You Are Now Free to Be a Complete Dickwad

Southwest Airlines gives people lots of reasons to dislike them. Their open seating policy. No food on the flight. Stewardesses who make Carlos Mencia seem like a fucking laugh riot. So why have they inflicted these “productivity enhancer” commercials on us? I have no problems with Southwest, but they're making me turn against them with this campaign.

First off, the guy playing “Nick,” looks like an utter douchebag. You might as well pop his collar and put a pink Red Sox hat on him. They did go for realism because everyone has a ball sac like this in their office. He thinks the Foo Fighters really kick ass, but keeps a John Mayer CD in his car in case he brings a girl home from the bar where he nurses a Smirnoff Ice during Happy Hour. He definitely deserves a nut punch.

And b, how in the hell does standing in line to push your way to a seat where you will listen to low-grade comedy before eating a shitty snack box enhance your productivity? You're more productive because you have such incredible OCD that you checked in the moment you could and got in the first line? You'll do better at your job because you saved a few bucks on your fare?

I get the whole riffing off the baseball steroids thing, but there's just one thing wrong with that approach. It's fucking retarded.

Southwest should just advertise the truth – they will leave you more money to gamble and drink. Show Nick in a puddle of his own vomit in New Orleans. Make Nick explain that he called in sick that one Friday because he got a great deal on a trip to Vegas. Let's see Nick buying drinks for some skank on Spring Break because he got a $69 ticket to Ft. Lauderdale.

That's why we fly Southwest Airlines. Or so I hear.

Vince Wouldn't Lie

Many of my fellow bloggers here have tried to point out the commercials that drive them nuts. I want to take a different angle. I want to bring the love. As in "I love Shamwow!"

I need this thing. I sat mesmerized by the things the cloth did on the commercial. All sensibility went out of my brain.

It’s a good thing they don’t see Shamwow in stores because I would have at least a dozen now. Having to order via the phone gave me pause, but now I know I can order online, which is pretty dangerous. My frugal wife is even on board. “We need that,” she said.

We have some leaks in our basement, and I want to just buy boxes of Shamwows and put them from end to end. We could just wring them out after the rain seeped in and go on our merry way. Twenty times its weight in liquid! Fifty percent of the cola! It acts like a vaccuum!

How can you not want this product the way Vince sells it? They have real-life people singing its praises. It's made in Germany. You have to get this.

Valentine's Day... The Gary, Indiana of Holidays

Ahh... February. The best time of year, in my estimation. The weather causes your nether parts to retreat, ninja-like, into your inner recesses (um, I guess that's kind of gender specific... apologies for any unfortunate images that might've conjured.) Football is put to rest, puncuated by the flatulent sputter that is the Pro Bowl. After the first weekend, the sporting highlight of the month is the Daytona 500--a bizarre event (even for NASCAR) which places its most important and high profile race at the beginning of its season. Wha? Huh?

At least this year, we've been blessed by quality TV to watch. Right? Am I right or am I right? I mean, Paradise Hotel 2 is about as good as it's gonna get, people. Gather the whole family, savor the moment.

February truly is a magical time.

And, what better way to celebrate this sink hole of a month than to guilt trip the coupled-up men of society, while simultaneously remind the single folks just how lonely they are. Hey, I know, let's plop Valentine's Day on the calendar. Thanks Hallmark... fuck you very much.

I'm, uh, not a fan of Valentine's Day. So, it should surprise no one that my least favorite genre of advertisement are the diamond ads that litter the airwaves this time of year. Jared, Shaw's, Kay... Satan hath spawned you. This entire group earns a Lifetime Achievement of Suck award for their bore-a-hole-in-your cranium nature of the jingles and the vapid, guilt-driven messaging.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go to the mall... M'lady requires a token of my undying love and affection.

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.

McDonald's "Dollar Down": Awesomely Racist

First off, kudos to McDonald's for making light of the plight of the American economy, anti-American douches.

But what really gets my goat (and yeah, my goat has been GOT-TEN!) is the part at the end.

So, the douchebag with the semi-frosted tips asks the mousy-looking dude if he wants to give him any fries. "I'm good on fries," the mousy-looking dude replies.

Then the black guy says, "That's cold, man." What the hell does that mean? What's "cold" about asking someone for a French fry?

Can McDonald's get through a commercial without having a black person say something they perceive to be "urban"? It's clear Mickey D's has no understanding of urban culture. After all, this is the same company that ran this banner ad:





Du-umb. But you know what? They're not the most popular fast food place in the world for nothing. I suppose there's a large swath of people who can identify, including the possible future President of the United States:

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.