Recommended wine for today’s entry: I just read an article in the Wall Street Journal about a type of wine that I wasn’t familiar with: a Chilean red called Carmenere. They described them as warming and peppery. After a blind tasting, they designated Terra Andina ‘Reserva’ 2007 as the best; Cono Sur 2008 was the best value. You can find more at WSJ.com/Tastings.
I spent most of today watching sports on TV, and I have a few observations about the advertising.
1. Apparently only stupid people have car wrecks.
Otherwise, personal injury lawyer advertising would have phased itself out. I call this the Natural Selection Theory of Advertising. These God-awful ads must actually be bringing in clients, or else the lawyers would have all filed bankruptcy.
I just saw one I hadn’t seen before. A distraught man (who should be more distraught about having to stand in the road in his ugly-as-shit little knit vest than he is about the wreck) is standing next to his smooshed car, which is pouring smoke from the hood, and he’s talking on the phone, asking someone, probably his parole officer, for advice.
Luckily, a talking border collie stumbles upon the unfortunate scene and guides him to the Heavy Hitter. Which brings to light a couple other credibility issues: 1) if you have 30 seconds to tell me why you are an excellent, smart, aggressive attorney, why do you have a slug line that leaves me with the message, “I’m fat”? and 2) If you are supposed to be so agressive, why do you have to have a dog do your dirty work and make the sale while you’re standing behind a hedge? Are you too fat to cross the road?
But he’s not the only personal injury lawyer with terrible advertising. There was a firm whose commercials left me with only the image of a blond bombshell turning into a tiger. I can’t even tell you the woman’s name.
I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a wreck. I have — of course, never my fault — but my first thought was rarely never “Gee, if I had a lawyer who could turn into a cartoon tiger, I think I could turn this unfortunate incident into a real cash cow for me.”
I haven’t seen those commercials in awhile. I think either she got to be too old to pull off the blond bombshell part of it anymore or people who were interested in that whole human-transformation-to-animal thing switched over to the Twilight series and she knew she was a has-been.
2. They need to do a truth-in-advertising test on ads for sex chat lines.
I mean, the girls that they show on the commercials are drop-dead gorgeous and, at least from what I gather, are willing to talk about current events, sports, whatever a guy wants.
So if this chick is so beautiful, smart and in tune with a guy’s every desire, why isn’t she spending her time at an upscale bar, where she will maybe lose $15 an hour in income but is likely to come away with a rich husband?
I’ll tell you why. Because they don’t look like that at all.
But first, I have an issue with the whole industry. I mean, really, buddy, are you that freaking horny and lonely? You are willing to go to work all day just to make money to spend talking to an anonymous voice on the phone? I think this is why they invented saltpeter.)
Besides, and I base this assertion on absolutely nothing, the women are probably either 68-year-old former strippers who just couldn’t give the business up completely or 300-pound school bus drivers wearing a headset and talking softly so that the kids can’t hear. Or maybe it’s really a chick who’s doing her laundry and reading the paper while she’s mindlessly babbling to this guy.
It most certainly is not the 24-year-old model who’s curled up in a chair by a roaring fire, engrossed in the conversation and seductively twirling her hair around her finger.
3. Dairy Queen needs to take a good look at the creepy floating mouth that some genius decided would be an excellent spokesmodel for their products.
They either need to lose the lipstick or replace the large man who is currently doing the voice-over with a woman. I don’t even know what a great deal I could get if I went there; I’m too dumbfounded by the floating lips’ gender issues.
4. There are no more hateable people than the couple on the Extenze commercials.
I hope one day I have the opportunity to meet the charming duo. You know, the ones who say, “Hey, I thought, that could be fun,” (at turns speaking of, apparently, a marathon sex experience and a sudden and temporary growth spurt). If I do meet them, I promise that I will slap them both, with a significant backswing first, across their faces. And I promise to swat their smug little smirks to Syracuse. Ick.
Now I’m not stupid. I know that the border collie can’t really talk; desperate, horny men don’t really care what the sex-talking chick looks like; those talking lips are just a cartoon and not a gender-conflicted person at all; and the smug sex addicts are actors, not real-life sex addicts.
But that doesn’t keep me from wanting to slap someone.