They needed the world to know: They are in Xanadu. With an Ultrabook.

Ok, when I first viewed this ridiculous mess, I actually thought that it was SO damned stupid, SO damned pretentious, SO overflowing with awfulness that it was immune from snark. But because I'm kind of a trooper who views every challenge that does not have anything to do with my job or making money as something worth tackling, I decided to watch it a couple of times and see what I could come up with.

 Here goes: This ad seems to be taking place during the Hollywood Version of the Middle Ages, when kings never took off their crowns and everyone wore glittering robes and lived in gigantic castles and bleated overwrought lines like High School students auditioning for the big spring production of "MacBeth." Or maybe "Braveheart." Except- they are all using laptops and projectors, while in the real Middle Ages any technology more advanced than a Zippo lighter would probably get you accused of witchcraft and burned at the stake. Anyway, King Vitamin is trying to explain some sales chart (why is the King doing this? Never mind) but the Not-Magical Internet Connection or processor speed or whatever is soooooo sloooowwwww that everyone is getting bored and frustrated. By "everyone" I mean the people in the commercial as well as we in the audience, who have already gotten the joke, dismissed it as very unfunny, and just want to know what Amazing Can't Do Without It piece of glowing junk we will ultimately be told to buy, if we are just a little more patient.

Wench walks in and announces the sales figures without even averting her eyes or asking permission to speak (better nip this in the bud, ye Lords, no telling what it could lead to in the- ahem, "future.") And here's where it gets really stupid (no, really- everything up to this point actually makes sense and is perfectly reasonable compared to what's coming next.) The "King" and his Merry Band of Sales Zombies-- errr, Knights of the Round Table-- are absolutely astonished by the "sorcery" displayed by the Fair Maiden's Ultrabook.

Because having 2011 technology in the 13th century is no big deal. But 2012 technology? BURN THE WITCH! For any of this to make even the slightest amount of sense, all of the people in this ad must be Renaissance Festival Organizers who have finally snapped after years of playing dress-up while traveling from town to town to juggle and wave plastic swords and be ogled at by the local yokels guzzling "mead" and eating giant turkey legs while enjoying the "Medieval Experience" (which apparently included plastic axe throwing, face-painting, and Shakespeare Scrum. Man, it must have been fun back then. Why would anyone give that up for something as iffy as "Progress?")

Audi poaches from Kraft, and the result is this crap

When in doubt, when completely out of ideas, no matter what you are trying to peddle, you can always go for the Cutesy Wittle Tot Looking Into the Camera and smothering us with her adorability as she innocently Gets it Wrong.

This time the guilty lazy party works for Audi. Cutesy Girl Who Apparently Failed the Kraft Mac' n Cheese Screen Test tells the camera that she has "proof that daddy is a Space Alien." Groan. Maybe it's because I'm not a parent, but...is this really endearing to anyone out there? Are there people watching who are getting a chuckle out of this because "my kid says stuff like that all the time" or "she reminds me of my little Brittany?" Am I the only one who finds this cloying and manipulative and about as subtle in it's sledge-hammer huggability as "Three Men and a Little Lady?"

Anyway, what really convinces Curly Sue that Daddy is a Space Alien is the fact that he drives a car with all these overcompensating bells and whistles. Daddy can order the sound system to play his favorite music. Daddy can demand directions without feeling smaller about it. Daddy can have his ass warmed by his seat and can multitask to his heart's content and, so far, manage to get Shirley Temple to Mom's house before visitation ends and the cops are called without being SO distracted that he wraps the spacecraft around a tree. Little Miss Dimples wraps this mess up by repeating that Dad's a Space Alien, because even though she's barely six she's been in enough cars to know that this stuff is not common equipment.

In other words, Mom got ripped off in the settlement and is driving around in a very un-spaceship like vehicle which actually has buttons she has to push to change the channel, how lame is that? I know it's a forlorn hope, but wouldn't it be great if ad agencies left these little moppets to peddle ice cream, Disney World and other products that kids actually might have a legitimate opinion about? Because maybe Daddy bought his Audi to impress his little girl- more likely, he bought it for the same reason everyone else who buys an Audi buys an Audi- because he COULD, and it was the best way to let the neighbors KNOW he could.*

No, Little Girl Who Is Not As Cute As You Think You Are, Daddy is not a space alien. He's just a guy with warped values and insecurity issues. If I were you, I'd be less impressed by Daddy's ride, and more concerned about your college fund.

*And if you think that's bad, I'd like to remind you that another round of Rich Young White People Who Live in Palaces Giving Each Other Lexuses for Christmas is right around the corner....

Another As Seen On TV Solution-- to a Problem I was Unaware Of

I've lived on this Earth for quite a few years (how many? None of your damn business!  Fewer than you'd guess, to look at me, I can promise you that!) but I have to confess, I've never heard of these things called "Skin Tags."  Did they used to be called something else?

I've seen a lot of naked people too (not as many as I'd like- but that's none of your business either!  I've got a full schedule, and I've been in a bit of a dry spell lately-- like since the 90s- but it could happen to anyone, so back off, ok?) but I've never seen one of these Skin Tag things, either.

So what's the deal?  Is "extra" skin a common problem I have somehow manage to avoid experiencing, seeing or even ever hearing of?  I'm a pretty worldly guy- how could something as simple and blatant as "Skin Tags" get past me?  Do I just need to get out more?

And if "Skin Tags" are so common, do I WANT to get out more?

By the way, is the endorsement from the American Homeopathic Institute For Not Actual Medicine or whatever that was Hysterical, or what?  I mean, that made the whole commercial worth viewing.  Well, almost.

Skin Tags.  Really?  Sigh.  Ok, I guess I really do need to mix more with my fellow humans.  When they aren't wearing clothes.  Next thing you know, I'll be seeing ads for Extra Elbow Removal Products, like that Digit-Off stuff Victoria Jackson used to peddle on a Saturday Night Live Parody commercial.  And everyone watching will know someone with the problem being addressed- except me.

(BTW- If "extra skin" is a genetic defect, why hasn't KFC managed to isolate the gene causing it, and inject it into it's chickens?  Because knowing my fellow Americans, I'm sure "Extra Skin" would be a huge selling point at everybody's favorite Buckets and Buckets of Fried Chicken Parts restaurant.)  

Bethel, Alaska: Where the population eagerly awaits the welcome balm of Death

I sure hope this ad is a put-on by our friends at Taco Bell.  PLEASE don't tell me that there is actually a town in Alaska which is SO pathetic and SO sad as Bethel is portrayed here.

Please don't tell me that the population of Bethel, Alaska is SO lacking in a reason to wake up in the morning that the rumor that a restaurant specializing in piling greasy hamburger and limp onions and lettuce on top of over-sized Doritos sends the whole freaking town into an ecstasy of anticipation.  Please don't tell me that when this balloon was punctured, the town collapsed into mass despair not felt since the county outlawed hunting moose from helicopter and Sarah Palin lost the Vice Presidency.

I  mean, there's no way this town's happiness could hang on such a slim thread- is there?  I lived in Buffalo for four years in the early-90s.  Except for my beautiful wife, there wasn't much in Buffalo.   There were bars, and bowling, and a football team that made the Super Bowl every year, but couldn't win it.  That's about it.  But I don't even remember if there was a Taco Bell around- if there was, I didn't notice.  If there was, it didn't make me happy or make life more worth living.  I guess I just don't get this.

Anyway, Taco Bell makes Everything Better for this town full of hopeless losers by delivering a load of disgusting non-food disguised as tacos, and the hicks naturally react with appreciative cheers and gorging.  Ugh.   Taco Bell gets a commercial, the townsfolk get to eat a lot of junk, and the town of Bethel, Alaska gets to be the laughing-stock of the civilized world.  Congratulations St. Cloud, Minnesota- you've finally managed to get out from under that--err, cloud-- you created for yourself when you decided to whore for Serta matresses.

Except- this didn't REALLY happen, did it?  Because if it did-- once the trucks filled with spicy, fatty crap have gone, what are the people of Bethel, Alaska going to do?  Erect a shrine to Taco Bell?  Sacrifice a virgin once a year to Bring the Tacos Back?  What?

Well, this century's version of "Humans," anyway.

It understands you.

It won't talk back (or, if it does, it will talk back in a voice you approve of, because you selected it.)

It won't question your motives, your ambitions, or your use of the very little time God gave you to be on this Earth.

It won't disappoint you (or, if it ever does, it won't complain about being turned in for an Upgrade.)

It's your friend.  When all of the people who used to be your friends got sick of your pathetic obsession with electronics and decided to hang out with actual human beings who would look up every once in a while.

It knows you.

It loves you.

It's your friend.

It's all you need. 

It's only Human.

And that this makes sense to some people is only very, very scary.

Today's Big Thing, Tomorrow's Lame, Out-of-Date Junk. Get used to it.

 

Once upon a time, cell phone commercials were aimed at people who did not already own cell phones- people like me, who were clinging to land lines like security blankets, and simply would not assimilate into the world of walking and talking and texting and talking and texting.

Those days are long, long gone.  For many years now, cell phone commercials have been aimed at people who ALREADY own cell phones, and are designed to convince these people that the phone they were told (by television commercials) was absolutely State of the Art and Uber-Awesome six months ago is now a retro, lame piece of crap that causes you to show badly to your friends and leaves you out of the "fun" that can be yours if only you Upgrade.

It's All About The Upgrade now.  By the time you get your new phone out of the box, there's another, slightly better model being put on display in the store you just left which renders yours Ok for Now but Just Slightly Behind the Curve.  This kind of thing- buying expensive technology which stays fresh only slightly longer than that quart of milk in the fridge- used to annoy people.  It wasn't all that long ago that a rather large population of idiots threw a hissy fit when Apple dropped the price of one of it's phones five minutes after that rather large population of idiots had handed the company their paychecks to Get It First.  I doubt that would happen today- more and more people seem to accept constant "Upgrades" as par for the course, even though it means that they are ALWAYS one step behind---well, somebody.

Of course, the makers of these things has the answer for you- just keep trading in your "old" phone for the Latest Thing.  Constantly.  Sure, it means Upgrade charges (that's the idea.)  Sure, it's just another spin on the hamster wheel called Keeping Up With The Herd.   Sure, it means landfills stuffed with "old" phones, seeping mercury into the aquifer.  But check out the slightly faster downloads, the slightly clearer screen, and the latest bell or whistle (they seem to be added One Upgrade at a Time.  They are on to their public- no more "big" changes, just tiny, subtle tweaks- more than enough, they've figured out.)

Or, just stick with your "old" phone- and be mocked by your Way Cooler Soon To Be Ex Friends.  Your choice.  Loser.

Last week, my little Nokia died.  I replaced it with something called an LG Expression.  I imagine that if I did a little research, I'd find that my new acquisition was the "It" phone for two weeks in February, 2011.  I'm not what Samsung or AT&T or Apple would call a Model Customer- but I'm getting there, right?

(Oh, and to this commercial- where is this woman hiding during the wedding and reception, where she's missing all this stuff?  Could she let me in on her trick, because whenever I have to attend one of these affairs, I'm always trying to find a place to hide until the whole horrible ordeal is over.

-Not to mention- is this what happens at receptions these days?  People take pictures nonstop and then look at them on their phones?

Oh, and-- "I get all my friends' pics as soon as they take them?"  This is something I should want?  Really?)

What does "Little" have to do with KFC, anyway?

First- the day some psychopath starts spitting chicken parts at me while giving some bullshit pep talk,  I get up and walk out.  I don't give a damn if you just bought me "lunch" (more about this in a minute.)  I don't get paid enough to have your greasy spittle showing down on me while I'm looking at this disgusting crap you just handed out.

It's called eating, swallowing, and then speaking.  Most of us learn this at the dinner table, before the age of six.  You, sir, are a pig.

Second- I actually can't believe that it took this long for KFC to come up with mini-sandwich called a "Chicken Little."  It seems so obvious, it's a wonder why it didn't make the original menu (then again, NO sandwich made the original menu, so maybe I shouldn't be all that surprised.)

Third- we all know damned well that thirty seconds after the brains at New Product Development came up with the idea of wrapping a tiny bit of pressed chicken parts held together by deep-fried batter and slapping it on a bun, the other brains at Corporate came up with the idea of Super-Sizing the "little" sandwiches.  I'm willing to bet that if I drive over to KFC right now, I'll find Chicken Little Value Meals- maybe 3-4 of these things and a gallon of soda for $5.99 or thereabouts.  Don't try to tell me that they actually expect the greasy flab brigade which makes KFC a part of it's regular routine is actually going to be popping in for one $1.29 mouthful of chicken hiding in a bun.  No WAY that's happening.   Like being "little?"  Don't eat at KFC.  Tossing down this crap might make your lifespan slightly smaller, but that's about it.

Meanwhile, this jackass could at least pass out umbrellas before he launches into his pathetic rant.  Pointy ones.  Because-- "little boy pants?"  Really?