More evidence that McDonalds really, really hates us

Again- McDonalds is Not. Even. Trying. with these ads.

First, we have an insane little girl trapped in a woman's body who really should just never, ever open her mouth in public, ever. "Mr. Snuggles?" "Chipmunk?" I mean, what the hell IS that? And buddy- you're "smart enough to notice" that your favorite iced tea is now on the dollar menu (has been for years, btw- not that this saves his bizarre non-sequitor) but you're not smart enough to notice that the woman you are with is A FREAKING LUNATIC WITH ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT ISSUES?

Well, considering that she seems to enjoy being taken to dinner at McDonalds and being treated to the Dollar Menu (isn't this more of a grandfather/granddaughter thing than a boyfriend/girlfriend thing?) maybe you guys are just made for each other. How about this- you're smart enough to realize that you can't attract an actual adult female, so this little girl with her nausea-inducing nicknames but pleasingly low date expectations is about the best you can do?

Second, two other alleged "adults" are sitting in what looks like a pretty substantial kitchen, incomprehensibly making a meal of items selected from the Dollar Menu. Apparently one of them decided that a drive through the rain to purchase this junk was a better option than simply making a meal out of what is in the refrigerator, because we are informed by the male that aw darn, it's raining, so "we can't paint the garage."

And now the hate bubbles to the surface. Quickly, the Female must come up with a reason to make The Guy She Chose To Live And Eat Disgusting Non-Food With continue to regret ever meeting her. Like Chipmunk Child in the earlier ad, she's "smart enough to know" that all that crud littering the table cost a dollar each, so she MUST be able to respond to her sex partner in a way which reminds him that She's In Charge, right?

Yep- "Well, I guess we'll just have to go shopping for window treatments, then." Haha, got you, fat boy. Hope you enjoyed that five seconds you thought you had some say in what you were going to do with your life today. Thank goodness Woman You Woke Up One Day Chained To has set you straight- oh, can't paint the garage? Fine- get your ass in the car, we are shopping for window treatments. And when that's done? Don't worry, the Honey Do List is never ending. And by the way, your input is totally unnecessary. We don't want to hear it again, ok?

In both ads, it's strongly implied that there is humor at play here. We are supposed to find these scenes amusing. Maybe someone out there does, but I really doubt it- for one, even the YouTube posters, who generally find Everything LOL SO FRICKING HILARIOUS, want the people featured to just die, now. For the other, comments have been disabled- which is never a good sign. And man, if you can't get positive responses for your commercial from the gas-sniffing knuckle-draggers who post on YouTube, your commercials REALLY SUCK, McDonalds.

Is it too much to imagine that both these ads were written by men who really, really hate women? I mean, the guys don't come off as the sharpest tools in the shed by any means- but compared to the females they are with, they are candidates for MENSA membership and Nobel Peace Prizes. What is with these women? One is an immature, blithering idiot who acts like she should be heading home to her house full of cats, all of whom have "Mr." or "Miss" in their names. The other is a bossy control freak. Taken together, they make up one big lump of Unattractive.

And taken together, these ads make up one big lump of Vile. They sure don't make me want to head off to McDonalds to partake in the Dollar Menu. Admittedly, that would take quite a commercial. But these ads don't even make the effort. All they do is make me loathe the people in them, and the company that subjected me to these time-wasting nuggets of dumb.

(BTW, what the hell are "window treatments?")

Just wanting to eat this stuff qualifies as a Pre-Existing Condition

Sigh...first of all, "chances are you've probably...?" thanks, Kraft- you start right off the bat by butchering the English language.

And hey, I had no idea that the two creepy kids who have appeared in separate Kraft Mac 'n Cheese Kids v. Parents commercials were related, or knew each other, or whatever this situation is. I do now that it's the boy's house, because they've hired that same balding idiot with the five-days growth beard to play his dad, and the palatial estate he works hard to provide for his ungrateful runt of a kid looks really familiar.

(I mean, really- this f--ing palace looks roughly twelve times the size of my apartment. And I grew up in a big farmhouse, which I think just might be able to fit into this little brat's living room.)

I don't get why the dad here feels the need to stroll across the cavernous dining room to steal a forkful of warm yellow mush, dropping that fork loudly in a "I took it because it's mine and I'll do it again" manner. Maybe it really is just a hateful control issue. In any case, it's really stupid- but I don't buy the open-mouthed look of shock on the kid's face, because after all, he's explained to us in other ads that his father is kind of a dick (in one, dad banished him from the table for some minor discretion and proceeded to eat the kid's dinner- nastiness, cruelty and child abuse wrapped up in one neat package, thanks Kraft!) This mooching of food comes as a shock to the kid? Really?

Weird Little Girl Who Continues To Try To Channel A Young Christina Ricci quietly explains this thing called "Macsurance," which I guess assures replacement of "lost" Mac 'n Cheese. Well, whatever. If it works like every other type of insurance, the kid has to prove loss and wait thirty days for a claims inspector to explain to him why that particular forkful of fatty junk wasn't covered- and oh, by the way, his rates are going up another 30%.

Not to mention- who pays this kid's premiums, anyway? Does he have a job? If so- buy your own f--ing Mac 'n Cheese, you smarmy little prick. Better yet, buy some applesauce or a vegetable to go with that lump of gray something with gravy your Dad ISN'T interested in pilfering.

Then think about installing a bowling alley in your living room. Jeesh.

I've got your "Man Card" right here, Miller

Actually, Strike One was your decision to hang around with these pathetic, judgmental beer whores. I mean, you seem to be able to find attractive girls on your own; why do you want to be with these dicks in the first place?

Strike Two was that weird squeaky noise you made when you tried to get one of your male "friends" to hit the restroom with you. No, it's not that going to the restroom in groups is a "girl thing," though I do have to question why any guy would express nervousness at going to a public facility by themselves. I assume that the joke is that girls go to the restroom to talk privately about the guys they are with and men, being men, simply don't do stuff like this. Fine. Regardless, that ain't Strike Two. Strike two is that high-pitched sound, which had no business coming out of anyone, male or female.

If you swing and miss at Strike Three, it won't be because you ordered the "wrong" Light Beer. Because (and we all know that this is the inevitable punchline the good people at Miller Lite missed,) guys who order Light Beer are the LAST MEN ON EARTH who have the right to question the masculinity of ANYONE. Hey, guys? What the hell do any of you know about Man Cards and the Proper Behavior of Males? I don't care if you HAVE managed to find hot girlfriends (lots of girls like to hang out with gay guys...not making accusations, just sayin'....) If you are drinking Light Beer, and worse, if you are sneering at another guy's choice of Light Beer, you really need to keep your cake holes shut when it comes to defining what it means to be a male.

And while I've got your attention, guys? Here are other activities that disqualify you from judging masculinity: Spending more than an hour a week fiddling with your fantasy football, basketball, hockey or baseball team. Spending more than ten minutes a day staring at your cellphone and running your finger along it's screen. Using that cell phone to find things whose locations are already well known to you. Driving a car which starts with the push of a button instead of the turn of a key. Gaming.

Here are some activities which actually confirm your status as a Man, in case you are interested: Changing your kid's diaper without dropping him to take a phone call. Doing your part to provide a home and security for your family. Treating your loved ones and the other people around you as if they are valuable and not annoying, smelly little appendages who mysteriously showed up in your house one day. Having respect for your friends and not questioning their sexuality because of what crappy, watered-down "beer" they choose to drink. Not driving a mud-splattered SUV, not going unshaven or with your shirt hanging out, not pumping a bottle of Round Up on every weed in your driveway on the weekends, and not drinking Miller Lite. Sorry it's not so easy.

Glad I could help.

Because there's STILL not enough noise out there!

There seem to be two messages being delivered to the viewer here: First, Seniors are really, really out of it, finding technology and contracts and what-not really confusing- no, bewildering- what with the miles of paperwork and special disconnection fees (hey, come on- you guys are seniors- how many times do you think you are going to want to switch carriers anyway? Sorry, couldn't resist.) At least this is a step up from those "my mom was so intimidated by the idea of cell phones until I got her one that was roughly the size of a World War II field radio" ads I remember from a few years ago. Still, there's something rather obnoxious about the suggestion that senior citizens- you know, that population of people who AREN'T under water on their mortgages because they didn't leverage them or buy houses they couldn't realistically afford, who have file cabinets containing every warranty and every owner's manual for every appliance they've ever owned, and never, EVER pay full price for ANYTHING because they have a coupon for everything that could possibly on sale, wouldn't know how to manage a simple cell phone contract.

Second, that seniors are being left out of the Wonderful World Of Talking Your Ass Off About Anything That Pops Into Your Head At That Moment No Matter Where You Are, and here's this wonderful product which will allow Even People 55 And Over to entertain the rest of us with their pointless, idiotic conversations as we are just trying to get on with our lives WITHOUT being kept up to date on the non-lives of total strangers. No longer will Being a Total Anti-Social Dickweed be the sole dominion of the Forty and Under crowd- thanks to this new Senior-Friendly phone service, we may now expect to hear Grandma's cell go off in the middle of the movie theater, and continue to ring as she spends ten minutes fumbling through her knapsack-sized pocketbook to find it. (And if she's like most seniors I know with their cell phones, she'll then proceed to yell into it as if she's trying to update HQ on troop movements during the Normandy Invasion.)

And I won't even get into the "Hey, Handsome!" and "Hey, Ugly!" comments which bookmark this little lump of Dumb. I guess that's just some ad agency's idea of How Seniors Talk To Each Other. Somehow, I don't see my brothers and I addressing ourselves this way when we finally join the Silver Set- but we aren't adorable twins like these guys, so who knows.

Then again, the day I find myself having a "conversation" like this at high volume as I walk down the street, assaulting innocent bystanders with my pointless blather, I really hope that someone points out that I've become my own worst enemy- and theirs, too. Of course, by then, no one will notice my behavior, because everyone else will be doing the exact same thing. This is going to get a lot worse before it gets better.

Unfortunately on Ebay the Snipers don't actually kill anyone

Has the term "Techno-Dicks" been trademarked yet?

This guy's response to being ribbed by a crowd of obnoxious jerk coworkers for using a (gasp) pen instead of an I Pad is, naturally, to go on Ebay and find one for himself.

Not to defend his use of a perfectly good pen (which must explode in his pocket, of course. Because I Pads never, ever malfunction, fail to take a charge, get cracked screens, etc. etc. ETC.) Not to quietly point out that hey, I have a fucking BUDGET, and why should I spend money I don't have on a big, expensive toy which after all does nothing more for me than take the place of a fucking PEN and PAPER? Not to tell his coworkers to kiss off and maybe re-read the part in the employee handbook covering harassment.

No, the response to being mocked and ridiculed is to give in to peer pressure and join the crowd. What an awesome message, Ebay. Thanks for nothing.

So Very Connected to Nothing at All

Wow, this is so depressing.

First, we have a stereotypical twenty-something couple which mysteriously can't even manage to pick out a restaurant unless it can read reviews in the form of floating bubbles on a cell phone. Never mind that the restaurant they are looking for is right. Across. The Street. Hey, it's 2011- can't tie your shoes unless there's an App for it, right?

I don't even want to know what those kids are trying to accomplish as they run through a field with their glowing cell phones in hand. Seems like there is some kind of Locator Device or map on each screen- again, I don't want to know. I guess it's just supposed to remind me of trying to catch fireflies, which I somehow managed to do as a little boy despite my lack of "connectivity" to a "living, breathing machine" (ugh, get the fuck over yourselves please, AT&T.)

The only really familiar scene in this ad is that of the guy walking down the street staring at his phone as the world passes by. I just wish that, every once in while, this scene would conclude with the guy walking into a moving bus. Or a wood chipper. Because admit it, that would be really cool.

The scene in the ambulance, where the patient who has obviously just been in a terrible accident is locked into a stretcher, in a neck brace....and is being reassured by the floating head of a doctor which appears on the paramedic's cell phone (the paramedic must be thinking "I went to medical school to do this? To hold a phone over somebody's head? Really?") Or maybe he's not a paramedic at all- maybe we don't need paramedics in ambulances any more, because now we can have doctors "face to face" with patients thanks to the miracle of cell phone technology. Maybe we just need people capable of holding the phone above the patient's head.

And speaking of "face to face," I can't tell you how much I loathe the "stay connected with your family" theme illustrated in the final scene, where a woman's self-satisfied smile as she talks to her kid (she can SEE him, which is just as good as being there, if not better!) puts just the right touch of hate into the ad's conclusion. Son is doing fine without mommy, because he's not really without mommy, because hey there's her face on his phone. Carry on with your life, mommy! Son is just a phone call away- a phone call made possible by the "living, breathing machine" which is The Network.

AT&T's nonstop campaign to get us to Stop Looking Up And Actually Talking To People Ever is, in my humble opinion, nothing less than a war on society. One that AT&T is winning, with the help of a population of overgrown, spoiled children determined to find comfort and guidance in little glowing boxes.*

*I give the woman with the e-book a pass. E-books are not stupid, pointless little toys. They are books. There's a difference.

No one held a gun to your head, lady

Hard to feel sorry for a woman who

1. Married a guy who is referred to as "G-Dog" by his friends,

2. Thinks it's ok to juggle changing his kid (guys in commercials like this always act as if they are babysitters with their first gig, or ten-thumbed morons attempting to assemble a ten-speed bike, when they have to do ANYTHING with children) with exchanging BS with a guy who really needed to be dumped as a "friend" right after the wedding,

3. Married a guy who uses the terms "I'm just kickin'" and "gotta bounce," and

4. Married a guy who is, let's just admit it, clearly an overgrown child who was not ready to have a wife and a child, and would much rather be "kickin" with friends who refer to him as "G-Dog."

So- sorry, lady. Put away the harried, "oh my God I was doing the laundry because you SAID you could do this one little thing" look for someone who can work up a little sympathy for your situation. You wanted the package- the guy, the house, the kid. Congratulations, you got them. Now, live with them. And dump the attitude- no one tazed, tagged and locked you into a relationship with this little boy (and no, I'm not referring to the one getting his diaper changed.) It's a little early for the "oh I suffer so with this moron I'm married to" bit.

Bed. Made. Lie. My guess is, you guys deserve each other. I just wonder how many times your kid is going to hit the floor because your chosen Sperm Donor decides to drop him instead of letting the call go to Voice Mail.