New Year's Resolution: Take on a Fun, Glamorous Addiction that will shred your savings!

I only watched enough of this horror to note that Jamie Foxx, hyped at the "opportunity" to place a bet on a basketball game, is frantically looking for some insider information before doing so- something that virtually none of the potential customers of this electronic drug have any chance of doing themselves.  

I used to wonder how much money was waved in front of people to act like total morons on television in showing the world "what they would do for a Klondike bar."  Now we've got multi-millionaire Oscar winners picking up a few extra bucks- and, I think more significantly, screen time- peddling an addiction that has, not at all mysteriously, exploded into an epidemic at exactly the same time that the economy took the double hits of COVID unemployment followed by a spike in the cost of living. 

Now I feel badly that I ever criticized those attention vampires, just like I feel less animosity toward celebrities who hawk Rent a Center and junk car and home "warranties."  That's nothing compared to what people like Foxx are doing- presenting as glamorous and exciting the opportunity to risk money on sporting events, hyping that rush of dopamine that comes with taking that risk, and never, EVER mentioning the financial consequences of losing the bet.  That's saved for the very small print on the bottom of the screen along with the "if you need help, here's the toll free number to get you the help you need because we sucked you in."  How very, very thoughtful. 

I'm going to start my New Year's by staying away from addictive products with one exception.  I'm going to continue to not indulge in sugar and alcohol.  But don't bother me about coffee.  I like coffee.  I can quit any time I want to, it doesn't negatively impact my personality so LEAVE ME ALONE ABOUT COFFEE!

Capital One puts the spotlight back on those stupid small businesses we are supposed to support Because Reasons

 

Whenever I see one of these "hey look at our stupid small business" commercials, I just have to ask something.  No, it's not "did either of you two ever think that you'd actually be providing something of value to society before you gave up and went the Pointless, Worthless, Forgotten-As-Soon-As-You're-Gone Small Business route?'  Because I know the answer to that question:  It has to be "yes."  Nobody grows to adulthood actually dreaming of someday tapping into a niche market and then spending the rest of one's life pandering to people with a little extra money burning holes in their pockets.  Whether it's Kathy's Kwirky Kupcakes or the cheese shop run by these two cliches, this is nobody's original dream. 

Nor is the question "am I really supposed to buy the frozen plastic smiles you idiots are giving us as you pretend to be happy with what life ultimately handed you?"  Because I know the answer to that question:  It's supposed to be "yes," I'm supposed to be happy that there's a stupid little business selling a stupid little product to stupid little people and that yet another Idiot With a Dream can call himself a Boss for at least a little while longer because a credit card improves his ability to separate those stupid little people from their stupid little money at your stupid little vanity project. 

Nor is the question "am I really supposed to think better of Capital One because they finance this nonsense?"  Because I know the answer to that question, too; it's supposed to be "yes," because of the American Dream or Small Business being the backbone of America or something like that.  Never mind that it's so very easy to imagine life without 99.9 percent of the Sacred Small Businesses out there.  And no, it's not a dystopia I'm imagining.  It's just a country with a few less junk trinkets, food and drink shops and a lot more people accepting reality and getting actual jobs. 

No, my question is "how do you get through every day without jumping off the nearest tall building?  Do you just not think about what your legacy is, Mr. and Mrs. Small Business Owner?  Did the fact that you clearly died years ago  and are just going through the motions with Whatever The Hell This Is really help that much?"  Because, man...a specialty cheese store.  I bet your ancestors went through so much crap to get you to this country, too.  For this.  Stay away from skyscrapers.

A failing grade for this obnoxious "C Class" commercial

 

I guess we should just be grateful that the car at the end of this commercial isn't adorned with a bow, but that's pretty much the only thing this ad has going for it.  Otherwise it's just awash in ridiculous entitlement and indulgence- cripes, they can even warp time and space because they want to- and apparently trying to sell us a product that is just another bauble in the lives of people who have absolutely everything (INCLUDING the ability to manipulate matter at a whim.)  

They are SO enraptured with their own awesomeness that they make changes that serve no utility whatsoever- I mean, why does the guy change the painting as they are heading out for the evening?  What is the freaking point?  Does the cat prefer the new art style?  WHY THE HELL DID HE DO THAT?

The only way this commercial is redeemed is if it ends with a meteor vaporizing this couple just before they exit the driveway of their ridiculous home.  It doesn't, so "C" is an inflated grade for everyone involved in this travesty.

Apple iPhone 14 presents: The Rulers of Idiocracy

 

On television, in 2022, we regularly see people with absolutely no sense, no class and no looks 

1.  Living in massive suburban mansions,

2.  Married to Trophy Wives,

3.  Driving $60,000 cars, and now

4.  Using thousand-dollar iPhones to do things mentally ill box turtles wouldn't be caught dead doing, I guess because doing it tickles somebody's nostalgia bone by reminding them of that really stupid movie a really stupid cable channel insists on running for 24 straight hours starting Christmas Eve every. Single. Year.   Oh, and having "friends" who enjoy humiliating them because Hey That's What Friends are For, I guess.

I'd like to say that we can do better and will do better in 2023, but I'm about to hit the 14th anniversary of this blog, so I'm not all that hopeful.  Merry Christmas and Happy New Year??  No.  More appropriate to say Bah, Humbug. 

This BMW Road Home Commercial puts Lexus' December ads to shame. Bravo, BMW.

 

Or  "Lexus says 'it's December, time to make the most self-indulgent, disgusting commercials featuring people totally unrelatable to 99 percent of the public,' to which BMW replies 'hold my beer.'"

So asshat Son shows up with this trophy wife to Dad's house for Christmas only to have a random giant bow which just happens to be on the porch get blown off said porch by a puff of wind which impacts absolutely nothing else and land on his presumably brand-new BMW SUV.  Dad instantly assumes that the ribbon on the car his son drove up in means that the car is a gift to himself (yeah, the apple didn't fall far from the tree here, did it?)  Son has so much damn money that he just goes along with it* and lets Dad drive (like a freaking maniac) he and his trophy wife back home in DAD's new car.  And as if this wasn't all noxious and insulting enough, Dad dials the privilege up to 11 by wondering out loud what his son got Mom.

Yeah, that's right- because not only does this dad believe his son would buy him a $60,000 BMW for Christmas, but he also assumes that the car is JUST for him and that his wife will be getting- well, what?  An SUV of her own?  Several cruises?  I mean, WHAT?  And the look on Son's face makes it very clear that he's wondering the same thing- and will quickly be arranging some enormous purchase to save face before Christmas dinner rolls around.

A few years ago, we had that horrible truck commercial where hubby buys matching black and red tricked-out trucks and then is flummoxed when his wife chooses the black one.  A few years before that, we got the god-awful war crime that was that commercial where the wife notes that there are an entire 42 miles on the odometer of the brand new BMW her husband got her for Christmas.  And then there was that commercial where a guy gives his wife an Audi and her "thank you" is interrupted by a passing Lexus- which she can't stop staring at and which I guess in her mind suddenly made the Audi about as valuable as a 1975 LeCar.   But for my money, this is the absolute worst I've ever seen.  The presumption, the entitlement, all of it....just too much.

"Can't wait to see what you got your mother."  Good lord.  What did this son give his father LAST year?  And before I forget- what is with you YouTube commenters?  You all love this ad?  Come on.  You're all bots or paid shills.  You have to be.  

*Instead of, oh, I don't know, just telling Dad that no you freaking moron, the ribbon just blew on to the car, which Dad should realize because it's the ribbon that was ON HIS FREAKING PORCH A MOMENT AGO.  The son's relationship with a father he can't be honest  is kind of depressing, but not as depressing as the fact that he can just write off the $60k as a "whaddayagonnado" and doesn't seem to be at all disturbed about it, nor does Trophy Wife seem to care.  So these people have money burning holes in their pockets.  Again, so very relatable. 

That $50 Gold Buffalo Coin Scam: Still Going Strong eight years later....

 

There is so much hilariously wrong with this scam, it would take pages and pages of commentary to get through it all, but I'm just going to focus on a few of the lowlights:

Most of this ad is a glowing description of a coin which is NOT FOR SALE HERE;  a $50 Gold Buffalo Coin which was released back in the 1930s.  We are told how much gold THAT coin had and how rare THAT coin is.

Then, without missing a beat the narrator segues into a discussion of the coin which is ACTUALLY FOR SALE HERE:  a "tribute" to the previously mentioned, actually valuable coin which is "clad" in cold (gilded) but which in fact provides what is currently about seventy cents worth of the precious metal the original coin was MADE OUT OF.  If you aren't paying attention- and this scummy fraud company really, really hopes that you aren't- you won't notice that the commercial is asking you to buy a cheap imitation of a valuable coin.  You'll think you are being offered a rare $50 gold piece for a preposterously low price by nice people who for some reason want to practically give them away because they are so nice.

We are told that "the price of the original edition is going through the roof"- so yeah, if you happen to own one, you have got a nice little investment there that you might want to keep in a safe deposit box.  But if you don't own one, we can buy this piece of garbage which kind of looks like the real thing.  The narrator isn't going to put it quite like that, but that's exactly what he's saying- this is a "tribute copy."  

The price of this junk was "supposed to be set at $50" but of course that wasn't going to get morons to grab their phones to call, so instead this next-to-worthless piece of tin is being offered for "only $9.95 plus shipping and handling."  As soon as we get this price, we're reminded that the price of gold is skyrocketing- which is information about as useful as telling us that bark beetle infestations are expected to rise in the next three years.  The price of gold has zero to do with the value of this particular "tribute," since there's virtually no gold in it.  The ratio of aftershave to my face is probably greater than the ratio of gold to this trash.   But the scam must go on.

This 2014 commercial, which I saw rebroadcast while watching MSNBC the other day, tells us that this offer can only be guaranteed for the next seven days.  Well, that makes this the longest week since Genesis.  

We get guff about "strict limits of five per caller" (yeah right- I GUARANTEE that if I called the number I could talk the operator into giving me a special deal for as many as I wanted) and "registration numbers" (if these coins were legitimate, why would they have such things?  Just more evidence- as if we needed any- that we are being offered commemorative medals, not coins.)  

Ok, there's fifty seconds left to this nonsense but I'm exhausted so I'll just end it here:  This stupid impulse purchase comes with a Certificate of Authenticity, authenticating that, yes, you've purchased an all-but-worthless trinket you can try to explain to your exasperated children the next time they come over and beg you to sign over your power of attorney while you still have a little money left. 

The Pizza Hut Triple Bypass Box, just in time for the holidays....

 

Or maybe it should be "Triple Threat Box?"

I mean, is there really anything more to say?  I mean, except that the singing just adds to the cringe?

Think about it.  This guy doesn't seem to consume anything OTHER than Pizza Hut garbage.  He doesn't seem to talk about anything OTHER than Pizza Hut products, and he doesn't seem to think about anything OTHER than Pizza Hut.  The "restaurant" even dictates his "fashion sense," to put those terms VERY mildly.  So of course we are going to see him "celebrating" the holidays by singing about some stacked-sludge box set from Pizza Hut which, according to the comments, doesn't even come in a cool cardboard drawer contraption as is shown here.  So you don't even get to save the damp, greasy drawers to use to- um, attract bugs and mice?  

I read recently that CiCi's all you can eat pizza, pasta and cinnamon buns is on the decline (I may post about this in the future.)  The attraction of CiCi's was that for very little money, you could gorge yourself on carbs- probably to get your body ready for that long, long nap you planned to take that afternoon?  Maybe one reason CiCi's peaked about a decade ago is because stores (that's more accurate than "restaurants") like Pizza Hut is providing delivery of all the crap CiCi's offers at about the same price CiCi's charged?  I mean, the only thing better than glutting on warm fatty garbage is doing it from the privacy of your own living room, am I right?  Waddling off to the couch or bed afterwards is so much easier than trying to drive home in a carb coma, after all.