What is this Passat Commercial good for? Absolutely Nothing.

In 1970, the United States was in it's fifth full year of combat in Vietnam- more than 35,000 young Americans were dead, thousands more permanently injured, having been torn away from the most prosperous nation on Earth to fight in a jungle on the other side of the planet against an ideology few understood and fewer still thought fit to explain to them.  They left behind Moms and Dads and Sweethearts and while many came back with their bodies intact, none returned without internal scars they would carry for the rest of their lives.

The evolution in American attitudes toward Vietnam can be traced through popular music, so often a useful window into the soul of a nation.   In 1965, Sergeant Barry Sadler's Ballad of the Green Berets made the Top Ten on the American Singles Chart.  It told the story of a dedicated military man who gladly gave his life "for those oppressed" and who left behind a final wish for his son- that he grow up to become a soldier, just like Dear Old Dad.  It fit the "lets go get 'em and beat 'em like we always have before" mentality that dominated in the first year of Boots on the Ground.  America to the rescue- the Vietcong could harass the South Vietnamese army, but once WE showed up, it was going to be Game Over.

Nine years later, the United States had withdrawn from Vietnam, which was only months away from ending a nearly thirty-year Civil War and becoming unified under Northern-Communist-rule.  After a final tally of 57,000 dead and more than a quarter-million wounded, not to mention an immense waste of money and energy which sucked the life out of Lyndon Johnnson's Great Society dreams- many Americans were beginning a re-assessment of our misguided adventure in Southeast Asia which continues to this day.  Reaching the Top Forty on the billboard charts was a song called Billy Don't Be a Hero by Paper Lace (much better known for the atrocious The Night Chicago Died.)  Billy, in stark contrast to Sadler's Green Berets, reveals a deep level of cynicism concerning the concept of "heroic sacrifice"- when the title character is killed, a letter to his fiance praises his actions on the field of battle and assures her that "she should be proud he died that way."  Her response is to throw the letter away.  My guess is that if she went on to have a child, she wouldn't be raising him to be a Green Beret.  Just a hunch.

In 1970, Richard Nixon had taken over from LBJ in the management of the Vietnam quagmire and was in the process of expanding military operations into Cambodia and Laos, not to mention intensifying the bombing of North Vietnam and Communist-held portions of the South.  He was also proceeding with the implementation of "Vietnamization," turning the responsibility for fighting the Vietnamese Communists over to the South Vietnamese Army and scaling down the use of the draft here in the US.  And it was in this year that Emerson, Lake and Palmer gave us Lucky Man, the somber tale of-- well, a Lucky Man who has it all- wealth, looks, health, and the respect and love of all who know him- but who goes off to war, takes a bullet, and bleeds to death on some unnamed battlefield.  At it's essence, it's a song about the unforgivable waste that is war.

Except that now, in 2013, the Suits have decided enough time has passed (and we kill with Drones instead of putting our own people on the front line now anyway, much cleaner that way) that they can get away with using a somber ballad about pointless loss in a commercial about a piece of Eurotrash with a beautiful wife and child who gets his Volkswagen crumpled in an accident he walks away from unharmed.

Which means that in this commercial, Lucky Man is played for laughs.

Which means that now, in 2013, Volkswagen has decided that there's simply no such thing as being too shallow, too callow, or too utterly lacking in taste or respect.  Or that they are still bitter we didn't care for "Punch Dub Days," and are going to make us pay.  Hard.

Hey, Everyone In America Over the Age of Forty- remember how angry you were when Revolution was used to sell sneakers?  This is a hundred thousand times worse.  This is Boycott-Inspiring bad.  All I'm left with is the hope that Emerson, Lake and Palmer lost control of this song years ago and Volkswagen snatched it out of the public domain or some vampire third-party which bought the rights and soullessly resold it to everyone's favorite German auto maker.  But either way...ugh, this is so. Damned. Sad.

CURRENT Tostitos Commercial. No kidding.

1.  The "owner" of the "restaurant" (apartment) is a white guy, the only waiter is a black guy.  Wearing an apron. Anytime you want to get into the 21st century with the rest of us, Tostitos....

2.  "What are all these people doing in your apartment?"  Best possible answer I can think of- "well, as you say, it is MY apartment.  If it's too crowded for you, you know where the exit is.  It's the same door you used to come in, without knocking."

3.  Instead, guy directs his girlfriend to start playing waitress.  See Comment #1.

And never mind that Tostitos seems to think that the only reason people ever go to "authentic Mexican restaurants" is for the cheap chips and salsa.  Of course, if this were true, there would be no authentic Mexican restaurants, because they all would have gone bankrupt years ago.  Then again, I'm expecting intelligence from a company that thinks "black guy=waiter" and "girlfriend=waitress."  Whatever.

Oh, and I understand that Burger King is the place to go for retirement advice

Why haven't the first pair of idiots in this ad started planning for their kid's college fund yet?  No, it's not because they don't have any money (that would make a lot more sense, and be more relatable.  Can't have that.)  It's because they "haven't had the time."

Sitting around drinking coffee with fellow breeders?  Always time for that.  Planning for your kid's ability to pay for college?  There are only so many hours in the day, after all.

Not that the people who think they've got this all covered are much better.  They "found out" about the "Gerber Life Plan."  Because if you want to set aside money for your kid to attend college, who could possibly give you better advice than a company which specializes in selling creamed peas and carrots?  And oh by the way, "it's a life insurance policy, too."  Well, that's good- in my experience, there's nothing more annoying than setting aside money for college and then having the ungrateful little brat go and die on you.

Here's a quick tip, not that either pair of stupid, clueless dopes are likely to pick up on it:  There are these really interesting people called bankers who know an awfully lot about setting up college funds.  There are also people who work at places like ING and Edward Jones who make a living taking small amounts of money invested over a long period of time into a decent little stack.  In short, there is plenty of expertise out there for you because saving for college isn't exactly a new idea.

Now, there is a caveat I must include here:  Your banker or local investor probably doesn't know a thing about baby food.  So if you have a question about that, you might not be able to take care of it in the same phone call you might make to check how your Gerber's fund is doing.  Might take two phone calls.  I kind of think it would be worth it, though.

Of course, it is your kid after all.  You want to put his college education in the hands of a company whose slogan should be Fourteen Months Since Last Formula Recall, be my guest.

Gillette's ProGuide yourself into Someone Better ad

As near as I can figure it, this is what you are supposed to do the next time you go to a swank party populated primarily by Supermodels.  I'm personally very thankful for this ad, because for me, it basically describes pretty much every Saturday night....

When you meet a very hot girl, get to know her name and then find a way to steer the conversation toward her opinion of guys and body hair.  Does she like guys?  Ok, she does- now you can move on to guys and body hair.  Does she like body hair?  Yes?  Everywhere? Oh, not there?  Try to take mental notes rather than actual ones.  It's kind of awkward to carry around a pad and pen during one of these parties.

Once you've decided which girl you want to take home with you, slip into the host's bathroom, whip out your Gillette razor, and give yourself an impromptu shave.  Now that you match the specific hair requirements of your chosen partner, she has no excuse to reject you.  Of course, you've got to find a way to get that conversation started again, and to steer it back toward the issue of body hair.  If you are a skilled wordsmith like me, you won't find this a problem.

Try not to let the girl know that you performed an act of self-mutilation less than an hour ago in response to her casual "I don't like chest hair more than half an inch above the nipples" remark.  She might look at you oddly, and she might even respond with something less than enthusiasm when she realizes that her statement concerning body hair was translated by you into "I'll sleep with any guy who conforms to it."  Make it look like a coincidence that at least one aspect of your appearance actually fits her preference.  You can deal with the "I like guys who are six feet tall" and "I like black men" issues later.

While you are doing all this, try to avoid bumping into the host- he might start asking you awkward questions, like "who invited you" and "why were you in my bathroom for forty minutes?"

Surprise! Another Stupid AmeriTrade Commercial!

I guess I shouldn't be surprised that the idiot who wrote this AmeriTrade ad ran out of plausible "surprises" faced by Real People in the Real World after he hit....two.  I can just see him wracking his brains for just one more surprise we could relate to before pimping AmeriTrade, failing, and finally sticking in "your house was built on an Indian Burial Ground."  Like that would somehow cost you money, like having triplets and needing a new transmission.  WTF-ever, AmeriTrade.

And speaking of Relateable Situations- yes, it's very easy for us 99%-ers to totally get that this guy, having been hit with the sledgehammer of triplets and new transmissions and haunted houses (jesus, really....?) would experience great relief at learning that AmeriTrade features "all the Online Trading Tools We Need So No More Surprises."  Never freaking mind that less than .01% of us will EVER do our own trading online.  How small a percentage is that?  Well, it's lower than the percentage of people who will someday have triplets.  It's much lower than the percentage of people who will someday be told "you need a new transmission."  I don't know how it compares with the percentage of people who will learn that their houses were build on Indian Burial Grounds, but I can be charitable and guess it's much closer.

So please, AmeriTrade, stop showing me money-obsessed (but common-sense impaired) douchenozzles expressing relief that FINALLY someone has stopped f--ing around trying to cure cancer or solve World Hunger and has invented a way to make your online Shoving Numbers Around addiction somewhat easier to understand.   I think your customers are just awesome- they get to manipulate pretty graphs, use "research tools," and most of all pretend that they have some control over their little piles of gold.  I'll let them have their fun, while I foolishly turn thousands of dollars a year over to a professional who actually knows what she's doing (I hope- though seriously, I don't really give much of a damn, as long as I can keep buying certain people candy for the foreseeable future, it's all good...)  In the end, we'll all have something in common- we'll all be dead.  Difference is, I'm not waiting till the end to learn the lesson Kansas tried to teach us more than thirty years ago- All your money won't another minute buy.

Typical Frying-Pan-to-the-Face-Stupid from Chevy

"OMIGOD we ran all the way here the moment we learned about the sale we didn't even stop to use the bathroom we were so scared you were going to run out of overpriced shiny trucks before we got here please tell me you have one left because we ran over three small animals running red lights to get here and I wet my pants and here's my checkbook please please please tell me you have one more left who do I make the check out to here honey you fill it out I need to use the restroom!"

On television, the easiest job in the world is that of the car salesman.  Because on television, there is no such thing as a "potential customer"- just a crowd of drooling, desperate idiots who think that they are in some considerably less entertaining version of the Hunger Games, competing against all the other drooling, desperate idiots in the mad pursuit of an internal combustion engine wrapped in a pretty fiberglass and steel package.  I seriously don't know why Chevy even bothers to HIRE salespeople, when all they really need is to build gigantic vending machines capable of holding their cars and trucks.  I guess it's because in real life, some of us don't rush into car dealerships acting as if our hearts will explode in three minutes if we aren't behind the wheel of a new auto by that time, driving off several thousand dollars lighter in the wallet and with four years of monthly payments to look forward to.   It looks so much more fun on TV, doesn't it?

My life would be so much easier if I could stand being with you, so I am going to pray for that

Not to be overly judgmental, but....oh, what the hell....

What do the lyrics "I want to fall in love with you" mean in the context of commercials for Christian Mingle?  Well, what else CAN they mean other than "you are here, you are a fellow Christian, I'm desperate, so I really really pray that after a few dates I realize that I can tolerate being with you because like I said, I'm desperate, you are here, you are a fellow Christian, and I'm sick to death of being single."

Really, what other translation IS there?  Nobody in their right mind WANTS to fall in love with anyone unless doing so would be incredibly convenient.  Like "my parents really like you and you've got money" or "you really dig me, and nobody else does."  Or "you are willing to squire me around and spend money on me."  Or "you are the father of my children and the provider of pretty much all of my financial security."  Or "I am trapped with you on a deserted island with no hope of rescue, and I can see it would suck a lot less if I was attracted to you."  In each of these cases, "I want to fall in love with you" makes perfect sense.

But in EACH case, it just really smacks of desperation to achieve the Socially Expected End Game: get married, have kids, change diapers, clean the house, cook the dinners, pay the mortgage, get old, marry off your kids to other Socially Acceptable People, get older, move to Florida, die.  Like salmon struggling like mad to get upstream to spawn, few question the value of the Goal.  Indeed, the value of the goal is Not to Be Questioned.  It just Is.

And the next generation of Christians (or whoever) is on it's way.  Mission Accomplished.  Joy.