Making American Values Great Again, courtesy of GMC

What are your goals in life?

To be a good person?  Loser.  Good people get stepped on.

To be a good father?  What are you, a woman?  Next thing you know you'll be telling me you want to know how to change a diaper.  Pansy.

To do a good job at work?  Uh huh.  Good employees don't get the promotion.  You're a drone.  Sheep.

To be a good husband?  Thanks for adding to the feminization of males.  I bet you like participation trophies and gender-neutral clothing, too.  Ninny.

Here's what your goals in life SHOULD be, and WOULD be, if you were a man and not just a male:

Be the BEST person.  The GREATEST.  Better than your neighbors.  But even that's not enough.  Gotta SHOW them how much better you are by parking this gigantic truck in your driveway.

Be the BEST father.  Take your kids to the gun range.  Teach them from an early age that they must win at every sport, bring home every trophy.  And none of this second-place stuff.  That's like having the second-largest truck on the block.  That's for losers.  Are your kids losers?

Be Employee of the Month.  Every month.  Get to work early and stay late.  Take credit for the work of others, get adept at back-stabbing, spread rumors about your fellow workers.  Get that raise, get that corner office.  Take two spaces in the parking lot with your massive truck, so it's shadow falls on at least two lesser cars belonging to the lesser employees.

Be the BEST husband by bringing home the MOST money so the Little Woman can buy the kids the BEST clothes and take them on the BEST vacations and drop them off at school in that massive truck so their friends can stare at awe at it's- errr, YOUR- awesomeness.

Above all, spend your life rubbing everyone else's nose in your obvious superiority.  Start with this truck.  It will instantly make you better.  Take our word for it.

So the 90s are nostalgia now? Thanks Macy's.

I'm not even going to get into a rant about the sexualization of teenagers so obnoxiously obvious in this horrible ad.  I'm too stuck on the fact that unless you squint and look quickly at the little pop-ups in the corner, you probably wouldn't even notice that this is even a commercial for back-to-school clothes and not a really, really horrible music video for an act you have no interest in seeing ever.

Oh, and the terms "Rad Fashion" and "Dope Denim."  Rad? Dope? Oh right, this is supposed to be 90s throwback stuff.  The "Me, Myself and I" lyrics should have cued me in.  Holy crap, I was just getting used to the 80s nostalgia stuff- we've moved on to the 90s already? NOOOOOOO!!  Not before Video Rental Stores make a comeback you don't!!!

Anyway, buy this stuff and your teens will be ready to go to school dressed like their parents were back in the 90s, I guess.  Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go back to feeling old now.  Stupid Macy's.

I'm surprised she didn't instinctively bring him a beer on the way from the bathroom

1.  It's pretty clear from the tone of this woman's voice that this guy has bugged his significant other many, many times in the past with this "you gotta see this" nonsense.  Yet she feels compelled to get out of the bathtub and walk into the living room still wet and wrapped only in a towel rather than make him wait until she finishes her bath and gets dressed.  Good Trophy Wife!  Good Girl!

2.  Turns out that what she's "gotta see" this time is that the son she managed to birth- fulfilling her contract with the jackass bag of money with legs she married- is capable of bleating "go Irish," which I guess is supposed to be impressive despite the fact that the kid is at least four years old and should probably be getting some testing done if he CAN'T say "go Irish."

3.  Trophy Wife/Mom, wondering why the bank account she sold herself to isn't capable of taking care of their son for more than ten minutes without interrupting her while she takes a bath, murmurs something that sounds like "Ok, great, I'm going to go back to doing what I'm doing" but which probably more accurately translates to "thanks for reminding me again what I sold myself for.  I have to go look at that wedding ring again, and maybe check out the Lexus in the driveway, before I succumb to complete despair."

Next time, lock the bathroom door, Trophy Wife.  Or just keep on keeping on, because no matter how obnoxious that man-child you chained yourself to in exchange for a house and financial security is, it's still better than navigating the big scary world all by yourself, right?  Right?

Uber is dedicated to making life even better for those who already have everything

Hey, rich white people with money burning holes in your pockets!  Running out of ways to toss that money away?  Coming dangerously close to looking into that charity thing you hear people on tv talking about?  Well, here comes Uber Eats to the rescue!

Now you can get your favorite high-end food without leaving your house or office- transforming "eating out" from an occassional benefit of your gilded existence to something you do three or even four times a day (yes, you can have chef-prepared SNACKS delivered right to your palace, your majesty!)  After all, you don't really like to cook anyway- the only reason you ever shopped was to be seen by your neighbors in the Brie aisle at Whole Foods.  Now whenever you and your pretty white friends want to get together to eat, you don't have to risk sitting next to lessers.  Just get on that App and have a big pile of delicacies delivered to your house, or the park, or the beach, or any other out-of-the way inconvenient place you want to drop your pampered butts Because You Can now.

Because Uber isn't just total strangers driving around hoping to sell you a ride anymore.  Now it's total strangers delivering gourmet food, you disgustingly spoiled little twats.  I just hope this means you plan to spend more time in your well-furnished cages, because that at least would be one benefit to the rest of us who believe me, won't miss you for one moment.

I don't want to live in the world these Chevy Truck Guys have inherited

So I guess the "punchline" of this "very funny lol" commercial in which three guys and a dog have survived the Mayan apocalypse is that one of their friends "didn't make it" because he drove a Ford truck instead of a Chevy.  Because while Chevys can survive being buried by tons of granite and steel, don't even ATTEMPT to get yourself through the End of the World in a Ford.

So these guys all enjoy a bit of a sad chuckle at the fate of their friend, who I guess at the last minute had a choice of which car he was going to drive-?  I mean, did he have two trucks in the garage and just picked the wrong one not realizing that this was the day he was going to need the "real" one, the Chevy?

When this eventually does happen, I'll be in the rubble because I don't drive a Real Man's Truck like these mouth-breathing morons who BTW obviously cast their last ever vote for Donald Trump.  So I won't be around when they die from some horrible disease brought on by long-term exposure to the rotting corpses which surround them as they toast their awesomeness with whatever beer they were able to find in the shattered shell of a liquor store down the street.  Nor will I be there when they draw lots to decide which one they eat first.  I'm betting the dog makes it out of the first round.

Summer Hiatus, Part III

One more extended vacation from this blog before heading back to school and the routine- this time I'll be spending a week at Hampton Beach NH, where we've been renting a house every late July/early August since the late-90s.  Very little by way of internet connectivity, so no chance of updating the blog until Saturday, August 5.

Please enjoy the archives while I spend a week taking long walks, swimming, playing paddle ball and having coffee and protein bars for breakfast and ice cream for dinner....and playing ancient video games at the arcade.  See you next Saturday!

Remember when Dell sold their laptops as educational tools?

Well, that's over.  Now Dell encourages kids to use their laptops to secretly play stupid video games instead of paying attention in class.

Oh, but maybe the hidden message here is that Peter Parker is already a science savant bored out of his mind in a way-too-easy High School science class, so he can totally ignore the lame teacher and play mind-numbing, time-sucking games and still ace every test?

And I'm not even going to get into the fact that the kid is supposed to be Peter Parker and he's playing a video game starring- his alter ego?  Seriously, what the hell?  Oh wait, I said I wasn't going to get into that.