Anoro's "Go Your Own Way" ad steals more of my youth. I'm fast running out.

The running gag in this god-awful insulting classic song-raping commercial is that COPD "wants" you limit your activities while Anoro lets you "go your own way."  It's a really stupid concept that is repeated over and over again because the pharmaceutical monstrosity which purchased the rights to use four words from Fleetwood Mac's classic (which I will now never be able to listen to again without thinking of these horrible people) decided that since they DID purchase those rights, they'd better use those four words like a freaking mallet to hammer the message into the viewers as many times as possible over the course of a thirty-second ad.

Wow, that was a long sentence.  Speaking of long sentences, that's what I would like to see everyone involved in the crime against humanity that is this commercial.  Especially the genius who thought that we wouldn't understand that Anoro is a drug that "in many cases" clears bronchial passages unless we got to see ugly people blowing away dust, wood chips, or whatever.  And the marketing guru who came up with the white-and-red color scheme for Anoro's Patended Delivery System and then splashed those colors all over the ad.  But an extra long sentence, please, for the callous jerktards who noticed that Go Your Own Way - or at least, the four words of the title and the tune- were available for purchase and decided to snatch it up and give it to some talentless pop band to butcher* in service of yet another No Problem The Right Drug Can't Fix Just Ask Your Doctor pharmaceutical commercial.

*check out the comments.  Someone was paid to say that they like this version.  Times are still tough, I guess.

More Fun with Febreze!

Seriously, who writes this stuff?  Every Febreze commercial features an obviously drugged-out-of-her-mind Trophy Wife who has obviously lost her will to live and is only avoiding suicide by breathing in clouds of toxic fumes being released from pressurized cans.

In this ad, the sad little mannequin who sold her soul for a house, a new last name, and a MRS Degree in Advanced Cleaning, Cooking and Taking Kids to Swimming Lessons is enjoying her regular dose of vanilla-scented poison right in front of her kids, who by the way sure look like they are late for the Village of the Damned auditions.  Thing One says to Thing Two "she's doing it again," to which Thing Two really ought to respond "Daddy says its ok, the hot cleaning lady does most of the work and he wanted to stop at two offspring anyway."

TrophyWife can't take a moment to reflect on what a horrorshow her life has become- she's so bored, so stripped of anything resembling a personality, she finds pleasure in being coated by antibacterial stew- because that might just be fatal, and Daddy isn't quite ready to trade her in for a newer, cuter model QUITE yet.  Still, that babysitter is available, and gets along great with the kids, and seems to like the big house just like TrophyWife did when she was TrophyGirlfriend, so who knows?

(Meanwhile, check out the perfectly ordinary, Obviously Not a TrophyWife woman using Brand X air freshener- clearly to her air freshener is just something you use in between cleanings, or in an odor emergency, and spraying it is just one of the ten thousand chores people have to do sometimes in between working, playing and actually Having a Life.  She gets no joy out of spraying chemicals around just like she gets no joy out of pouring Clorox into the toilet or reaching for a Bounty paper towel when one of the Spawn She Created as Part of Her Side of the BargainTM creates a spill.  She gets her happiness in life through her career, or being a good parent and life partner, or who knows what but NOT by breathing in fumes from a can.  Crazy woman, she'll NEVER be a TrophyWife with THAT attitude!)

US Postal Service, delivering the....ummm...."future"

Thank goodness for the US Postal Service, delivering that latest pointless piece of Must-Have electronic junk to your mailbox in the blink of an eye!

Yes, thanks to USPS, you'll be wearing or looking into or talking at yet another blinky glowing bit of plastic and lights long before buyer's remorse can even begin to set in; you won't even have a chance to have second thoughts concerning whether you actually needed or could even use that flashy showy box you strap to your head or set on the counter or wrap around your wrist before it shows up at your door ready to be used for a few days before it's forgotten, replaced by that ugly, gnawing sense that you just wasted more money you really couldn't afford to throw away on a product you thought might make your life significantly better than it was before you saw the ad for the latest Everyone Has This Why Don't You gadget.

USPS:  Because Impulse Buying should be followed as quickly as possible by Impulse Having.  In the immortal words of Jeb Bush, Please Clap.

Febreze Presents: A Day in the Life of a Trophy Wife

What's a woman 20 years younger than her husband who was purchased for the sole purpose of passing the guy's genes on to the next generation (and showing well at parties) to do when Daddy-to-more-than-just-those-children is in his office all day?  Well, here's the answer: sit quietly in that McMansion he provided as his end of the deal (he rescues you from real life, gives you that cage/house and financial security you've been taught to believe is unattainable or just Too Darn Hard to achieve on your own, plus a new last name in the bargain) and sniff the air as the evidence that you fulfilled YOUR end of the deal plays quietly in front of you.  Why are you and your kids indoors on a beautiful, sunny day?  Why are you sitting there with that blank, zombie look on your face?  Only a Trophy Wife knows for sure!

Which is why only Trophy Wives can totally understand these Febreze commercials; only they experience the shame of having fellow Trophy Wives show up at the door and notice smells you've become immune to (like you've become immune to any sense of individuality, self-respect, or reason for being beyond serving the Lord and Master you sold yourself to all those years ago.)  Spray Febreze everywhere to cover up those smells, at least until the cleaning crew comes in and actually takes care of the real problem that doesn't involve the fact that you are just another ornament in someone else's house. 

Then go back to sitting on that couch, with that vacant look on your face, sniffing the air and trying hard- but not too hard- to remember when you thought that you were an actual person and that there just might be more to life than this. 

(I'll be at the beach from tonight until Saturday, so no posts at least until then- please enjoy the archives during my break!)

An ear-bleeding Green Dot Card commercial I watched so you won't have to!

"Break free!  Break free!  Break free from big banks with actual brick-and-mortar buildings, set rates, and actual people you can talk to if you have a problem!  Break free and put your money on these infamous pieces of plastic (check out Ripoffreport.com for the horror stories of lost funds, blocked funds, endless games of Phone Menu with a computer, etc.) that may or may not have the money you thought you loaded on to them when it comes time to purchase something!"

"Speaking of which, Green Dot cards can now be used to load your tax refund (from Liberty Tax, no doubt) and regular Social Security payments (you just WANT to be poor, don't you?)  Break away from that Direct Deposit to Big Banks and Credit Unions scam that the Sheeple use because they don't know any better.  Stupid sheeple!"

"Break Away from the inconvenience of easily-transferable-for-produce cash!  Break away from credit cards with built-in, federally mandated safeguards!  Break away from anything resembling good money management and basic common sense and put your trust in these cards available at your nearest Dollar General because THAT tells you the quality of service you should expect!"

What's happening in this Subaru ad? You make the call!

Throughout yet another smarmy, "your car makes your life possible" Subaru ad, I kept changing my mind about what I was seeing:

First, I thought "ok, this is a family that is out camping....in the middle of the desert.  They've got their cooler, they've got their kids, they brought their dog for some stupid reason (to provide food for the coyotes, perhaps?) and they are just dumping all this junk right next to their car because the car must remain in the shot at all times.  Eventually we'll see these people hiking and looking around and realizing that they are in the middle of the desert and this is going to be fun for maybe five minutes and then that little kid will start crying and it will be time to pack all that stuff back up again.

Then, I thought no, they are taking way too much stuff out of that car for this to be a simple camping trip.  Wait, they brought a Toddler Cage with them?  And those tables and balloons- ok, this is a family reunion being set up- in the middle of the desert?  Um, that doesn't sound very smart.  First thing I'd be asking is "where are the facilities?" 

Then I got darker.  These people have been evicted from their home. They are homeless.  They are in the desert because they've run out of options. 

Finally, I decided that no, this is just another of those stupid Subaru Takes You Through The Years commercials that plays on the idea that the car in the ad is so super-reliable you are going to own it for years and years and it's going to see some amazing things along with you, never mind that it's just a machine that will someday be a greasy cube in a junk pile and until then will just be something you use to get from Point A to Point B.  You are not supposed to think of your Subaru like that- it's more like a member of the family, like that dog who I suspect is either dead or very nearly so at the end of this ad which I did not watch all the way through because I got tired of Subaru's latest attempt to emotionally manipulate me into buying it's latest version of the StandardFamilyMobile.

Subaru triggers my gag reflex, again.

So the scruffy idiot and his obsessed-with-her-pregnancy life partner are driving around to all these cool places because Lunatic Pregnant Woman wants to "share" them with her fetus which is just sitting there in the pitch dark with absolutely no clue what is going on?

Apparently.  This woman feels compelled to go to the ocean, the forest, the desert, all kind of places where she can pose with a knowing, whistful look on her face as if by being pregnant she's performed some extraordinary universe-saving miracle and not something accomplished by roughly several billion life forms every single day for the past billion or so years.  HER pregnancy, you see, is so magical, so inspiring, so Very Very Important (really?  With THAT guy?)  that it must be shared with nature right now, not after it's reached it's conclusion and the sentient little mammal finally pops out and starts to consume the oxygen being produced by those trees on its own.

This woman is not just sharing all this with that fetus she's carrying around.  She's sharing all this with US.  With the entire PLANET.  And I really do think that she expects us to appreciate the enormity of her pregnancy as much as she does.  We are all supposed to see this as a momentous turning point not just in HER life, but ours, too.  Meanwhile the scruffy guy is just....there.   Waiting to be told to get back in the car and drive Amazing Earth Mother to another location for her to genuflect on the awesomeness of her pregnancy - and touch her stomach again, of course.

All of this has something to do with a 2018 Subaru which I guess these people are still driving a decade later when the fetus has become a child and Mom and Driver take her "back" to all those places they went while she was still in her sac just minding her own business.  The "adults" here will tell their Precious Miracle that this is her "second" visit to the ocean, forest, etc while Precious Miracle first looks confused, then asks When the Hell are Mom and Dad ditch their ancient old Subaru and buy something that shows better to her friends at school, and when is Mom going to take that stupid glazed-eyes look off her face already Seriously Are You High?