Remember when Superheros used to fight Nazis and Aliens?

Well, I guess the 21st century's version of the Justice League isn't all that interested in diverting extinction-level meteors or planet-swallowing galaxy-roaming doomsday machines.  Heck, they probably wouldn't return our calls if we tried to tell them that Lex Luthor was back on the prowl.  Today's superheroes are savvy to the real enemy of mankind's happiness and peace of mind- the Evil IRS.

Because if you've been sloppy in your bookkeeping, casual in your filing habits, or are just a freeloading crook who doesn't want to pay his fair share because after all Ron Paul Told Me On The Teevee that the 16th Amendment was Unconstitutional, you'll need the help of the Tax Resolvers.  So confident in your intense gullibility and fear of the consequences of your own actions that you'll put your financial future in the hands of people who wear masks and spandex, Tax Resolvers does little more than give the 800 number where you can call and do the only thing more stupid than not paying your tax bill when it's due.

Yes, Tax Resolvers will use it's Superpowers on the Internal Revenue Service (previously known as the Legion of Doom) to "rescue" you from having to share any of your ill-gotten wealth with the society that builds the roads and finances the police and military that protects it and makes it possible.  Paying taxes?  That's for people who DON'T have--um--"heroes" on their side.  So call today, and within thirty minutes of becoming a client, Tax Resolvers promises to reduce the IRS building to a pile of smoking, radioactive ash with it's Kryptonite-infused Death Laser of Freedom.*

*Offer void in Utah, Puerto Rico, and Reality.

More Manipulative, Olympics-inspired tripe

First, the good news: If you didn't already know this story from the newspapers and the television and the internet, you get the whole thing boiled down in a 90-second trailer.  At the end of which I imagine that most of you will be thinking what I was thinking:  Why the hell would I want to watch the two-hour version of this?

Hell, the 90 second version was plenty painful.

Second, I'm pretty sure that this bowl of lukewarm porridge left absolutely no cliche unspoken.  Little black girl has a dream.  Mom has more bills than money.  Family and community pulls together to help little black girl fulfill her dream.  No, her dream isn't to get that heart transplant.  It's to go to the Olympics and have roughly two and a half minutes of --ahem---"fame" by contorting her body on a balance beam.

Hey, it's still a dream!  Shut up!

Oh, and "we can't afford to send her to the Olympics" followed by "you can't afford not too."  Wow, didn't see THAT line coming!

"You can be the best in the world" says the black coach/mentor/inspiration provider.  Uh huh.  Because being the best at throwing one's prepubescent body about for a few moments for the cameras- well, what more could a black girl aspire to?  Except- doesn't "best in the world" in this context mean "better than the other .00000001 percent of the planet that is even attempting to do this?"

"This is one for the storybooks" bleats newsyakker.  Why not "this is one for a crappy Lifetime movie?"

No one has ever explained why any normal person who doesn't own eight cats or seek dates using ChristianMingle would give a damn about any of the people whose stories are being told in these treacly "Based on a True Story" bundles of warm pudding.  If anyone has ever been "inspired" to do anything but vomit after watching one of these "feel good" dung piles, I suggest therapy.

By the way, what the hell is with this scene-

White Male:  "What's her name?"
Black Female:  "Gabrielle Douglas."
White Male:  "Gabby Douglas!"

Can I hope that the next line was "no, GABRIELLE DOUGLAS.  Not 'Gabby.'  Why did you shorten her name like that?  What's wrong with Gabrielle?  Is it ok that a black girl is named 'Gabrielle,' or do you think it's your job and privilege as a white man to shorten or 'adjust' the name of every black female athlete?"

Considering the title of this junk, I'm assuming the answer is "no."

What part of "One A Day" do you not understand?

One A Day Gummies are marketed, near as I can tell, toward men who simply will not take their multivitamins like a big boy.  These men probably grew up chewing little orangy pills shaped like Flintstones characters and have no interest in making the transition to huge tasteless white things which must be consumed with water (and, for those who are like me, in the evening to avoid massive stomach upset.)

So now we have One A Day VitaCraves, which I imagine are just as nasty as gummy bears which don't have 417% of my daily recommended allowance of folic acid.  Ok, fine, whatever.  Some people don't like pills.  I sure don't.  My problem is, I don't like edible plastic, either.

Here's my trick question:  What's the recommended daily dose of the One A Day VitaCraves?  Why Two, of course.

And here's my not-so-trick question-- why can't One A Day make an adult version of Flintstones chewables?  I'd definitely go for that.  Gummies? Yuck.

We just love grandma's internet--err, grandma!

Wow, the warmth just oozes, doesn't it/

Kids don't really want to visit grandma.  Dad sure doesn't help, basically admitting that Mom is kind of a stick in the mud and yeah she's not very exciting but hey she'll be dead soon and Mommy and I really want to go to Vegas so just put up with her maybe she'll leave you a little something in her will ok kids?

But hey, check this out!  Grandma has got herself hooked up with Verizon Fios, so now the kids can saturate themselves with video games and television.  Suddenly, Grandma's house is awesome!  Grandma? Well....we played a game with her, and she didn't interrupt us too much when we were rocking her awesome connectivity, so she's ok too, I guess.  I think she baked us cookies- I remember putting something warm and chocolaty in my mouth between levels.....

"Can we stay over?"  Because grandma passes out around 6 PM and then we can really go to town with her cable system.  Yay Grandma!

Eight people killed by lightning on golf courses last year. Just sayin'.

While LeBron James plays nine holes of golf, his investments make more money than most of us will see over the course of ten years of hard work.

Just thought I'd share this little nugget of information, so you have something to think about the next time you are told that you are supposed to enjoy watching LeBron James pretend to play golf for a Samsung Galaxy Commercial.

Oh, and BTW- James got more money for being in this commercial than you will make this year.  Glad I could help.

This is how it starts, thanks to companies like Tide

One minute, this kid is "adventurous" (which to treacly grandma means "does what every other kid on the planet does, like ride big wheels) and the next we are told he has skin so delicate that it might hurt the little shmuggums if just the right detergent isn't used to clean his precious blankey.

One minute, this kid is big enough to be plowing down the road apparently unsupervised (unless that dog is his babysitter,) and the next he's so small he can't be trusted not to tip a hot fudge sundae all over his blankey and play with it.  Seriously, he's four years old when he's on his bike and maybe 18 months when he's in a restaurant?  I smell Spoiled Brat Syndrome written all over this kid, because....

When Grandma is "in charge," this kid basically does whatever the hell he wants and is greeted by a loving smile.  Jeesh, come on, Tide.  This isn't endearing, it's just stupid and gross and should be shown to Mom as a warning of how much damage is being done when she tries to save a few bucks and lets grandma play babysitter.  Make a note, Mom- your child drops two years when he's with her, and isn't learning ANYTHING about table manners.

Meanwhile, let's decide whether this kid is allowed to cruise around outside on his big wheel or needs to be in a freaking plastic bubble because his skin is so sensitive.

Every new Volkswagen ad makes the Baby Jesus Cry

This is a commercial for the 2014 Volkswagen.  In it, we see one reach 100,000 miles.  Even if this guy works for Volkswagen and was allowed to purchase the very first car off the line months before it was put on the market on the very first day of 2013, he would have had to average almost 275 miles per day to reach 100,000 in one year.  Does the guy in this ad EVER stop driving?

Not to mention that this car is showroom-gleaming -- if it has 100,000 miles on it, 99,999 were accumulated with the wheels spinning with the car mounted on struts.  Yeah, this car has seen actual seasons and weather and parking lots and potholes. Sure it has.

Hard to believe, but this is the part of the commercial that makes the MOST sense.  It gets much worse, because Stupid Dad makes another lame attempt to form a connection with Rude But Oddly Not Texting Daughter*  by spinning some weird-ass story about German engineers getting their wings whenever one of these cars goes over 100,000.  I can almost excuse her sneering "shut up moron" response (which would have gotten me a cuff across the mouth if I had tried it when I was her age) because this really is dad just needing to turn on the radio and STFU.  In other words, just admitting he has Nothing To Say To His Spawn.

We get about a minute of "German engineers" sprouting "wings."  It's not at all funny or entertaining and like a lot of these ads,  it goes on waaaayyyyyy too long.  Anyone not "get it" after the first five engineers "get their wings?"  No problem- here's a dozen more.

But even this isn't as offensive as daughter's response- which means that this commercial actual manages to start mildly dumb and get more insulting and unwatchable as it progresses.  I guess that's something.  Congratulations, Volkswagen- you've made yet another stupid commercial which makes me hate your product.  Did an ad exec get his wings?

(Oh and BTW, if you are one of those people who "only watch the Superbowl for the commercials,"  you are so pathetic and sad I can't even muster up any pity for you.  Seriously, though, what the hell is the matter with you losers?)

*When we are done with all the wings-sprouting BS and get back to the daughter- well, what do you know, she's texting.  She probably was earlier in the commercial too, we just couldn't see her hands.  What was I thinking?