House of Eratosthenes

I came up with an idea for a regular (or not) award of the Sickest Commercial I’ve Watched Or Heard Lately…or SCIWOHL. I had two inspirations for this, and unfortunately the GooglGodz are frowning upon my efforts to locate video or audio of either one. But they’re both sick.

And no, that one about the woman saying a product was “so simple even my husband can use it!” didn’t make the cut. Generic abuse heaped upon the time-honored Doofus Dad is just too humdrum and mundane by this point. Haven’t got time to do a search on that. Haven’t even got time to try to recall what the product was.

No, the first thing was a bank card commercial. Daughter calls her daddy on the flip-phone to tell him she’s at the mall. But don’t worry, she stole his debit card out of his wallet! A few minutes later, daddy gets a phone call from an automated computer lady telling him a transaction in an amount exceeding twenty dollars was made against his checking account. He goes on line and gets darling on the flip-phone, and asks her what she bought at…uh…”Teen Hottie?” Oh, don’t worry daddykins! I saw a bunch of my friends wearing that crap at the food court so I took it back. T.H. is so yesterday!.

Where to begin. Let’s start with the obvious.

First of all, if she’s too young to get her own goddamn bank card, she’s too young to go wearing “hottie” things and then telling daddy all about it. Who the hell is this guy, Hulk Hogan? This is sick. Second problem: I get that, if you receive your alerts you can lengthen her leash a little bit, let her make some decisions for herself. This is to be applauded. Or it would. But — if that’s what it’s all about, why give her a debit card? What happened to a strict limit, in the form of a cash allowance? What’s this product all about, anyway. Princess just shouldn’t have to worry about spending limits? If it’s over $20 the poppa is gonna rag all over her, and that’s what she has to worry about?

That’s no limit. You’re not going to buy anything at a mall for less than $20. If everything goes over the line, then nothing does.

Third problem: Exactly what bullet is being dodged, here? The commercial does not say. Daddy knew Princess was traipsing off to the mall with his borrowed debit card…Princess picked up something for more than $20 that made her look like a trollop. Daddy made an inquiry and it turned out the item had already been returned. The marketing department, it seems, is being deliberately vague. The problem was that Princess was overly materialistic? The product failed to solve that problem. Princess wants to dress like a tart? The product doesn’t solve that either. Everything that makes your daughter look like a hooker costs more than twenty — NOT TRUE. Belly-button studs, for example. Four bucks and change maybe.

Fourth problem: The daughter is, of course, doomed to a life of unhappiness as are so many adults. She bought her item (it’s never specified what the damn thing was) at Teen Hottie…and I’ll bet you dollars to doughnuts she got it “because all the kids are wearing it.” She returns it the instant she finds out everybody’s wearing it. She’s suffering the classic confusion of wanting to be better than anybody else while she’s trying to be identical to everyone else. Can’t be done.

It’s just sick. Period.

The other entry is from the 2010 Census. Little girl asks her mommy what the census is about, and momma gives her this big ol’ speech about how this is the only way they can make it known to Washington that they’re out here, needing their goods and supplies, that they have needs — and get what’s theirs. Get their fair share.

Pure communism. That used to be an evil thing, remember that?

Besides of which, there isn’t a dad mentioned anywhere. Come to think of it, ditto for the other situation involving the pervert, his tarted-up daughter, and any kind of mom. Where’s she?

Believe it or not, I think the Census ad offends me more. The idea that we’re all just out here in the wild frontier…suckling away at a Washington momma-piggy’s teats, fighting over each other for the sustenance. Have to tell our Washington overlords that our tummies are empty, so they can use their infinite wisdom to figure out whether it’s time to raise taxes on the evil rich people again.

What the hell is this? Castro’s Cuba?

Hope I don’t hear of any sick commercials like these ever again. I hope that, but I don’t have too much faith about it.

One plank I’d like to see the Republicans run on this year, especially timely since it happens to be a multiple of 10 and therefore a Census year:

Argue for returning the US Census to its original purpose: A head count taken every ten years in order to determine representation in the US House (and therefore, electoral votes). That’s it. That’s all. According to the Constitution, that is its only objective.

I’d like to see some prominent politician on our side of the aisle introduce a bill which forbids the Census Bureau from asking any question other than “number of adults in your household.” I don’t plan on responding to any of the other questions, personally. If everyone did the same, there wouldn’t even be a need for the bill I suggested, but you know how it goes…

Enough of this crap about how the Census gets us our “share” of the goodies from Washington…as if every penny of it wasn’t stolen from taxpayers in other states, as if we were entitled to any of those pennies. (I’m especially opposed to people living in red states having to bail us out here in California. It’s not right.)
- cylarz | 02/02/2010 @ 03:13
I hear that first commercial on the radio almost every time I drive to work. I have considered writing something up about it, because from the very first time it had me pissed. Just an enormously defeated sissy of a father, with this soft little voice that sounds almost apologetic to be confronting her about it. Lousy, all the way through.
- Andy | 02/02/2010 @ 08:25
Exactly. He’s the kind of pussy who, if you know him, you plan the bear, wine, steak & cigars party with your pals, and invite everyone you know except him.

And yet — here’s the really sick thing — you still have to give the guy props. Relatively. He’s doing something supervisory. So compared to all the other commercial-dads, he’s got balls of solid rock and needs a wheelbarrow to tote the damn things around. Just look at his competition. Sad but true.
- mkfreeberg | 02/02/2010 @ 08:29
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- House of Eratosthenes | 02/06/2010 @ 09:33

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Sickest CommercialMonday, February 1st, 2010

Sickest Commercial
Monday, February 1st, 2010