When you decide to trade in your couch delivery system for a new one, it pays to be RAM tough!

Hey look everybody, three people are trading in their perfectly ok trucks for another perfectly ok truck they've decided is marginally better because they done seen it on the T V!

But the real entertainment isn't in watching these pathetic sellouts pimping for an exceptionally ordinary truck company as they chirp about how excited they are to be trading in their paid-for, completely functional, generally reliable trucks for years of car payments so the thing sitting in their driveway is a little shinier and without the dings, scratches, and dents which suggest regular usage.  Nope, the REAL entertainment is in counting how many people were willing to go to the comment section of this video to kiss butt for a truck that except for showmanship is basically indistinguishable from any other on the market.  Nice job, guys!

Another rant against SelectQuote

"Your paycheck.  Your family depends on it."

Considering the amount of money I get paid, that's really sad.  Maybe they should consider going out and getting their own jobs.  That way not only would they not be counting on my paycheck, but they would be taking some of the burden of providing that beautiful big suburban house, cars, soccer and swim lessons, and every other damned thing they want off of me for a change.  G-d d--ned vampires.

"What would happen if it just dissapeared?'  See above.  They'd have to get jobs.  You know, like the one I've had for decades.  Boo. F--ng.  Hoo.

But I'm supposed to "protect" my family from that potential disaster of having to fend for themselves because I inconvenienced them by dying by taking some of my hard-earned money and buying life insurance?  I want that money NOW to pay for a 7-11 hot dog or a (g-d forbid) a freaking MOVIE NIGHT OUT every now and then, but I'm supposed to do without so my family doesn't have to work after I'm DEAD? 

And what if I DON'T die?  Then who's gonna protect ME, HUH?

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!"