Acura does it their way. And we hate Acura all the more for it

"Their way" means taking an intensely overrated song from 400 years ago and mutilating it into an ear-bleeding, garbled mess we wouldn't recognize except for the somewhat familiar tune and using it to narrate a bunch of engineers ripping up and reassembling a car so that it looks-- just like every other freaking car on the road.

Making this whole experience not only a horrible waste of time, but a lie.  There's nothing special about this Acura.  There's nothing that makes it stand out from all of the other LookAtMeMobiles out there.  It's just another luxury car.  Hell, even the commercial isn't all that different from the others- just slightly more obnoxious in it's "look at we did aren't we awesome"-ness.   And just a little more likely to make us keep the remote with it's very friendly mute button handy.

Another stupid, pointless toy for vapid losers with way too much money

Know how commercials are kind of supposed to convince us exactly why we really need, or at least would really enjoy, the product being offered for sale?  Well, how does this ad come even close to pulling that off?

I mean, I guess if some woman finds herself married to a bored jackass who wants to pull his jogging outfit from 1975 out of the storage area in the attic, climb on to the roof of the garage, and try to throw a basketball through a hoop in the driveway, then yeah, you might want one of these things. Especially if you want to replay one part of it again and again and again with the rub of a finger.

But really, how many people out there really fit that description?  First of all what this guy is doing--- this is something I'd expect to see understimulated kids who have run out of ideas for wasting summer vacation do- and get yelled at by their parents for doing.  Second, if I were this woman I'd be too busy being embarrassed and apologetic to the neighbors to be actually filming my dumbass of a spouse.  I'd also be too busy yelling at him to get his fool ass off the garage roof and find something productive to do, the freaking knob.  Of course, this being 2014, it's far more likely that these hillbillies are proudly posting hubby's little stunt on Youtube in no time- and that it's getting 100,000 "likes" and a comments such as "LOL that is awesome I wanna do that" because YouTubers....well....

Meanwhile- anyone in this neighborhood trying to sell their house on this day?  Sorry, you are out of luck.

Oscar Mayer doesn't take pollution very seriously

Just one question- does it come with it's own designated landfill?

Twenty-five years ago I was stacking "Lunchables," Oscar Mayer's 90s version of it's Very Little Food Surrounded by a Lot of Plastic, at a Wegman's in upstate New York.  "Lunchables" at that time consisted of about eight crackers, eight slices of pre-sliced cheese, and a square of pressed ham you'd expect to see being dished out in some dystopia/crapsack world movie like "Divergent."

As it turns out, Oscar Mayer wasn't kidding- they don't like "fads" over there.  Here's the proof- Snackables for "adults" who have no more economic sense or social conscience than their parents did back in the 90s.  A handful (almost) of nuts, an ounce or two of cheese, and "meat" (not even named in this commercial- just to be safe, I guess- and because it's spoken you can't see the quotation marks around the word "meat.....")  I can totally see 5-6 of these providing a nice energy burst for the truly active guy.  Oh, and with a super-hip name: P3.  I guess that's "Protein 3," for the three ingredients- except it leaves out the Fat, Salt, and Preservatives that make up most of what's in the package.

And speaking of the package- again, the more things change, the more they stay the same.  Here's about six ounces of food wrapped in eight ounces of plastic that will still exist when the sun goes supernova.  Thanks, Oscar Mayer.  Twenty-five years later, you're still part of the problem.

(Oh, and BTW- smug doofus eating this junk? You'd be far better off doing any of those "stupid" things you are sneering at, including guzzling that protein drink, than popping that fatty, salty junk.  And you'd be doing the world a favor, too.  Not that you look like you're in to that kind of thing.)

Quick Message to Taco Bell

Proving that you can make a commercial as vapid and just plain dumb as any McDonald's ad doesn't make me want to eat your grease-infused, calorie-dense yet nutrient-deficient junk any more than I want to eat the lard-based crap being served up by McDonald's, ok?

In one version of this ad which I could not find, the group is asked "why do you get  burritos at Taco Bell" or something like that.  There's a long pause, until the Oldest and Widest Amongst Them quips "you don't go to a burger place to get sushi."  His fellow losers are so impressed by this example of Old Guy Wit that they break into laughter.  No kidding. Find the ad.  See for yourself.

(Personally, if I want Actual Mexican Food, I don't go NEAR Taco Bell.  My guess is that quip wouldn't make it into the final commercial.)

Now you can tell these attention-starved losers who were cursed with unfortunate names by their parents to go home and live down their appearance in this god-awful commercial.  We're done.

An Open Letter to Wendy's

The ad campaign with this woman really, really needs to be over now.  Because you didn't just jump the shark with this crap- you jumped it, turned the boat around, and jumped it again, practically daring us to toss bricks (or pretzel-roll burgers, whichever is less edible) through our TV screens.

Flo and Jan are bad enough, but at least they have the excuse of actually working for the companies they are forever praising to the heavens.  The Wendy's girl doesn't work at Wendy's.  There's no reason for her obsession with the company or it's food.  I didn't want to see her eating every single meal at Wendy's.  I sure as hell don't want to see her singing about the place- let alone singing a freaking love song to a particular sandwich.  I'm sure this is supposed to be kind of funny.  It's not.

Let's move on, Wendy's.  This woman is not getting her own sitcom.  She's had lots of exposure and the networks have responded with a collective yawn.  This blogger is also responding with a yawn- and an "enough, already."  Jeesh, I don't think the Aflac Duck is as Played as this horrible woman is.

Let her go.  Flo and Jan will be along in the very near future, god willing.  But this chick needs to be shown the exit.  Now.

The little frosted mini wheat guy is the most believable part of this ad

Yeah, thank goodness you eat your frosted mini wheats, lady- it allows you to get all the complicated coffee orders from the over-indulged upper-class dicktards right on the first try.  It also allows you to work faster faster FASTER, which makes you a real asset to the owner of this coffee shop, who might someday actually reward you with a fifty cent per hour raise.  Welcome to Capitalism 101, where Lesson #1 is learning that the reward for hard work is generally....more hard work.

Oh, but she lives in this beautiful house with lots of naturally light streaming in from her front yard garden.....hmmmmm.....methinks someone in Ad Land has no clue what these coffee monkeys bring home in their weekly paycheck.  This woman has a husband who makes real money but doesn't give her any of it, forcing her to take on a part-time job to earn pocket change, or she's sharing that house with about four other people, all of whom earn more than she does.

It's almost scary to imagine that the good people at Kellogg's might actually believe that this is how "barristas," waitresses, grocery store clerks, etc. live.

Point of Personal Privilege- For Glenn Beck, it's all about the taxes

For those of you who are blessedly unfamiliar with this smooth-talking Lonesome Rhodes reincarnation, Beck is a guy who was Fox's biggest star for a few years with his own late-afternoon cable show until he got too insane even for that network (there are times when Beck makes Alex Jones seem sensible, to let you know how truly nuts he can be.)  Now he peddles "love and understanding" in a sing-song voice when he isn't calling the President a racist Communist and urging his listeners to stock up on gold and "food insurance."   He tells "thoughtful" little stories featuring dramatic pauses you could drive a truck through which I guess is supposed to make him sound deep, or something.

Anyway, the reason for this particular blog post:  I happened to stumble on to Beck's morning radio program today while he was discussing the subject of taxes.  He mentioned that the winner of the World Series of Poker (yeah, there really is such a thing) received a grand prize of $9.2 million " but because he lives in Denmark, which has a very high income tax, he walked away with only $2.5 million."

Beck:  "Now, if you want to live in a country like that- I sure don't!- Bernie Sanders and the Socialists are ready to have that all set up for you."

Meanwhile, the second-place winner received a prize of $5.8 million, "but because he lives in Russia, he only paid $700,000 in taxes.  After taxes, he walked away with more than twice as much money as the guy who beat him!"

Strongly implied by Glenn Beck:  Russia is better than Denmark.  Life expectancy in each country?  Education and literacy levels?  Quality of life? Actual free elections?   Irrelevant.  Russia has lower taxes.  Russia is better, because Russia has lower taxes.

And here's the punchline, as far as I'm concerned:  I'm pretty sure that the average Beck listener makes about $40,000 per year.  Which means their taxes are historically very low, regardless of what Beck tells them and what (therefore) they think about their tax burden.  Yet, I am sure that 90 percent of his listeners were just as horrified as Beck at the thought of a poor, put-upon poker player "earning" only $2.5 million- more than any of them will make in a lifetime- after taxes.  Talk about misplaced sympathy.  Maybe they should send that poor Danish poker player some gold or dried food or a ticket to Russia or- hey, I know!- one of these nifty safes!