It's only Weird if he doesn't buy it

Let's see- I come home from work an hour early, looking forward to surprising my beautiful wife before settling down to watch the Monday Night Football Game.

When I walk into the kitchen, my wife is arranging beers, and there's this strange guy sitting on my couch, drinking a beer of his own.

I ask, "um, who is that?"  My wife responds "He used to live here- and he says he was sitting right there the last time the 49ers won the Superbowl."

If I want to be charitable, I quietly point out that the last time the 49ers won the Superbowl was in 1994.  That's 18 years ago.  Which means that if this guy is telling the truth, he's remembering something that happened when had his own apartment at the age of, what, TEN?

I'm not especially charitable, so instead I respond "Seriously?  You get caught with another guy in the house- and THAT'S the story you come up with?  It's bad enough that you are cheating on me- do you have to humiliate me, and YOURSELF, with the absolute worst alibi EVER?"

Of course, I'm not a TV guy, so it doesn't go that way.  I could never be a TV guy- I shave every morning, I try to dress neatly, I don't think it's funny when my friends get hurt, I don't live to laugh at my friends, and I'm not a beer, sex-and-cell phone-obsessed doofus.*  This woman's hubby IS a TV guy, so he buys the spectacularly unbelievable "this strange man is sitting in our living room because when he was a little boy the 49ers won the Super Bowl" yarn.

I'd say this woman is a real jerk, but I can't because if she's married to a TV guy, she must be a TV girl, which means she's smart and sensible and knows what she's doing at all times.  So I officially don't know what to make of this, except to think that it's probably not a good idea to try this at home, ladies.  Unless you are married to a TV guy- in which case, why not respond to "who's that?" by telling him to STFU and get to work on that damn lawn.

*I can't be.   Beer and cell phones are expensive.

If a fan massacres science at a football game, and nobody responds, does it make a sound?

I was going to go through the "labels out" choad's explanation to his fellow doofus pudding-brained loser moron friends how holding their not-beer bottles in a certain way would somehow contribute to their team's scoring the winning field goal.  I was going to- but after listening to it two or three times, I realized that I was getting nauseous, I'm not getting paid for this, and so-- to hell with it.

So instead, I'll just comment on that look the Unbeliever has when the field goal kicker- who is in the National Football League, is a Pro, and whose only job is to kick Field Goals- actually manages to...kick a Field Goal.  See for yourself- it's a look which says "Wow, it worked."

Now, I could be charitable here and assume that since it's the end of the game (it's implied that this isn't just any field goal kick, it's the deciding field goal kick) this is not the first Bud Lite Dimwitted, Easily-Duped Dunce has consumed over the past three hours.  I'll also assume that he's rather sensitive to alcohol, and is actually capable of getting buzzed by drinking Lite Beer.  But that's as far as my charity is willing to carry me with this guy.

That look makes it very clear that he honestly believes that because four guys in a crowd of 50,000 turned their beers,  it somehow influenced the trajectory of a football being kicked on a field eighty yards distant.  He doesn't smile appreciatively at the weird superstition of his friends.  He looks for all the world like he buys the gibberish he was fed by the Not-Physics Professor sitting two to his right.  That's not funny.  It's not charming.  It's really, really stupid.

Not as stupid, however, as the line "It's Only Weird if it Doesn't Work."  It doesn't work.  It's just the fans believing that somehow they can be something other than mere spectators, when in fact the only way they can have any impact on the game is by being really loud when their team is on Defense.  Even then, five idiots drinking Lite Beer in the cheap seats aren't going to pull it off.  But I can deal with multicolored socks, face painting, prayers, voodoo dolls, or any other Not At All Effective But Hell You Bought Your Ticket So Go For It idiocy.  But spare me the bullshit "science," ok, Bud Lite?  After all, if you guys knew anything about chemistry, maybe you'd be able to come up with a light beer worth drinking, instead of specializing in bad commercials not worth watching.

Use Shutterfly to help decorate my trash can

Here's another opportunity for disgustingly perfect, white suburban families to make sickly-sweet, treacly little reminders that they exist and that Their Lives Are Better Than Yours.  It's called Shutterfly, and as near as I can tell, it was created to stick another salt-encrusted knife into the stomachs of people like me who aren't married to beautiful women, don't live in suburban estates, and don't even have ONE offspring.  Not even ONE.  Man, am I NOT in the need for Shutterfly!

But if you have the standard white skin, pretty little palace, pretty little wife and pretty little kids who are apparently manufactured and shipped out of some factory in Utah but are only available to certain people, here's another way to show how Awesome you have it without buying a new SUV.  Just get your kids to pose for a few seconds, pick out some garish background like Santa's sleigh or a Christmas tree or a Snowman or something else so fucking cute that we just won't be able to stand it.  Your friends will be delighted to know things are still going great for you; they might even hold on to the card longer than they used to hold on those God-Awful annual updates people used to send out every year before they finally figured out that nobody gave a damn (or realized they could save postage by starting a blog nobody in their right mind would ever visit.)

You thought wedding invitations that included photos of the Lovely Couple were bad?  Wait till Shutterfly becomes all the rage among your Happily Married And Don't You Ever Forget It friends!  Man, I hate this time of year.

KFC's pitch: Silence is Golden. And Fat.

Here's a terrific holiday message from Kentucky FRIED Chicken:  When you find yourself between two obnoxious little monsters who simply will not stop playing their horrid "I'm not touching you" game, buy yourself some peace and quiet by simply poisoning them.

You might ask- why doesn't this slob just get up and walk away from these two spawns of Satan?  Well, just look at the guy- he doesn't look like Getting Up and Walking Away are activities that hold a whole lot of appeal to him.  However, he's probably on a first name basis with the girl behind the register at KFC.  Too bad, because this sure looks like a situation where a good, strong pair of legs would be a real life saver.

You might also ask- are these actual children, or well-trained dogs?  I mean, there is a bucket of chicken and a plate of cookies just sitting there.  But the kids are completely oblivious to their presence until their "Uncle" hands each of them a cookie.  First- I've never seen a kid shut up completely just because they have a cookie. These kids act as if they've never experienced one before, and are engrossed in the experience.  Second- that bucket is full of chicken.  So-- the kids didn't eat any chicken, but are skipping right to the desert?  Normally, I'd consider that to be rather poor modeling behavior for someone who is clearly supposed to be watching his nephews.  But then I remember this is KFC, and think that it's probably just as well the kids don't want to eat any of that stuff in the bucket.

And while I generally consider handing kids "food" like the grease-infused dead bird parts they serve up at KFC to be obvious child abuse, I can't say as I blame this guy for shutting these future heart valve donor seekers up by shoveling out the garbage.   I mean, just listen to them.  If this guy's waistline and asthma issues won't allow him to escape, he's got to do SOMETHING.

Oh yeah, leasing this Acura is MUCH more "Responsible." Sure it is.

I suppose this is supposed to be Acura's answer to the Lexus December to Remember Red Ribbons around the Ostentatious Overpriced Look at Me Machines commercials we are buried with every November and December.  The problem is- these ads are hardly less obnoxious.

We all know the drill- Upper Class Couple is considering a big purchase.  Suzie Orman, or Santa, or Bette Midler, or whoever pulls up to give a rude, uncalled-for and totally unwelcome lecture on how to be "responsible" with money.  Somehow, being "responsible" means heading off to your nearest Acura dealer to drop $3000 and sign up for payments of $429 per month for three years to rent a car you don't need.

(I know we don't see it in this clip, but these ads are ALWAYS being used to push lease "deals."  So bear with me...)

(BTW, what is the "Do Not Attempt" disclaimer supposed to refer to?  Do not attempt to kidnap people and preach at them about fiscal responsibility?  Do not attempt to take advice from celebrities while riding at high speeds in overpriced SUVs? What?)

"Santa" is a total corporate whore who will sell anything, I get it.  He got his start peddling Coca-Cola, for Christ's sake.  Bette Midler?  Who gives a damn?

But Suzie Orman is supposed to give good financial advice.  That's her f---ng JOB.  So when she pitches a shiny, overpriced Acura as a "Responsible" choice,  well, sorry- but this is like seeing your Nutritionalist scarfing Double-Down sandwiches at KFC or your AA sponsor stumbling out of a sports bar and vomiting into a trash can.  The other example I embedded here features "Dr" Phil.  That's not quite as bad- anyone who thinks that the crap this guy shovels out is of any value will get what he deserves, and like it.

But Suzie Orman-- really?  You need to have a talk with Dave Ramsey, lady.  Not about picking up a quick paycheck putting your name on a bad product- you already know how to do that.  But about posing as a Financial Health Guru and then peddling this overpriced, shiny import. For shame.  If you have any left.

Kmart is just asking us to be brave....

..that is, at least as brave as a fat, unshaven slob who thinks he's doing something worthwhile by sitting in his mommy's basement playing Black Ops.

You actually need a somewhat higher level of bravery to deal with the knowledge that Christmas is still weeks away.  And that there are a LOT of these commercials.  And that they all have to get lots and lots of airtime between now and December 25.

Maybe you can't get to the mute button every time.  But here's something you CAN do to make this a little more bearable:  don't go to YouTube and read the "What is this Song I want this Song where can I find this Song what is this Song" prattle from the knuckle-dragging mouth breathers who live to find the artist behind every 2-second bit of music that has ever appeared on television, ever.  I've often asked them what horrible thing has happened in their lives to make them such pathetic, bottom-feeding, SAD losers, but they always respond with a kind of garbled, sort-of-intelligible gibberish that I think is supposed to be a negative reaction to my query. Then, I imagine, they go back to hunting down commercials with music and asking about the artists and availability again.  Maybe they take a break from time to time to play Black Ops.  Or attempt to respond to me with their own very special brand of "English."  Whatever makes them happy and won't cause accidental cuts, I guess.

Maybe I'm being overly harsh here. I mean, it IS just Radio Shack after all....

All we need to put a big, bright Happy Ending to this nasty, obnoxious little mess of an ad is for a Killer Good Samaritan to give this idiot a Killer push into the next Killer oncoming train.   Since that's a little too nasty even for Your Place For Cheap Batteries, I'd settle for Idiot Girl to fumble her Killer Phone onto the tracks so we can see it getting smushed by said Killer oncoming train.

There are about a dozen of these god-awful "my new phone" ads from Radio Shack, that hole in the wall at the mall which used to be the place to go for junk remote control cars for Christmas that would be out of service and in the landfills long before summer came around.  And AM/FM signal "boosters" which boost absolutely nothing.  And "salespeople" who didn't have the slightest idea what they are doing.  Oh, and those cheap batteries.

Now, Radio Shack is apparently the place to go for phones if you are one of the 3000 or so people in the United States who don't live within two miles of a Verizon or Sprint store.

And apparently the only thing they teach you about your new phone at Radio Shack is how to hit the "Video" button and wave it in front of your stupid, fat face while you blather witlessly about your new purchase.  At least if you finished your little missive by slamming into a train or a car or a tree, you'd provide a little entertainment to the two friends you have left who can still bear to be near you.  Hell, you might even "go Viral" (ugh.)  But it looks to me like the people recording themselves singing praises of their phones are doing it only for their personal amusement (it's really hard to imagine that anyone would watch this unless they were doing it for their stupid blog, entitled "Look at this Self-Absorbed Twat.") Which is actually more sad than funny.

Still...would it be too much to ask that this woman fall into a stump grinder at around the 16-second mark?