The "Perfect Age" to be a self-absorbed lunatic

This ridiculously overrated woman is very, very happy with her current age- as long as she can continue to avoid the wrinkles and age spots which rather naturally come with skin which has reached it's seventieth year, like hers has.  She's thrilled to be seventy- as long as she doesn't look it.

Then again, Susan Sarandon would also be perfectly happy with Donald Trump being elected President, as that would "bring on the Revolution"- a revolution she doubtless would be riding out in her chateau somewhere in the South of France with her fellow clueless tongue-clucking somethings- oh, let's call them "Liberals," the kind that Paul Ochs used to sing about.   Never mind that before that "Revolution" takes place we'd see a massive retreat on Civil Rights, Voting Rights, etc.  Susan Sarandon thinks it would all be worth it in the end- because once us non-chateau owning minions (the people she deeply cares about, this is all about us, after all) have reached our breaking point, we'll throw out Trump and the Teahadists and probably make Bernie Sanders President and then everything will be wonderful- for the survivors.

And then Ms Sarandon will grace us with her presence again, coming back from her self-imposed exile to pronounce her approval of our actions and collect her well-earned night in the Lincoln Bedroom.  Not everyone will have made it- but those behind the bars of gated communities where Ms Sarandon's friends live...well, my guess is, they'll be just fine.

Don't worry, the Whole Foods Market will be right where she left it.

Tell me again why I should give a damn what this idiot thinks about anything?

This ad makes dying young look very attractive

Seriously, if all we've got to look forward to in our "golden years" is endless conversations about our cell phone service with fellow elderly people, I think I'll just stop saving for retirement and cross my fingers that I don't live quite as long as I once planned to.  Because I want no part of cross-country trips in RVs, power-walking with grinning idiots who take "bets" on who enjoys their phone service the very bestest, or sitting around campfires wondering why we all thought this would be fun back when we were working for a living.

Next time I read a story about a worker bee dying in a freak accident the day before his retirement party, I'm going to think "lucky dog."

Jeeesh....next time I suggest this woman skip the gas....

I have never in my entire life been excited about anything as much as the woman in this ad is excited about her new electric toothbrush.  I find this especially annoying because I happen to own this particular electric toothbrush.

Maybe she's putting a little something extra in her toothpaste?

For Xfinity, the Future is Awesome. For Society? Not so much.

"Everything is Awesome....everything is cool when you're watching the screen...."

No kidding.  That's how badly the lyrics of that song you remember from The Leggo Movie have been raped for this ad.

And this atrocity is followed by....you guessed it....one scene after another of happy people happily wrapped in their own isolated little electronic cocoons.

Yep, "Everything is Awesome...." when you are either truly by yourself with your glowing screens, or are pretending to be with other people but are, in fact, completely transfixed by that glowing screen, making those other people completely superflous to the experience.

Awesome.  I don't think this word means what Xfinity thinks it means.

The Saddest AT&T Commercial Yet

No matter what you do, no matter where you go, and no matter who you are with, never ever EVER be without your electronic security blanket and never, ever EVER stop staring at that stupid glowing screen, you pathetic techo-addicted zombies.

You all make me sick to my stomach and so very glad that I did not grow up in the world I find myself living in now.

Maybe my most cynical post yet, inspired by Huggies

If Hugs were, in fact, "the best cure of all," they would be covered in the United States by gold-plated insurance plans affordable only to the one percent.  For the rest of us, they would be sold in tiny quantities at ruinous prices at your local pharmacy, and available only through a prescription provided by a specialist you can't afford to see unless- you guessed it- you've got that gold-plated insurance plan.  The government would be forbidden by law to negotiate the price of Hugs, and they would NOT be part of any basic health coverage because the Supreme Court ruled otherwise in the case of Hobby Lobby v. Humanity.

Or, of course, you could just head over to England and get your Hugs over the counter from the local apothecary, paid for by the shared tax burden of your fellow citizens because after all, we're all in this together.  (In Europe.  Here in the United States, we're only all in this together when caught in a traffic jam.  When it comes to health "insurance," it's every Group or Individual for Himself.)

And if I try to access Hugs at my workplace without a prescription, I'm going to be arrested and fired.  There's something wrong here.

I won't miss either

First, I don't sympathize with this woman, who seems to be just moving from one palatial suburban estate to another.  Oh, you won't miss the dog next door or that Easily Fixable You Idiot loose tile on the floor?  Here's a tissue, dear.

Second, If I were the guy driving her around, I wouldn't miss her because she clearly enjoys treating me like her g-d d--d chauffer as she keeps her eyes glued to her stupid tablet, "catching up" on the television shows that the cruel world which requires her to be out of the house every once in a while is denying her instead of oh, I don't know, actually interacting with me as I cart her about.  Here's another tissue.

Finally, I don't drive a car, so I won't be the one who misses her as she blindly walks into traffic because she can't be bothered to look up from her f--ing portable television set.  Eventually, someone with a car will also fail to miss her.  I won't need a tissue when that happens, either.