Let's be honest, FanDuel....

 

1.  You did not want to make this ad.  You'd much rather put that money into paying Kevin Hart and Jamie Foxx and ESPN hosts to blather about how SuperAwesomeAmazingFunAndEasy gambling on sporting events is.  A "system?"  Yeah, the only system you're interested in is the one that provides the App and takes the money.  

2.  "I set up a one hour a week time limit on FanDuel."  First, you have to set this up- it's not the default.  The default is to stay on as long as you want.  And what happens if you want to go beyond that time limit?  Is it just a matter of turning it off like the "Do Not Disturb" option on your phone.  I'll give you +400 that it is.  That's a joke.

Is an hour a week a long time to be spending making bets?  Isn't the whole program super-easy to navigate?  If you decide how you want to bet in advance, it seems to me that an hour means a lot of placing of a lot of bets.

3.  "I set limits so I only bet what I can afford."  Yeah, right.  Who decides what a gambling addict "can afford?"  Isn't this like trusting a drunk to limit his alcohol consumption?  How many smokers successfully "limit" themselves to a certain number of cigarettes per day?  And again- how powerful is the "lock" an individual places on his maximum?  Is that "limit" just a swipe away from vanishing when the itch becomes too strong not to scratch?

And the image of two men who obviously live in substantial suburban homes, obviously intended to send the message that gambling is something that financially stable, SUCCESSFUL guys do with no impact on their financial stability...ok then.

Come on, FanDuel.  There's no safe level of heroin intake.  You can't play Russian Roulette "in moderation."  The only "safety feature" you can add to your phone is one that prevents gambling apps from being downloaded.  Like Thermonuclear War, the only winning move is....not to play. 

This Marcos Pizza Commercial offers free delivery with a side of diabetes.

 

Lady, you should be thinking of Macros, not Marcos.  The last thing you need is another evening of sitting on your couch eating yourself into a carbohydrate coma with cheap delivery pizza.  How about hitting the gym before eating a meal made up mostly of protein (and no, the cheese on the pizza doesn't count as protein?)  In short, a healthy diet and exercise should be the only "routine" you should be working on.  Pizza delivered to your couch should not be a "routine" for ANYBODY.

And buddy?  If you really care for this woman, stop being her enabler and encourage her to take steps that will lead her to living a healthier, happier and longer life.  Start by deleting the Marco's Pizza app from your phone.  And all the fast-food delivery service apps from your phone.  You'll both thank me later. 

The story that Jardiance has to tell....

 

...is the story of America itself.  We are a fat, lazy, stupid people who spend way, way too much time sitting on our ample backsides staring at screens (even at home, where our number one activity is to watch other people do things on television or our laptops) and then complaining that we "don't have time" to eat healthy.

Look at this commercial again.  Every single person in it is overweight.  The women who are not morbidly obese are certainly Overweight according to the Evil Evil Racist Body Mass Index.  The men all have pot bellies, which means they are considered "straight sized" and probably pass as "slim" in most communities today.   But if you compare this to an office scene captured on tape in the 1970s, you'd see the difference is pretty damn stark.  Fat is now Normal.  And it's not a problem to be solved with a healthy diet and exercise, but with a little pill with a "great big story to tell."  Um, ok then. 

This depressing Swiffer Commercial

 

I see a lot of people commenting how much they like the vibe of this ad; the infectious smile of this girl, her energy as she moves from room to room with her favorite cleaning utensil, the way her eyes widen in amazement as she notes how much of her hair she picked up this time....

Me being Me, I'm more concerned that this woman is losing so much of her hair every freaking time washes and dries it.  What kind of drugs is she on that is making this much hair loss a common thing for her?  Is she literally yanking it out with the towel?  Also, if I lost anywhere near as much hair as this woman did I sure as heck wouldn't pick BLINDING WHITE as my house's color scheme.

One more thing- for chrissakes lady, go out and make some friends.  There's more to life than dusting.  You enjoy this way too much.  Get some help.

A Blast from the Past with this thoroughly out of date Heineken Commercial

 

I'm sorry, but who the hell meets a blind date at their OWN APARTMENT?  This woman seems pretty cute (if prone to snap judgments and indecisiveness.)  She can find guys out in the Real World.  But she not only agrees to a blind date, but she gives the guy her address, has him show up at her place, and immediately offers him a beer- isn't he going to take her out to dinner?  Holy crap, did she make him dinner, too?  What is going on here?  Is this woman still single?  How do I get her to call me?

Who is the male ad writer who came up with this fantasy nonsense?  There are very good reasons why none of this happens in real life.  For one thing, it simply shouldn't.  How STUPID would a woman have to be to have a blind date meet her at her apartment instead of a public place, and instantly offer him alcohol instead of heading out the door?  Is this woman's biological clock ticking THAT loudly?

What is the plan for tonight?  Sit around the apartment, talk and drink beer?  That's a nice activity when you've established yourselves as a couple.  Except for the talking part, it's remarkably like being married.  But a FIRST DATE?  This woman is dressed to the nines, too.  Who is she trying to impress?  Her cat?  

What happens if the date goes badly?  How does she get rid of this guy?  He's already in your place.  He's already got alcohol in you- thanks to your own situational blindless and almost criminal naivete. Even if he leaves quietly, he knows where you live now.  NOTHING about this situation comes off as something arranged by a mature, sensible adult female.  Yet she's trying to decide if he is worthy of the "good" beer in the fridge.  And that's another thing- who are the other two beers for?  Is she doing this again later tonight?  Does she have already have a boyfriend who is out for the night that she's cheating on?  

No kidding.  WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?

This ridiculous Loan Depot Commercial....

 

I'm sorry, but listening to this guy wax poetic about "his music" and "his home" and "his life" as he waltzes around what looks to be a million-dollar loft apartment in downtown Manhattan is just a little too much for me.  I've seriously never cared less about anyone in my entire life,*  but I guess that works out ok, because when this guy gets done there's really no room for anyone else to care about him, anyway.

Loan Depot is best known for selling adjustable-rate mortgages (they make up the majority of the $1.8 billion in business they did in the housing market last year.)  They are also noteworthy for giving their CEO a $42 million dollar bonus a few years back.  Their customer base tends to be people with less than stellar credit ratings who are willing to sign on the dotted line to pay very high-interest mortgage payments forever rather than live within their means in apartments which may NOT have 360 degree views of the Manhattan skyline.  

Back to this idiot- man, I wish I could adequately describe how very little I give a flying damn about your freaking music and your plants and wish you'd just grow up and accept the reality of being an adult and maintaining a sustainable budget instead of placing yourself in a situation where you'll be demanding debt relief inside of a year or two.  Hate to tell you this, but our government only bails out banks, not people.  When you and your plants and your albums get tossed on to the sidewalk, Loan Depot will flip that apartment, maybe even handing it off to someone who can afford it.  You can move your crap back in to mommy's basement; hope there's room for you to frolic in front of the washer-dryer if you can work up the enthusiasm.  No, I don't.  

*this sentiment may change the next time The New York Times publishes an article about a young performance artist struggling to find a condo for under $1.5 million in the Right Neighborhood.  I will probably care about that person's "problem" even less. 

This Dupixent Commercial gives me the creeps.

 

Nothing may be more important to these little girls than clearer skin, but I suspect that their skin condition takes a back seat to $$$ that can be made in exploiting these little girls when it comes to their parents.  

Am I wrong, or is there something very, very disturbing about the use of scantily-clad minor girls in commercials for drugs which carry significant risk of severe side effects, or drugs in general, or ANYTHING IN GENERAL?