Man oh man, do I hate commercials. I decided to devote an entire
What's Me Beef to commercials
new and old which rub me the wrong way. Regular readers of this site
will know that getting me angry is no easy feat, since I'm usually such
a calm and peaceful man, but there are commercials out there that just
really get me fuming. Like that Fucking Cell Phone Bitch. Oh
how I'd like to choke that bitch with her fluffy ass bath towl and then
try to cool the radiator by using her Icy Bitch Blood which I would extract
via repeated beatings with her fucking waffle iron. But, let's not
get started on that again.
Not long after writing the article, I received a few comments.
Then a few more. In fact, I received way more than I was expecting
(which was zero). In all honesty, it's good to know that people out
there can get just as riled up over these thirty-second testaments to high
blood pressure as I can. But which ones? Many emails simply
agreed with what I had to say, but some offered up some of their own suggestions.
So what makes our readers mad? Let's find out.
A coworker of mine,
Jean, suggested this series of commercials. Specifically, this new
one which contains a studio full of rappers mumbling incoherent nonsense
for the duration of the commercial. What they're saying (or at least
what you can understand of it) has nothing whatsoever to do with Sprite,
or thirst, or anything remotely tied to the product. How exactly
is this supposed to inspire me to buy the shit product? Buy Sprite,
and you can talk like you have a mouthful of ass and the IQ of lint.
Or how about those older ones which told you not to listen to advertising,
just to go out and buy Sprite because it's good and thirst quenching and
delicious and refreshing and send us all your money? Anyone despise
those as well? I know I sure as shit did.
Another that Jean
suggested was this PizzleWigawful Kia Spectra ad where we watch two incredibly
filthy people who clearly haven't showered anytime in the last decade or
so driving up the side of a mountain in their brand new Kia Spectra (official
motto: "All the Looks and Speed of an Empty Soup Can!"). The
man, being a complete lunkhead, is reading the owner's manual the whole
way. When they reach the top, he's now not only reading it still,
but also holding it like a dirty magazine and making sounds that would
lead one to believe that he'll need to clean his pants soon. What
are the point of these ads again? That you'll enjoy reading the manual
more than actually operating the car itself? Yeah, that's marketing
genius for you.
MGM, an actual
female reader of feminine gender persuasion (we didn't know we even had
those), had this to say:
"I also nominate Miss Cleo. She's taken the place of the Psychic
Friends, apparently. Remember them? 'Of course she knew!
She's a PSYYYYYCHIC!' *stab stab stab* My favorite was the
one where the PFs told a lady that her boyfriend was cheating on her.
Way to go, Psychic Friends! Odds are you screwed up that guy's relationship--for
no reason other than his girlfriend's paranoia! Woohoo!
"Oh, and
those Toaster Strudel ads! Okay, technically they fall under the
'Ads with Kids in Them' category, but I think they deserve special mention
because it's so bad that I have to start verbally abusing the people in
it EVERY TIME it runs. All the little brat has to do is ask his mother
to buy Toaster Strudels instead of Pop Tarts, but NOOOOOO!
Couldn't do THAT, could he? Then how would he be able to waste A
LOCKER FULL OF POP TARTS?? (Hmm . . . Pop Tarts . . . that's
a pretty provocative name, when you think about it.)"
Personally, I can't believe I neglected to mention the Toaster Strudel
ads because they send shivers up my spine every time. Why wouldn't
the kid just throw out the Pop Tart if he didn't want it? And how
exactly did he cram them all into his locker? Once again, it's supposed
to be "cute" and it's just "enraging."
Our friend Dan
(good name) from the U.K. wrote in with this gem:
"There's an ad on tv here in britain which i hope, for the sake of all
that's holy, i hope hasn't made it across to you yet.
It's an evian commercial. Water. Shouldn't be tricky to advertise.
However the good people at evian have decided to show, instead of a
commercial, a twenty-second computer-generated vision of babies, hundreds
upon hundreds of the fuckers, all waxy-skinned and zombie-like, performing
an act of synchronized swimming far too complex for a real, non-zombielike
baby to complete in what one can only assume is an infinitely large pool
of evian.
One view, and it's the one i prefer to take, is that this shows the
evil, undead babies from Beyond the Grave being left in the ocean with
no means of support. The other view is some kind of grim mind control project.
Besides, it's a well-documented fact that babies smell bad. I for one
do not want to drink water that has been soiled by limitless numbers of
Hideous Flesheating Zombie Babies from Beyond the Grave."
Logan, who may
or may not have a lot of anger (unlike me), suggested these:
"dell computer adds: nothing make me want to beat my tv to death
more than that pimply faced fucktard trying to establish a brand name image
for dell computers. And his catch phrase, "dude, you're getting a dell"
sends me into a spiral of rage that can only be cured by lighting my hair
on fire and diving head first into the tv. I want to kill the executive
that decided that annoying the fuck out of potential customers was a good
idea.
"radio shack:
Howie Iwantotchopoffhishead and his whore of a wife try to sell radio shack
goods by cleverly* (*Cleverly = mind numbingly stupid) bantering with each
other. It's pathetic that he's tried to milk out his football fame this
long. I'd like to pee on their rotting corpses."
Logan, I agree with you completely, and I apologize for not including
them in my original article. In fact, I'll do anything you'd like,
as long as you don't ever get mad at me (*NOTE TO SELF: hire bodyguards*).
Cory let
off some steam with his email as well:
"Soooo many memories brought back, so much hate re-flared. You
can't forget the Welches girl, who I am convinced is the Spawn of Satan.
'Gwape Jooce' my ass, I also hated those damn Frosted Flakes commercials
where the kid gets fucked over in a competition then Tony shows up, they
eat their Frosted Flakes (due to the fact it's loaded with sugar and PizzleWig
knows what) then kick some snobbish punk ass. Then the kids go 'WOW!!11
Tommy (or whoever) is so cool, I wish I could be as good as him.'
I suppose we could all be good if we had a 6 foot fucking tiger with us
all the damn time."
Yves wrote in with a bunch
I can't believe I forgot:
"1. One of the commercial that digs me right now is the new Windows
XP commercial. Although XP is a good O.S. the piece of crap they
use to promote it isn't.
First off, what's up with the flying jackasses ? I mean, does it mean
that once I install XP on my computer I'll gain the ability to fly out
of my windows?
Second, MADONNA! Who in their right mind would use the most annoying
'old bag who think she's 19' as background music. What a waste of, more
than likely, millions of dollars.
"2. The
second is the Chrysler Concorde commercial. Here how it goes by memory,
if you don't recall seeing it.
*Woman driving with her '10 year old' daughter in front seat and infant
daughter in back seat.*
10 y.o. : Mom, why did you call me Savannah ?
Mom: Because that's where you were conceived. [Ack, great, I knew sex
sold but not talking about sex with your 10 y.o.]
Announcer: The Concorde, now with more rear seating space.
10 y.o.: Then mom, why did you call her Concorde ?
*10 y.o. looks at dashboard and sees the name Concorde engraved in
the vinyl*
*Car driving away*
10 y.o.: Eeeeew mom.
[end of commercial]
Now, I'm not prude and religious, but the first time I saw that commercial,
I told my wife it was gonna be pulled off or edited. Well today my
prediction became true. Instead of the little girl saying "Eeeew mom",
the mom says 'Concorde, Maine' or something of the sort.
"I was watching
the fabulous waste of time called daytime television while having lunch
and saw the other 'abortion of a commercial' on the boob tube.
Cottonelle's Fresh Rollwipes! 30 obnoxious seconds of people wiggling
their asses our faces to promote wet-toilet-paper! Please, it leaves
a great mental image in my mind of people wiping their cheeks... Great!
Fantastic!
I swear they use monkeys to write those things."
In all honesty, Yves, monkeys are too smart and creative to write commercials.
Most likely is it's two sad old bastards who are trying their damndest
to look hip and cool so they write crap like that under the impression
that it is trendy or cute. Odds are, it's the same people who write
the dialog for Dark Angel.
And finally,
Jason wrote in to nominate the following masterpiece:
"How about those McDonalds ads. Like who in the hell would have the
Killer Clown at their wedding reception. Love to make me smile, eh? Get
my pizzlewig damn order right next time."
I've never seen this commercial, but it certainly doesn't surprise me.
McDonald's at a wedding reception? Yeah, there's realism. Who's
getting married, Bubba Joe and Mary Lou Ann Cindy Sue? Any reception
featuring McDonald's food is a pretty good indication that the "wedding"
was preceded by the word "shotgun."
So there you have it. Another dozen commercials which seem to
be designed to enrage. I'm not really sure if advertisers are trying
to goad you into buying their product, or if it's just that they missed
the day in marketing class when they learned that ads are supposed make
you want to buy their product, not a loaded firearm. In fact,
I'm pretty sure that would make a good campaign for a handgun manufacturer.
Just show some guy holding the gun and shooting the Dell Computers guy,
the asshole reading his Kia manual, the whole room of Sprite rappers, and
of course he'd simply riddle Howie Long and Teri Hatcher with bullets.
It would immediately become the number one seller. Oh, and the torture
he could administer to that Fucking Cell Phone Bitch.
While writing this article, I've already received more suggestions,
and by all means, if you have more you'd like to add, send
them in post haste. After all, misery loves company.
- Danimal
