Thursday, January 31, 2008

Hey, Pfizer... Nice Spokeswoman... Idiots.

Look, I'm not gonna take issue with the fact that our nation's televisions are awash in Big Pharma ads. And I'm not going to go on some screed about made up illnesses. Hell, my friend Kevin tells me Fibromyalgia is, indeed, real. And he's old, so he probably knows what he's talking about, right? You know what? I'm not even going to define wtf Fibromyalgia even is. Don't know, don't care.

No... here at the Champagne of Blogs, we don't get into all that lofty shit. What I come to discuss with you today, dear readers, is the absolute idiocy going on with the ad firm that plucked this whiny bitch to be their spokesperson. Sweet Mother of Pearl! Look at her... She looks like a giraffe walking around in a guillotine store. That is one long-necked, stressed out lady.

Thanks, Pfizer. I now want to kill a woman who's only crime is to be the saddest sack of crap on my TV on any given night. And it's not like I want to put her out of her misery. Nope. She makes me mad. And I know I'm not alone on this.

I have a friend -- let's call her "Kristi" -- and she's one of the nicest people you'll ever meet. She reports that the sight of this woman makes her want to kill someone. Now I ask you, is that the kind of reaction you want, Pfizer, out of your advertising? Turning sweet, caring, normally happy people into folks capable of stabbing a sickly woman in the eye with a fork?! (Ok, "Kristi" never said she'd do that, but whatevs.)

Look, let's just cut the bullshit and lay it on the line: You've got a situation here, Pfizer. You've put this woman in danger. The "Kristis" of the world are legion, they are strong... and they hate this woman. The blood is on your hands when a bunch of middle-aged women (apparently the group most effected by Fibro) turn up with forks jammed in their eye sockets.

Then again... Knowing the evilness that Big Pharma is capable of, next thing you know, we'll see "Sockestra," a new drug that eases the pain of having a kitchen utensil jammed in your eye hole.

I hate you, Pfizer.

Monday, January 28, 2008

Rock Me Gently . . . To the X-Treme!!!!!!

First of all, is there anything about Rock Me Gently that appeals to any automobile buyer? Anything at all? Who hears that song and is anything less than visibly upset that he was just subjected to it?

Secondly, what about the Jeep brand do they want to associate with gentle?

I hate that commercial so frickin' much that it hurts. I'm like that lady that claimed she went into convulsions whenever she heard Mary Hart's voice on television. Everytime I hear the first two notes of that song, my blood starts to boil. And now, because of the physical pain it inflicts on me, my wife is shaken. You pissed off my wife, Jeep. Your commercial is so annoying that you managed to make my wife get angry everytime it comes on. And it comes on a lot. I'm pretty sure you only have one commercial now, right? Is that the deal?

The other day we were watching the winter X-games. I have no idea why. I think I just love the idea that there's a slight possibillity that I could get to see a grown man die on live television when his snowmobile lands on him after a backflip goes horribly awry. Anyway, so because this is the X-games, everything is geared to the kids. Everything is EXTREME! and AWESOME! and LOUD! and AWFUL! And then the Jeep commercial comes on.

Oh yeah, those tweeting birds singing along merrily to some yokel singing some Tennessee Gay Pride Local Chapter Anthem theme song as he drives his way down a shaded lane is really gonna speak to the kids and make them want to buy this overpriced mom-mobile. Who are you kidding, Jeep? Do you really think this is the vehicle you should be showcasing at the X-games? And if it is, is this the way you want to do it?

If I'm a kid that's watching the games, sipping on my Monster BFC and slurping on my X-Treme Gogurt wondering what that dude from Mask is gonna do next on his snowboard to wow the crowd, I'm going to have just one thought when that commercial comes on; If I ever grow up to drive one of those lame-ass trucks and sing along to old people music whilst birds and squirrels come down to join me along the paved roads I only dare drive on, then I have failed myself as a human being.

Or else I smoked a whole lotta pot.

Screw you, Jeep.

Oh, and that four-door Wrangler looks retarded, by the way.