Because when it comes to women, Progresso believes Less is More

Most of the ads I comment on don't actually make me angry. I point them out because I find them stupid, boring, cloying, dimwitted, or insulting.

This commercial makes me angry, because I don't find it to be any of those things. Instead, I think it's manipulative, disgusting, retrograde, and so blatantly sexist that it leaves me wondering if we've made any progress (no pun intended) at all in the past several decades.

It's been fifty years since we first started to use Barbie dolls to brainwash little girls into believing that to be attractive, they had to be six feet tall, with wasp-thin hips and enormous breasts. Disney Studios has been an active, eager contributor to the damage, bringing us Ariel, Belle, Pocahantas, Snow White, etc.- none of whom seem in possession of internal organs. And of course NutraSystem rakes in billions by explaining to perfectly healthy women that they aren't really "attractive" unless they are devoid of body fat of any kind.

And don't get me started on the stick figures wrapped in strings which regularly grace the Sports Illustrated "Swimsuit" Edition (like anyone would actually swim in those things. Come on.)

"THEY FIT"! yells the woman into her tin can phone. The guy on the other end doesn't get it- after all, guys don't worry about their weight, and why should they- I've seen enough sitcoms to know that beautiful women are just naturally attracted to fat guys. Guys NEVER think about stuff like the BMI index, let alone trying to conform to some artificial standard of beauty- because for men, there simply isn't one. That's girl stuff.

"Um, is there a woman I can talk to?" Because only another woman, who has been taught all of her life that only by becoming smaller can she be at all desirable, and therefore of Value, could understand her new-found joy.

This is really sick, Progresso. Beautiful women come in all shapes and sizes. This "there's less of me, so I'm better" crap has been jammed into American women long enough. How about promoting health, which has nothing to do with promoting thinness? How about NOT contributing to poor self-esteem, Bulimia, depression, and other damage caused by the relentless "Fat=Ugly" message? How about recognizing that there are more important things than your quarterly earnings report?

How about being part of the solution, instead of being just another part of the problem?

Wait till she notices that yogurt comes in flavors other than "Plain!"

Prego gives us a really disturbing window into this woman's "life" during this sixteen-second ad, doesn't it? I mean, she seems to experience some kind of epiphany when she realizes that there was this other sugar-and-salt laden tomato sauce out there which is slightly less repulsive than Ragu. It causes her to wonder "what other bad choices have I made in my life?"

At this point, Prego could have made this an attention-grabbing, nasty ad more worthy of snark than this one. They could have had this woman flash back to her marriage to that Not Nearly Good Enough Just Like Mom Warned Me jackass who is currently back home, asleep on the sofa, waiting for yet another crummy pasta dinner. They could have shown her imagining her sticky-fingered, screaming spawn and remembering how she picked out the Brand X condoms to save a couple of bucks. There were a lot of possibilities available.

Instead, they give us-- well, to be honest, I'm not at all sure what they give us here. She seems to be having an epileptic fit while wearing a cheerleader's outfit in her bedroom. What does this mean? I have no idea. Maybe it's the bad sound quality. But I doubt it.

So what I DO get out of this ad is this: There's not a whole lot going on in this woman's life. She's in her thirties, and a chance meeting with the Prego vendor has caused a major shift in her life satisfaction quotient. Realizing that Prego tastes slightly better than Ragu convinces her to rethink all of the wrong turns down blind alleys she's made in her life, starting with a decision which had something to do with cheer leading.

If this is a one-shot deal with Prego, I really don't get it. If it turns out to be the first of a series of "Oh the things I could have done, but clouds (and willingness to blindly settle for inferior tomato-based products) got in my way" I DO get it- but I still don't want it.

Hey Geico? When even the YouTube crowd doesn't like your ads, it's time to rethink your whole campaign

You've got a real problem, GEICO.

I'm sure you've noticed by now- the pea-brained, arrested development types who regularly post over at YouTube love everything on television, especially commercials. And I mean LOVE. They think that every commercial is LOL So Funny and they lose control over their bowels at the sight of talking babies, sarcastic children, and car accidents- and if you throw a monkey into the mix, well, they are totally hooked.

Oh, and no matter what the background music is, you can be sure that a dozen or more of these knuckle-dragging, witless glue-sniffers will beg each other for information on who the artist is, what it's called, where it can be downloaded, etc.

So when the Stunningly Easy To Please crowd thinks your commercial is stupid, you really need to pay attention. I mean, these guys think the Bud Lite Press Conferences are masterpieces of comedy- but they don't like the squealing pig bit. Tells me something.

By the way, I'm sure that the children of YouTube won't bring this up, but- how exactly does a pig hold pinwheels like that without opposing thumbs? And how does the pig in this ad manage to defy the laws of physics, catching up to the guy on the zip line, then running parallel to him, then speeding up and passing him?

Ok, I get that I'm probably overthinking this. But that's nothing you'll ever be able to accuse the vapid, drooling morons over at YouTube of doing. And they don't like this ad.

That's a very, very bad sign, Geico. I guess it's back to the Gecko and his Oh So Interesting journey around the United States (gee, I hope he visits all fifty, I really do.) Good luck with that.

"Spill? What Spill?"

Here's more evidence of the accuracy of the theory that if you give people enough money, you can get them to say and do whatever you want.

On April 20, 2010 an explosion on an oil rig owned by British Petroleum killed eleven men and inaugurated the worst man-made environmental disaster in history. By the time the gushing undersea oil well had been successfully capped three months later, hundreds of millions of barrels of oil had been released into the ocean, doing severe and lasting damage to the Gulf's delicate ecosystem and paralyzing the sea-based economy of five US States. We all got to learn new terms like "oil plumes," so I guess it was educational, anyway.

To "disperse" the massive oil slick, tons of chemicals were poured into the ocean. The effect of all these chemicals was to push the slick to depths at which it could not be easily detected from the surface. Where it could no further harm, based on what I believe is Isaac Newton's Third Principle Governing Royal Corporate F-Ups: "Out of Sight, Out of Mind."

And now the real nastiness arrives, far oilier and less palatable than even the spill itself. Prompted by infusions of cash from British Petroleum, small business owners and the Gulf Coast tourism industry line up to sell their souls, grinning like marionettes as they extol the virtues of a vacation down South. Visit our many restaurants, featuring Now Practically Dispersant and Oil Free seafood! Check out our hundreds of miles of Now Virtually Clear of Softball-sized oil globules beaches- and if you take a dip on our Looks Blue Which Means It's Clean Gulf Waters, that sticky feeling is suntan lotion residue, honest!

Yes, all these industries are now partners with the company whose failure to invest in automatic shutoff valves and something more substantial than Grade D cement killed eleven men- husbands, fathers, brothers, sons- and drove any number of fishermen out of business. Now it's all smiles and hugs and "Come visit us, we're awesome again!" public service announcements financed by British Petroleum. All is forgiven, apparently.

I'm sorry, but this is kind of like the American government working in partnership with the Japanese to produce "Visit Beautiful Hiroshima!" commercials in 1947. British Petroleum can pay off the corporate voices of the Gulf (turns out that it's surprisingly easy) but that doesn't change the fact that BP's carelessness, callousness and penny-pinching attitude (thoroughly corporate and Capitalist in the truest sense of those words) wrecked havoc on the environment which may take a century to repair. All sacrificed in the sacred pursuit of the almighty buck.

Just like the dignity of the people in these ads.

Unfortunately, the Acting and Story are still very much One-Dimensional

I just saw a trailer for another 3D film due out soon- "Wrath of the Titans." One of the characters says "this is the end of the world."

Well, I'm pretty sure that if the end of the world really was coming, the re-issue of "The Phantom Menace," George Lucas's middle finger to the millions of fans of the original Star Wars series, would be one of the indicators of impending doom.

Yes, soon we will be able to experience all of the horrendous non-acting, all of the chase scenes, and the demystifying of the light saber (watch it get used to melt a door! Yay!) in fabulous 3D!

Thought you loved the stunningly wooden performances of Natalie Portman, Liam Neeson, and Ewan McGregor the first time you sat through this mess? Just wait until they are muttering their hysterically bland lines right in front of you. Remember that kid who played "Annie" who mentioned Pod Racing roughly twenty times in his first ten minutes of screen time (George Lucas, master of the art of foreshadowing)? Remember how you wished you could just reach out and punch him in the nose? Well, now you can!

And oh, that Pod Race. Remember how you compared it to your last visit to the dentist- and found yourself reminiscing fondly about having your teeth scraped? Well, just wait until you see the flagrant Ben-Hur ripoff coming right at you! Won't that be awesome!?

And don't forget the kingdom of the giant drooling frogs, or the seemingly endless scenes featuring morose, apparently valium-impaired Jedi Knights, including Samuel L Jackson looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else (we can so relate!) sitting in circles wondering what to do next!

And don't tell me that you aren't champing at the bit to see the amazing climax, when Annie accidentally pushes a series of buttons, makes a few more awesome quips, and manages to blow up The Ship That Controls Everything ( a scene which takes place in at least four of the six films; Gilligan's Island was less predictable) without even really trying!

And just think- there can hardly be any doubt that next summer we will be treated to a 3D version of "The Clone Wars." And that in 2014 we are going to get another helping of "Revenge of the Sith." I mean, if you thought Hayden Christensen was the worst actor of all time, wait till you see him in 3D!

If you haven't been convinced yet to pray that the Mayans are right, and that maybe the world will come to a crashing end before this rewarmed garbage is served up at a theater near you, I have three more words for your consideration: Jar Jar Binks.

In 3D.

I apologize in advance for any nightmares this post may have caused.

A point of personal privilege, re: Joe Paterno

First, let me say this: I did not watch this tribute video. My gag reflex is way too strong for that. I just thought that it was a good example of how twisted our values have become that hours after this wretched waste of a life died, there were SEVERAL of these video tributes available on YouTube.

Now, to the point of this post. Considering that for the better part of the last decade, Joe Paterno's contributions to Penn State Games consisted of sitting in a booth (the University President' box) behind darkened privacy glass while someone else did the job he was being paid to do and took credit for, it's not at all surprising to me that this guy died on the morning before the AFC and NFC title games, and before each network ran out its litany of current events (read: politics, politics and more politics) Sunday morning talk shows. His ability to insert himself into the spotlight was not, in the end, hampered by his illness, clearly.

Because he died when he did, I get to hear the hosts of CNN, Fox News Sunday, ABC's This Week, etc. etc. give their little speeches about what an iconic figure Paterno was- "he was known as 'JoePa' (only in the last few years, when dumbing down the names of people connected to sports became a fad) and was like a father to his players....he leaves a void which cannot be filled...." and similar treacle. And when the NFL championship games start, I can be sure that the broadcasters will fall all over themselves telling their audiences what a Giant of a Man this guy was, how he was One of the Kind (jesus, let's hope so) and how it's such a Tragedy that his name will always be connected to the term Child Molestation. Yes, that's the real tragedy- not the damage done to the kids, but the damage done to "JoePa's" reputation. Groan.

I'll be very clear about my opinion on this. Does the fact that Paterno did not take swift action to stop the molestation of children by his assistance erase a brilliant, title-winning, sixty years of scandal-free coaching?

You God Damned right it does.

Paterno saw a vicious crime of violence being committed against a child by a member of his staff. With his own eyes. His response was to mention it to a superior. And then drop it. And keep the man he SAW committing these acts of violence on his staff. And, apparently, never mention it again.

I don't care how many games this guy won. I don't care how many titles he won. I don't care how many young men he inspired to give their best on the field for six decades. And I don't care that Penn State will certainly, once it seems "safe," erect a freaking statue dedicated to this evil old man. An Evil Old Man is what he was, and as he ought to be remembered.

And I don't want to hear any more crap about what an icon this nasty, self-absorbed creep was. I only wish he had been twenty years younger and thirty years healthier, so he could have suffered the legal consequences that ought to come crashing down on ANYONE (yes, even Living Saints like "JoePa") who sees a child being assaulted- and looks the other way. So I guess I'll be watching at least part of today's games with the mute button on.

Ok, I'm done. Thanks for your indulgence. Back to commercials in the future, I promise.

Tyson: Childhood Obesity, served up with a smile

"The Bottomless Pit." "The Vacuum."

We've run out of ideas, so the nickname of the last kid is simply "Meat." Um, whatever, Tyson.

Point is, here's another example of a parent who looks perfectly capable, budget-wise, of providing healthy snacks for her teenaged kid and his starving friends after school. Correct me if I'm mistaken, but that looks like your typical suburban palace with included massive kitchen to me. The place looks Cleaning-Lady or Stay At Home Mom-spotless, too. So money is not a problem with this family.

But instead of providing big bowls of fruit, raisins, granola, popcorn, or any number of healthy (but often pricey) snack choices, this "adult" goes for the fatty, salty, calorie-laden, nutrition-deficient alternative. When I was growing up, it was something called Pizza Rolls. If it was the AM, it was Pop Tarts. Neither ever made an appearance at my house, but I saw them when I went to visit friends. I've eaten both, too, and understand their appeal to kids. Now it's Tyson Frozen Bird Parts Dipped in Batter. Yum.

I don't have any kids, so maybe I'm totally off-base here, but it seems to me that unless you are really tight with a buck, there's no way you should see crap like this as an acceptable "snack" choice to tide kids over till dinner (which will consist, no doubt, of Hamburger Helper or Kraft Mac'n Cheese. I mean, if you'll serve this for a snack, all bets are off, right? And clearly, neither mom nor dad is all that interested in providing anything approaching "nutrition" here.) Fresh fruit costs more than this junk, but at least you can feel legitimately good about your kids- and your neighbor's kids- eating it. The mom in this ad seems to have no problem with her kid and his friends popping greasy fried chicken parts- she seems to think she's done them a favor. Kind of sick, really.

Can someone tell me why anyone would go through the hassle of having children, only to serve them garbage like this? Is there a certain level of hostility involved- "you bastards robbed me of my figure, now I am going to rob you of yours?" Or is it more subtle- "look, I like you guys ok, but you aren't really worth a major investment when it comes to food. So eat this- it's cheap?"

Oh, and- "Spicy Sweet and Sour Chunks." No mention of chicken or any other animal. Well, at least you can't accuse Tyson of false advertising here. I do think it might be less cruel for the "parents" in these ads to just tell their kids "dinner's ready in an hour, there are children starving in China you know" than to hand them a bowl of this garbage. There are worse things than hunger between meals. This is one of them.