It's like Corona has a camera in my house!

This happens to me so often, I'm almost tempted to join one of those PeaPod programs and just have my groceries delivered to my door.

I mean, pretty much every time I go to the store, I'm stalked by gorgeous women who are irresistibly attracted to me- or, at least, attracted to that case of Corona I'm carrying around under my arm.  Naw, I'm sure it's me.

Of course, they may just be curious to know why I've decided to pick up the case of beer before moving on to the produce section; doesn't seem to make much sense to carry that case around with me when I'm still shopping, unless I expect a rush of beer drinkers with bad taste to strip the store of it's supply of Corona while I'm looking for Just the Right Melon.  Naw, I'm sure it's me.

Anyway, while I always walk into a store alone, I never, ever walk out that way.  Nope- every single time I run to the store for beer, I end up coming home with a leggy, hot brunette eager to use her Passport to join me on whatever trip I've won this month from Corona.  Almost makes the fact that I have to drink Corona worth it.   Almost.

The thing is, I didn't know that this was a common enough experience to use in an actual commercial.  I know that being stalked by hot girls in grocery stores who say "hi" to me as if they are delighted to meet me and my beer (Naw, I'm sure it's just me, and the beer is strictly incidental) as I'm walking out is an everyday occurrence in MY life, but I thought it was because I'm exceptionally hot, not to mention an awesome listener with a great sense of humor.  Not everyone fits that description.  So what's the deal?

Corona just decided one day to take a routine episode of my life and turn it into a commercial?  Without even asking me first?  Well, that's fine I guess- I'd just hate to see Lesser Guys get their hopes up and rush out to the store, thinking this might happen to them.  Because after all, They are not Me.

It's the end of the economy as we know it

Yes, this is EXACTLY what our debt-ridden, impulse-buying society needs: A way to use our credit card to buy ANYTHING, ANY TIME we want to.

Remember back in the old days (also known as "yesterday") when you actually needed money to buy stuff?  When you realized you hadn't brought enough cash with you, so you put off buying that soda you didn't really need anyway?  Or when you saved up that fifty bucks you owed a friend by skimping on movies and meals for a while?

Remember when you told your friend that hey, sorry, I don't have that fifty bucks right now, but catch me next payday, ok?

Well, those days are gone forever.  Next time you pull that "hey, I'm short of cash at the moment" BS, your "friend" will pull out his phone, insert a little box into the headphone jack, and demand that you pull out your credit or debit card.  No kidding.  As this dopey woman tells us (when she isn't lunging at the camera- really, what the hell is that all about?) this box thing "makes us all merchants."  Oh joy.

A few questions- first, where is all the wonderful information concerning the transactions made with this device stored?  Can I assume that a copy is available to the IRS, which will eventually come knocking to ask why I didn't pay tax on that $1 can of soda I bought from a "friend?"  Second, how hard is it for someone to intercept these transactions and collect credit card numbers through them?

Finally- how FUCKING STUPID ARE WE ANYWAY???  Do we REALLY need another gizmo which encourages us to spend money we don't have simply because it's EASY?   Exactly HOW MANY TIMES do we have to blow up the economy before we figure out that what we really need is a device that encourages us to SAVE  (but really, where's the money in that?)

I understand the temptation, but I'm in horror at the idea of people actually trying this

When I was 14, I got braces.  Back then, they seemed to come with the territory- you went to High School, you got your driver's permit, and you spent an afternoon in the chair of an overpaid sadist who took his sweet time attaching pieces of barbed wire to your teeth.  Barbed wire which broke into razor-sharp shards on occasion.  Shards which would hook on to your tongue and the side of your mouth.  Usually on Friday afternoons, so you'd have to wait more than two days to go in for what was euphemistically called an "adjustment."

When the braces worked "well," you just had the constant pain and the hassle of rubber bands which took forever to get on, but seemed to break within moments after being set in place.  You learned how to smile so the railroad tracks running across your teeth didn't show (not that you smiled very often, anyway.)  And you dreamed of the day when the damned things, which surely were popularized during the Spanish Inquisition, would finally be removed from your teeth.  For me, that day was almost four years after they were put on, and about a year before I left for college.  I can still remember rubbing my tongue along my teeth, and what a simple pleasure that was. 

I hated having braces (I've never met anyone who enjoyed the experience, and I'm sure I don't want to.)  But even when I was a kid, I understood that they were a necessary evil for me, and that Good Things come to those who wait.  Which is what really creeps me out about this commercial.  Braces have been part of the popular culture for quite some time; there's nothing mysterious about them or what they do.  So why would ANYONE believe that gaps between teeth is something that can be "fixed" with the application of a few tight rubber bands?

Is it the "well, it makes sense so it must be true" theory?  I mean, I get the concept- your teeth are too far apart.  So just apply a small band between two teeth, and over time the gap will be closed as the teeth are inexorably drawn together.  So simple, so easy to understand.

Except-- please.  Your teeth are resting on gums which are not made out of spongy pudding.   I know that pressure applied over YEARS will draw teeth together, because I lived it.  Two weeks?  Jeesh, why not claim it only takes two hours, so the image of blood flying from crushed gums as the teeth are forced together can be included in the cool graphics?

And I love the "OraBands come in two sizes" line- wow, two sizes, they MUST work.  Because teeth and gums and mouths only come in two sizes, right? 

It's one thing to get conned into believing that you can save money growing your own bananas or fixing your own flat tires- is anyone really going to risk their health and their looks because they think that thousands of dollars in oral surgery can be replaced by two $20 rubber bands?  I mean, they don't even come with Miracle Sunglasses or that stuff that removes the gunk from your headlights.

Just another day for Stepford Mom

Here's another "women exist to pop out kids, raise those kids, keep the house clean, and put dinner on the table for hubby" commercials we are subjected to pretty much every day of the year.  The frequency just seems to intensify around Mother's Day.   That's the day set aside to give Hubby an opportunity to thank Mommy for providing thousands of dollars in sex, child care and catering services by handing her a trinket and hoping she keeps on doing what she's doing- trading in any chance of a life of her own for the white picket fence, the big house and Hubby's last name.

The extra conceit in the "SuperMom" meme is that doing all this stuff in our mad world of traffic backups, supermarkets and SUVs requires some kind of extraordinary talent women should be lauded for demonstrating on a day to day basis.  Yeah, sure- you ladies are all modern Joan D'Arcs, martyred in the service of your husband and your kids.  You could be doing So Much More if you had taken another path, and we should be grateful you made the "sacrifice."  "We" being your husband and your kids, of course.  Because the rest of us- well, frankly, we just want you to stop digging for coupons and letting your idiot spawn f--k around with the scanner at the grocery store. 

Oh, and it would be nice if you could squeeze that monstrosity on wheels which you "need" now that you've "sacrificed" and successfully incubated a few offspring into ONE parking space instead of straddling two or three.  Only if it's not too inconvenient, of course- I don't want to get in the way of your Superhero-level agenda.

Every time I see one of these grinning idiots I just have to shake my head and wonder what the attraction is.  The guy found out what her price was, and paid it.  The girl sold herself cheap.  The kids came along for the ride.  The package included a minivan, a lot of diapers, a vacation here and there, and a few baubles that say "thanks for playing."

What I don't get is this: Who are these ads supposed to appeal to?  Pea-brained girls who are afraid of the Big Bad World and want nothing more than the shelter of a house provided by Somebody Else and to change their last names?  Guys who want to know what Middle Class Conformity Complete With Perpetually Delighted Wife and 2.5 children is going for these days?   Because it seems to me the tagline should simply be "Assimilate, Consume, Reproduce."  Is that all there is?

Oh yeah, and "here's a piece of rock.  That ought to shut you up until next holiday, SuperMommy."

Ford presents Overcompensation 101, the Suburban Poser Edition

Hey, look- it's another gang of Incredibly Masculine Men standing around a fricking mountain of a truck, trying to explain to us why they "need" a monstrosity like this, and ignoring the fact that pretty much no one else on the planet actually uses any vehicle to do one-tenth the stuff these guys seem to do on a regular basis.

For one thing, these manly men really love the chrome.  And the rims.  What any of this has to do with the utility of what looks like a six-ton monster with wheels (unless these guys are each four feet tall, MAN this thing is blatantly huge!) we aren't told.  I guess the message here is "ok, first the soft sell- this is why the truck will look great in your driveway.")

But the Men aren't ready to regale us with stories of constant heavy lifting, despite the fact that they were introduced as guys who "aren't afraid of hard work" (seriously, f-- you, Mr. Hooked-Thumbs Truck Pimp.)  Instead they continue with the soft sell, showing us the rear view camera (one of them says he wants the camera for "the next time my wife swears at me."  Later, another guy giggles that he saw his two friends "on the rear view camera" as they did something or another near the back of the truck.  I really don't want to know.)  The "Eco-Boost" (are we sure it's not "Ego Boost") technology is a big selling point, and no, I don't have the slightest idea why.  The voice-activated phone and music system scores big time with these guys, too. I'm still waiting for the "hard work" to get started, because I'm twenty seconds in and all I've learned so far is that this thing is shiny and has all the electronics of an Audi, which is another car I don't need to go heavily into debt for so I can show well for the neighbors.

Then we get "this thing tows my boat much better than my Silverado," which really gets the hate rising nicely.  Hey, that's awesome news, guy.  Really happy for you.  Still waiting for evidence that you guys "aren't afraid of hard work," unless we are supposed to buy that owning a f---ing boat is "hard work."

FINALLY, we get scenes of cement and appliances and all kinds of other Big, Heavy Things that Real Men spend their lives tossing into the backs of Big Rugged Trucks like this Ford F-150.  'Cause remember, these guys aren't afraid of Hard Work.  Especially when they can do it in a car with soft heated seats and more electronic bells and whistles than the freaking space shuttle.

In a slightly longer version of this ad, one of the guy wraps by saying "I get a lot of street cred with this sitting in my driveway."  I'm not kidding.  "Street Cred."  Because nothing yells "Credibility" louder than parking a truck which is larger than my apartment (and has a better sound system) in some lily white upper middle class neighborhood.   I'm irritated that I couldn't find that slightly longer version, because that was my favorite part of the commercial ("favorite part" meaning "part which really made me want to punch the speaker in the face.")  But I can't spend all day looking for the full version, after all- it's the weekend, which means that when I'm not grilling up 24-ounce steaks, guzzling the correct Light Beer and pumping Round Up on to the weeds sticking out of my cracked driveway, I'm tossing big bags of Something Dirty into the back of my pickup.  Stopping to hook my thumbs to my belt now and then, of course.   I've got things to do, you know.

(Of course, shaving isn't one of them.  I'm a suburban American male, after all.)

Maybe LifeLock would make more money just selling shredders?

I actually really like this commercial on several levels.  I like the way the guy sauntering into the bank to begin his master plan of breaking into someone else's account and stripping it of money can't decide whether he looks more threatening with his hoodie on or off.  I like the way the guard thinks he looks suspicious, but the thief is menacingly dismissive as he walks across the floor of a place which resembles no bank I've ever been in to pull off his Masterpiece of Crime  (I think the building is supposed to remind us of the US Treasury, or Fort Knox, or something.  It looks like Hollywood's version of a bank, circa 1940.)

And I love the little robot that comes swooping down to foil the Bad Guy's Evil Intentions.*  It comes complete with a rotating red light and the magical ability to bring down a set of iron bars to prevent the clueless teller from handing Bad Guy your hard-earned money.  If LifeLock actually provided a cool Super Hero Robot like that, I think I might ignore the fact that the founder of this "service" has had his own identity stolen several times and that LifeLock itself has been the target of multiple complaints and lawsuits.  Or maybe not.

And I really love that in another version of this ad, new subscribers are offered, free of charge, a shredding machine (retail value $29.95) with their paid membership.  Why do I love that?  Because for 99.99% of us, the shredding machine is pretty much all we'd ever need to protect our identities, which are most commonly stolen by dumpster divers who take advantage of people too stupid or lazy to tear up credit card offers and other sensitive material the idiots at VISA and AMEX insist on sending us through snail mail.  So we sign up for LifeLock, AND use our shredding machine, and like magic our identities are....umm....no longer stolen. Something like that.

So while I really do like this ad, Mr. LifeLock CEO, I'm not going to be signing up for your service for two reasons.  First, I don't have any money for a thief to steal.  Second, you don't offer that little robot with a paid subscription.  Just a paper shredder I can buy at any Staples without signing up for your phony "protection."  When you are ready to throw in the robot, get back to me.  Because seriously, he really does look pretty cool.

*Especially the way it taps its foot at Bad Guy.  I mean, how adorable is that?

And the highlight of the evening was...Taco Bell?

Except for the fact that this guy comes home alone, it seems like he's just wrapped up a very successful Saturday night.

He went to what I assume was an awesome concert featuring his favorite band, "Stab Hauler."  Is this a real band?  Wouldn't surprise me in the slightest.  The concert was such a wild time, his sunglasses were broken- and the fact that they were broken is just testimony to how great the evening was.  He got some girl to slip into one of those do-it-yourself photo booths with him and got a strip of pictures featuring- himself.  Seriously.  You can't even see the girl's face.   Oh well.

And to top it all off, at some point he hit Taco Bell and downed some junk which came with extra sauce, a pouch of which he brought home.  The fact that this stuff goes on to the table with the ticket stub and the glasses and the photos, and not in the trash can, suggests that the Taco Bell Drive Thru was an equally exciting part of the whole experience, to be remembered at least as much as the music of Stab Hauler and the incident which got his glasses broken and that girl whose back we can see in the photos. 

Personally, I think this commercial would have made a lot more sense if the last thing he took out of his pocket was an empty condom wrapper, but that's just me.  Maybe he's smiling because he's reminded that he didn't use this sauce and therefore can at least hold out the possibility of a full night's sleep which is not interrupted by a painful, agonizing heartburn.   Or maybe he really thinks that the Taco Bell visit was the highlight of the evening.  Which would at least explain why he's come back to his apartment alone, and why we don't get to see that girl's face.

"Stab Hauler?"  Really?