Taco Bell and the Nacho Revolution against brain cells

I get that this is all about Taco Bell kind of snarking on the Hollywood Summer Blockbuster season with this overproduced, self-congratulatory pile of dreck disguised as a commercial for seasoned french fries, but....

All I could really think when watching it was this:  Only in America could a fast-"food" restaurant specializing in cheap, greasy crap find an audience for a fake "movie trailer" focusing on strips of potatoes bathed in hot oil, sprinkled with spices and served up with "Mexican Sauce" (Seriously, what the hell is that anyway?)  And get mouth-breathing losers singing it's praises on YouTube.  Man, are we stupid or WHAT?

Another Xfinity Watch Stuff With Other People Around Ad

Lost in all this nonsense is the fact that we have several adults hanging around some kids' birthday party watching a soccer match on their electronic devices for some reason.  I mean, I can't believe that those costumed people are there for the kids*- they aren't playing with those kids,** they aren't entertaining them in any way, they are just dressed while watching a soccer match.

And those guys wearing Suburban Dad outfits- well, maybe they ARE supposed to be suburban dads, but they can't possibly be the parents of any of the kids here, otherwise they'd be actually supervising or even (gasp) partaking in the fun those kids are having.  So why are they there?  Maybe the signal is really good in this backyard?

Way to waste those precious years while your kids are still kids, Stupid Adults.  "Hey, remember that birthday party where I won the cake-eating contest?"  "Um, no, where was I?" "Oh right, you were watching something on your phone.  Good times, Dad. Good times."

*A mime? Really, Xfinity?

**The douchenozzle "parents" are so absorbed with the soccer match that they can't even be bothered to remind the entertainment that they are being paid to ENTERTAIN and not watch tv?  WTF?

Xfinity's World of Awesome

Welcome to WOW!  Welcome to SMASH! Welcome to OMG DID YOU SEE THAT THING BLOW UP!

Welcome to a world where spending every possible moment of your life watching a screen is not only considered normal, but desirable- and, increasingly, a world you really have to be in if you want to show well for society when society deigns to raise it's head from time to time.

I'm ready to welcome you back into the real, non-fantasy world of actual people doing actual stuff, a world of books and music that don't just pour cotton candy images into your lard-infused brain, but why on Earth would you want to be there?  It's got nothing to do with Awesome, and Xfinity is All About the Awesome.

Oh, and in advance- welcome to Middle Age.  It's where you'll suddenly find yourself when you DO look up.  In Middle Age, and wondering where the hell the best years of your life went.  Let me clue you in- they went into consumption of packaged electronic entertainment.  Oh, and guess what?  They aren't coming back.  Ever.

Toilet Paper and a question about Suburbia

1.  No, nobody on the planet is confusing this toilet paper with a robe.  I know that the people who make this ad realize that and this is just a joke, but it's still a pretty stupid line.

2.  I've lived in the suburbs for more than twenty years.  I have never once seen anyone actually stand on the sidewalk in front of their house wearing a robe and holding a cup of coffee.  Or even just wearing a robe.  Does this ever happen in real life?  And if so, may I ask why?  Is standing in front of all your neighbors wearing a bathrobe and holding a cup of coffee just a privilege of suburban living I've never taken part in, or what?

Audi's Summer of burning bridges and being totally unrelatable

The woman is this ad is openly appreciated at work- not quietly, not behind closed doors in the boss's office, but openly in front of all of her co-workers.

She also makes so much money at her job that she's got the financial security to just quit on a whim, walk down the street, and buy herself an equipped-to-the-gills Audi.

Yeah, I can really relate to this woman.  She goes back to her desk after being publicly congratulated for being such a fine team member, only to notice that she's written "Work at my Dream Company" " on piece of paper which I guess is her bucket list.  She decides that her "Dream Company" doesn't include a place where she's appreciated or very well-paid, so she thanks her boss and her "teammates" by packing up her personal items and quitting because....well, I guess because this isn't her "Dream Company."

She isn't the least concerned about paying her bills, even to the point of immediately dropping $50 grand on an automobile without giving it a second thought.  This is what we all do when we quit our jobs, right?  Go out and buy ourselves very expensive luxury automobiles?

She also isn't at all concerned about getting into that "Dream Company" because she's going to start it herself.  What's this company going to do or produce?  Well, if she's planning to use the expertise she built up in her Not-Dream Company, she might find herself in court- there are these things called "non-competion clauses" in contracts to prevent self-centered, ungrateful douchenozzles from doing exactly what she seems to be planning here. 

She isn't at all put off by the (I know, silly and very remote) possibility that she might not be running her Dream Company TOMORROW and might need to keep picking up a paycheck from an employer for a while, as she's pretty much screwed herself out of a good reference from her ex-employer, as she gave zero notice before quitting.  Hey, Stupid Woman- when you wake up tomorrow and realize that you don't have the seed money to start your Dream Company becaus you sunk it into a showy toy with wheels, you might find it difficult to get hired by one of those awful employers now that you've revealed that you're a flaky, erratic knob who might walk away at any moment?

And yet, I'm totally inspired by all this, Audi.  In a month I'll be in Back to School meetings, going over schedules and IEPs and learning how much more my health insurance is going to cost in the 2018-2019 session.  At some point I'll write "Start My Dream School" on a piece of paper, get up, and walk out without a word of explanation.  I'll head right out to my nearest Audi dealer as the first step toward starting that Dream School.  I'm not going to contemplate right now that it'll probably be the last step, too. 

Ancestry.com's Anthem to Ancestor Worship

The gag-inducing punchline of this awful, self-aggrandizing nonsense is "now I know where my strength comes from."  I mean, seriously, never mind the syrup of Ipecac.  All you'll ever really need is that awful line bleated by this clueless idiot.

So this woman didn't get her strength from her actual PARENTS- you know, the people who raised her and who played an actual, hands-on role in teaching her how to think of herself and deal with the world.  She didn't get her strength from teachers or friends who encouraged her to push through hardships.  OH NO, her strength was passed down THROUGH HER FREAKING DNA because once upon a time a woman who lived far, far away did something that required strength.  Uh huh.

Hey, Stupid Idiot Whose Ancestors Were Obviously Morons (that's where you got THAT from:)  If you actually believe that "strength" is passed down in the freaking gene pool, where did that Awesome Female Tribal Chief get HERS from?  Was it just a mutated gene that originated with HER? I mean, can we be consistent about this for a minute?  What's the gene for strength again?

Oh and hey SIWAWOM, while we're asking questions, where did your amazing ability to misplace credit come from?  Did you have some maternal great-grandmother back in Zimbabwe who regularly thanked the rooster for making the sun come up?  Just asking, because by your own logic, your rock-stupid determination to associate positive character traits with a long-dead ancestor must come from SOMEBODY, right? 

Or maybe you've got the original mutated gene, and in three hundred years some idiot relative of yours will finally understand why she's such a clueless knob - it's because she's got some of your DNA?

I don't get the attraction to any of this.  I "inherited" personality traits from my parents- because I spent a lot of time with them when I was a child, go figure.  How the F--K could I "inherit" a personality trait from someone I never met and didn't know even existed until I inexplicably decided it would be a good idea to send a vial of spit to Lehi, Utah?  Dark hair, sure.  Height, fine.  "Strength?" Freaking gag me.

One more quick note to the stunningly idiotic woman with the wistful "I'm important because someone related to me on the other side of the planet was important once" look on her face:  No, you're not.  Not until YOU actually do something.  And no, obsessing over your ancestry doesn't cut it.  All that proves is that you're stupid with money and really, really full of your non-achieving self.

A good Amtrak Commercial. Don't worry, this won't be a trend.

Back in the 1980s I was a student at The Catholic University of America in Washington, DC and at least once each year I used Amtrak to travel home to Vermont for vacation.  I always traveled coach, and back then Amtrak not only didn't offer WiFi but it wasn't even really great at consistent lighting- if you traveled at night and tried to read you could expect to have the lights go on and off as the rickety train rolled up and down the Northeast Corridor- which means that unless you liked arriving at your destination with an upset stomach and headache, you probably didn't try to read.

And because it was the 1980s, you didn't yak away on your cellphone and neither did anyone else because hey, no cellphones.  You were pretty much out of touch with the world while you were on that train.  And oddly enough, this was ok.

During one trip- I think it was around Christmas- I was sitting in my seat on the train to Vermont when a young woman my age asked to sit next to me.  She introduced herself and we ended up talking for hours.  At one point she fell asleep on my shoulder while using my headphones (oh yeah, we had Walkmans so we had headphones.)  We said goodbye when I exited the train at Montpelier- she was going on to Montreal.  I never saw her again, though we did write for a while. Her name was Astrid.

Anyway, I don't have a problem with this Amtrak commercial at all.  It  looks like these kids are doing what I did on a regular basis almost forty years ago- taking a train home during a break in classes because it's still cheaper than an airplane ticket and can actually be kind of fun if you know how to relax and watch the scenery and enjoy being with fellow human beings.  I don't even mind the selfies, because they aren't being obnoxious about it.  I also like that they aren't constantly on those phones but are actually doing things like talking, daydreaming, taking in the scenery and napping.  It's actually pretty cool.

Ok, back to being a curmudgeon next time.  I promise.