Anyone in Advertising ever exercise, ever?

Because after a brutally hard workout, what's better than a big bowl of cold strawberries topped with Reddi Whip?

Pretty much anything, actually.

Unless, of course, you like to wrap up a good round of exercise with nasty stomach cramps.

Hey, desk jockeys of the advertising world:  Here are some good ideas for after-workout consumption:  Water.  Gatorade.  Powerade.  Pasta.  Potatoes. Cold fruit and fake whipped cream? Ehhhhh....not so much.

Typically nice house, though.  Everyone in every commercial lives in a nice house.  In this case, I guess that's the compensation for really bad intestinal pain.

At the moment, I don't feel like a priority, USPS

I've trashed the US Postal Service on more than one occasion through this blog.  It usually involves my annoyance at the dwindling number of boxes available in the neighborhood and the habit the local post office has of delivering mail every other day or so, and pretty much never on Saturdays (when I heard that the post office was going to cancel Saturday mail delivery, I had to remind myself that such a thing still existed.  The good people of Takoma Park Maryland will not miss Saturday mail delivery because it's been basically non- existent for years.

Here's my latest rant, triggered by this commercial which tells me that I am a priority of the United States Postal Service.  On Thursday April 10 I flew to Vermont for spring break.  Before leaving, I arranged to have my mail held by that wonderful US Postal Service which considers my convenience a priority.  I checked the box which stipulated that mail delivery would be resumed on Monday April 21, and all held mail would be delivered on that date.

Here's the confirmation I received from USPS:

Your hold mail request April 14 - April 21, 2014

You have requested Hold Mail Service for 04/14/2014. Keep your confirmation number handy in case you need to edit or cancel this request. If your mail is currently being held, it can not be cancelled. But you can still change the end date.

Ok, so I had a great time in Vermont and got back on Sunday.  USPS let me know they hadn't forgotten about me, because I had this notice in my email box (the only mail box USPS currently seems to recognize:)

The last day for your hold mail request is April 20, 2014 .

Your Hold Mail Service for April 14 - April 21, 2014 is ending. We'll be resuming your regular mail delivery on 04/21/2014. Remember to pick up your held mail at the Post Office® if you're not having it delivered to your address.

Can you guess what the problem is?  You got it- it's Wednesday afternoon, April 23, and I have yet to receive my accumulated mail- or any mail, period.   Hmm.....acknowledgement of hold request.  Notification of resumption of mail delivery.  Everything working fine....except.....resumption of mail delivery.

Thanks, USPS.  It's great to know I'm a priority.  Maybe you could let the people at the Takoma Park Maryland post office know.  They haven't got the memo.  Maybe you sent it USPS?

I wonder what the "Certificate of Authenticity" says

I heard this commercial on the radio this morning, and really hoped I could find a television version.  Imagine my delight to discover EXACTLY the same commercial in video form on YouTube.

Ok, there's not a whole lot going on in my life right now.  Sue me.

Anyway, I can imagine that these "Angel Coins" are big sellers in places like Kentucky, Tennessee, Oklahoma, Kansas- you know, the "Bible Belt."  Where people are long on faith and very, very short on brains and common sense.  I'm not talking about the entire populations of these states, mind you- there are plenty of naive, superstitious idiots in my old neighborhood, too- but silly people with notions of guardian angels and magic coins and amulets and charms and lucky numbers and such do seem to congregate in such places.  These people always seem to be worried about money unless there are Stormin Norman Commemorative Plates or Seal Team Six Commemorative Coins or Remember 9/11 Medallions or Tributes To A Coin That Was Worth Something in 1883 Clad With A Tiny Bit of Actual Silver being sold on late-night tv shows.  Then they seem to go a little nuts, because after all- these things might be worth something someday- right?

I don't know if the story this commercial starts with is true or not- nor do I really care.  So a prisoner of the Committee on Security prayed to a piece of money (good as any deity, I guess) and then he was spared execution- so what? What if he had used that money to bribe the jailer to set him free-would that have made the "Angel Coin" even more magical?

And besides, the coin this guy inexplicably decided to pray to isn't being offered for sale here- just a copy.  An alleged copy at that- how do the sellers even know what the original coin looked like?  Why would a copy carry the "powers" of the original "Angel Coin," even if I could be convinced that the original had any power at all?

Oh well, I guess it doesn't really matter, since I'm not the target audience here- I'm not an uneducated, middle-aged rube who thinks that the universe (and the everyday life of individuals) is being governed by invisible spirits who live in bits of metal.   But cheer up, suckers- if I'm wrong, you'll get the last laugh during the next revolution, when I'm beheaded and you get away unharmed because you locked in your Dazzling One Ounce Historic Surprisingly Affordable Low Price Angel Coins minted in London, England (as opposed to London, Ontario I guess) and I was being a snarky non-believer.

Only funny if you are the audience this is aiming for.

The joke here is that this twee cutesy song is the background in a commercial for yet another vicious, stupid, pointlessly violent video game.  Funny, huh?

Here's an even bigger joke- the pasty, allegedly "adult" losers who are wasting their lives on this crud.  If they are "Mature," that word does not mean what I thought it meant.   Me?  I'm heading outside again.  Beautiful day, interesting people, and all that.  Don't expect I'll be running into the zombies who devote so much of their lives to this brain-dead junk.  Fine with me.

The next time this thing hits my tv, I'm throwing a brick through it

The only believable thing about this god-awful insulting pile of dung is that it features Vanilla Ice working as a grocery store stock boy.  Hey, everyone has to earn a living.

The rest of it- oh lord, every time I think commercials can't possibly get any worse, something like this pops up.  It's not even that Vanilla Ice seems genuinely excited about stacking infinite boxes of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese shaped like characters popular 25 years ago (when I had pretty much the same job 25 years ago, I was nowhere near this enthusiastic, sorry.)  It's that this insane woman goes into weird convulsions which I guess are supposed to be a combination of ecstasy over actually meeting Vanilla Ice (she doesn't look fifty, how does she even know who he is?) and the thrill of anticipation over consuming orange cheese-flavored fatty crud with her idiot kid who Now Thinks She's An Idiot.

Anyway, I expect I'll need a new tv soon, because they are playing this commercial during Cosmos, which is rapidly becoming my favorite show.

Craftsman (n:) Combination of Epic Laziness and Deep Confusion over what it Means to be an American Male

Notice how not one of these Suburban idiots even remotely needs a riding mower?

I spend my summers at my boyhood home in Vermont.  Our combined front, side and back yards consist of maybe two acres of hilly land.  I spend one day a week for two months mowing those lawns.  With a push mower.

That's right- when my parents went shopping for a new mower a few years back, I insisted that they skip the self-propelled nonsense.  I'm the self that will be doing the propelling.  It's good exercise, and when it's over I can cool off with a dip in the pond.  Good times.

Meanwhile, these jackasses don identical worn-out plaid shirts, faded jeans, two-day stubble and (oh please!) safety goggles so they can cruise around their postage-stamp lawns for roughly thirty seconds.  Give me a freaking break- these "lawns" could be reduced to piles of dirt with less than a full bottle of Round-Up.  "Up to 7.5 MPH?"  The commercial concedes that to reach any speed at all, the owner must trespass on to the property of his neighbors.  Yeah, I guess if you want to use your "tractor" to race the Lesser Mowers on Clapton Drive, this is the vehicle for you.  But if you an actual adult, what the hell?

( If I ever heard one of these guys complain about the cost of gasoline, I seriously think I would lose it. And I'm not even going to mention the White Suburban Housewife who is rendered mute and breathless by the Awesome Manly Man On The Tractor- jeeeesh, lady.  Every want more out of life than this?)

Craftsman?  I have to congratulate you for your success in selling your riding mowers to people who simply have no use for them.  This is right up there with the residents of Levittown sticking Ford  F150 Trucks or (gag) Humvees in their driveways- just more evidence that in this incredibly unfair world, there are way too many people out there who have tons of money and not Clue One what to do with any of it.  Must be nice.

(Oh, and "kicking grass and taking names?"  Hey, whatever helps you keep a grip on your manhood as you cruise around in your little I'm a Lazy Douchenozzlemobile, buddy.)

Personally, I'm more than ready to be "used"

The woman is this ad finds the fact that her new boyfriend keeps taking her out to dinner- and picking up the tab-rather odd.  Yeah, that IS very strange behavior.  Taking a date out to dinner?  Weird- maybe he's a serial killer or something.

No, turns out that he's much, much worse- thanks to her- um, "friend," she realizes* that her horrible user boyfriend is just "racking up thank you points" by using his CitiBank Visa card.  What a scumbag, using her innocently healthy appetite and equally innocent "guys pay" philosophy in order to get rewards from his credit card.  She ought to do a little more thinking now- those flowers he sent?  I bet he used his card to buy THAT, too!  What a jerk!

I really hope she tells him off- maybe something like "ok, buster, I'm on to you- from now on, we are going DUTCH TREAT-- no, forget that, I'M PAYING FOR BOTH OF US!"  That'll teach him!  And if it doesn't- can this woman please give me a call?  Because unlike her insane friend, I don't look for nefarious motives behind my date's willingness to pick up the check....;>)

*Or maybe he's just being a kind of old-fashioned gentleman.  Naw, couldn't be.