Or I could just beat him to death with the straw dispenser.....

Notice how people almost never choke to death in fast-food restaurants?  I mean, you'd think that several thousand times a year, someone simultaneously shoveling greasy crap down their cake holes while bleating pathetic, brain-dead junk which can only be the product of years of shoveling greasy crap down their cake holes would have a piece of non-food go down the wrong tube and get lodged there long enough to cause the person to choke to death.

You'd think so.  But to the best of my knowledge, people jumping up, grabbing their throats, thrashing about and then just dying in a humiliating manner, sprawled across the grimy floor of one of these pig troughs is actually pretty rare.  Even people who slip into a McDonalds now and then for a black coffee (the only thing for sale at McDonalds that is actually worth buying) are very unlikely to see someone actually convulse away what made up his life because he thought he could give a speech and get down a McNotChicken at the same time.

Rare, but it must happen sometimes.  In this guy's case, could I get some advance notice?  'Cause I'd kind of like to be there.

Dear Ford: Snow Miser does not belong to you. My childhood does not belong to you. You are totally Shameless.

Proving once again than nothing that is truly important to me can't be stolen, repackaged and whored away by an evil corporation for the sake of making a few extra bucks.   They stole The Grinch and gave it to Jim Carrey (that wound still has not healed, and I continue to refuse to watch it.)  They mangled Horton Hears a Who and repackaged The Lorax so he could sell kids Breakfast at Denny's.  We all know it's only a matter of time before every single thing we've ever loved shows up selling everything from SUVs to KFC on our television sets.

They could at least have used the original song with the original artist, and not let some tuneless, talentless idiot rape it for the benefit of a truck company which has just shown everyone over the age of forty exactly what it thinks of our childhood memories.

For your benefit- and as a way to cleanse your damaged soul if you choose to sit through this monstrosity of an ad- I include the real Snow Miser and his awesome song.  Meanwhile, Ford?  Bite me.  Hard.

Let's see if I get this straight, Ally

So being ambivalent at the idea of handing over your money to a bank with no branches, where there will be absolutely zero chance of actually walking into a building and speaking to a real live person about a problem or question or concern, is foolish and silly and Just Give Us Your Money Already Don't Worry There Will Always Be Someone To Talk To Once You Get Through The Phone Menu and Hey We've Got a Website?

If this is really your message- and I'm pretty sure it is- why do you botch it up by showing us examples of what happened to this woman when she DID try new things- a scary robot vacuum (actually, not so new) and a robot dog (which she attempts to provide with water- jeesh, how did this woman get a job which allowed her to buy that house?  She has the IQ of a turnip...)  Seems to me that this would make sense as a commercial for a an old-fashioned Brick and Mortar bank- "here's what we think of banks with no branches- they are modernity gone mad, like robot vacuums and dogs.  They'll make a mess of your life.  Stick with simple.  You can walk into our bank and talk to a real person.  Doesn't that sound better?"

Of course, I fully expect that Ally's No Branches strategy is the wave of the future, and inside of 10 years or banks will have gone the way of bookstores.  It will be an easy transition for me- as a member of the US Senate Federal Credit Union, I've seen all the convenient branches in suburban Maryland systematically close down over the last decade, and now I have to take a train into DC (during very tight hours- the place is closed between 4 PM Friday and 10 AM Monday) and go through a metal detector to deposit a check.  Now, if I wanted to slip a little more money into the pockets of an evil, slave-wage paying cell phone company I could download a cool app that lets me take a photo of the check to deposit it...but I haven't reached the point where I'm willing to sell out like that quite yet.  I'll wait till they make me by closing down the last branch.  Won't be long.

Karma's a ----well, you know.

I never met my maternal grandmother, who died the year before I was born.  My paternal grandmother died when I was 19 which was....well, more than a few years ago.  I remember her well enough to know that she was vastly more honest than the stupid cartoon grandma on this stupid cartoon commercial.

I really don't get how a fascination with credit scores can meld so perfectly to a total cluelessness concerning how to find them.  Ads like this made it sound like credit scores determine everything about your life, but are also very closely-kept secrets that are hidden in a vault somewhere and which can be accessed only by those who have the Magic Key.  The trick, apparently, is to find someone who both has a copy of the key and a willingness to check your score and pass it on to you for free.

Which makes Credit Karma, Checkyourcredit, Creditscore.com and all the rest prime examples of companies whose reason for being is to convince people to pay them for a product they can access for free if they just do a little freaking homework and ask a few freaking questions.  Other examples include all the Save Yourself From the Evil IRS tax "services" and Get Out of Debt schemes.  Their bottom line is- "you can't understand this (or you are too busy to understand this.)  We Understand It.  Let Us Handle It For You..." For a price.

Yes, for a price.  I don't care how many times Cartoon Granny tells me that CreditKarma.com paid good money to run an advertisement 400 times during an Ancient Aliens marathon out of the goodness of it's heart- at some point in the process of obtaining your "free" credit report, you are going to be asked to pay.
If CreditKarma.com actually provides a free credit report, you can bet it's part of a package in which you pay for one later- or, more likely, six later.   Because before you get off the phone with that operator, anyone convinced to call based on the assurances of a cartoon grandma will be convinced that if they don't check their credit report at least once every two months or so, it's going to explode and leave you living in a dumpster picking cheese out of discarded pizza boxes.

Here's another idea- want a free credit report?  Go to your freaking lending institution and ask for one.  If they won't give you a free report on a regular basis, pull your money and find one that will.  (I belong to a credit union which never charges for a credit report check- I've never asked for one, but my score was actually volunteered to me during a routine visit last year by a loan officer who practically begged me to buy a house.)  This isn't rocket science, people.

While we're at it- if you are deep in credit card debt, call your credit card company, explain the situation, and either work out a payment plan or offer a flat amount of money to wipe your balance clean.  I understand that most banks are generally willing to work with people the first time they get in over their heads.  Tax problems?  Call the IRS- they aren't hiding in your bushes (ask yourself why those companies on the radio don't want you to contact the IRS) and have counselors ready to work out a deal with you.   Oh, and don't know how to plan for retirement?  There are actual, licensed brokers who know how to maneuver money to your advantage.  You don't need a stranger on the phone from RetirementIncomeThroughGoldNow.com giving you exactly one option that will determine whether you have some level of comfort when society can't squeeze any more labor out of you, or you are in that previously mentioned dumpster.  Don't know how to start saving for college for your child?  Again- there are people at the bank who are experts at stuff like that.  You don't need to ask a baby food company for help.

Oh, and ID Theft?  It's the Shark Attack Scare of 2014.  The chances of your identity actually being stolen is almost zero, and drops even more if you just shred your freaking credit card bills and stop accessing your bank accounts while sharing the public WiFi at Starbucks or the airport, moron .

Ok, enough free advice.  You want any more, it's going to cost you.

And the Fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse shall arrive riding a Perfect Bacon Bowl

This is the End.  It has to be.  Because seriously, unless the next quickie-cheap TV commercial I see is for Cheese-Coated Lard on a Stick, there is just no WAY it gets worse than this.

What's the matter, America?  Not dying of heart disease fast enough?  We don't have enough problems in this country that desperately need solving that a group of soulless money-grubbers came up with a whole new way to make eating four servings of bacon at once even MORE fun?

Remember when you thought the KFC Double Down "sandwich" was a crime against humanity (as a refresher for those of you who have-like me- managed to avoid it, it consists of bacon and cheese held together by two pieces of boneless fried chicken?)  Well, what are we going to call THIS monstrosity?

Thinking of having the gang together to eat four cheeseburgers each?  Well, forget the buns- just stick them into these crunchy "bacon bowls."  Not only are they fun, but they're also a time saver-you get three meals worth of calories in one sitting!  Thought that Mac'n Cheese couldn't possibly be more poisonous?  Well, that's because you never imagined that anyone would think to invent a Mac n' Cheese Delivery System made of pig fat!

(And you thought you'd never get your kids to eat Mac n' Cheese!  Now it's all they want!  Look, they are about to suck down four "bowls" each!  What's that, a pound of bacon and a week's worth of salt in one meal?  Mission Accomplished!)

And I thought the Perfect Potato looked dumb.  Jeesh, at least potatoes have some nutritional value and won't kill you (unless you drown them in bacon bits, sour cream and cheese, like the commercial tells you to.)  This thing has probably already been banned in New York City, and the rest of the country should follow suit before it's too late.

I mean, look at that guy about to break his couch- yeah, he needs bacon-bowl cheeseburgers.

(Bacon Bowl Ice Cream Sundaes....Ummm...hey, remember those microwavable milkshakes?  I never got to try one of those.  Why didn't they catch on?  Ahead of their time?)

Not exactly sure, but I know what it will include, iPad Air

Whatever my verse is, it will not be complete until I get to the part where I hunt down the pretentious, twee fraud who bored me to despair with this minute-plus of treacle and beat him to death with his own overbearing, unjustified sense of importance.

Oh, and I think the final words will include something about drooling losers who have managed to convince themselves that gluing their eyes to a glowing screen is somehow enriching their lives, and how when they are in their final moments, all the time they spent ignoring the world so that they could fixate on pixels will come back and bite them in the....err, haunt them with memories of lost opportunities.

Eh, who am I kidding?  When these stupid social misfits die, their final thoughts will be of the Games Not Played, Bullshit Art Not "drawn," and Tweets not Tweeted.   And who will alert the world that it has one less Facebook Friend.

Another Perfect Day in the non-lives of the Techno-Addled

I've used this line in a blog post for a similar commercial, but it's worth repeating- they sure don't make Greatness like they used to, do they?

I mean, here are grown men celebrating their ability to idle away the very short time they have on Earth living one childish fantasy after another (all of which involve killing people in "fun" ways or smashing cars- are these all Rated M For Mature?)  Naturally at least one scene must include the Gamer and Pathetically Proud Of It Moron delightedly firing some infinite-ammunition supercannon at an army of equally vapid, drooling couch potatoes.

But heck, why am I complaining?  Every hour these losers spend playing Big Sword or Gun Wielding Hero in Mommy's basement is an hour they aren't swerving from lane to lane on the highway scrolling through sports scores instead of paying attention to the other cars on the non-virtual reality road.  It's an hour they aren't blocking my favorite hiking path because they are checking Facebook on their iPhones when I just want to get past and keep my heart rate up.  In other words, in the long run, it's all good.

So keep swinging those big axes and driving those fast cars and shooting those awesome weapons at your friends, SuperLosers!  Your absence from the real world is more appreciated than you think!