This latest pile of steaming crud from the anti-doctor vultures who prey on the fears of desperate people reaches new levels of utter vileness. We see a series of people throwing out talking points like "Strength" and "Character" and "Taking Control" when discussing their diagnosis of terminal cancer:
"I wasn't interesting in 'managing' my cancer, I wanted to fight it. I wanted this cancer out of me."
"I was determined to beat this thing."
"It's all about taking control, about finding the strength, about having the character to see the fight through..."
"When I walked in the doors, I knew this is the place I wanted to be..."
"They did more than help us fight. They gave me my father back."
Not one damn word about treatments. Nothing about medicines, or therapies, or machines. Nothing but buzzwords- as if all you really need to fight cancer is a strong personality and the right kind of "character."
These people are scum-sucking maggots. I have nothing but contempt for any organization which preys on the fears and desperation of people who have been told by actual DOCTORS that they have cancer and that managing it is the only real option they have. As the son of a cancer survivor, I can only hope that there is a special, extra-hot level of Hell reserved for monsters who are willing to make money telling sick, scared, desperate people that with a little "Can-Do Spirit," they can somehow will the cancer out of their bodies, and that they should start by dismissing the heartless "experts" who used "xrays" and (chuckle) "modern medicine" to diagnose their problems.
Oh, and I apologize to vultures, vampires, and scum-sucking maggots who may be reading this blog. I didn't mean to cause offense by comparing you to the good people at Cancer Treatment Centers of America.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
No one who actually does this deserves to live even one more day
Remember "what would you do for a Klondike Bar?" It was the first ad campaign I ever saw which featured people acting like brainless assholes in the service of some stupid tag line. I remember people clucking like chickens, flapping their arms up and down, and performing all kinds of brainless, pride-stripping stunts in order to "win" a 79-cent ice cream sandwich.
In more recent times, we've got people willing to squeal with delight at the smell of Maxwell House coffee ("Frrrreeeeeeesshhhhh!") and dance for the cameras to the tune of "Five Dollar Foot Longs."
And now, we have Punch Dub Days at your local Volkswagen Dealer. "What's this Punch Dub Days?" the prospective male customer asks the salesman when he notices the huge PUNCH DUB DAYS sign (oddly enough, the salesman has apparently gone through an entire pitch without even mentioning the ad campaign.)
"Oh, you know- when you see a Volkswagen, you punch the person next to you."
Oh God please, make it stop. It was called Slug Bug, and I vaguely remember playing it when I was about eight years old and the world seemed to be filled with little Volkswagen bugs. My parents had one, and my grandfather's became my first car. It was an innocent, stupid little game, which had nothing to do with selling today's Looks Like Every Other Car on the Road version of Volkswagen. But naturally, the ditz Please Die Tomorrow female companion of our Prospective Customer buys right in, looking around the show room and noticing that- I'll be darned!- it's full of Volkswagens!
"Red one!" she shouts, hitting her Soon To Be Ex Male Friend in the arm. "White One!" Another punch. "Blue One!" Another punch. Yes, it's very amusing, watching this deranged lunatic hitting her friend. (And I'm sure it would have been just as acceptable if it was the guy hitting the girl. Sure I am. Expect to see that commercial real soon.)
It finally ends with the male customer taking a break from rubbing his sore arm to hit the salesman. Oh, the hilarity.
Congratulations, Volkswagen. This vile "Hit someone when you see a Volkswagen" campaign actually manages to reach Cell Phone Commercial loathsomeness. Along with you, I hope this leads to a lot of mentally challenged doofuses hitting each other and yelling "Slug Bug." I hope the mayhem escalates, and weapons are ultimately involved.
Because gosh, think of the publicity!
In more recent times, we've got people willing to squeal with delight at the smell of Maxwell House coffee ("Frrrreeeeeeesshhhhh!") and dance for the cameras to the tune of "Five Dollar Foot Longs."
And now, we have Punch Dub Days at your local Volkswagen Dealer. "What's this Punch Dub Days?" the prospective male customer asks the salesman when he notices the huge PUNCH DUB DAYS sign (oddly enough, the salesman has apparently gone through an entire pitch without even mentioning the ad campaign.)
"Oh, you know- when you see a Volkswagen, you punch the person next to you."
Oh God please, make it stop. It was called Slug Bug, and I vaguely remember playing it when I was about eight years old and the world seemed to be filled with little Volkswagen bugs. My parents had one, and my grandfather's became my first car. It was an innocent, stupid little game, which had nothing to do with selling today's Looks Like Every Other Car on the Road version of Volkswagen. But naturally, the ditz Please Die Tomorrow female companion of our Prospective Customer buys right in, looking around the show room and noticing that- I'll be darned!- it's full of Volkswagens!
"Red one!" she shouts, hitting her Soon To Be Ex Male Friend in the arm. "White One!" Another punch. "Blue One!" Another punch. Yes, it's very amusing, watching this deranged lunatic hitting her friend. (And I'm sure it would have been just as acceptable if it was the guy hitting the girl. Sure I am. Expect to see that commercial real soon.)
It finally ends with the male customer taking a break from rubbing his sore arm to hit the salesman. Oh, the hilarity.
Congratulations, Volkswagen. This vile "Hit someone when you see a Volkswagen" campaign actually manages to reach Cell Phone Commercial loathsomeness. Along with you, I hope this leads to a lot of mentally challenged doofuses hitting each other and yelling "Slug Bug." I hope the mayhem escalates, and weapons are ultimately involved.
Because gosh, think of the publicity!
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Another disgusting yogurt commercial.
A woman is sitting in her office, enjoying her cup of Light&Fit Yogurt. And I mean really enjoying it. She is scooping it out with her finger. She is tipping the cup back and tapping the bottom as she presses it against her face. She's sucking at the cup. And then she's back to scooping it out with her finger.
Her thoroughly grossed-out and disgusted (I hope) co-worker says "Um...do you always eat your yogurt like that?"
Mentally Ill woman who simply cannot accept that she's finished her yogurt (imagine her drinking a milkshake- she probably makes loud slurping noise for thirty minutes before someone yanks the cup out of her hand and tosses it away): "I love it."
Not really an answer, but...
Ok, here are my two biggest problems with this ad (there are more than two, but I'm a bit pressed for time today:)
1. It's easy to image that this woman will next pull out out a pair of shears and cut the plastic cup into slices, and then lick the slices. Right there, in public.
2. The narrator tells us near the end that Light&Fit has "only 80 calories." Yes, indeed it does. And it's such a substantial treat, that this deranged woman is desperate to get every single fraction of those calories into her body before she admits that she just consumed 80 calories of something exactly as filling as a glass of milk. Imagine if Olive Garden tried to sell it's 500-calorie menu by showing a guy frantically scraping the empty plate with his fork, and finally picking it up and licking it until it shone like new. Might as well use the tag line "You'll Still Be Very, Very Hungry When It's Gone."
Hey, honesty in advertising! Got to give Light&Fit some points for that, at least.
Her thoroughly grossed-out and disgusted (I hope) co-worker says "Um...do you always eat your yogurt like that?"
Mentally Ill woman who simply cannot accept that she's finished her yogurt (imagine her drinking a milkshake- she probably makes loud slurping noise for thirty minutes before someone yanks the cup out of her hand and tosses it away): "I love it."
Not really an answer, but...
Ok, here are my two biggest problems with this ad (there are more than two, but I'm a bit pressed for time today:)
1. It's easy to image that this woman will next pull out out a pair of shears and cut the plastic cup into slices, and then lick the slices. Right there, in public.
2. The narrator tells us near the end that Light&Fit has "only 80 calories." Yes, indeed it does. And it's such a substantial treat, that this deranged woman is desperate to get every single fraction of those calories into her body before she admits that she just consumed 80 calories of something exactly as filling as a glass of milk. Imagine if Olive Garden tried to sell it's 500-calorie menu by showing a guy frantically scraping the empty plate with his fork, and finally picking it up and licking it until it shone like new. Might as well use the tag line "You'll Still Be Very, Very Hungry When It's Gone."
Hey, honesty in advertising! Got to give Light&Fit some points for that, at least.
Friday, February 19, 2010
I can't Imagine why we are in the middle of an Obesity Epidemic. I really can't.
"Mrs. Jones is freeing her family from restricted calling plans by switching to Sprint..."
Freeing her family. Yes, Mrs. Jones is a regular Harriet Tubman. She's breaking the chains of Limited Minutes Slavery. We aren't told what prompts her to do this, but I think it's easy to guess- she wants to be Mommy the Hero to her cold, distant, wrapped-up-in-themselves housemates.
"Now her daughter isn't, like, limited to like, lame calling plans."
Sprint's contempt for families having long since been established, the company now takes aim at teen-aged girls. Like, they are so, like, lame, ya'know?
"And her son can talk All. Day. Long."
Which means her son doesn't have to fill his days with friends, homework, reading, sports, exercise, school because he's out of minutes. Thank God.
"And when her husband pocket-dials half the country, it's no big deal."
Of course. Daddy is a stupid dick who used to create a huge phone bill because he's too inept to avoid accidentally calling people by- what? Fingering his phone while it's in his pocket? Is this really that common? Doesn't matter- Daddy is stupid. Message sent and received- again.
What's this all about? Seems to me that it's just another chapter in the Encourage Your Family to Devote their Lives to their Phones theme created years ago and promoted with increased aggression by Sprint and their ilk. I can't see any other explanation for commercials which invite customers to spend every waking moment of every day talking themselves hoarse and developing that next layer of callouses on their thumbs. I can't see any other explanation for commercials that encourage kids to replace every other possible activity with talking and texting. Maybe these ads appeal to parents who don't really ever, ever want to talk to their kids again. Maybe they appeal to wives who lost interest in their husbands years ago ( and vice versa) and are grateful that there's this electronic gadget out there that just might keep the spouse occupied while they do their own thing (talk and text to someone else.)
All I know for sure is that this is like, a totally, like, lame commercial. And no, giving a cameo to Flava Flav at the end doesn't help. At ALL.
Freeing her family. Yes, Mrs. Jones is a regular Harriet Tubman. She's breaking the chains of Limited Minutes Slavery. We aren't told what prompts her to do this, but I think it's easy to guess- she wants to be Mommy the Hero to her cold, distant, wrapped-up-in-themselves housemates.
"Now her daughter isn't, like, limited to like, lame calling plans."
Sprint's contempt for families having long since been established, the company now takes aim at teen-aged girls. Like, they are so, like, lame, ya'know?
"And her son can talk All. Day. Long."
Which means her son doesn't have to fill his days with friends, homework, reading, sports, exercise, school because he's out of minutes. Thank God.
"And when her husband pocket-dials half the country, it's no big deal."
Of course. Daddy is a stupid dick who used to create a huge phone bill because he's too inept to avoid accidentally calling people by- what? Fingering his phone while it's in his pocket? Is this really that common? Doesn't matter- Daddy is stupid. Message sent and received- again.
What's this all about? Seems to me that it's just another chapter in the Encourage Your Family to Devote their Lives to their Phones theme created years ago and promoted with increased aggression by Sprint and their ilk. I can't see any other explanation for commercials which invite customers to spend every waking moment of every day talking themselves hoarse and developing that next layer of callouses on their thumbs. I can't see any other explanation for commercials that encourage kids to replace every other possible activity with talking and texting. Maybe these ads appeal to parents who don't really ever, ever want to talk to their kids again. Maybe they appeal to wives who lost interest in their husbands years ago ( and vice versa) and are grateful that there's this electronic gadget out there that just might keep the spouse occupied while they do their own thing (talk and text to someone else.)
All I know for sure is that this is like, a totally, like, lame commercial. And no, giving a cameo to Flava Flav at the end doesn't help. At ALL.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Surely, AT&T is snarking itself in this new commercial
Owen Wilson's brother and AT&T really outdo themselves in this latest cell phone commercial, which rips off an ancient Taster's Choice ad but far surpasses it in utter stupidity, while serving up a double dose of despair because in attempting to be humorous, it's probably painfully accurate.
Owen Wilson's brother is standing in a restaurant, and he tells the audience that "we've replaced these diners' great AT&T phones with lame non-AT&T substitute phones. Let's see what happens."
Groan. First of all, in a sane world, what should happen? How about this- none of the diners even notices that their phones have been switched, because after all, they are all sitting in a restaurant eating a meal. But because we aren't living in a sane world---
Customer # 1 groans "hey, I don't have any service!"
Customer # 2 bitches "hey, where are my Apps?"
Customer # 3 snaps "hey, what happened to my cool phone??"
All of the diners, feeling frightened, naked and helpless without their little toys, quickly reach their boiling points, lashing out at those around them, waving their arms and- from what we can hear in the background- throwing their substitute phones through the windows of the restaurant.
Of course, the truly horrifying thing about all this is, I don't think we are supposed to be especially critical of these witless choads. We are supposed to share Wilson's "hey, it was just an experiment" shrugged shoulders and sad face as meaning "serves you right for taking away their phones." Of course the diners acted like this- who wouldn't? I mean, what are they going to do now- talk to the people they are dining out with? Don't be ridiculous.
And here's the very worst part- this commercial didn't have to use a restaurant as the setting. It could have used a High School library. Or a family picnic. Or a baseball game. Or a movie theater- while the film was being played- and it would have been just as realistic. No one can EVER be without their phones- EVER.
This is supposed to be funny. I find it depressing- because it rings so true.
Owen Wilson's brother is standing in a restaurant, and he tells the audience that "we've replaced these diners' great AT&T phones with lame non-AT&T substitute phones. Let's see what happens."
Groan. First of all, in a sane world, what should happen? How about this- none of the diners even notices that their phones have been switched, because after all, they are all sitting in a restaurant eating a meal. But because we aren't living in a sane world---
Customer # 1 groans "hey, I don't have any service!"
Customer # 2 bitches "hey, where are my Apps?"
Customer # 3 snaps "hey, what happened to my cool phone??"
All of the diners, feeling frightened, naked and helpless without their little toys, quickly reach their boiling points, lashing out at those around them, waving their arms and- from what we can hear in the background- throwing their substitute phones through the windows of the restaurant.
Of course, the truly horrifying thing about all this is, I don't think we are supposed to be especially critical of these witless choads. We are supposed to share Wilson's "hey, it was just an experiment" shrugged shoulders and sad face as meaning "serves you right for taking away their phones." Of course the diners acted like this- who wouldn't? I mean, what are they going to do now- talk to the people they are dining out with? Don't be ridiculous.
And here's the very worst part- this commercial didn't have to use a restaurant as the setting. It could have used a High School library. Or a family picnic. Or a baseball game. Or a movie theater- while the film was being played- and it would have been just as realistic. No one can EVER be without their phones- EVER.
This is supposed to be funny. I find it depressing- because it rings so true.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
It's What We Do? Really?
Fortunately, anyone who has been watching commercials for more than a few years must by now be completely indoctrinated into "men are bizarre, incomprehensible idiot slobs" theme, and therefore won't take too much offense at Budweiser's latest "look at these stupid, ragged weirdos and how they greet each other" ad.
"There have been many versions of the Social Greeting over the years." Has there now? I'm stuck in the 18th century, I guess, because I still greet people of the same sex with a handshake. Maybe it's my famous Vermont-bred fastidiousness.
"The Fist Bump was fun, for a while." Really? "The Low Five. The Chest Bump" (Seriously? I've never seen two guys who weren't already drunk out of their skulls chest bump each other.) "The Bro Hug Double Back Tap Combo" (now we know Budweiser is just making crap up.)
It goes on. "The Forearm Grab." "The Head Butt." "The Outlaw" (pretending to shoot the guy you are greeting. Oh sure, I've seen that done, many many times. And by 'many, many times,' I mean Never, of course.)
Finally, we get to the point of the commercial- Budweiser unveiling the new, socially acceptable greeting- people banging glasses and bottles of Budweiser together. Oh, goody! If this becomes popular, we can expect bars and restaurants to get a lot louder. And a lot stupider.
But I'm not too worried about it. My guess is that this ad was created by the same creative team of geniuses who brought us "Five Dollar Foot Longs" last winter, and within a week or so were trying to tell us that the "Five Dollar Foot Long" jingle had taken the nation by storm, and that everyone was doing it. (Everyone cool, I mean.) Oddly, this craze is in very little evidence in my neck of the woods- I'm sure that the DC suburbs are just a tiny island of the terminally Uncool, and if I just traveled beyond my immediate surroundings I would find people singing "Five Dollar! Five Dollar! Five Dollar Foot Longs!" in the streets of every other town in the country. And since I clearly live in a Dead Zone for social phenomenons, I expect that I will continue to see people shaking hands and occasionally hugging their greetings, the clueless philistines.
"There have been many versions of the Social Greeting over the years." Has there now? I'm stuck in the 18th century, I guess, because I still greet people of the same sex with a handshake. Maybe it's my famous Vermont-bred fastidiousness.
"The Fist Bump was fun, for a while." Really? "The Low Five. The Chest Bump" (Seriously? I've never seen two guys who weren't already drunk out of their skulls chest bump each other.) "The Bro Hug Double Back Tap Combo" (now we know Budweiser is just making crap up.)
It goes on. "The Forearm Grab." "The Head Butt." "The Outlaw" (pretending to shoot the guy you are greeting. Oh sure, I've seen that done, many many times. And by 'many, many times,' I mean Never, of course.)
Finally, we get to the point of the commercial- Budweiser unveiling the new, socially acceptable greeting- people banging glasses and bottles of Budweiser together. Oh, goody! If this becomes popular, we can expect bars and restaurants to get a lot louder. And a lot stupider.
But I'm not too worried about it. My guess is that this ad was created by the same creative team of geniuses who brought us "Five Dollar Foot Longs" last winter, and within a week or so were trying to tell us that the "Five Dollar Foot Long" jingle had taken the nation by storm, and that everyone was doing it. (Everyone cool, I mean.) Oddly, this craze is in very little evidence in my neck of the woods- I'm sure that the DC suburbs are just a tiny island of the terminally Uncool, and if I just traveled beyond my immediate surroundings I would find people singing "Five Dollar! Five Dollar! Five Dollar Foot Longs!" in the streets of every other town in the country. And since I clearly live in a Dead Zone for social phenomenons, I expect that I will continue to see people shaking hands and occasionally hugging their greetings, the clueless philistines.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
My guess is, this date is NOT "The Beginning."
Here's a nice couple sitting at a table at TGI Fridays. The female is a chirpy, toothy little thing who throughout the commercial is WAY too excited to be at this chain restaurant. The guy is an average-looking, balding, dumpy doofus who is way too interested in keeping this date within the parameters of a pretty damned tight budget.
"I'll have the Green Bean fries" this woman practically squeaks at the waitress. "Ah, a light eater!" her miserly prick of a date thought-bubbles approvingly.
"For the entree, I'll have the Sizzling Chicken" she continues. Now her date is suddenly alarmed- "Entree?" Clearly, he didn't count on this. He figured he'd get this girl in and out of this restaurant with the spare change from his car's ashtray.
"And for desert, I'll have the Cheesecake!" our heroine concludes, showing all 32 teeth and a beaming smile that gives the impression that being brought to TGI Friday's is the Greatest Experience of Her Life. At this point, The Guy Who Will Get the Damage is nearing his own breaking point- "Dessert?? What does she think I am, a bank???" I'm not kidding.
Then the guy notices the "Three Course Meal for Only $12.99" label on the front of the menu. Oh, thank goodness! This isn't going to break him! "I'll have the same" he informs the waitress, earning a dimple-filled gushy smile of delight from the girl- seriously, it does NOT take much to send this woman into spasms of ecstasy, does it?
Apparently, this guy invited this girl to dinner hoping that she would say "no." Once she said "yes," he hoped that she would order a side salad and a glass of water, and then offer to cover the tip. In other words, he's a cheap bastard who suffered waves of intestinal agony at the thought of shelling out $20-$30 on something as inconsequential as a date with a cute girl.
Apparently also, this guy doesn't eat at TGI Friday's very often. TGI Friday's is exactly the kind of place you take a date when you aren't sure if you really like the person you are escorting all that much, and don't want to drop a wad of dough on something that might not pan out. Olive Garden is too cheap, Ruth's Chris is too upscale. You go to TGI Friday's because you know it's pretty damned impossible to overspend there- for this guy to freak out because his date (gasp) orders an entree tells me nothing good about him.
I don't think that his date's ridiculous smile is going to last very long- maybe when she finds out that "Dinner and a Movie" means TGI Friday's and then back to his apartment to watch whatever showed up in the mail from Netflix that afternoon, it will finally be wiped from her silly face.
"I'll have the Green Bean fries" this woman practically squeaks at the waitress. "Ah, a light eater!" her miserly prick of a date thought-bubbles approvingly.
"For the entree, I'll have the Sizzling Chicken" she continues. Now her date is suddenly alarmed- "Entree?" Clearly, he didn't count on this. He figured he'd get this girl in and out of this restaurant with the spare change from his car's ashtray.
"And for desert, I'll have the Cheesecake!" our heroine concludes, showing all 32 teeth and a beaming smile that gives the impression that being brought to TGI Friday's is the Greatest Experience of Her Life. At this point, The Guy Who Will Get the Damage is nearing his own breaking point- "Dessert?? What does she think I am, a bank???" I'm not kidding.
Then the guy notices the "Three Course Meal for Only $12.99" label on the front of the menu. Oh, thank goodness! This isn't going to break him! "I'll have the same" he informs the waitress, earning a dimple-filled gushy smile of delight from the girl- seriously, it does NOT take much to send this woman into spasms of ecstasy, does it?
Apparently, this guy invited this girl to dinner hoping that she would say "no." Once she said "yes," he hoped that she would order a side salad and a glass of water, and then offer to cover the tip. In other words, he's a cheap bastard who suffered waves of intestinal agony at the thought of shelling out $20-$30 on something as inconsequential as a date with a cute girl.
Apparently also, this guy doesn't eat at TGI Friday's very often. TGI Friday's is exactly the kind of place you take a date when you aren't sure if you really like the person you are escorting all that much, and don't want to drop a wad of dough on something that might not pan out. Olive Garden is too cheap, Ruth's Chris is too upscale. You go to TGI Friday's because you know it's pretty damned impossible to overspend there- for this guy to freak out because his date (gasp) orders an entree tells me nothing good about him.
I don't think that his date's ridiculous smile is going to last very long- maybe when she finds out that "Dinner and a Movie" means TGI Friday's and then back to his apartment to watch whatever showed up in the mail from Netflix that afternoon, it will finally be wiped from her silly face.
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