Oh F-Off, Lexus

From the lack of smiling, I can figure that the message of the commercial is clearly NOT that owning a Lexus F Series LookAtMeMobile will make you happy.  I guess I have to give Lexus a little credit for being the very first car company ever to produce a commercial which does not suggest Buy This= Joy.

On the other hand, we see a lot of  sneering.  We also see one guy in particular who looks like he's going to to boil over in rage at having to wait for a Not-Lexus train pass before he can continue to race along wet roads at high speeds in a mad effort to overcompensate for- something or another.   (The GALL of that train to be in his way- I bet it's not even TRANSPORTING Lexuses.  May even be filled with non Lexus-owning lesser people!)

Maybe it's the same guy later who lives for Stop Signs and Red Lights so he can peal out and let everyone within half a mile or so know that he was at that Stop Sign or Red Light?   And then roar through city streets at roughly 50 MPH (like everyone else in car commercials?)

But what we see most of all is coveting.  Pretty people living Pretty lives stopping and staring and drooling at Pretty cars as they go about doing their Pretty things in Pretty places with their Pretty friends.  We get the impression that each one of them is more than capable of buing a Lexus F Series and the only reason they haven't already is because they weren't aware these wonderful life-affirming things existed, were right there, waiting to make their Already Amazing Existence even more Amazing.  Warms the heart. Or makes you really, really sick.  One of those.

Because dad's brain is now a turnip, apparently

Your car is now a Hot Spot.  Well, thank goodness- because actually planning ahead was soooo exhausting and burned soooo many brain cells.  Now, thanks to the new Chevrolet (and your internet-addled kids) you can do all your planning and decision-making on the run, and you never have to put any advanced thought into anything at all!  This is even better than that OnStar "how may I kiss your ass today, sir?" Operator At Your Beck and Call service, because it doesn't cost you a monthly fee (or does it?

Meanwhile, those of us who can't afford this car will just have to keep our lives organized in order to keep people from discovering that we are flightly, thoughtless, forgetful nuggets of self-asorption too stupid to remember important stuff.  Clearly we will be in the minority soon, as dependence on electronic devices to get us out of the freaking house in one piece will be the norm before the end of next year, if it isn't already.

BTW, why was it so important for the kid in the back to complete whatever arrangements she was making before Mommy got back into the car- it's not like Mommy was going to ask what they were doing.*  The point of arming your kids with these stupid toys is so you DON'T have to engage with them.  Suddenly DVD players in the car seem quaint- how did that happen so fast?

Oh, and check out the-- umm, "comments" the YouTubers left- eighty percent of them are by sniveling little corporate brown-nosers bleating the title of the commercial.  Good job, doggies.  Here's a biscuit- just jump a little higher for the boss!

*"You guys ever going to put those down?"

No Answer.

Mom smiles helplessly and forgets even asking eight seconds later.  And why not- YOU'RE the reason they HAVE those things, stupid!

What are the Logistics of a Mass Slaying? Because this commercial badly needs one. Now.

If you don't want to beat each and every one of these self-important, self-satisfied jackasses to death by the third "great," you are far, far better person than I am.  And if you don't want to toss the "I love Logistics" guy out the window while yelling "I Love Gravity!", well, you just lack my imagination.

If we can't have any of those things happen, and it's also too much to ask that a meteorite vaporize this building five seconds after this meeting of the no-minds ends, how about a sequel revealing that the start-up was a collossal failure and these adorable perky young people are now being adorable and perky in their mom's basements and in dumpsters behind Burger King?

I mean, instead of the actual sequel we've got running now, which is exactly the same except that the word "great" has been replaced by "awesome" (seriously, that's the only difference.  One word.  Repeated six times.  Know what a killer tornado would be right about now? Awesome.)

This commercial explains so much about my life

Obviously, the reason I don't have crowds of pretty young people in my house for spontaneous parties is because I lack decent coverage for my phone.  Now I feel bad- how many nights was I just sitting there at home, reading or watching tv, totally oblivious to the fact that between six and twenty good-looking partiers were standing right outside my door desperately trying to reach me on my phone to let me know that they were there waiting to gain entrance to my abode for a night of laughter, dancing, and watching me take more calls on my phone?

Now, I know what you're thinking- "hey, John, they could have just knocked."  To which I reply, no they couldn't, because that's not what the hip young people qualified to be my friends do nowadays.  Knocking is soooooo old school.  What are you, forty or something?  It's all about the connectivity, man.

Now, I know what you're thinking- "Um, ok, John- but you don't have a basement.  You've got the top level of a duplex.  Kind of hard to see how they couldn't reach you from your door 20 feet away..."  To which I reply, "shut up, that's why."

Watching this commercial with the sound off...did I get the message right?

Jill sits in the coffee shop ruminating over a cup of java and her own fleeting youth, wondering what she's going to do when she reaches the age at which people who actually have jobs "retire."

She makes a decision: She's going to try to seduce that nice young broker whose office she's been passing pretty much every day.  She gets up and leaves the coffee shop, passing that creepy stalker guy who is always sitting at the table near the door trying to make eye contact and drawing sketches that are almost certainly destined to be Exhibit A in the trial which takes place six months after her mysterious dissapearence.

Anyway, she waited too long to go after the broker guy- he's really not interested in this woman who is at least ten years older than he is besides being an obviously broke goldigger- but her visit isn't a total loss, because he casually mentions that she goes to the same coffee shop as one of his best clients, a scruffy weirdo who obsessively sketches portraits of his future victims- errrr, soulmates- as he drinks his coffee, in no hurry to get to an office because he's got more money than Mitt Romney.

With dollar signs in her eyes, Jill saunters back to her regular table at the coffee shop, and this time makes eye contact with Sleazy Creep But Hey The Clock Is Ticking And He's Got Money at the table next to the door.  Next thing you know, they are walking out the door together.  Happy Ending, right? Well, yeah probably, unless you are a morbid weirdo like me.

So....how'd I do?  Close?

Derek Jeter's retired. There are playoffs to be watched and enjoyed. Let's all just move on please.

Because MLB and Gatorade aren't quite satisfied with the six-month Derek Jeter wankfest that was the 2014 baseball season, we are being subjected to this ridiculous sloppy kiss Valentine featuring everyone's favorite Aw Shucks I'm Just a Ballplayer I Don't Deserve or Want all this Attention retiring New York Yankee.

No, not Mariano Rivera.  That was 2013's I"m Saying Goodbye Before The Season Starts But Gosh I Hope You Don't Make a Fuss ridiculously dragged out forced lovefest, featuring almost daily lectures from every color commentator in baseball that If We Aren't Eternally Grateful That We Had The Opportunity To Breathe the Same Air As These Legends There Is Something Seriously Wrong With Us.  But the message was not lost on the Most Humble Man Ever to Don a Uniform and Just Want to Play Baseball Please Don't Make a Big Deal of it.

This year it was Derek Jeter's turn to casually announce his retirement during spring training Just in Case Some Teams I Don't Know Maybe Want to Do Something Special Just Sayin'.  This year we had another Unassuming Humble Yankee spending month after month reluctantly participating in pregame ceremonies including gaudy gifts which wasted everybody's time and delayed starts.  And we got one tribute after another from teary-eyed ESPN yakkers who couldn't stop reminding us what an incredible human being Jeter was because all he did was go out every day and play ball for more money in a month than most of us will make in our lifetimes, gosh what a champion on and OFF the field.

And all because MLB and Gatorade flatly refuse to understand the concept that Derek Jeter was a beloved player in exactly one city, to exactly one fan base.  Just because the bland, nonpartisan morons at MLB and Gatorade think that Jeter was just adored by all baseball fans doesn't make it so.  As a Red Sox fan, I don't expect anyone but Red Sox fans to wish David Ortiz a fond farewell when he exits the stage.  But somehow, I was supposed to love Jeter because I love baseball?  To hell with that.

And since the Laws of God and Nature have been brutally violated and we aren't permitted to witness His Greatness during the playoffs this season (despite Bud Selig's Operation Red Sox And Yankees in the Playoffs Every Year rigging- note to successor- maybe we need a few more Wild Card spots?) we'll just have to be happy with these nauseating commercials.  Or hit the mute button, fast.  Gag.

And here's the worst part- there are a whole SERIES of these Dodge Dart ads!

These aren't commercial satires.  These are actual commercials.  You know, put together by a company that actually wants you to buy it's product, and not grab a gun, head to the advertising agency that produced this, and kill everyone in the building you can find until the police show up and put you out of your misery.

And all for a Dodge Dart.  That's right, a Dodge Dart.  A $15,000, $199 per month piece of crap Dodge Dart.  You've got to be kidding me, right?

Nope.  This neighbor really, really wants to touch this other neighbor's Dodge Dart- and the other neighbor "won't let him" (personally, if I were a major nutcase like Neighbor #1, I wouldn't be waiting for "permission" to touch his garbage car.  I'd just touch the damn car and ask what the hell he planned to do about it.   But if I were a major nutcase like Neighbor #1, I'd be a really, really sad human being, and the very thought is sending me into a spiral of depression so I'd better stop right now.

If I were Neighbor #2, I'd wonder what horrible turn my life took where I'm so proud of being the owner of a freaking Dodge Dart in the first place.  Because he might be even sadder than Neighbor #1.  Well, ok, he's not- but it's closer than it has any right to be.