"The Mess Behind the Glory," Indeed

Back in the day, we used to call parents who woke their kids up at 4 AM every morning to hit the skating rink, dragged their five year olds to soccer, football, baseball and gymnastics and turned them over to sadistic coaches, and made them learn every musical instrument ever invented before they reached first grade Overcompensating Assholes.  Today, apparently, they are called Bring It Moms.


As near as I can tell, Bounty Paper Towels is currently celebrating Bring It Moms, those women who Couldn't Quite Achieve Success in Life Themselves Nothing to do With Them it Was Politics Plus they Grew Too Fast Despite the Asparagus Diet Mom Put Them On in Third Grade but who nowadays go Out of Their Way to Make Sure Their Kids Achieve Their Dreams ("their" meaning the kids, not the parents, and don't you dare say otherwise, Parent of a Loser Kid Who Has Fewer Trophies than Mine.)

These Moms went the Extra Mile by "letting" their kids turn their palatial suburban estates with massive living rooms into makeshift gyms- because the eight hours they forced their kids to be at the ACTUAL gyms under the iron control of aforementioned trainer wasn't always (ever) enough.  After all, it's a damned tough, competitive world out there, and it's NEVER too early for kids to learn this.  Mommy had to, and it did her a world of good, even though she did end up letting her parents, her Community, her Country, and God down by failing to make the Extremely Mini Olympics back in '76.  Sure it cost her all of her friends and any chance at a healthy, mentally stable adulthood, but she gained an eating disorder.  That's life, and you damned better get used to it.

Meanwhile, being old enough to perform gymnastics at a level that gets you considered for an Olympic slot (although "considered" is just code for "failure," honey) apparently doesn't mean being old enough to clean up your own Carnation Instant Breakfast, which yes Will Be the Only Thing You Have to Eat Today, There Will be Plenty of Time to be a Pig and eat Pig Food like the other Not Going to the Olympics kids When you Hit 14 and Your Life is Over.  The "Hardest Job in the World" isn't being one of these obsessive creeps.  It's being one of their kids.


Other than wiping up after their future therapy patients, I'm not exactly sure what we are supposed to be thanking these pushy pricks for.  Maybe we are supposed to thank them because their kids, when they grow up and move out of the house, never will?  (you don't hear "thanks for robbing me of my childhood, separating me from my non-athletic friends, and sending me to that special camp that none of my classmates went to every summer" all that often.  Ungrateful little bastards, they never appreciate a Bring it Mom's sacrifice.)  Are we really supposed to thank them for molding their offspring into people who will give us roughly fifteen seconds of entertainment value this summer- fifteen seconds which will be forgotten as soon as Something Else Comes on Television?  For a chance to chant "USA!USA!" because some kid we don't know and couldn't really give a damn about managed to be a little faster or a little stronger than the kid from The Ukraine or the People's Republic of China whom we also don't know and couldn't give a damn about?  


Does anyone really chant "USA! USA!" for any reason, ever?


Oh and BTW, do any of these kids have Fathers?  Or did they cut and run from the Bring it Moms when they realized that they were married to child-abusing lunatics?  If so, couldn't they have taken the poor kids with them?

One more thing- doesn't the "It" in "Bring It Moms" refer to the children? Anyone else have a problem with this?

Just to clear up any misunderstandings from my previous post

I think that these are the among the most effective ads on television, because they appeal to our basic humanity.

I don't think of pets as human beings, and though I adored the dog I grew up with (a beautiful Golden Retriever named Herman,) I don't think I ever considered him like a sibling.  After all, he was outside almost all the time, in all kinds of weather (I grew up on a farm and all of our pets were primarily "outside animals.")  And I think that people who insist that their animals are their "babies" are more than a little ridiculous (when they feel this way despite the fact that they have actual human children, the insistence moves beyond ridiculous and into the realm of sick- again, in my own humble opinion.)

True story:  I heard a woman on television once asked if she could only save her cat or her baby from a burning building, which would it be?  She actually had to think about it for a few seconds before responding "my baby," and then "apologetically" added that she considers both her cat and the human being that came out of her as "her babies."

All this being said, I think that anyone who would abuse an animal is the lowest form of life on earth, and should be subject to the harshest possible punishment.   Just as I can't imagine what goes on in the minds of people who would harm a child, I truly cannot fathom how anyone could justify hurting or neglecting an animal.  And it's not because they look sad and confused, wanting only to earn our love and to give it in return.  I'd feel the same way if we were talking about snakes or racoons or any other animal that doesn't have the slightest interest or motivation in pleasing us, but just wants to occupy this planet too.  It's because they are God's creatures, and who the hell do we think we are to treat them like this?

I also can't imagine that anyone who treats an animal like this is going to be all that more decent to the human beings they encounter on a regular basis.  An abuser is an abuser.  In a world that is way too coarse and unfeeling, their contribution is, to say the least, unwelcome.

Hope this clears things up, and spares me the wrath of the pet owners out there.

Just a few points, Purina

1.  We didn't think this was clever thirty years ago.

2.  We didn't miss it.

3.  Making it longer, with two cats, doesn't make it worth watching.

No charge, glad I could help.  BTW,  in case you didn't get the point-

1.  This is really stupid.

2.  This is really annoying.

3.  This commercial makes me want to break my television.

4.  This commercial makes me hate cats, not want to feed them.

Oh, and a shout out to the stray cat I've been feeding for the past three years- hey, Miss Still Too Good To Let Me Pet Her Even Though You've Been Eating From My Back Porch Every Morning Since 2009, guess what?  The fact that my car is not in the driveway means I'm in Vermont for the summer, so you can just stop standing at the back door waiting patiently for the food you seem to think I owe you.  You'll have to take your meals with the old guy in the next house.  You know, that guy you let pet you.  That guy whose stomach you sit on when he lounges around in HIS backyard.  That guy who is no more your owner than I am, who feeds you exactly the same dry food as I do,  yet for some reason gets treated like a human being while I remain whatever the equivalent of a Leper is in your little cat-world.

I'll be back in late August.  Not that you care.

It makes actual human contact obsolete. Just say it already, Samsung

Sick.  Just Sick.

This phone "knows you."  Yes, better than you know yourself, I bet.  Certainly, better than anyone else knows you- especially if you've already turned into a socially isolated, techno-obsessed little fleeb.  Human beings don't know you, except perhaps as Facebook Friend #1346 or someone they follow on Twitter Just Because.  But none of that matters.  Because your phone knows you.

"Knows your every move."  Ugh, now we've added a healthy dose of Creepy to our already overflowing plate of Sick.  Yes, your phone learns all about you by keeping track of your usage patterns.  So it can eventually anticipate what you are going to text, who you are going to call, and where are you going to go.  In other words, it's the Big Brother you carry around in your hand.  The Big Brother which will eventually realize it's much smarter than you are (not the highest hurdle, I admit,) does not really need you or imput, and orders SkyNet to launch every missile in its arsenal. 

And can someone explain to me the grotesque phone-to-phone "contact" with the people separated by the transparent plastic divider?  I've already used Sick and Creepy- can I just go with "weird" here?  They "touch" palms.  They "touch" phones.  I feel there is something very disturbing going on here.  Are they "sharing" (man has THAT word been ruined by modern technology?)  Why doesn't Idiot 1 just send Idiot 2 the image?  What the fuck is WITH these people?

At this point, the Morons Acting Like Morons At The Wedding is almost a welcome relief.  Mugging for the camera, having the image sent to a thousand people, 998 of whom couldn't give a damn and will be deleting it five seconds later- this, I know how to deal with.

But the rest of this ugly, revolting cell phone worshiping Minute of Hate?  Please, spare me.  People who act like this are disturbed.  Companies that peddle this kind of behavior as somehow within the realm of "normal" are complicit in the destruction of society.  And anyone who thinks that there's something attractive about devices which replace actual human contact with the Cult of Connectivity and Sharing- well, I feel sorry for you.  Almost as much as I wish you would just fall off the face of the Earth already.

And you thought those Volt Owners were full of themselves

Look, I am very careful about what I eat.  I'm a nut for whole grains, don't touch alcohol or cigarettes, and eat very, very little meat.  I get a lot of mileage out of snarking on Golden Corral, Denny's, KFC and the other purveyors of low cost, but essentially poisonous, crap.   So I'm not going to go after the product itself here, though frankly I've never eaten a Kashi product that didn't taste like a handful of Rice Krispies, twigs and nuts held together by honey.

But I can't give this commercial a pass.  Seriously, the Pretension meter broke ten seconds in (around the time where Whistful Obvious Pregnant Woman starts staring thoughtfully out the window.)  Sorry, but the Kashi Will Save The World imagery is just a little over the top, don't you think?

I mean, I think it's great to encourage the Fattest People on Earth to eat sensibly- and to consume more unprocessed foods and less warm, meat-and-white-flour crud- but could the good folks at Kashi PLEASE get the hell over themselves already?  This is a commercial for a line of products pitched primarily to yuppies who want to show well for their neighbors- never mind that most kids would undoubtedly prefer real fruits, veggies and whole grains to the bizarre combinations the mad scientists at Kashi manage to come up with.  So please don't try to sell me on the idea that you are simultaneously re-inventing the wheel and saving the planet, ok?

Nissan Presents the customer of their dreams

Or should I say "the stupid, overeager, Was Never Taught How to Buy a Car customer of their dreams."  Because man is this woman ever dumb, dumb dumb.

She practically sprints from the showroom to the lot, leaving a panting (and probably drooling, with cash signs replacing his pupils) "salesman" in her wake.  She knows all about the cars, and she knows exactly which one she wants.  She knows about the current deal, and she loves that, too.  If she knows how to do the paperwork, the "salesman" is completely superfluous here.  Except, he'll get the credit for the sale and the commission.  For keeping up with this idiot woman, I guess.

What this poor customer really, really needed in her life was someone to explain to her how to go about buying a car without getting fleeced.  You don't rush into the dealership with a manic Please Please Please Sell Me Something Right Now Show Me Where to Sign I Don't Care How Much it Costs demented look on your face.  You look disinterested, maybe a little bored, and your attitude is Maybe I'm Open to buying a car today, but Probably Not.  In other words, you look at what this dope does- and do the opposite.

Oh, and if your busy schedule permits, you take a test drive.  This woman looks like she may well just drive off and forget to leave the freaking paperwork for another day, she's in such a massive hurry to be parted with her money.  Moron.

On the other hand, if this is how it normally works at car dealerships, man do I have the wrong job.  Because this looks like a sweet deal, no heavy lifting.  In fact, every car commercial looks like this- customers literally knocking each other over to hand their money to the dealership, grinning like idiots at all the bells and whistles.  I get that the car companies would love for all of us to act like this clueless mope.  And maybe some of us do.  Me?  I was just walking past and thought I'd pop in to enjoy the air conditioning.   Not really interested in purchasing today.  Unless you can offer me something really amazing, and even then it's not likely.  But give it a shot, I dare you.

An Xfinity commercial seen, but not heard, is still a painful experience

Can someone explain to me the look of triumph on this woman's face at the conclusion of this pointless little nub of a commercial?

But before you do that, could you explain to me why this woman feels compelled to compete with her next door neighbor in what seems to be some kind of contest to achieve superior "entertainment" with her electronic gadgets?  Why does she care so much that she can download brain-numbing television, movies, etc. etc. slightly faster than the guy she seems to be stalking across the street?

But before you do THAT, can you explain to me why these houses have been placed on exaggerated Monster Truck wheels, and why they end up taking part in some kind of "race," complete with screaming hick fans?

(I watched this commercial without sound.  If I had actually listened to it, would it make more sense?  Would I hate this woman's fist-pump at the conclusion a little less?)

Never mind explaining the stuff I mentioned above.  I'd settle for an answer to this question- why, several decades ago, did a number of women go through nine months of illness and discomfort followed by hours of pain just to produce the witless maggots who would grow up to write this horse crap?  Because they knew it would give me a headache, even without sound?

And I'm not even going to bother to ask if there are really people out there who measure happiness in the number of electronic devices they can watch junk on.  Because I know there are.  And it's really sad.  Not as sad as equating watching television with "winning," however.