Wednesday, August 27, 2008

My Sanity Has Been Targeted

Sorry for the delay, everyone. I have been busy with a few other writing projects, and have neglected the blog. Of course, this is supposed to be a space for creative thoughts, and I can go weeks without having one, so maybe the off-time was to be expected. In any case...


Okay, maybe I should elaborate a bit. I don't dislike the idea of commercials to support television programming. It is a necessary evil unless I want my satellite television bill to quintuple. What I am specifically referring to is how immensely idiotic television commercials have become. They are, on the whole, a witless conglomeration suitable only for boosting N-P-K levels in your garden soil. Some companies manage to fall below even this basement standard to make 30-second spots so astoundingly bad, you begin to question the very meaning of existence. With the thought that this may be a running gag within this blog, let's call this the first installment of my inevitably never-ending quest to reveal the bottom of the barrel in TV commercials.

Our first target is, well, TARGET. To be fair, the giant retailer's ads aren't quite as heinous as some other companies that will be reviewed in the future. However, the music they are using is driving me batshit insane.

The reason blood is currently dripping from my nose.

I guess this group is something called the Jonas Brothers. I vaguely remember seeing them advertised during Spongebob Squarepants, but I don't care enough to look it up. Target actually has a series of these "Hello Goodbye" ads running with different versions of the song. Well, different in that the music is changed. What doesn't change is the ritualistic bludgeoning of the "Hello Goodbye" message over and over and fucking over again right into your goddamn skull. Yes, Target, I get it. It's a play on the word "buy". We all get it. Fucking stop it. We know your company is rich, and that you can somehow run 37 half-minute advertisements during Jeopardy. I thought I would be safe from the sniveling, never-were "rock" band watching the "smartest game show on television", but I was really, really incorrect on that matter. Hearing those whiny fucks drilled into my brain makes me want to buy a shotgun and eat a couple of shells.

But I'm getting it at Wal-Mart, they have better prices.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

You're On The Lifeboat With Me, Buddy


Have you ever seen something that just sticks in your mind for no real reason? Not necessarily something shocking, or grotesque...

You know what, scratch that. It was a little shocking and grotesque.

I had to hit the grocery store after work last night because I was too tied-up with extremely important events (live fantasy football draft) to bother with it over the weekend. Like most people shopping after a day at work, I just wanted to fly through my list and get the hell home as fast as possible. I was rolling my cart around (after nearly destroying the thing attempting to kick a green bean out of one of the back wheels) and concentrating on accumulating the items on my list. My head was down, because I didn't want to make eye-contact with anyone on the off-chance I actually encountered someone I would be willing to talk to.

That's when I saw it.

A man with the biggest legs I have even seen.

I don't know why he decided to wear shorts to show those things off to the world. My best guess is that there aren't pants made anywhere that he could get into. He was wearing sneakers, and then his legs just...started. I'm not sure I have the vocabulary to accurately describe this sight. There was no discernible calf muscles. It looked like someone succeeded in stuffing the bottom of a couple of barrels into athletic shoes. If it had been around noon, his feet would have been completely shaded by his lower legs.

I have no idea how this obese man was even walking. I'm sure it was painful, because both legs had significant bruising, almost like he was wearing purple and black socks
. It was weirdly fascinating to me, seeing those hairless meat sacks draped over those overburdened discount tennis shoes. I kept imagining the various things they could possibly resemble: Hot dogs with pushpins stuck into the ends. Giant pythons trying to get into soda cans. Me trying to flush one of my post-Vegas-trip dumps into an elementary-school toilet.

Honestly, it wasn't really that funny to me. It was just seeing something I never would have even imagined. The guy eventually waddled off to (hopefully) the pharmacy or (more likely) the candy aisle, and I was free of the hypnotic spell of the fat legs, once again back at the task of finishing off my shopping list.

Friday, August 1, 2008

Hey Circuit City: What The Fuck?

I don't give a shit about the environment. I don't go out of my way to bury drums of charcoal ash in city parks or anything like that, but I really don't care if we kill off our environment or not. When I hear people saying that we're destroying the planet, I cringe a bit. The human race (thankfully) does not have the ability to destroy this planet or any other. What we are doing is fucking up our living quarters bad enough to make them uninhabitable. We are shitting in our food dish, so to speak. For me personally, well, fuck it. We created all of the environmental issues ourselves, and our slow mass suicide either happens or it doesn't. Whatever.

That diatribe being said, I have to wonder what the fuck is going on at Circuit City. For those who are not aware of this chain, they sell electronics and games and all of that other shit you think you need but really don't. It's just like Best Buy, except red. Well, that, and THIS:

Okay, what the holy hell is going on here? They have been doing this for years, and I have never understood it. Seriously, there must be an entire aspen tree's worth of wood in this receipt. Did I mention that the sale is for ONE FUCKING COMPACT DISC? No warranty and rebate here, my friends, because heaven help you if you buy something that has one or both of those. The Circuit City proof-of-purchase for that looks something like this:

I am shocked some wayward environmental group hasn't bitched about these things. Hell, how has an employee not bitched about these things? They must go through a roll every 40 minutes. Seriously, my thirteen dollar receipt has enough ink on it to paint nearly 2/5ths of a battleship. It's why all Circuit City stores are two stories tall. The top floor is nothing but storage for register printer ink. Oh well. I did at least find one good thing from all of this... or at least, one of my cats did:

Circuit City receipt paper is delicious! NOM NOM NOM