Actual Product Being Peddled Here: An Ejector Seat

Or perhaps a law firm specializing in quickie divorces?

This video eventually presented as Exhibit A in the case against John Smith, accused of murdering his wife and burying it in a shallow grave somewhere in the West Virginia wilderness.  Ultimately the jury rules in favor of Smith and his plea of Self Defense.

Seriously, what else is there to say about this ad?  "I'm too hot."  "I'm freezing."  Get your own car, lady- and until then, shut your complain hole!

And another charming episode from Samsung, the gift that just keeps giving...

1.  Why do all these commercials feature people using their amazing Samsung Galaxy phones in places where you'd expect an actual television (complete with much bigger, more visible screen) to be readily available?  In one from last year, a woman is sitting on her couch watching a Packers game....on her phone.  "This is perfect" she sighs.  Really?  Then what would you call actually being able to SEE the action on that television five feet from you? "Paradise?"  I can't think of one good reason why the guy in this ad isn't just watching his television.

2.  Why do all of these commercials featuring Daddy and Baby never, ever show Daddy talking to Baby instead of treating it like a lumpy package which needs to be held for a short time (until Mommy gets back to doing "her" job?)  In these ads Daddy is ALWAYS staring at his phone, carrying on conversations with someone on his phone, or doing both at the same time- meanwhile, Baby is enjoying it's--ahem--"quality time" with Daddy, I guess.  Is this what real life looks like?  You'd think that Daddy might use at least SOME of this time to get to know his kid- look right into his face, talk to him, laugh with him, etc. etc- instead of acting as if it's just a warm bundle of something which makes it kind of awkward to do stuff with his precious phone.  This shit seriously makes me sick- next time you and your Significant Other feel like your lives are missing something, I suggest you just upgrade your goddamned phones and leave the having kids thing to people who, oh, I don't know- WANT TO HAVE KIDS.

Point of Personal Privilege: Death of James Gandolfini

I was taking my late-afternoon walk yesterday, switching channels on my XM radio, and happened to land on Shepard Smith of Fox "News" talking about "reports that caused jaws to drop in this studio...the untimely death of a giant of a man, people here looked at each other in disbelief, could this be true?"  I waited for maybe thirty seconds to find out exactly WHO this very important person whose death was so sudden and unexpected and shocking and then learned it was....

James Gandolfini.  A television and movie star.  Known by about 99 percent of the public solely for his work on The Sopranos.

I instantly realized that I would be unable to watch any of the news shows that night on Fox, MSNBC, or CNN, unless I wanted to be dragged through an endless Mobius strip of solemn-faced yakkers expressing shock and sadness that an actor on a show they all inexplicably worshiped had died.  Oh, and absolute SHOCK that an obese chain-smoker could die of a heart attack at the tender age of fifty-one.

(Sidebar:  Anyone who has any experience watching reports of celebrity deaths knows that events like heart attacks and car crashes are simply not supposed to happen to these Very Important People.  Those standard, boring ways of passing are reserved to us Mortals.  Dying in private plane crashes, ski accidents, or overdoses- that's fine.  Car crashes and heart attacks?  Please.  I give this 24 hours, tops, before we start hearing the James Gandolfini Was Murdered By The Mob rumors.)

Ok, back to the point of this particular rant:  Through it's entire run, I probably viewed less than half a dozen episodes of The Sopranos, and then only because I think a law was passed requiring that I do so, and being unable to slack off work to discuss the show the next day made one a Social Outcast.  My principle relationship with the show was that it convinced at least one new student a year to ask me why, being an Italian-American, I didn't belong to the Jersey Mob, because aren't ALL Italian-Americans in the Mob?

To me, James Gandolfini playing Tony Soprano, feeding into every anti-Italian Stereotype that non-Italians have of Italians, always rubbed me the wrong way.  I tried to imagine the reaction if Denzel Washington played a Stephin Fetchit character on a cable tv series- and became the most popular, beloved character on TV for doing it.

No, I am not asking for Italian-Americans to comment on whether they found The Sopranos offensive.  I'm not trying to conduct a poll, and my distaste for the show and it's characterization of one-fourth of my heritage doesn't hinge on the opinions of others.  I'm just using my blog to explain why I am switching channels whenever I see a ponderous, pointless "tribute" to a guy who was basically playing Marlon Brando for HBO.  That's all.

Back to commercials tomorrow, I promise.

"Signed, Bored Moron Loser with a Stamp"

Dear Chex,

I've never written a fan letter before, but LOL am I ever a fan of your amazing Family of Cereals!  You really have something for everyone- I've always been a big fan of Rice Chex, and the Twins are just crazy for Corn Chex and Wheat Chex (I thought you had to be at least seventy to like Wheat Chex, boy was I wrong. ) You learn something new every day (YOU do- I sure don't!)

And when my husband Tom learned about Chocolate Chex, well, we were in Chocolate Heaven!

Anyway, as you can probably guess from this letter, I've been dead for quite some time now!  I used to get really good grades in school, and for a while I imagined I'd go to college and establish a career and maybe do something important and unique in my life.  But one day I met a guy who could put me in a house and buy me stuff and get me pregnant every few years, and he made it sound so easy, so I just said Fuck It, took the ring and moved in. Then I died, but that doesn't stop me from pouring the milk on your awesome cereal LOL!

Several children later, I'm writing Fan Letters to a Cereal Company!  I'd call that a Miracle, wouldn't you? Please?

Anyway, Tom is off to work, the kids are off to school, and I'm off to find where I put that bleach bucket LOL!  Just thought I'd let you know how much we, the Macgregor Family, enjoy Chex!  We really, really do you know!

Signed, Mrs. Tom Macgregor of the Macgregor Family ( I can't even remember by maiden name LOL!)

Anytown, USA

The Next Big thing is The Same Old Joke

Sigh.  Here we go again.....

This has to be Episode #47,000,000 or so in the Adventures of Doofus Daddy and his Hilarious Attempts to Actually Take Care of the Baby He Helped Make.   Ad agencies simply cannot get enough of this particular show, can they?

Each chapter shows basically the same guy- a young sperm donor- doing basically the same thing- struggling with some mindless, child related chore which naturally is extremely hard for him to pull of because, after all, he's got this whole Y Chromosome thing going so of course actually handling a baby isn't really his normal gig.  What's supposed to make this endlessly repeating storyline so "funny" is that Daddy is attempting to do something that, really, only Mommies know how to do.  Instinctively.

We don't see the other Regular in this particular episode- that's the All-Knowing In the Ways of Baby Wife, who knew how to Swaddle babies before she herself was out of the crib, we can assume.  Females are genetically engineered to swaddle babies, spread Nutella, and use Bounty paper towels-- it's why they have four fingers and a thumb on each hand, after all.  But we hear her on the phone, and she sounds positively apologetic that some emergency called her away from her natural role of swaddler and forced to her to leave that responsibility in the hands of a person who, as I've already pointed out, simply isn't up to the task.  She even sounds a little surprised that he hasn't managed to kill HER kid in his attempts to wrap a blanket around it.

And why has Daddy been so successful at wrapping a blanket around his kid, when loading a weapon, changing the oil on the family's pickup or squirting Round-Up on the weeds in the sidewalk are far more suited to his talents?  Because he's able to ask his phone for help (more specifically, he's able to ask YouTube for help, but whatever.)  The Swaddling Tips (sick of that word yet?) have naturally been posted by....a woman.  Well, what did we expect?

I'm not even going to comment on the "baby defecates/wets all over the blanket just as Daddy manages to get it wrapped up" punchline.  That's just to get a chuckle out of the mentally deficient droolers who have reached their twenties and still think that baby farts and "that's going to be a wet one" are just CLASSIC.  It's entirely predictable and even necessary here, because after all, if Baby just sat there happy and dry in Daddy's arms, that would imply that Daddy had done something right and all was going to be well, and that's just crazy talk.

I'm just going to assume that Mommy will get home before this helpless mammal (or the baby it's holding) needs to be fed.  Because if Daddy has to figure out all by himself which end of the bottle is supposed to go into Baby's mouth,  I don't give Baby much chance of surviving.  And if Daddy ever loses his connection to YouTube, that thin chance diminishes to basically nothing.  Because when it comes to Daddy and Babies- well, they just don't mix.  Television says so.  Again, and again, and again.

Visa Presents another "let the world know you use our card a LOT with a stupid, showy reward" commercial

While I admit that strength training with Patrick Willis would be pretty cool, and there's no doubt in my mind that the guy in this ad would benefit a lot more from strength training with ANYBODY than "luxury car service," I can't help but think after watching this ad that in real life

A)  Patrick Willis couldn't give a flying damn that some total stranger doesn't want to take on a program of strength training with him- in fact, he would probably think it quite a burden to have this stupid fat slob asking for a spot, and besides

B)  This guy would be mentally begging Patrick Willis to take a swing at him as he's standing on his own damn lawn, so he can call his lawyer and get Willis to settle out of court for a nice sum of money- hey, maybe even enough to buy a gym membership and a few sessions with a strength trainer who DOESN'T play for the NFL.

Am I wrong, just being a bit too cynical, or what?

"My kids are going to be revolting little mess makers again, the darlings- better get some more Bounty!"

Someday, someone will make a commercial which convinces me that I really missed out by never having kids.

That commercial will NOT feature a zombie MommyWife who remembers that she has a nest of out of control spawn at home waiting to throw food against windows (seriously- she imagines this happening, and I can only assume that she's seen this before in real life and fully expects to see it again) and doing all kinds of stupid, disgusting things which make messes because after all Kids Will Be Kids, which in TV land means Kids Will Be Assholes Who Have Not Been Taught To Behave, but only that Mommy Will Be There With Bounty Paper Towels to Clean Up After Them.

In other words, this commercial does not bring me even a tiny little baby step toward regretting having any of these noisy, nasty little urchins.   Back to the drawing board, Bounty.

*I didn't pick up at first that in this case, the purchase of paper towels is triggered by the announcement that MommyWife's inlaws are "bringing the twins."  First- I can't even begin to describe how much I loathe the term "The Twins."  Twins are individual humans who happen to be born of the same mother a short time apart.  They are given names and are generally expected to grow up to be separate, unique human beings.  "The Twins" makes them sound like they are conjoined, one Unit which must always be taken as one Unit.  That's lazy, obnoxious and just plain bullshit, ok?

Second, it's strongly implied here that Doofus Dad expected his brother to show up- but not bring his kids?  What were they supposed to do- was it assumed that The Twins would be staying with brother's wife?  Why does it come as a surprise that brother is bringing The Twins?  Was it assumed that brother wanted to get away from the little monsters for an afternoon?

Third, "my brother is bringing the twins" sets off a momentary panic, because both Doofus Dad and MommyWife know that this means horrible behavior and lots of mess.  to be dealt with by packing in extra paper towels (and, presumably, a few bottles of Tide and Shout.)   Here's a better idea- call Doofus Dad's brother and let him know that his untrained dickweed little demons aren't welcome at your house, and that stands as long as he refuses to do a little parenting.  Seems pretty damned simple to me.

Well, look at that.  I managed to more than double the size of this post.  Sometimes rants are good things.