Just a few questions, Weather Channel

1.  When did you decide that being the channel of choice for seniors and shut-ins who just want inoffensive, non-threatening music in the background while they get Weather On the Eights every- well, eight minutes-just wasn't good enough for you?

2.  What the HELL does "Pyros" have to do with the weather?  I almost don't even want you to try to answer this question, because I can only imagine the twisted, insane logic your spokesperson would use to try to justify this crud.  Fireworks?  Detonation switches?  Big explosions and colors and hicks moaning "oooooohhhh" and "ahhhhhh?"  This is Weather?  Really?

3.  How on earth did you pry this junk out of the hands of the History Channel?  Because it looks right up their alley.  And I bet that their spokeschoads could make a better case for sticking this in between Axe Men and Ice Road Truckers (as a break from the usual Ancient Aliens and American Pickers marathons) than the Weather Channel could for running this crud when all we want is to know whether we need to bring an umbrella to work tomorrow.

So The Weather Channel is going the way of the History Channel, MTV, and all of the other niche market providers who have decided that their original mission statements needed to be tweaked.  For our benefit, of course.

Which leaves us stuck waiting until the latest Not Weather show on The Weather Channel wraps up, so we can get a report on.....the weather.  Oh, it's coming- but only after we watch Stuff Blowing Up.  Thanks for nothing.

Google: the perfect choice for forgetful, self-important shmucks

Jeesh, I really hate this guy.

The week he brought his ugly spawn home from the hospital, he took "about a million pictures" of it.  First, you can't hold a baby and take pictures of the thing at the same time.  Which means he was spending a lot of time holding up his phone and snapping pictures and not a whole lot of time actually interacting with his kid.

In other words, this dumbass's definition of "being a father" is a lot different than mine.  And when he says he "never liked anything so much as being a father," I can only assume that he means that he never enjoyed taking photos with his phone so much until he was able to take photos of this little mammal that came out of his wife.

When Dickwad was done "taking about a million pictures" of this kid's face, fist, wrinkled feet, etc. (because you can't get enough of those, can you?)*  he left his phone in the back seat of a taxi.  Which means that for a few minutes, he thought that he left his "million" pictures of his kid in that back seat too.

Except......he continues his yawn-inducing narrative with "I've lost about a million phones," and at this point, what I've lost is any confidence that this guy understands the concept of the term "million."  He's taken a million pictures.  He's lost a million phones.  I'm guessing now that to this dope, the word "million" actually translates to "three."  Which actually makes his obsessive photo-taking a bit easier to take.  Maybe he's shot THREE pictures of his kid.  That, I can understand.

Anyway, the "happy ending" comes when he, and we, learn that the million or three photos doofus took of his ugly little offspring are safe and sound and stored away by Google.   Anyone else find it a tad alarming that when you use this phone, all of the stupid, spur of the moment photos you take are tucked away in some virtual vault, courtesy of Google?  That all of those photos you looked at the next day, realized that you should not have taken, and quickly deleted are still available- probably forever and ever- in the Cloud (if that's not a trademarked term?)  Oh sure, maybe you can go into Google and delete them- or maybe you can't.  Maybe you just think you can.

Not that anyone's ever going to steal the pictures this guy took of his baby.  I mean, who would want to?  After all....

*It's just a baby, and it looks just like every other baby out there.  Don't even try to convince me that it isn't virtually identical to every other white baby on the planet of the same age.  Might as well try to convince me that it's a Miracle.  And we all know that's not about to happen.

(By the way, the narrative style of this commercial really irked me.  I don't know who this guy is.  I don't care what he thinks is important, or how he found himself living a life in which he finds very little to care about.  He sounds depressed to me, but why should I care?  And why should I care about how many photos he took of his kid or how special he thinks being a father is now or how many times he's lost his phone?  What was I supposed to get out of this?)

Pepsi's latest uses spousal abuse to sell soda. Classy.

A lot of people are posting all over the internet comments about this commercial, accusing it of exhibiting a certain level of racism.  I can understand why- if you think that black women are routinely portrayed as possessive, aggressive, controlling jerks determined to frighten their spouses into absolute obedience, I totally get why you'd think this commercial just screams Racism.

Personally, I'm too busy being stunned at the Sexism to notice the Racism.  When I first saw this ad, I honestly didn't even notice the race of the couple with the horribly disfunctional "relationship."  What I did see is a woman being an absolute tyrant and a guy cowering like a beaten  dog in her presence, even to the point of hiding in the freaking bathtub in the hopes of enjoying a burger without wife/mom giving him a beating.

I also noticed that the abuse goes beyond the psychological.   The guy in this commercial is legitimately afraid of suffering actual physical harm from this woman- and in the "hilarious" conclusion, we see that his fear is completely justified.  We also see that the woman's repeated terrorizing of her boyfriend/husband/little boy is not out of concern for his health- when he has the temerity to politely smile at a cute girl, she attempts to damage his skull with a Pepsi can.  She throws the can so hard that she takes out the cute girl, knocking her to the pavement.  I can only imagine that the last few words uttered in this ad are lost to the hoots and applause of the glue-sniffers who think this kind of crap is even remotely funny.

Can we for a moment just try to imagine an advertisement in which the roles are reversed?  Imagine if you will a commercial in which a woman cowers in terror from her husband as she attempts to consume something that has slightly more calories than a plain rice cake- and when she's caught, he looks for all the world like he's going to slap her around (for her own good, of course.)  There's no WAY this version shows up on television.  Maybe in the 1950s and 60s, but not now.  Not a chance.  And that's a good thing.

Here's what's NOT a good thing- that this kind of noxious crud is not only acceptable, but on some level FUNNY, to ANYBODY.   Psychological abuse isn't funny.  Physical abuse isn't funny.  And people getting hurt- not funny at all.

Hey, Pepsi- Sleeping With The Enemy was not a comedy.  Glad I could help.

And what do we fill Corrals with? These hicks certainly fit the bill

"It makes me feel like a kid again."  Well, you've certainly retained the same IQ score, haven't you?

"This must be one of those Golden Corral things..." yeah, that's a good guess- showy, cheap non-food inbred troglodytes like you are encouraged to ruin your appetite on instead of consuming the meatloaf, mac n' cheese, fried chicken and grade-B "steak" (which is also showy, cheap non-food, so I'm not quite sure what my point is here.)  Sounds like Golden Corral to me, too.

Seriously- are Golden Corral commercials SUPPOSED to be funny?  Each and every one of them features easily entertained High School dropouts and their drooling, idiot spawn who like nothing better than to spend an evening filling their plates with warm junk that's already been picked over by hicks who got there first.   And last year, this All You Can Scarf feed pen introduced the "jaw dropping" chocolate "Wonderfall"- an endless river of Hershey syrup the fat yokels are encouraged to stick marshmallows, fruit and macaroons into instead of filling their plates with greasy junk for a fourth time.   Apparently the CEO of Golden Corral decided that this thing wasn't saving his company quite enough money, so now America's Favorite Slop Trough has added a cotton candy machine- something else for the (literally) unwashed masses to stick their hands in and consume instead of meat, potatoes and assorted white flour carbs.  Very appetizing.

Personally, if I were the guy picking up the bill for the herd enjoying (snigger) a night out at GC, I'd be pretty damned angry if my guests were spending all their time consuming chocolate-drenched cookies and cotton candy at $10 a plate.  Then again, what would I be doing bringing people I care about to this place to begin with? 

And so we leave these fat, ignorant, tasteless examples of America at it's Best to gaze in wonder at the chocolate syrup and the Just Stick Your Hand In There With Everyone Else cotton candy machine.  Go to it, loathsome knuckle-dragging bottom-feeders.   Sure, your eating habits are appalling and you are setting a horrible example for your children and you're putting a tremendous strain on the health care system.  But at least you are finding a way to keep amused as the world falls apart without f--ing around with your cell phones.  That's something, anyway.

I suspect that the wink is an "only kidding" disclaimer. Am I right, PC Matic?

There are about a dozen "different" ads for this BS PC "protection" program called "PCMatic."  I'm willing to bet good money that the product being sold is remarkably similar to CleanMyPC.com, FinallyFast.com, and all the other phony Anti Their Virus, Pro Our Virus downloads being offered on Cheap TV.

In this one, blithering moron daughter is clearly being paid a certain amount of money every time she manages to say "PCMatic.com."  Seriously, she jams it into pretty much every other sentence.  She knows everything there is to know about the product- how to get it, what it costs, and what it promises to do (except, she doesn't say it promises to do all this stuff, but that it DOES.)  Dad is equal parts clueless about his computer and unjustifiably angry at the "kid" at the "computer store" who loaded his actual, non-BS virus protection (more about this later.)

Dad's certainly a dunce here, and it's hard to get a handle on his level of computer efficacy.  He's dumb enough to be quickly talked into buying and installing a Fly by Night anti-virus program instead of just going back to "that kid" who probably sold him a warranty too.  But he's hip enough to have a Facebook page.  Then again, his Facebook name is "Gramps27."  So let's leave dad alone for now and get back to Idiot Daughter.

Slobbering, scary-eyed daughter chirps manically about this amazing "new" program that finds viruses which are not there and then installs new viruses sponsored by PCMatic.com.  Ok, she doesn't actually say any of that- that would be too honest.  Which makes us wonder what she's got against Dad.   Because while she's babbling away like a wind up toy she's also downloading a world of hurt on to poor Dad's laptop.  I'm sure he'll thank you later, honey- that is, if he decides to  blame all the PC issues you've just handed him on "that kid at the computer store."

The commercial ends with Dad rushing off to the "computer store," presumably to tear "that kid" a new one over his ridiculous insistence on installing Norton Anti-Virus protection instead of REAL security like PCMatic.com.   Which means that Dad is about to become the laughingstock of the "computer store"- that is, after "that kid" and his coworkers quietly explain that Daughter has just voided the warranty on Dad's PC.   And after they quietly offer to clean the mess PCMatic has just left all over Dad's computer- for a price.

And now I'll sit back and wait for some spokesperson from PCMatic.com to accuse me of exercising my First Amendment Rights.   They hate when that happens.

(BTW, Happy Father's Day to all the real dads out there.  Count the fact that this woman is not your daughter among your blessings.)

You used to try to imagine what kind of dope would buy something from the SkyMall magazine

First part of this commercial is distressingly familiar- upon announcement that the flight's departure will be delayed, everyone on the plane whips out their cell phones. 

Actually, let me take that back- this isn't familiar at all.  The plane is sitting on the ground.  The passengers have not been asked four times to turn off their phones.  Yet, not one of them were yakking or texting away when the announcement concerning the delay came over the intercom.  That's unfamiliar and weird- until we realize that all of the passengers on this particular flight are AARP members.

What the hell?  Why is everyone on the plane an old person?  Suddenly I'm deeply concerned- how many restrooms are on this plane?  Shouldn't they all be lining up now?  And shouldn't the stewardess immediately begin offering the free beverages?  Unless the flight is six hours long, she's not going to have time to get to all the seniors, who will each demand to hear the free drink menu four times before making a decision.

Anyway, they all open their quaint, No Bells or Whistles phones the moment they learn that the plane won't be taking off right away.  Which means they all learn at the same time that nobody has been trying to reach them.  The four of them who know how to text also learn that they have no unread messages.  The other thirty-three are trying to remember how to check, or don't know that "texting" is an option.

One of these little busybodies immediately reaches out to the person across the aisle and chirps "what did we do before cell phones?"  Hmm....maybe what my parents do now- read books and magazines, start up conversations (which have nothing to do with cell phones,) nap?  You know, stuff that's still not a bad idea even now that we HAVE cell phones.

"Two tin cans and a string" is the "comical" response from one curmudgeon.  Oh, really?  There was nothing between tin cans and a string and a cell phone for this guy?  So he was  in a coma from 1880 until the mid-1990s, huh?  But of course, he gets an appreciative chuckle.  I seriously can't wait to acquire my Old Person's Sense of Humor, so I can spend the day thinking every little bit of nonsense I hear that is not uttered by Dennis Miller is funny (Nobody lives to be THAT old.)

There's a few more seconds about how AARP helps dopey, blithering old people get access to cell phones so they can shout into them while sitting in planes, strolling through museums, blocking access to stuff I want at the grocery store, etc. etc. etc.  Making life so much better for everyone, don't you think?

Where IS this plane going, anyway? 

KFC invites us to pick our poison

As near as I can tell, this commercial features a grandfather and grandson who are perfectly willing to hurt each other in order to get the side dish they want to choke down alongside the Kentucky FRIED Chicken they expect to eat that night (I get the vibe that this is KFC Night for the family.  Which means eating fatty, life-shortening sludge is a regular event for these guys.)

Because it's TV, these idiots naturally live in a massive suburban palace, with 20-foot ceilings, which looks like it's regularly maintained by a six-person cleaning crew.  There's something Beverly Hillbilly-ish about seeing these tasteless jerks wrestle in the living room of a gleaming multi-million dollar castle, don't you think?  I get the feeling that if the commercial had continued another ten seconds, we would have seen this family using pool cues to pass pots of possum gravy around the billiard table.

All this "funny" angst is over whether the Free Side included with the overflowing bucket of chicken parts (which is Magic, in that the number of pieces in the bucket never goes down, no matter how many people we see eating this junk.)  Kid wants Mac' n Cheese.  Grampa wants mashed potatoes and gravy.  Billy Bob Thornton wants french fried potatoes with mustard-- oh, sorry, I'm thinking of something else.  Thornton doesn't actually make an appearance in this ad.  Good for him.

The "punchline" is that Stupid Kid and Fat Slob Grampa both get exactly what they want, because when you buy a bucket of KFC Dismembered Chicken, you get two free sides.  That's a good thing, because obviously the family living in this mansion can't possibly afford to spring for an extra side dish.  Whatever.

Here's what I really don't get- in the final scene, we see a bowl of green beans on the table.  Two quick questions-

1.  Since you get two free sides, and potatoes and mac 'n cheese are the two that were chosen, did the Mom and Dad who picked up the...err...."food" always include green beans with their order?  So they get a huge bucket of chicken, a side order of green beans- and then let either their male kid or Grampa pick the other side?  What kind of weird Control Issues do mom and dad have, anyway?

2.  Do people really order green beans with their bucket of oil-infused bird parts?  If so, isn't this kind of like ordering a Diet Pepsi to wash down your Buy One Get One Free Double-Down Sandwiches?   I mean, what's the point?  Who the hell do you think you are kidding, people?  Like the fat in the chicken isn't going to take one look at the limp nutritional value of the beans and laugh itself- and you- to death.