Tag Archives: Commercials

People Of Size Demand To Be Represented In Diabetes Commercials

27 Sunday May 2012

Posted by in Culture, Entertainment

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By Smaktakula

Seriously, They’re Upset.

Anywhere you travel across this great land, you’re very nearly guaranteed to see obese people. Whether they’re wolfing down a score of Whoppers at Burger King or zipping through the mall on their scooters, with cell phones to their ears and an extra-large bucket of soda in the drink tray, their gelatinous buttocks spilling over the seat–blubbery humanoids are becoming an everyday facet of American life.

In our society, obesity is ubiquitous and inescapable: in the supermarket and at public events, at the mall or even the gym. However, there is one arena where America’s blubbery class is all but invisible: television. Corpulent faces are rare on television, and this is even truer in regard to commercials.

This Is No More Fanciful Than The Representations Made In Actual Diabetes Commercials.

Some activists want to change this paradigm, and show America a swollen, spotty face like the one it sees in the mirror every morning. Monty Robinson of Let America Respect Diversity (LARD), an advocacy group for people of size, believes the best avenue for this accurate depiction is diabetes commercials.

Currently, most diabetes commercials look like this:

Does the man in this clip look like anyone you know who has diabetes? No, the man is an actor, who doesn’t have diabetes. His middle-age paunch is his only nod toward obesity; he is only pretending to have this largely-preventable, first-world malady.

Advocates Feel That Reality-TV Star, Snooki (Seen Here), Would Make An Excellent Diabetes Spokesperson.

Obesity activists point out that African-American characters are portrayed by African-American actors, and that Asian actors portray Asian characters.  Why then aren’t diabetes sufferers portrayed by gelatinous fatsos? “It’s not fair,” says corpulent actor Randy Bumfield, “How is anyone supposed to believe that I just had my gangrenous leg amputated if I’m handsome, slim and trim?”

In Reality, Diabetes Isn’t So Pretty.

The reality is that the producers of these commercials will never see fit to accurately represent their target audience. Diabetes spots will continue to feature paunchy-but-healthy middle-aged actors, who think nothing of trampling underfoot the surprisingly-sensitive emotions of the doughy monstrosities they purport to represent. This doesn’t, however, mean that Americans of size need go entirely without recognition–not if the average citizen does his or her part.

So the next time you’re in McDonalds for a late-night McFlurry run, and you’re greeted by the barnyard sound of rank humanity inhaling its feed, don’t wrinkle your nose in disgust or take a photo to show your friends on Facebook. Instead, make a conscious choice for change, and approach one of these ‘people.’  Imagine how good he (or she) will feel when you tell him, ‘That should be you in the diabetes commercial!’

These Dedicated Young Actors Are Working Diligently To Perfect Their Diabetes Skills.

Commercials We Do Not Like: Messin’ With Sasquatch

17 Monday Oct 2011

Posted by in Culture, Entertainment, Stupidity

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By Smaktakula

Not Since "I've Fallen And I Can't Get Up" Has A Commercial Pitchman Been The Subject Of So Much Ridicule.

It seems unbelievable that the public would choose sodium-infused roadkill as a snack, and even more unlikely that they would continue to consume this pricey shoe-leather if incessantly bombarded by an annoying commercial.  And yet this is exactly what has come to pass in Jack Link’s popular advertising campaign, Messin’ with Sasquatch.

This Nonexistent Creature Rues The Day He Ever Let A Drunken Washingtonian Take His Picture.

The premise which guides this series of ads is interesting enough: practical jokes.  All the old standards are here: the hand in warm water trick, the rat’s tail,* the ‘want-a-ride?’ tease, and so many more.  The campaign quickly turns unfunny, however, when it becomes apparent that there is but one target of this sophomoric harassment.  Invariably the lonely, hunted Sasquatch is the sole victim to the childish whims of Gen X white guys, and can only bellow inarticulate rage at his tormentors.  Beef jerky, the ostensible focus of the campaign, is tangential to the story, something for the inebriated yahoos consume as they torment the massive cryptid.

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The most damning aspect of the commercials is the complete lack of comeuppance for bigfoot’s tormentors.  After being so cruelly mocked, the enraged Sasquatch reacts violently against the perpetrators,  sometimes tossing them about, once going so far as to turn over a speeding golf cart.  However frightening the beasts’ counterattack, the response is clearly not forceful enough to compel the abusers to desist: the wildly popular commercials continue.  This is a dangerous message for a society already rife with bullies.

The Sasquatch's Peculiar, Non-Threatening Disposition Is A Liability In The Cutthroat World Of Nature.

The Sasquatch’s well-deserved revenge extends only far enough to leave the soused perpetrators with minor injuries, perhaps a fracture or bad sprain.  In a perfect world, these commercials would be so graphic as to require a parental advisory warning, depicting a more realistic fate for those drunken cretins foolish enough to taunt an 800-lb. beast with the brain of a man.  In this more just version, the forest is decorated with the carcasses of Bigfoot’s assailants: human heads nestled in the crotches of trees, entrails festooning tree-limbs like holiday crepe-paper, the woods alive with the electric white noise of flies, and the sky above marked by a slow gyre of lazily circling vultures.  In the center of it all, atop a massive pyramid of sun-bleached bones picked clean of meat, Sasquatch sits munching from a blood-streaked bag of Jack Link’s.

"Fuck Your Jerky! Sasquatch Want BRAINS!" The Comeuppance We'd Really Like To See.

* Smaktakula has personally met someone who ruptured a testicle thanks to a carelessly whipped towel.  Although he went on to father three children, he claims it still hurts when he’s in the shower and “the water hits it just right.”  ∞T.

The Heartbreak Of Psoriasis–It Makes You Stupid

13 Thursday Oct 2011

Posted by in Culture, Science, Stupidity

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By Smaktakula

Why? Because You're A Creature Of Pure Evil, Of Course.

Aside from wasting away year upon tedious year in medical school, the best resource for individuals wishing to become experts in the science of medicine and well-being is, of course, the television commercial.  It was medical advertising that first brought to the world’s attention such hidden maladies as Restless Leg Syndrome (RLS) or Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS, formerly known as ‘the trots’).  TV commercials reassure aging men with overactive bladders that they don’t suffer alone, and have made it possible to publicly discuss adult incontinence with only mild discomfort.  As it has with so many other areas of knowledge–politics, the arts, Jersey Chic–television has imparted modern society with a robust and erudite knowledge of all things medical.

In recent years, commercials have shed light on the previously misunderstood ailment, psoriasis.  Psoriasis is a skin condition which can result in painful and embarrassing rashes.  Medical professionals have long been acquainted with psoriasis’ physical blight, which sometimes causes the afflicted to be confused with lepers.  But one heretofore-undiscovered symptom which can be inferred from the commercial is that, in addition to turning human skin into tree bark, the malady exerts an adverse effect on mental capacity.  Were this the case, the producers and advertisers behind anti-psoriasis treatments wouldn’t feel compelled to explain that the little men depicted in the commercial as banging on plates are not at all like the actual biological processes of the disease.

Skin Like An Alligator, And A Brain Like One, Too. Sad.

Commercials We Do Not Like: Bad Andy

22 Tuesday Feb 2011

Posted by in Culture

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By Smaktakula

Look--At Least Now You Know Now Why Your Pizza Tastes Like Monkey Ass On Cardboard.

Television commercials are subject to the same limitations as all human endeavors: they don’t always turn out the way they’re supposed to.  Advertising can be particularly vulnerable to this in that failure might not only mean that a spot was unable to steer buyers toward a product, but that it actually turned existing buyers away.

These Horrifying Simulacra Did Not Encourage Customers To Buy Duracell Batteries. Rather, They Caused Terror-Induced Incontinence.

At the same time, innovations such as digital recording which make it easier to skip through commercials have given advertisers greater anxiety that their message not be heard.  Increasingly these advertisers are forced to concoct new and outlandish advertising campaigns to seize–however briefly–the viewer’s consciousness before his moth-like attention span gives way.

This Advertising Campaign Was Funny . . . (Wait For It) . . . About A Million Years Ago.

Sometimes, as in the case of GEICO’s ‘Cavemen‘ or the ‘Old Spice Man‘ commercials, a radical vision can portray an existing product in a fresh light.  More often, however, these attempts are forgettable misfires, quickly relegated to the dustbin of commercial history.

"But You Know What Would Really Help Us Sell Our Sandwiches?--A Horrifying Creature That Looks Like What You'd See If You Swallowed An Eye-Dropper Full Of LSD While Battling A 104° Fever."

But there exists an odious few campaigns, spectacular misfires which have been elevated to the pantheon of all-time rancid commercials, which cling in the mind like dog shit on the bottom of a shoe.  One such commercial campaign was Domino’s late, but certainly unlamented, ‘Bad Andy.’  Around the Turn of the Century, Bad Andy stunk up the airwaves like nothing else.

We Don't Recall Anyone Asking For 'Gay Andy.'

“Bad Andy, Good Pizza.”  Conceived upon a foundation of fallacies, the campaign was doomed to fail.  The first of these was the mistaken belief that, despite the cautionary example of Pets.com, sock puppets would appeal to anyone but the poorest of children.  The second miscalculation was even more severe: a failure to recognize that a feces-flinging primate run amok inside a pizza parlor is not only unappealing, but shockingly unhygienic.

Don't Be Alarmed--She's An Actress And Wasn't At All Hurt During The Filming Of This Classic Scene. Of Course, She's Dead Now.

Thanks to the magic of the marketplace, consumers quickly convinced Domino’s that the savory aroma of fresh pizza and the nasty funk of the zoo’s monkey house were two tastes which didn’t belong together.  Bad Andy was unceremoniously yanked from television, and with the exception of a brief stint as Deputy Director of FEMA in August of 2005, the irritating puppet has maintained a low profile ever since.

Bad Andy’s debut!

The mouth-watering stank of moist primate:

And he’s a fucking thief now . . .

Me vale madre! Bad Andy en Espanol!

Jeez. Maybe They Should Call You 'Sleazy Andy.'

Want more shitty commercials?  Try these:

Bush’s Original Baked Beans

The Olive Garden

A1 Steak Sauce

Commercial Icon Institutionalized After Bloody Rampage

15 Friday Oct 2010

Posted by in Celebrity, Crime, Stupidity

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By Smaktakula

Fond du Lac, Wisconsin: Kool-Aid Man, the beloved commercial spokesgolem of yesteryear, was committed this week to the Edgecomb Hospital for the Freakish and Deranged.   Man had been living by himself since the death of his mother in 2008.

It Will Be Years Before The Citizens Of Fond du Lac Will Feel Safe Again.

Famed for his exuberant commercial appearances, Man’s career peaked in the 70s and 80s.  His star shone brightest during the so-called golden age of commercials– after Madison Avenue had perfected its art, but before television recording devices came into widespread use allowing viewers to skip commercials.  During that time it was hard to watch television without seeing Man’s scarlet, bulbous form come smashing through a load-bearing wall to the delight of a gaggle of well-scrubbed–and miraculously unharmed–children.

In retrospect, it’s astonishing that Man was able to perform the stunt successfully for as many years as he did before someone got hurt.  “When little Billy Wexner was crushed,” Man said in an interview years later, “It was the beginning of the end.”

It was also the end of the end.  Kool-Aid quietly paid off Little Billy’s parents, and through their lawyers let Man know his services would no longer be required.  Said Man, “After fourteen good years–fourteen years in which I turned down some good offers–they just let me go.  Not Kool, man.  Not Kool at all.”

Their Torrid Affair Would Last Three Years.

Friendless, broke and cracked, Man drifted through a variety of jobs, occasionally picking up work as an extra on cable shows like Silk Stalkings. Eventually, even those jobs became too difficult to maintain.  Man developed a reputation for flakiness.

“I was in a lot of pain, and it seemed like nobody wanted to give me any work.  So yeah, I drank.”  The punch-filled creature’s life had spun so far out of control by that time that he was reduced to offering $5 blowjobs to rangy weirdos in the Gary, Indiana Greyhound station.

But There Would Be No Happy Ending That Day In Jonestown.

“That’s when I bottomed out.”  Four days later he was back at his estranged parents’ house in Fond du Lac.  Man’s father died in 2002, and after his mother died in 2008 the freakish creature lived a hermit’s life.  There would be occasional reports of a large red serving container walking the streets in the late hours or in the very early morning, but Man mostly kept to himself.

Given the pains Man had taken to keep a low profile, the bloody carnage of a few days ago is puzzling.  The citizens of Fond du Lac have no answers–they are still reeling from the devastation caused by the creature’s rampage.  Twenty-three people, including two firefighters and a police officer were killed when Man stormed the town’s main street.

Survivor Sandy Bollier: "Words Can't Describe Those Three Hours In A Cherry Flavored Hell."

Gleeful roars of “OH YEAH!” could be heard among the screams of the dying and maimed early in the episode.  Once the gas main was ruptured, the resulting conflagration forced the police and SWAT teams to act as rescuers, breaking off their efforts to take down the fire-resistant Man.

In the end capturing the raging creature proved startlingly easy.  He was found in the remnants of the Old Spaghetti Factory, weeping.  Most of his Kool-Aid core had boiled away, but in most other respects he was unhurt.

Kool-Aid Man's Frequent Cosmetic Surgeries Became A Grotesque Obsession.

Man’s doctors say he has so far adjusted well to a life of confinement.  Privately, however, they worry that if Man decides to go on a rampage, no wall will stop him.

OH, YEAH!

Commercials We Do Not Like: A1 Steak Sauce

29 Wednesday Sep 2010

Posted by in Culture

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By Smaktakula

Now With More Chutney!

A1 Steak Sauce, which first reached American shores in the late 19th Century, has become a restaurant staple.  The surprisingly addictive brown sludge–which contains among other ingredients: dates, vinegar, mango chutney and apples– can be found next to the napkin dispenser on grimy tables across this great land.

Although there are certainly better steak sauces on the market, the fact that every year steaks are covered in enough A1 to fill Lake Superior is evidence of the regard in which the food-like product is held.  Despite having all the flavor subtlety of a semi careening through the living room wall, A1 doesn’t suck.

In One A1 Campaign The Announcer Boasts "I Have Actually Wept Over A Steak." Really? Because That Makes You Either A Hindu Or A Pussy. We Don't See Any Dot On Your Forehead.

Sadly, the same cannot be said for A1’s commercials.  For over twenty years the company’s executives have been greenlighting commercials which could not possibly appeal to any sort of discerning taste.  Marketing a mid-range product to a host of desperate hut-dwellers is not unlike pushing Showtime on a Cinemax audience–they’re just not ready for it.

This first commercial highlights A1’s apparent target audience: the shapeless ignoramus.  A1 presents as a virtue the protagonist’s unfathomable stupidity in addition to his complete disregard for his own safety, when at the end he asks about the welfare of a steak which will never cross his lips.

In the sauce giant’s most recent campaign,  A1 juxtaposes images of  Meatloaf, the grotesque singing oddity of yesteryear, and meatloaf, the meat-based comestible.  This apparently in the mistaken belief that watching a lumpy has-been grunt over his meat before lip-synching  to a mangled version of one of his few hits will be in any way appetizing to all but the most lonely fetishists.

As we have seen, A1 now focuses a significant portion of its advertising on individuals with aberrant personalities.  But what about the truly damaged?  A1 especially wants them.  Witness this appeal not only to dangerous sociopaths, but the victims upon whom they prey who refuse to see themselves as anything but helpless.  Enjoy!

In this A1 offering from yesteryear, one family’s creepy uncle (and Dick Cavett doppelgänger) ruins yet another get-together when he becomes orgasmic over A1:  My dear nephew, what is hamburger–chopped ham?  NO!  It’s chopped steak.  And what’s better on steak than . . . A1? This occasion marked the last time that Uncle Chester was asked over to the house.  Not because he was giddy for steak sauce, but because of the way his hands always seemed to linger too long on Joey.

A1 boasts that it was originally the condiment of kings, and would have consumers believe that a little bit of that royal awesomeness can still be found within each and every bottle of A1.  However, their advertising speaks to a completely different class of person, one which shares a single characteristic with the 19th Century European Royalty for whom the sauce was concocted, an appreciation for sexual congress between  first cousins.

Although this last commercial cannot truly be counted among the A1 Canon, if it were, it would be under the heading “Commercials We Like.”

Commercials We Do Not Like: The Olive Garden

23 Friday Jul 2010

Posted by in Art, Commercials, Corporate Culture, Culture, Food, General Foolishness, People, Relationships, Social Networking, Television

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By Smaktakula

The Olive Garden has been crapping out adequate fare for nearly thirty years, all the while striving mightily to frame itself as the workingman’s access to continental dining.  Targeting those customers for whom the Red Lobster is too provincial, the Olive Garden aspires to bring the charm of an idealized Old World Italy to such unlikely spots as Lexington, Kentucky or Elko, Nevada.     

These Ample Eaters Are More Representative Of Olive Garden Customers Than Are The Beautiful People In The Commercials

No one begrudges Olive Garden’s right to pass off its inedible fare as authentic Italian.  Americans have long been tolerant of such culinary bastardizations, preferring them in most cases to the authentic ethnic dishes from which they came.  However, as understandable as Olive Garden’s right to make a profit from the insensate palates of gastronomically-benumbed Americans may be, their commercials venture into the realm of the unforgivable.     

One familiar commercial features a laughing group of family members engaged in spirited non-stop conversation about the food set before them, thrusting lightly with their forks at one another’s plates, merrily sharing food.      

Any real gathering of an American family that doesn’t include drunken recriminations and acidic passive-aggression is a sham.  Moreover, in the current climate of bacterial paranoia coupled with orgiastic overeating, anyone foolish enough to attempt snatching food from a neighbor’s plate is most likely to end the encounter with a fork jutting from the back of his hand.     

Another commercial features a similar assemblage, this time a group of upwardly mobile, physically fit and improbably racially diverse friends.  Like the aforementioned family, the hot young pals can think of nothing better to discuss than the fine fare at Olive Garden, until one asshat kills the conversation by declaring his intention of “doing the alfredo.”  Outside of their boorish behavior, these people bear very little resemblance to the mouth-breathing hominids one is likely to encounter within the stuccoed confines of this craptastic eatery.     

Olive Garden’s most memorable campaign is also its most odious.  It should be familiar by now: an unctuous voice, oozing with manufactured warmth, intones at the close of the commercial, “When you’re here, you’re family.”     

Really?  Unless it’s a tacit guarantee that the meal will be free, promising to treat the customer like family is cynical glibbery of the lowest order.  It’s doubtful that many people will recall Mom charging $14.95 for a lackluster plate of spaghetti with the promise of unlimited salad and MSG-encrusted bread sticks.     

And last is this commercial, which informs us breathlessly that “At Olive Garden, ‘generosity’ begins with a G,” clearly ignorant of the fact that the word also begins with a G throughout the United States and many parts of Canada.  However, the unconvincingly accented narrator goes on to remind us that at Olive Garden, generosity ends “when you are happy,” which sounds a lot like this Chinese massage parlor that Smaktakula knows about.     

 

Great American Pitchmen: Morris the Cat

22 Monday Feb 2010

Posted by in Commercials, Critters, Culture, General Foolishness, Humor, Satire, Television

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By Smaktakula

With his languid Ivy League accent, contemptuous eyes and tiger-orange fur, Morris the Cat was more than just Garfield’s funny uncle who never married–he was a television icon and considered the world’s first spokesfeline.              

Morris, like the Dalai Lama or the Buddha, is believed by his followers to be a transcendent being, reincarnating himself upon death.  Each incarnation of the Morrishead is designated by a number.  When referring to more than one incarnation, the term Morrisi is preferred.  The current incarnation, The Estimable and Right Honorable Morris XI, is the eleventh cat to hold the esteemed position.               

Poster From Morris V's Failed Presidential Bid

Little is known about the specific selection process for new incarnations of the Morris, but it is widely held that only cats adopted from shelters have the potential to achieve Morrishood.  Selecting the new Morris is a painstaking process, often taking several months.  Typically, once the new Morris has been selected, he must endure several more months of study and meditation are required before considered ready to meet the public.  A typical Morris is at least three years old before embarking on the grueling series of personal appearances and televised events which comprise many of the duties of the Morrisi.              

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