Marie Callender's: The Best Reason to Get Out, Fast

Kids don't just grow up fast on a steady diet of Marie Callender's fat-and-salt-laden crap; they grow OUT fast, too.

And maybe they wouldn't grow up so fast if they weren't so damned anxious to get out of the house while they still had a few functioning heart valves left.  Seriously, it's amazing how many of these kids of Clueless, Lazy-ass parents managed to GET to adulthood, considering the warmed-up junk constantly being shoveled at them during their formative years.

And the final "touching" scene of the Prodigal Son coming home for a surprise visit, and instantly being reminded why he left in the first place- Mom and Dad immediately "treat" him to-- another serving of Marie Callendars.  I want this guy to respond "Jesus F---ing Christ on a Pogo Stick, did either of you EVER consider cracking open a fricking COOK BOOK, even ONCE?"

Santa has traded his Norelco for a Mercedes Benz. And we like him a lot less

Well, it seems that Santa has done rather well for himself in the past year, doesn't it?


We've got unemployment at just under 8% as the "new normal."   We've got college becoming an out-of-reach fantasy to more and more young adults every single year.  We've got a President who is concocting what he calls a "Grand Bargain" involving taking a machete to the social safety net, accepting the bullshit talking point that Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid are the principle drivers of the deficit and must experience "sensible cuts."

Oh, but he's going to "ask the wealthy to pay a little more," so it's all OK.  WTF-ever, buddy.

We've got wages which peaked in the early-90s and costs which continue to rise.  Subsequently, we've got a  large population using credit cards to buy groceries and gasoline.   We've got families who are REGULARLY in debt, with monthly payments to VISA as automatic as the electric bill and mortgage.  We've got kids being raised by schools and by other kids while Mom and Dad both work full-time jobs (if they are both fortunate enough to HAVE jobs.)

Ah, but someone is thriving in this Brave New World.  Santa has a car collection that would put Jay Leno's to shame.  Warms the heart, doesn't it?

I can just guess who Santa voted for this year.  He almost certainly cast his vote for the Corporate whore who worships at the Shrine of Business and lets Wall Street determine the economic fate of the nation.  Or maybe he voted for Mitt Romney.  He certainly didn't vote for Jill Stein or any of the Non-productive Whiners Who Want Nanny Government And Cradle To Grave Care.  Fuck THOSE losers.

Oh, and Merry Christmas.  Ho Ho Ho.  The first Lexus Wrapped in a Red Ribbon commercials appearing on a television near you in 3.....2.....1.....

McDonalds commercials are disgusting and stupid in any language. Why am I not surprised?

Well, it's good to see that the rest of the planet is not being left out, isn't it?

You don't have to know the words to this song (I didn't check- can I assume a lot of YouTubers want to know what the song is and where they can get it?) to see that this commercial might as well be the trailer of the most predictable, asinine, fill-in-the-numbers teen angst movie ever made.  I mean, it's got "Can't Hardly Wait" smeared all over it.  I guess I'd like to know what the little girl found so mesmerizing about this little boy her mom weirdly decided to hook her up with when she was six years old- but on second thoughts, not really.  We see that despite a steady diet of sugared french fries and hot fudge sundaes from the world's biggest pig trough, Cute Little Boy and Cute Little Girl grow up to be reasonably healthy-looking human beings (seriously- where's the acne?  Where's the flab?  Where's the flushed complexions and sweat and shortened breath?)  Cute Little Girl found herself another guy (in true celluloid style, she Never Realized That The True Love Of Her Life Was Right In Front Of Her All AlongTM.)  In REAL life, Cute Girl isn't really expected to stay attached to Cute Boy She Met One Day At McDonalds when she was at that age where girls generally haven't made sex distinctions or, at most, think boys are Icky.  In Hollywood/McDonalds Ad Land, this means they were meant to be.

Cute Boy shows he's not ok with Cute Girl having actually grown up, breaking the Hollywood rules, and moving beyond him by dipping his french fries into his hot fudge sundae.   This is supposed to stir something in Cute Girl's heart, I guess.  Again- in REAL life, Cute Girl respond with "ick, what the hell are you doing?  We used to eat bugs, too- are you going to do THAT in front of me?  Grow the f--k up!"  In Reel Life, all the---umm, "feelings" that Cute Girl felt for Cute Boy back when they still believed in Santa Claus come rushing back, and Cute Girl dumps the guy she's only known for a few months, not when she was wetting the bed over the prospect of lunch at McDonalds.

See?  Told you you didn't have to know the words to this song.

Why didn't Microsoft just go with "Shallow?'

It's cheap!  It's plastic!  It comes in pretty colors!  It's mostly disposable!

In other words, it fits in PERFECTLY with the modern American lifestyle!

It's called "Surface," and incredibly, it's NOT a parody product reviewed by The Onion.  As near as I can tell, it's a flimsy, thin piece of electronic junk which is JUST cheap enough to convince you that when it inevitably cracks and breaks it's no big deal, just pitch it into the nearest garbage can and get yourself another one.  And if you don't break it in the first two or three months of ownership, well- BONUS!!  It's been upgraded to be even thinner and lighter and fragile!  Yay!

I can see this becoming the next Must-Have product for a generation that has grown up with cell phones which go from being the Kewlest Thing Evah to Outdated Junk in less than half a year.  I can see kids with huge college debt and no jobs somehow managing to justify owning this shiny, rather inferior substitute for a laptop (or, better yet, a fricking notepad and pen- that was more than good enough for me when I was in college, which no was NOT fifty years ago.)

And I fully expect that around this time next year, I'll be seeing plenty of these things scattered along the side of the road as I take my day hikes (26 miles today, new record, yay me!) crowding out cell phones and beer cans for space among the piles of rubble.  Because there's no overestimating the stupidity of the American buying public.  Microsoft is, as always, banking on it.

Discover another reason why Death is not such a bad thing

Why a sudden, massive heart attack which leaves me cold on the floor would be welcome right about now:

1.  This commercial played during every commercial break of the Pittsburgh/Notre Dame contest.  Every. Single. One.

2.  The guy who wrote this commercial thinks he's clever.  You just know he does.  Douchenozzles are like that.

3.  The guy who narrates this commercial badly needs an iron spike applied to his skull.  Right now.

4.  The good people at Discover Card who signed off on this ad need to be huddled into a small, cramped room and made to watch it for 24 hours straight.  Because you know they'll never watch it voluntarily.

BTW, check out the "comments" from the children who populate the YouTube world.  For some reason only one of the drooling chimps who live over at YouTube could explain to me (and no, that isn't an invitation,) several posters felt compelled to type out the script of this god-awful, painful pile of steaming dreck.  Well, at least none of them are asking "what is this song wats the name of this song lol I love this song what is that song?'  At this point, I really have to thank God for small favors.

Sonic: this is how you die young, fat and boring

I've often wondered why Sonic commercials always feature two guys sitting in their cars holding food instead of consuming it in the--- ahem-- "restaurant."  I've never been to a Sonic- are they intensely filthy places?  Are they Golden Corral-ugly, with Golden Corral-like sweaty pigs ruining any sensible person's appetite shoveling greasy crap down their cake holes in between slurping thick gum-based milkshakes?

I mean, if you aren't in a hurry- and the guys in these commercials never seem to be, as they skirt around their sexual identity issues by obsessing over the fat and carb delivery systems they've just shelled out for at the drive-thru- why would you sit in your hot, cramped car to eat this crap instead of in a booth where you can spread out, loosen your belt, and most of all dump the paper and plastic the stuff came wrapped in right there instead of tossing it in the back of your automobile to attract bugs?

But I'm willing to continue to wonder about all that, if someone can explain to me-- Cheesecake bites?  Really?  Cheesecake bites?  Look, my life isn't exactly what I hoped it would be.  I'm lonely a lot of the time.   If it weren't for my students, I'd have a hard time some days getting up in the morning.  Sometimes I still have a hard time.  But I've never been so depressed, so disgusted with my existence, so devoid of interest in my future (such as it is) that I would consider ingesting something called "Cheesecake bites."  Things are going to have to get a lot worse than that.

The flatmelt sandwiches look pretty good though.  Ah, the power of television.

Nutella presents another episode of "How She Uses her MRS Degree"

Thank goodness for MommyWife and her ability to hold what is left of her soul and her brain together to be of regular service to her family!

In between singing the praises of Nutella, MommyWife astonishes one kid with her quick recital of the capital of West Virginia.  We aren't told why exactly Daughter needs to know the capital of West Virginia at this moment- we don't see her write it down, and God Forbid she reply with a "thank you."  And bubble-headed MommyWife, half her brain cells burned out of her skull by ammonia fumes and boredom, doesn't know why she has that nugget of information jingling around in her practically-empty cranium (some teacher probably taught it to her once, when she was a little girl and had some dream that did not involve chirpily spreading not-peanut butter on toast and bleating random factoids to idiot spawn.)  Daughter just gives Other Daughter a look which probably means "Told you Mom would know that," and MommyWife can add "knows state capitals" to "can spread Nutella on bread" and "am fertile" to her list of assets.

Another kid wants his backpack.  Naturally, MommyWife knows where that is.  She doesn't know where those old dreams are, she doesn't know where her soul is, and she hasn't been out of the house except to go shopping or to cart someone to soccer practice or swimming lessons in eight years, but she knows where the backpack is.

And here's the guy who made All This Possible, providing MommyWife with a suburban palace to keep clean, a new washer and dryer every few years, a different last name and a big SUV to park in the driveway in exchange for her personality and youth.  He's somehow managed to find the kitchen (probably followed the singsong voices of people asking about West Virginia and backpacks) long enough to get the lowdown on all the things he's forgotten because it's just so much easier to let MommyWife remember things for him these days (that's what she's there for, after all.)  MommyWife hands him his own slice of bread and Nutella, and the whole crew is off to do fun and interesting and educational things, leaving MommyWife to her Tide detergent and Swiffer.  We kind of hope that she goes running for the shelter of mother's little helper now and then, because at least that would be evidence that there's an actual human being somewhere behind that frozen smile and those zombie eyes.