And in 33 seconds, Subaru kind of makes us wish they hadn't

This family survived a horrible crash because they were riding in a Subaru.  In fact, they apparently walked away without a scratch.  Good for them.  Good for Subaru.

Underneath the surface, however, the tiny fissures we can't quite see will soon widen and become cracks, which will then become chasms, and this family will come apart at the weakened seams.

First, we have the nightmares and the 2 AM screaming and the 7 AM soaked mattresses and the 3 PM therapy sessions.  Over and over again the images and sounds fly through Brittany and Cody's tortured minds- first there was mom's sneering, stabbing put-down which sent dad into a brief, offended silence which felt like a smothering blanket choking everyone in the speeding car.  It sounded like "you're driving too goddamned fast, what the fuck is your hurry?"  Then there was dad's frustrated, defiant pulling out of the cellphone, accompanied by an awkward, sudden jerking caused by his momentary failure to control the steering wheel.  Another stab by mom- "put your fucking phone away!"  The retort from Dad- "Stop telling me what to do goddammit you've been like this ever since you got pregnant with Cody!"  Screams.

Second, we have the black cloud of recrimination hanging over the entire house.  It hangs thickly over every silent meal consumed despite stomachs knotted with tension.  It manifests itself in tight-lipped smiles and tighter-lipped pecks on the cheek and in every "no, really, everything's fine" and every icy glance.  It whispers from every corner-- "you almost killed us because you were driving too fast and you weren't paying attention....you almost killed us because you couldn't let it alone and had to keep nagging me...we almost died because your phone was more important than we were....maybe you even wanted us dead because you didn't want Cody OR Brittany and you didn't want to marry me but I got pregnant.....you feel trapped that's why you didn't care enough to slow down when I told you to...."

"The Subaru saved us from a quick death.....so we could live this slow one.   So we could die a little every day, so we could go through the motions of this sham marriage for the sake of the kids we are torturing with the fact that we no longer trust each other, taking comfort only in the fact that someday, we'll die for real.   Until then, here's your toast, here's your coffee, here's your peck on the cheek, here's another Christmas, here's another birthday, there's another line on your face and another gray hair on your head, when the kids are gone we can talk about what comes next, until then just suck it up because They Need Us Now. "

Hey, I bet you thought the TITLE of this post was dark!

I guess it's the house that she found so attractive

As usual, the people in this commercial are living in a palace which includes a kitchen larger than my entire apartment.

I guess that's why the sad-looking woman in this ad seems reasonably content with her lot in life, married to a car-obsessed idiot who thinks of nothing but hitting sharp curves at dangerous speeds in his Buick Regal.   She is so used to his obvious preference for his car that instead of just congratulating Dad for Doing Something Right For Once and getting his kid to eat his strained peas, she mutters "gee I wonder where he got that idea" when the baby appreciates the Cliche'd Car Noises.  She looks like she's about to cry- which gives me the idea that she's had more than enough of hubby's love of his car.

Then she goes back to washing dishes, or whatever she was doing as Her Side of the Bargain (along with popping out a baby now and then.)

Dad's share- providing the big house- has already been taken care of.  Now if you'll excuse him, he has to leave his family to go play Speed Racer on those dangerous curves, like the Man He Is.  Vrooom!  Vroom! Vrooooooooooommmmmmmm!!!

This Magic Moment- when Dell stops torturing us with this guy's horrible voice

Seriously, is the singer in this ad someone's nephew, or what?

Every time this commercial comes on, I think of how lovely listening to nails across a chalkboard would be compared to the singer's weak, whiny, treacly voice.  And then I wonder who he's related to, to have landed this gig.

I mean, I can play the guitar every bit as well as the --umm-- "artist" here.  Not that that's saying much- this is not exactly the most complicated song he's playing.  And as for his voice- I'm no braggart, but I have a MUCH better singing voice that this guy.  Again, not that that's saying much- a rusted-out electric fan clogged with swamp slime produces better sound than this.

So spill it, Dell- who is this horrible, talent-less, tune-less non-talent you got to "sing" this already-awful song related to?  Whoever it is, congratulations- he is so BAD that he actually has me in the same corner as the YouTubers.  And whoever it is, please- stop punishing us with his cracking, straining caterwauling.  We beg of you.

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.