Seriously, I don't know why the narrator doesn't just say "here's a bunch of artsy still shots of people you know- and who have money coming out of their ears- and the Apple Laptops they can afford because they have money coming out of their ears. And oh, we're also going to include a smiling, gap-toothed kid and maybe a muppet or two- you know, to make this even remotely relatable to 99 percent of the viewing audience."
All presented in glorious black and white, of course- because these have to be super-artsy and when you have absolutely zero ideas, black and white photos is how you present yourself as super-artsy.
I AM pretty sure I know why comments are turned off for this particular video. I don't think my take on these "rich people are better than you because they use these toys that you can't afford, losers" commercials is particularly unique. Not that Apple gives a damn what us non-geniuses with out One Size Fits All Inferior Dell setups think. We are NOT the audience for the insufferable entitlement being celebrated in these steaming piles of self-congratulation posing as what I THINK are MacBook Pro ads.
"I'm on the verge of inventing a machine that can multiply any piece of matter. Think of the problems it could solve- world hunger, poverty..."
"Why don't you just play this stupid scratch-off game I wasted our hard-earned money on instead of working on that potentially world-altering invention?"
This is all supposed to be very cute; Old woman sees the mailman coming. Old woman somehow knows that the mailman is bringing a bill for her timeshare maintenance fees. Mailman is absolutely determined to deliver the timeshare maintenance fee bill like it's a court summons. Old woman is so desperate to avoid these fees, she pulls up her mailbox and runs away with it. Mailman who understands that this is not how anything works just drops the bill into the hole left behind.
There's an actual solution to the old woman's problem, but this isn't it. The real punchline is not "hire the Timeshare Exit Team" either, unless you want two bills related to the Dumbest Purchase You Ever Made instead of one.
There's a radio ad for this company on Sirius XM which is even funnier- we hear the recipient of the bill sigh, tear up the bill, and announce "I'm out." What makes it hysterical is that the exasperated radio guy's solution to his problem is no more realistic than this woman's. You can't avoid your timeshare maintenance fees by just tearing up the bill any more than you can by moving your mailbox. And judging from the comments I've read on Ripoffreport.com, you really can't avoid them by contacting the "Timeshare Exit Team," either.
"I'm out." Oh really? That easy, huh? Sorry, buddy. You're still in. Because you signed a contract.
Here are some actual solutions to your timeshare problem, which if they sound familiar are very similar to the solutions to your credit card debt problem:
1. Pay someone to "buy" what you thought was a "great opportunity" during a moment of extreme Stupidity which is totally incomprehensible to me.
2. Add your timeshare to the hundreds already being offered on Ebay for free. Who knows, you might get lucky and get found by someone as stupid as you are.
I'll just close with this: It's 2021. The internet is a Thing. It's in its fourth decade of general usefulness, available to provide instant access to answers to questions like "are time shares worth it?" or "do only morons buy timeshares?" If you've purchased a timeshare at any time in the 21st century, it's really, really hard for me to have any sympathy for you. It's really right up there with buying miracle water from Peter Popoff. There's not much of a solution to the problem of people who simply won't do even the tiniest amount of research before signing a contract.
Isn't it just adorable how this family of cell phone addicts think that they are each "unique" because as individuals they are wasting their lives on their phones in different ways? I mean, they are "different in unique ways," or "unique in different ways," or whatever that first moron says. I'm not watching this again.
For one, her phone is "her office." Um, that's nice- but you know, only a generation ago an office was a place you worked in for forty or so hours a week, and then left to...well, to live the other parts of your life. Now you're waving your "office" around in your hand and basically bragging that you are never, ever out of work. Excuse me for not being impressed or seeing this as something to celebrate, let alone emulate.
Another one is "the gamer." Uh huh. If that "gamer" takes his "gaming" as seriously as that other woman takes her office work, I wouldn't feel great about giving him a phone to "game" on. At least she's earning money with her nonstop work. What the hell is all that "gaming" accomplishing other than stealing time away from reading, social interactions with friends, etc.?
"Only pay for what you need." Huh. Sounds like they all need everything, though. So they are going to be paying for....everything. And what exactly does that word "need" mean these days?
And Daddy says the plan is so reasonable, "they can stay on it for the rest of their lives." First, that's kind of creepy- Dad clearly expects to outlive these kids, otherwise wouldn't he say "for the rest of MY life?" Second, maybe the cost of the plan is reasonable- but is the PLAN reasonable? Is this endless love affair with a freaking phone reasonable? Is this "I am never off my phone" attitude reasonable? I mean, what the actual hell, Verizon?
I have a question for local news hosts; not just the ones in the Washington DC area but everywhere in the United States:
When are you clowns going to figure out that the only thing people with actual jobs want from local morning news is Weather, Traffic and Headlines? We aren't looking for goofy, giggling or (groan) SINGING wannabee comedians at 6 AM as we shake off our weariness and get ready to go earn our livings. We don't care if you like each other. We don't care how many kids you have or what your hobbies are. And we sure as hell don't want to get to know you over the airwaves.
Weather, Traffic, Headlines. This isn't complicated. All the rest of this is just noisy, showy crap. We're really sorry you haven't Gone National. We're sorry you aren't as Big as you think you deserve to be. And by "we," I mean "maybe other people," because seriously, I don't even give that much of a damn. The only reason I even know about you is because I don't have cable in my home office so I have to put up with these stupid, self-indulgent Valentines to yourselves.
So don't joke. Don't sing. Don't tweak each other and if you never dance or hug or do anything but give me information that might make my morning a little easier, that would be just great.
Weather. Traffic. Headlines. Lather, Rinse, Repeat. Otherwise, STFU and stop trying to get me to give a flying damn. Make some real friends (not those coworkers) or get therapy or something. Because this is just so sad.
Not shown: This Subaru makes four extra stops during the 2-hour trip back to Grandma's house which to the granddaughter feels like two days.
Shown: Grandma makes a dangerous spectacle of herself by running up to a total stranger who happened to glance at her granddaughter to get his phone number (and, I'm just going to guess because Grandma is a moron, give her granddaughter's number to the guy.)
Shown: Granddaughter chuckles, rolls her eyes, and gives the total stranger a little wave.
Not Shown: Granddaughter makes a mental note to change her phone number and to have a long talk with Grandma about mutual respect, boundaries, etc. And about how this isn't the freaking 19th century or a 1950s sitcom.*
Shown: Granddaughter drops Grandma off at Grandma's house.
Not Shown: Granddaughter makes a mental note to never, ever spend time with Grandma outside of Grandma's own home ever again.
*how freaking old is Grandma, anyway? Seventy? That would mean she was born in 1950 and became an adult in the late 60s-early 70s. How does her "let me run and get the phone number of a cute total stranger at a gas stop for my single granddaughter" gel with the times she came of age in?
