I’ll admit there are some commercials out there that grab me hook, line and sinker. And I have no problem conscientously awarding good advertising. Someone had to think that shit up, and if I need a product, I’m going to give my money to someone who was at least witty or humourous in their efforts to get at my pocket change.
I try very hard not to be an over-consumer. Sometimes I look around, even in my tiny place and think “Why the hell do I have so much STUFF?! I hate stuff!” But let’s face it – at some point I’m going to need a bathroom cleanser, and after that brilliant ad Vim put out where it looked like the mother was in jail but actually cleaning her shower, I’m all for it (provided the product actually works, of course.)
Then there are other ads, the ones I see right through. I give credit for this ability to a minor, elective class I took in high school. Not a university deal, or a even a required credit. I had to pick a class to fill a time slot, and I chose ‘media studies’, with no actual interest in the field. It was a ton of fun and relatively easy, just what I was looking for. But I did learn a hell of a lot, more than in pretty much any other course that semester. I couldn’t tell you jack shit about the quadratic equation, but I can sure call bullshit on the television when I see it.
Here are my latest whiffs of horsecrap for your reading enjoyment.
Downy Simple Pleasures:
The ad begins with “all women have many sides”, and continues to advertise the premise that women can express their various facets by way of scented laundry detergent. Right. Because all of my moods essentially boil down to huffing lavender versus orange when cleaning for my eventual family. Okay, I see no orange, but “Amethyst Mist” is NOT a scent! You know what amethyst smells like? Cold! Because it’s a rock!
Here’s a curveball for you Downy: Can you come up with a scent that effectively captures the feeling of “I really love Josh and can’t wait to get married and have a life and family with him, but sometimes the whole mom/wife thing seems so intimidating that every once in a while I wish I was still sleeping face down on a bare mattress on the floor of a Kensington Market slumhouse surrounded by overflowing ash trays and beer cans?”
No, I don’t think you could.
Palm Pre, or anything iPhone:
You know what? Believe it or not, I actually DON’T need you to live. In the time it takes you to find the right app (from the gagillion available – including a contraction counter for labouring ladies) and hit that notify button to tell people you’re running late to wherever, I can just as easily flip open my regular old phone and text “crap – run. late15m.” It will be plenty understood, even by those friends without their lifeline affixed to your brandnames. And even without my regular old cellphone, I could just show up late and take casual note that although I prefer to be on time to lifes important dates, in the rare event that I am not, the world will in fact keep on spinning.
Swiffer, Febreze, and pretty much anything else along those lines:
WHAT WOMAN WHERE CLEANS THE DAMN HOUSE FROM TOP TO BOTTOM IN WELL PRESSED KHAKIS?!?!? LIES, ALL LIES!!!!
Maybelline Pulse Perfection:
Um….no. Just no. I’m not putting a vibrating stick near my eyes, especially not when it’s coated with black sticky goo that hurts when it gets in there on its own, nevermind with a micro-drill. But thank you, Maybelline, for being that concerned about my ability to stop traffic with the fluttering of my lashes – like when I’m going “OW! MY EYE!!! DEAR GOD, MY EYE!!! GET IT OUT!!! GET IT OUT, OH GOD!!! WHAT HAVE I DONE TO DESERVE THIS?!!?” If, in some weird parallel universe I ever succumb to this advert and accidentally remove half my cornea while cat-walking the streets of New York and simultaneously fluffing my lashes, I sincerely hope that another version of myself is around to say “I know why. Because you used that fucking vibrator stick near your face, stupid.” Said other version of myself will then likely go back to pushing a wobbly cart full of newspapers, relish, and other conspiracy theory evidence.
Well, that’s all for now my internet stumblers. I’m going to turn off the tv for the night because any more ridiculous adverts and my head just might explode. That and there’s only two episodes of the Simpsons on per night, and I don’t care about whats on after the second one. I hope you’ve enjoyed my bullshit advertising expose, or at the very least, I’ve prevented you from buying crap you don’t need. Which means more dollaz for the strip club, yo!
What? Who said that? 😉