The Brave New World of AT&T

I only got through the first 39 seconds of this awfulness, but that was enough to see a little girl wake up and start "communicating" with the internet before she had wiped the sleep out of her eyes, and her father taking in a stream of nonsense on his bathroom mirror while brushing his teeth.  I'm sure all this digital noise appeals to some people, but I don't know who they are, I don't want to know who they are, and they are way to distracted to have time for another actual human being in their lives anyway.

Someone else can watch the rest of this horror- I'm sure it involves a "happy family" sitting around the kitchen table at breakfast, absorbed with their own personal electronic best friends, before "seamlessly" moving on to the same revolting self-absorption in the "family" SUV.  And I'm sure the message- "your life is lived on the web, and your value and gratification level can only be measured in the amount of data you can let pour all over you in any given day" is relentless.  But I'm not being paid to write this blog, so I'm not going to subject myself to it.

Instead, I'll just continue to congratulate myself for being born into a world where none of these "wonders" were available outside of science fiction books and movies, because ugh I can't imagine what this is doing to the brains and social skills of people who buy into the idea that any of this is necessary, let alone a net positive.  This is just gross.

Silverado Presents: The price we have to pay for watching playoff football*

The only way this commercial could end well is if these walking male cliches- and their dirty jeans, three-day beards, and generally scruffy "I'm just killing time 'till the next Trump rally by driving out into the wilderness with three total strangers" attitudes beat the commercial spokeschoad to death with his own sense of smug.  And then pushed the "mobile office" off that cliff.  And then fulfilled a suicide pact.

Meanwhile, anyone else get totally disgusted at the fact that Chevrolet and some hideous crap sitcom called "Superstore" apparently bought ALL OF THE FREAKING AD TIME for the Packers-Cardinals game?  Hell, I'd actually welcome a Trump ad right about now.

("Real People.  Not Actors."  Yeah, no kidding.)

*this, and having to listen to Chris Berman's schtick- which was so very played twenty years ago- in the postgame shows on ESPN.  His act is so worn out, he ought to take it to Branson.

The best iPhone ad I've ever seen

Ok, so this isn't actually an iPhone ad.  And this post really falls under the category of Personal Privilege, since it's not a commercial at all, just something I found very, very funny which did a great job channeling my own thoughts about stupid cell phone addicts and their pathetic need for whatever new electronic gadget has a small "i" attached to it's name.  You people make me sick.  Especially when you divide your attention between your damn phones and the damn road while you are manuevering your damn cars, making me jump out of your way, dicktards.

Oh, and when you can't put your f---ing phones down long enough to scan your damn groceries properly when you are in front of me in line.  The phrase is "I'll call you back."  Learn it.  Live it.

Oh, and when you try to use your f---ing phone to gain access to a baseball game or an airplane.  Your ticket is on your phone, isn't that awesome and special- until it doesn't work.  Then I'm being held up with my Inferior but 100 Percent Functional paper ticket while you wave your digital one around waiting to hear a beep. Jagoff.

Oh, and when you haven't figured out that everyone on the train can hear your stupid, pointless, vapid conversation.  You would not believe the incredibly personal information I've heard you blather over your damn phones at high volume.  What the hell is the matter with you idiots?  If you don't have any respect for your own privacy, that's your problem.  Why are you making it the problem of the person you are talking to- and the problem of everyone within twenty feet of you, you braying jackasses?

For all the rest of you-- Enjoy the R-rated wonderfulness.  I know I did.

The happy ending to this Verizon ad

An estimated 1600 sad, techno-addled and addicted morons were crushed to death in a tragic stampede which apparently started when someone yelled out into a crowded room "look, there's a door leading to more data!"

The tragedy comes on the heels of the Great Hey I Wasn't Finished Recharging My Phone At the Airport Recharging Station Asshole massacre of last fall, and the Christmas You Are Using All The Bandwidth Streaming That Movie Dicktard melee of last month.

Officials expressed something less than total surprise at this occurance, because after all, More Data.

The fourteen people in the room who were reading books or carrying on actual conversations with each other or just entertaining themselves with their own thoughts were unharmed in the incident.  That's the happy ending suggested in the title of this blog post.

Wendy's most recent contribution to the problem

My favorite part of this ad is when the narrator says "you're still sitting there?" after he tells us we can get roughly 2000 calories worth of greasy fatty sludge from Wendy's for four dollars.

I'm pretty sure that the audience for this crap is usually "just sitting there."  If it's moving at all, it's going online to see if there's any way to just order it so they can continue to just sit there, because man getting off the couch and into the car and over to Wendy's just sounds soooooo tiring.

(There's another version of this ad which is kind of an update- Wendy's tells us that people have been tweeting and texing to let Wendy's know how much they LOVE the new four items for four dollars deal- one tweet even reads "Wendy's 4 x 4 has my heart."  Well, there's probably a lot of literal truth to that....)

What these Michelob Ultra Ads are really all about

"It's not about hiking, or swimming, or just walking.  It's about being twentysomething pretty white people with great teeth and really, really horrible taste in beer who have found something to do for a few hours on Saturdays before getting down to drinking that really horrible beer."

I don't understand- meteors used to hit this planet and wipe out all life on it every few dozen millions of years.  Why doesn't that happen anymore?

Um....whose trophy is that, again?

This dad sure shows around the word "we" a lot, doesn't he?  I'm pretty sure he didn't play a single down of the season.  Maybe he coached, but I doubt it- if he coached, he'd know in advance what kind of trophy the team would be getting. Which means his entire level of participation involved sitting in the stands- and now that the season is over, putting down his son's trophy.

It IS his son's trophy, isnt it?  Kind of hard to tell, considering that he's not satisfied with "seeing" it, as he told his son he wanted to- nope, he's taking on himself to view the trophy as a very dangerous step down the road to games in which kids play for fun, and competition is simply not that important. This horrifies KIA dad, so he decides to deface his kid's trophy while thinking to himself "no way, that's not gonna happen."

What's "not going to happen," again?  Oh yes- his kid enjoying playing football for the sheer fun of it, picking up some great friends and learning about teamwork on the side.  Kid doesn't know it yet, but those days are OVER.  From now on, every game is about WINNING, and all WINNING means is scoring more points than the other team.  Think you "won" because you spent several hours outdoors getting great exercise and having fun with your friends? Check the final score, Nancy- you LOST.  Why aren't you CRYING?  Probably because you've been brainwashed by our liberal, emasculating, man-hating society.

What this commercial really needs as its punchline is for some guy to roll past in his Lexus to snark on Woody Hayes and his KIA- because, you know what?  A KIA is the partipation trophy of Suburban dads.  Stick your attitude on your own trophy-free shelf, Dad.  And give your kid back HIS trophy- he earned it, not you, dumbass.