fluids to keep yourself functioning properly. Don't worry about getting enough sleep. Just chug one of these little beauties whenever you need to push yourself just a little bit harder. I'm sure your body will thank you later.

And if it behaves as if you've done it some harm, I'm sure there's another two-gulp cure sitting on the same shelf down at 7-11, a store which used to specialize in heat lamp dogs and weak coffee but is now, apparently, set to be viewed as the pharmacy of the 21st century. Because it's all about Productivity and the Quick Fix, all the time. Down that little bottle of Whatever It Is. And get back to work.

Is this a commercial FOR or AGAINST DirectTV?

You're sitting at home, wasting your life looking for something good on television. Because you just have cable, there's basically never anything on worth watching, ever. And then it gets worse- your Nothing On Anyway cable goes out.

In despair, you pull your sorry ass off the couch and head down to the local watering hole. Somehow, having a few drinks in the company of fellow human beings instead of sitting all by yourself at home equates to being "up for anything." So now you transport your suddenly adventurous self off to a Turkish Bath (this is the most "adventurous" thing that the elderly Baptists who make commercials for DirectTV could think of.)

So far, I can't see any reason why you should be regretting your failure to get DirectTV. But I have faith. I'm sure it's coming.

At the Turkish Bath, you run into Charlie Sheen. And the next thing you know, you are such close buds that you find yourself back at Sheen's pad, re-enacting scenes from Platoon. Is this where you are supposed to wish you had DirectTV, because if your choice of television were better, you could have avoided all this and stayed at home?

Being Charlie Sheen's new best friend, I'm sure, totally sucks for you. Besides re-enacting scenes from his old movies, it probably involves meeting Sheen's glamorous friends, including a lot of hot girls. Well, you sure don't want that, do you? Better get DirectTV, and fast.

Message of this ad: If you don't have DirectTV, you might have to go outside. If you go outside, you might start having a life.

Don't start having a life.

Get DirectTV.

What am I missing here?

If it's Just for Men, what is that Baby doing there????

A scene re-enacted in every ad agency, all over the country: A group of idea-deficient writers huddle at a conference table to discuss the latest project, to produce a commercial which will fill 31 seconds of air time and convince Americans to buy whatever is being offered.

The first item brainstormed by the brilliant ad team: "Ok, how do we get a baby into this spot?"

Seriously, what the hell is going on here? Is it impossible to make a commercial which does not attempt to use babies or toddlers to sell products these days? It used to be that if you saw a baby in an advertisement, you knew immediately that the product must be....you know....somehow related to babies. Diapers. Body powder. Car seats. Creamed carrots in jars. Umm....

I guess that's about it. Babies don't need anything else, right?

Nowadays, we have babies selling us stock management services, Italian cars, insurance for those cars, and chemicals to remove gray from men's hair. And this one makes even less sense than most. Every other Just for Men commercial features the guy getting the girl (or the job) because he's successfully hidden the fact that he's ewww old by tinting his gray hair. Babies don't need to get the girl or the job- and they don't have gray hair to tint- so what the hell is this commercial all about? Ah, of course- it's all about digitally imposing a baby's head on an adult's body and making it do "funny" things that, with any luck, will distract you from noticing how nonsensical this all is.

It actually would be pretty funny- even clever- if I thought for a moment that this commercial was a piece of clever snark directed at the other companies which exploit parents eager to exploit their offspring by putting them into stupid situations for the benefit of eTrade, Fiat, Geico, etc. But I don't believe that. This looks more like piling on- "look, as long as babies don't have to actually relate to the product being offered, we can use them too, so here you are- a baby with a beard taking a hot woman out on the town, driving a sportscar. Now look, we can make him dance too! Sure it's creepy and weird and makes no sense, but who cares! It's a baby! Buy this!"

(BTW, is the concept of a hot woman attracted to a baby sporting a beard really any weirder than the concept of a hot woman attracted to Jim Belushi, Rob Schneider, or any of the Doofus Idiot Fat Guys Married To Beautiful, Smart Women sitcoms which pollute prime time television? Just a thought.)

Let's return to our opening scene. The first idea brainstormed is "Ok, how can we get a baby into this spot?" I want one of three things to happen next:

A) The head of the ad agency, listening in, responds "we can't. This is a product targeted toward men with graying hair. It's clear to me that you have no ideas, but just want to poach off of a current, intensely stupid, trend. You are fired."

B) The other ad men respond "you want to use a baby in this ad? Jeeesh, that is SO forty-two seconds ago! Let's think up something new, people!"

C) A comet crashes into the room, killing everyone in it. And somehow killing the guy who came up with the baby "idea" twice. The rest of the advertising world takes this as a sign, and swears off putting babies in non-baby related commercials forever.

The next day, the word is out on the street: "it's back to chimpanzees, people!"

I've got your "Italian" right here, Fiat

Yes, I'm one quarter Italian. But I was offended by this stupid eTrade Baby ripoff long before the kid pulls a modern version of "It's a Spicy Meata Ball" for no particular reason in the final scene.

First off, what's this "it was girls night out" crap? You know, nobody thinks to wonder why a WOMAN is hanging out with a child. But despite the fact that last time I checked it was the year 2012, the sight of a man with a baby still draws curious looks and a demand for an explanation. What the hell?

"Girls night out?" How nice. Mommy is taking a break from HER job- raising the kid I guess she had ALL BY HERSELF, so Daddy is "pitching in" by giving mom a "break" and making this huge sacrifice (chuckle, snort, boy he looks stupid, he must think he's a girl or something) by- get this- actually spending time with his own child! Mom's going to owe him for this, big time!

Second, this is some seriously reckless driving, considering the fact that there's a freaking BABY in the back seat. "We're going to miss the whole thing" is the "explanation" we are given for the fact that the driver is acting as if he's trying to qualify for the Indy 500. We hear the engine roar. We see this little piece of tin on wheels weave in and out of traffic. Well, why not- it's been clear that this isn't the driver's kid, after all.

Third- what's with the face on that old guy? Who looks at a baby like that? Even if he's ticked because he's been cut off by a Fiat being driven by a reckless doofus, shouldn't he be saving that angry glance for one of the ADULTS?

Oh wait, I get it- the old guy is puzzled to see a baby in the back seat of a car driven by two men. Probably thinks the kid must have been kidnapped or something. I mean, come on- a baby in the company of two men, and no women? What is that all about? That's like seeing a fish riding a bicycle, isn't it?

And finally, the LOL So Funny Never Gets Old Baby Acting Like an Adult moment, which is more like Baby Acting Like an Italian Stereotype Which I Thought Had Been Shown the Exit back in the 1970s. This gets eaten up by the knuckle-dragging glue-sniffers over at YouTube, but I don't see how it's the slightest bit funny. Let alone effective in getting me interested in owning a Fiat.

Thanks anyway, but I don't need to "get my Italian on" by purchasing a car from a company which thinks that equal parts sexism and bigotry are good ingredients in a commercial. I have to admit, though, that I can't imagine buying one of these ugly things under any circumstances, so you haven't really lost anything, Fiat. Except perhaps a modicum of self-respect. And a possible future lawsuit to eTrade.

Chevy runs deep- to reveal this family's emotional scars

Imagine being this guy's son. Dad's "Chevy was his baby, he loved it..." sure, people talk like that about their cars (or at least they did, when cars might have been worth treasuring.) But calling a car your "baby" that you "love"- that's just a figure of speech. Of course, a guy with a wife and family doesn't really "love" his car. He loves his wife, his children, and the life they have together.

Right?

Well, maybe not. This particular dad's love for his Chevy was so deep, so all-consuming, that when his kids became adults, they launched a five-year search for the very car he once had to part with (we aren't told why. Or maybe we are, and I just wasn't paying attention. I'm not paid to do this, you know.)

And when Never Quite Good Enough To Take The Place of a Fucking Car children finally locate Dad's God Damn Chevy Which Was Always More Important Than Our Baseball Games and deliver it to the aging patriarch, well...Dad's reaction is everything they could have hoped for. The guy actually breaks down. He's crying. He's holding his heart, like his fondest wish has been fulfilled. Deborah saying "I love you too" and "yes, I'll marry you?" That was ok. Birth of first child? Meh. Grandchildren? Whatever.

But present dad with his old Chevy- and the old guy crumbles into a teary, visibly moved and shaken bowl of jello. THIS is what occupied his every free moment until that horrible moment of parting, so many years back. And THIS is what is going to be filling what had once been a huge cavity in his heart from now on. Dad takes a few moments to tell his kids how much he's missed the Love of his Life, before heading off for a drive.

The sad, pathetic efforts of his children to earn a modicum of Dad's love has reached a new level here. In another scenario, they bitterly hunt down that Piece of Shit Chevy Dad Would Never Let Us Come Near Let Alone Drive, buy it, and have it crushed into a cube, earning a pat on the head from the family therapist. In another scenario, these kids would trace their lack of self-esteem and their inability to hold a relationship together to their emotionally absent dad and his Freaking Precious Why Don't You Just Marry It Already You Know You Love It More than You Ever Loved Mom car, and finally have it out with the stunted old idiot at the Christmas table when they simply can't deal with another telling of the How My Life Fell Apart The Day I Had To Sell That Car saga dad pulls out of his ass every holiday. Either one would make a better commercial than this weird pile of crud.