Don't worry, Mom. I'm sure you'll find other ways to damage this child.

This pathetic excuse for a mother is clearly mortified because her little daughter wants to wear hoodies and cargo shorts, gets dirty, and keeps building parking garages with blocks. I think it's pretty safe to imagine that Mommy's Little Clone is SUPPOSED to want to wear frilly dresses (pink, of course) while serving tea to her teddy bears and Mrs Beasley doll. Later, she'd be allowed to graduate to Barbies, but the pink dresses stay.

Because it's all about appearances, and apparently this wretched, sadly fertile lump of mucus thinks there is something truly scandalous that her female child isn't Happily Living the Stereotype. Oooooh, she gets DIRTY!! She wears non-pink clothes, including hoodies and shorts!! She builds something that doesn't look like a stove or a Dream Kitchen! The horror! Where will it all end?

Well, maybe it will end with the development of a fully-functioning, female adult. One that understands that in the 21st century, women can do ANY GOD DAMNNED THING THEY WANT- wear clothes which are not pink dresses, become engineers and architects, GET DIRTY, whatever. That is, they can if they aren't molded into square pegs by weird, smothering, hovering helicopter mommies who are so twisted that they actually fantasize that their children's favorite clothes will be ruined so they can be replaced by more "acceptable" items.

Just one question- where the hell did this little girl develop a taste for clothing which is so offensive to mommy in the first place? Think there is more than a little hostility between Mommy and Daddy out there? Think the in-laws are slightly more open-minded (though really, who wouldn't be) when they pick out clothes to give to their favorite granddaughter? I mean, clearly there is a back story here.

Meanwhile, the story that is right out there, in our face, is that this woman has got some serious issues, and needs help. I'd start by having that metal rod someone jammed up her ass surgically removed. Then I'd tell her to stop taking all her social cues from Phyllis Schlafly. Because wishing your kid would ruin her clothes so you could go back to dressing her up like your perfect little poppet? Yuck.

Oh yeah, I want a house full of these things

Ugh, looks like the Village of the Damned is missing one of it's prized residents.

This hideous little girl has wandered away from her oblivious, free sample-hogging mommy in order to harass the Probably Already Wishes He Were Dead I Mean After All He Looks Like He's In This Late Twenties and He's a Stockboy store employee.* For some reason, this guy feels compelled to defend the veracity of Fiber One's claim to be High Fiber to this Adorable Little Moppet, even to the point of engaging in a "Yes It Is/No It's Not" battle of "wills."

Fortunately, our favorite weird Middle Eastern Guy with the Colonial British Accent comes to the rescue by essentially taking her side and explaining how Stockboy MUST be telling the truth because his pants are not on fire, proving that he's not "Pathological." At this point I really want to hurt the person who taught this kid the word "Pathological." That person deserves it, because she's probably the same individual who taught this kid that it was ok to call people who are just trying to make an honest living that they are liars. Never mind talking to strangers, which I thought was an obvious no-no in this day and age.

The mercifully short mess ends with the nasty little tike skipping off with a box of Fiber One to toss into Mommy's cart. We may assume that Mommy lets her kid pick out her own cereal, especially if she's sold, which she certainly seems to be (after all, she's so engrossed in stuffing her face with free samples, she didn't even notice that her kid went off to do research on the product's ingredients.) And again, we are left wondering why this particular ad would convince anyone to eat stuff which looks like, and probably is, just a pile of nuts, twigs and pencil shavings.

*When I was in my late-20s and recently married, I worked in the dairy department at a Wegman's Grocery Store in upstate New York. Because it was a job I could get, and the hours were flexible enough to allow me to substitute teach during the day. I can remember being bothered by annoying, know-it-all customers who thought that I had nothing but time on my hands, but none of them were little kids. Most of them were Seniors coming in to do their daily shopping for a cup of yogurt and stick of butter, who needed to know RIGHT THEN AND THERE if I was holding out on the Milk With The Slightly Better Expiration Date, or if there was REALLY no Rice Pudding left in the back, and I was just too lazy to check. I don't want a house full of THOSE people, either.

With "Friends" like these...

A few years ago, when I didn't know what Facebook was, I heard two students in the hallway comparing the number of friends each had. One said he had 250 friends. The other said he had 290, and had added fifteen in the last few days. I was impressed, and I stopped to ask if they had been to camp recently, or some community activity, or a family reunion, to find themselves blessed with so many friends.

They explained to me that they were referring go their Facebook "Friends," and in fact had never met roughly 90 percent of them. In other words, they were referring to photographs which represented numbers, which in turn indicated nothing more intimate than the willingness of a lot of people to add their names to lists kept by strangers, as long as the "favor" could be reciprocated. These "friends" did not actually know them or ever even talk to them. They certainly could not be called upon for a ride to the airport, or a shoulder to cry on. They were "friends" in a sense which seemed quite alien and sad to me.

Now, there's another way to "value your friends." If you refer them to your cable service, they represent one hundred dollars each. That's how much money you can get for each friend who signs up for DirectTV, as long as they are "friendly" enough to reference your name and membership number when they do so. The next time you look at someone you think is your friend, just imagine them as a big, ugly one hundred dollar bill. But only ten of them- there is a limit to this offer, after all. just like there is a limit to friendship- right?

Well, I suppose this was inevitable. First, friends are just names and faces willing to use you to pad their Facebook total. Now, they represent money. Because after all, how much do you REALLY value Facebook Friend #346, compared to a hundred bucks?

As far as I'm concerned, "valuing" your friends by seeing them as representing an opportunity to make money is no less cynical and crass as using them to make your list of Facebook "Friends" artificially larger.

Remember Society? Wasn't that fun, while it lasted?

The person who wrote this crud clearly hates dogs.

Another pet peeve (no pun intended) of mine: Personification in advertising. I really hate it because I love animals. So when advertisers make animals act as stunningly stupid as the dumbest, most witless human beings, it really ticks me off, because I know better.

Dogs and cats do disgusting things that we don't need to get into here. I get that. But if I thought for one minute that dogs would ever react to the smell of "Beggin Strips" like this, I would instantly lose all respect for dogs, everywhere. Sniffing each other's butts- I get it. Eating grass- I get it. Marking territory- hey, it's genetically programmed in. I get it. Going insane over the smell of a snack and repeating the name of that snack over and over again in your mind? That level of insulting idiocy is reserved for human beings, sorry.

There's also the little message here that when a dog jumps on you, it's not showing love or loyalty. In fact, it's not thinking of you at all. Nope- it's just thinking of BACON BACON BACON BACON BACON!!!! Because the smell of BACON compels dogs to lose control, abandon their territory, and race to the source as quickly as their four legs can carry them. How, exactly, dogs naturally know what bacon is, let alone naturally crave it*, I don't pretend to understand.

What I do know is, according to this commercial, if you open up a bag of Beggin Strips, you'll have every freaking dog in the Free World rushing to your door to get at it. And this is a good thing?

*I've often wondered this about cats and fish, too. Do cats really crave fish? Is that just instinctive, because it seems to me that the only way domesticated house cats would ever consume fish is if it were served to them by a human. Do they really like fish more than other meat, or is it a Mice and Cheese-style myth? Do I just have too much time on my hands, or what?

And if you try to spin off that Pigeon, someone's going to get hurt, AFLAC

Remember when the AFLAC duck was kind of a cute concept? It was back in 2000- that's right, during the CLINTON ADMINISTRATION- that the duck made it's first appearance, trying to remind a guy sitting on a park bench what the name of that company that provides him and his coworkers supplemental insurance was called. It was mildly amusing and maybe even a little bit clever- "AFLAC" sounds sort of like a duck's quack. Decent idea. Well done, AFLAC.

Thirty commercials later (seriously- according to Wikipedia, there have been more than thirty separate commercials featuring the duck) it's not a decent idea anymore. It's not at all cute. It's--- hmm, what's that phrase I'm trying to think of? The one that applies to the Geico lizard and those god-awful, Also Amusing for a Commercial or Two But Please Stop Now Cavemen? Oh yeah- PLAYED.

But even "played" doesn't really describe my reaction to this latest AFLAC commercial. I mean, "played" can be used to describe Ray Ray Johnson ("you can call me Ray, or you can call me....") back in the 70s (or was it the 80s?) "Played" also fits when discussing Punch Dub Days, "Here We Go" Bud Lite Commercials, and those stunningly unfunny fake "press conferences" featuring the choads who shout questions about beer to long-retired NFL coaches. It's a real understatement to describe the continued presence of a computer-generated duck quacking "AFLAC" when put in that context, isn't it? (And don't get me started on the break-dancing. Just don't.)

We are on the verge of another season of NFL football, which means the insurance commercials will be coming at us in larger quantities than usual. Is it too much to ask, AFLAC, that you dump the duck and come up with a new concept sometime before the Patriots win the Superbowl in February? It would be much appreciated.

Because this duck thing....seriously. Enough, already.

Oh, and Bud Lite? Enough with the "press conferences," too. Never clever. Not even once.

The Age of Innocence

Every once in a while, I like to draw attention to a "vintage" ad, if only to remind us of a simpler time, when the world was young and all things seemed possible. You know, before it all went to hell in a hand basket.

This commercial is for a brand new product called "America Online." It allows one to easily access something called "the Internet," which involves using a Personal Computer to "communicate" with other Personal Computers (or "PCs") for the purposes of gathering information, buying stuff, and "even sending an email" through the "World Wide Web."

And what could one DO with "America Online?" Even in 1995, the possibilities seemed endless. The guy in this commercial has shown up to report that his planned day at the ballpark has been sabotaged by the harsh realities of life and it's pain in the butt responsibilities. He has to order flowers for his mother, book plane tickets for the family trip next week (more about this in a moment) and take his daughter to the library "to look up dinosaurs." Incredibly, ALL of these things can now be done with a few points and clicks, IF you have America Online!

(My first computer didn't come with a modem, or a hard drive, or even a disk drive. It was a Commodore 64 which used cartridges that had to be jammed into the side of the keyboard. And my first Online program wasn't America Online, it was something called Prodigy. I can still remember accessing Prodigy and walking away from the computer for an hour or so while the "home page" slooooooooooowly appeared on the screen. I can also remember getting a $300 phone bill the first month I had it. Good thing AOL's introductory offer was for "Ten Free Hours" of service per month, right? I mean, who would ever need more than Ten Hours of Internet access per month?)

Ok, first- the booking of plane tickets. Can you really do this with only one week's notice? What does that cost? Second- instead of taking his daughter to the library "to look up dinosaurs," he's going to download a few pages on dinosaurs from Compton's Online Encyclopedia- really?? Way to pass on your awesome ethical standards, buddy. Not to mention, way to land your daughter an F on her dinosaur report. And all because it's more important to go to a damn ball game. Third- ordering flowers? That can be done on the phone, just like it could be back in 1995, in about thirty freaking seconds. Oh, but this is also in the Age Before Cell Phones, which means this poor man can't do it while on his way to the ball game. So we can see his dilemma, can't we?

Anyway, this America Online commercial shows how awesome being "connected" to the "internet" (or the "World Wide Web," if that's something different) really is- you don't have to invest any time to do things like buy plane tickets or order flowers or take your daughter to the freaking library. All that stuff can get done in a few seconds- I assume this guy stopped by his house on the way to the game to hand his daughter the watered-down, generic crap about "dinosaurs." I wonder if she was disappointed that she wasn't going to spend an afternoon with dad at the library. I guess it doesn't matter, though, does it?

This commercial also shows us why Al Gore invented the internet* in the first place- so we could send each other "e-mails" and take care of time-consuming chores with a point and a click. And play Fantasy Football with our fellow losers. Not to post videos of ourselves doing every stupid thing imaginable, not to access x-rated content from the privacy of our own homes, and not to publish pointless, whiny, fairly obvious observations of commercials. But of course, we had to go abuse it, just like we abuse all technology- the wheel, the toaster, the telephone, skateboards....

I mean, come on. YouTube? Facebook? The Cloud? Sigh. We just can't have nice things, can we?

*I'm well aware that Al Gore never claimed to have invented the internet, that this is just a slander created by the Bush 2000 campaign and perpetrated by the Gore-hating Media. I just liked the line.

Money Better Left Unspent

Do you ever get the impression that McDonalds only makes commercials because they feel, as a huge conglomerate which has held the lion's share of the Fast Food Industry in the palm of it's hand for decades, they are kind of obligated to, and not because they actually NEED to?

I mean, the only explanation for the absolutely bottom of the barrel, zero inspiration "themes" found in McDonalds ads is that the company's execs, watching commercials for Burger King, Wendy's, and KFC, decided that even though they have no evidence that any amount of advertising will impact the apparently unlimited supply of taste-deprived fatsos who will waddle in on any given day to give their arteries another hit, they ought to throw some money into thirty-second spots anyway. So they went out and found an agency which relied on eight-year olds for inspiration and starving college students for "actors." The result is the most consistently banal, insulting, and downright stupid commercials to be found since the end of Punch Dub Days.

I mean, there is simply no way any of these ads are ever market-tested. Heck, there's precious little evidence that they are even pre-screened before acceptance and scheduling for air time. Pretty much everything in TV land labeled "McDonalds" looks like something we'd expect to receive if Ed Wood were handed $20,000 to produce thirty seconds of Something, Anything, No Questions Asked- a messy, disconnected jumble of nothing which Kind Of Sort Of Not Really relates to the "food" being sold at McDonalds. Featuring Pretty People of Appropriately Diverse Ethnicity (check out the white guys in both ads- Separated at Birth, or What?) Which ends with the Golden Arches taking over the screen at the precise moment that the viewer is thinking "um....what the hell was that all about?"

Hey, McDonalds, let me try to save you a little money (though I am well aware that you can spare it.) There is nobody in the United States who isn't aware of your restaurant's existence- after all, there are only about 14 million franchises scattered about all fifty states and the District of Columbia. I mean, not even Starbucks is as ubiquitous. If there is a population of people out there who are not patronizing McDonald's, it's not because we were unaware that you offer deep-fried chicken parts with dipping sauce "which make lips even smackier," this dope explains to his disciples (I like the "here we go" comment from one of them- apparently, a speech about the cruddy non-food they are about to eat is expected of this guy. Yet, they still hang out with him..)

Or because...well, honestly, I can't even begin to understand the point of the Annoyingly Made For Each Other Idiots Engaged in the "you go first" Ultimate TV Cliche Ad. No, it's simply because we don't think this junk tastes good, and we KNOW it's not good for us. No ads will change that.

And the people who already go to McDonalds? As long as there is a dollar menu and a lack of nutrition classes in High School, they'll keep coming, regardless of whether you buy ad time or not. So please, stop. Because these....these are just bad. Even compared to other ads. And that's saying a LOT.