I hope that this won’t devolve into a hate filled rant towards commercials, I promise I’ll do my best to avoid that. But regardless of how this post unfolds, commercials suck. The reasoning behind them is understandable, but I sincerely doubt anyone would confess feeling an overwhelming satisfaction whenever their favorite show breaks for commercial. (The lone exception seems to be those people who watch the Super Bowl “just for the commercials”. But that’s nonsense, if you’re doing that why are you even watching the super bowl? Go read a book, dummy.) I’m not an avid television watcher, I only follow one show obsessively enough to watch every new episode when it airs on T.V. (That show being Sons of Anarchy) but I consistently have it playing in the background while I’m puttering around on my computer or failing to complete crossword puzzles and there are certain commercials that, even at my least attentive point, prompt a twitch of rage. Here they are in no particular order.
I don’t so much hate this commercial as think it’s a testament to how incredibly stupid you can be while working in advertising.* I find it astonishing that no one in the Certain-Dri offices thought to themselves “Wait, this commercial suggests that if a person uses our product a sweaty hooker** will want to have sex with them, but only if they’re a doctor”. That being said, I giggle and pay attention every time the commercial comes on; so maybe the system works.
*I’m off to a good start with the whole “staying on point” thing. Stick with me, I’ll get to the hateful part soon.
**The woman may or may not be a hooker, but honestly, watch the commercial again, what did YOU think she was?
This one actually has a fairly straightforward explanation, THEY AREN’T ACTUALLY PLAYING CHOPSTICKS. The way I and everyone else in the known universe learned how to play chopsticks is by unceremoniously slamming your fingers on four notes six times, shifting your hands, then getting right back to mashing the keys and marveling at your proficiency in the art of piano-ing. The issue in the commercial is that the creepy anthropomorphic cheetah and the woman hit each note 8 times. A seemingly minor mistake, it doesn’t really affect the point of the commercial (cheetos give you a “him don’t care, him got cheetos” mentality), but for some reason I go absolutely berserk. I snap at family members, strike nearby pets and siblings, smash any and all nearby dishes, essentially I do destructive things that will distract me from what’s happening on T.V. One time the commercial came on and I woke up in my back yard several days later naked and covered in blood that wasn’t mine.*
*Those last two sentences aren’t entirely accurate, but the point remains. Don’t screw up chopsticks in my immediate vicinity. Bad things will happen.
Let me tell you a little story from my life that will absolutely not make my hate for this commercial acceptable, but will at the very least provide a reason for it. Near the end of my sophomore year of college I tore all of the ligaments and damaged a major nerve in my left knee while playing Ultimate Frisbee.* I finished the school year, but was essentially immobilized for a large portion of the summer months. I spent an overwhelming majority of that summer lying on the couch in my family room, reading or writing with the television set to ESPN in the background. For those of you who don’t associate yourself with ESPN, that was the same summer that Brett Favre was going through his second retirement/anti-retirement saga. (also known as the summer between his first retirement and his crusade to show the world exactly how small his penis is) I spent the entire summer inadvertently absorbing every single moment of this saga, slowly and subconsciously developing a deep seated loathing for Brett Favre. “But Bill!” you say, “Why didn’t you just change the channel?” I don’t know. Because of the injury I was on fairly strong painkillers for a majority of the summer, so if I had to guess it was probably a combination of constantly losing the remote and an abbreviated attention span leading to me forgetting what I was doing halfway through changing the channel. Regardless, I could not put into words how much I hate Brett Favre, and this commercial just reminds me of his existence. This makes me feel better though:
*Yes, that actually does sound better than what actually happened. A more accurate version would be “I was playing Ultimate Frisbee and I thoroughly screwed up falling down, which led to my knee bending in several different directions, none of which were correct.”
I hate the basis of this commercial. It’s just stupid and cliche’d to reference how no rational married man could conceptualize listening to his wife for five seconds unless ice cream was involved. “But Bill!” you say, “How can you grumble about cliche’d humor when you made a “naked, covered in blood that isn’t yours” joke two paragraphs ago? Also, stop resorting to this lame crap with your nonexistent readers making points for you, dipshit.” First of all, you shut up. Coupling nudity and violence against unknown entities, regardless of how played out it may be, is still funnier than the whole “lurr, husbands hate listening to their wives” thing. In the wide world of marital issues why do we still resort to marketing the one that only exists under the blanketing assumption that all married people hate one another? Those mint chocolate chip klondike bars really are delicious though, stupid commercial notwithstanding I’d highly recommend them.