Commercials Made For...Who?

     There are mornings, that upon waking, seem brighter. The foul air of stupidity that's usually present is cleaner and smells...smarter, the birds chirp in a way that says, "It's okay, today is cloudless sunshine with a 90% chance of rainbows!" Everything is fantastic.Then, a retarded commercial on t.v. ruins the whole fucking day.

The Mio Liquid Animal Ads

I. Just. Peed.

     The commercial above, is selling Mio drink mix it's also a cold stare in to a hellish abyss of animal driven nightmares. It was hard to tell what they were selling through all the childlike sobbing I was doing. Mio is a liquid concentrate Kool-Aid mix, that you squirt into water to make it taste like...fruity water. It's basically Kool-Aid mix for hip, slightly stupid adults who feel their tastes are more mature than regular Kool-Aid. This is a classic "separate an idiot from his money" product. Putting fruity concentrate in a tiny, expensive plastic bottle, giving you half of what you want but, charging you twice as much doesn't make it different from Kool Aid. It just says your a complete idiot who likes fruity water.

      The problem isn't with the pocket sized Juicey Juice mix. It's with the nightmare fuel animal people acting like nonchalant assholes in a bar that bothers me.

      Who the hell was this commercial made for? People who have trouble shitting themselves from panic and fear? It's a bunch of photo realistic-ish animals talking about fruit drink mix for fuck's sake. Is there a demographic of people craving photo realistic anthropomorphic bar hoppers? I don't understand. If you're peddling fruit drink to adults, why do you need bizarre animal people? If you're hocking your junk to kids, why are the freak-imals in a bar talking like adults?! It's confusing, scary and...I just threw up a little.

1800 Tequila

Whatever happened to shutting the fuck up?

      I'm all about getting trashed and whining, this blog proves it, but, I'm not trying to sell you anything doing it. That would just be a stupid way to get you to NOT buy something. Which is the opposite of what advertising is about. Right? I'm not totally hip to the television ad game. I'm roughly familiar with the swatches of information I get from the parts of Mad Men that doesn't have Christina Hendricks boobs in it. ( **hint, hint ---> MAD MEN SEASON 1 BY MAD MEN (Blu-Ray) [3 DISCS]). So, I might be way off base in assuming that no one buys things from crotchety pricks in suits that sit alone in empty bars complaining about shit. Am I wrong?

      Hey, I understand the appeal of nostalgia. Looking back to a time when shit seemed awesome. Sometimes, I wish I was still small enough to tie a sheet around my neck and run around the house playing Superman. When, I do it now, they call the police and talk about a possible suicide attempts and delusions of super powers. Fucking bastards.

     So, here is this guy, bitching about things that he's not even old enough to bitch about missing. He's tossing out this "Remember the smoke filled bars, suit clad, fedora wearing Sinatra type guys of yesteryear? Them's was good days, good guys." vibe, like he lived it. He was there. He shook The Chairman's hand! He's 46. Which would put his formative Sinatra days as some time in the late 80's/90's.

     Maybe they should refine the ad campaign to incorporate this. Perhaps, "Whatever happened to real men, like Al Bundy or John Mclane?..." Speaking of pricks reminiscing out side of their years.

Let's have a sleep over guys!

      I'm going to say this right up front. I'm a bit biased. I hate Puff Daddy (which is the name I first heard of him using, so, it's his dumb ass name). I hate, hate hate his ass. His career and fame are based on the talents and work of better arrtists. The guy comes off as a rip-off, leaching, talent-less tard who treats money like douche' fuel. (sigh) I feel better now and can move on. Who the fuckin' fuck was this commercial made for?

      Is it for asshole's aping for a "Rat Pack/Boozy Sinatra and Pals" kind of time? Look, I can...kinda see the appeal. With everything from smoking to hate crime being illegal now, who are the cool, hip rule breakers, huh? Sinatra and his fellas were awesome! The didn't play by societies standards. They boozed hard, ladied it up and partied 24 hours a day...literally...I looked it up. Who wouldn't want that kind a life?

      You wouldn't, bitch. Back in their day, Sinatra and his ilk lived life hard because times were pretty straight laced back then and bucking trends was hardcore. Segregation was in full swing, homosexuality was only accepted as Milton Berle in drag and church was still...popular, this was the time of The Rat Pack boozathon. When they were busting out of societies confines, it was a big deal and they were the types to not give a shit. Awesome---unlike today. Today, we get Puffy, a couple of barely famous actors and I'm assuming European male underwear models.

      Today, none of that "going against the grain" shit applies really. A lot of the stuff the O.G. Rat Pack railed against is acceptable now. Segregation was found out to be just as dumb--as klan rallies are white, church has been shunned to t.v. channels no one watches and homosexuality has it's own channel...it's called Bravo. 

      So, what are Puffy and his play mates trying to re-kindle? Oh, wearing suits, staying up all night and getting tanked while blowing money on hooker/super models no one gets to sleep with. That's called an "average weekend" on most college campuses. Only, on campuses, they spend the money on rubbers and weed instead of over priced vodka. Gooooooooooo progress!

Walk With The Dead And Dream!

      The Walking Dead starts up again this Sunday. If you don't know, it's a show about trying to survive during a zombie apocalypse. So, a show made to scar children. I have been amped up for this show since it started. It's well written and the zombies look fantastic. The quality of how the zombies look is important. It's very easy to go cheap with things like that. A lot of zombie movies make that mistake. Cheapening up the look of the zombies. It's like substituting Kellogg's Frosted Flakes for some shitty store brand. Technically the generic brand is frosted flakes, but, tastes like sugared up drywall mixed with disappointment, regret and shame. I digress. To celebrate such a mundane affair as a series season premiere. I thought I'd psychoanalyze my own innate fear of zombies.

Un-dead Zombie...not Voodoo Zombie. 

Though, I wouldn't want to run into this guy in a dark alley.

Doll carriers are capable of anything.

      I indeed have a fear of zombies. I would qualify that to say that it's not necessarily the zombies themselves, but, the dread the situation they present fills me with. Like one of those urban legends you hear about a rock star's stomach being filled with cum. Only with this, rock star is me, the cum is abject fear of impending doom and the thing responsible for the fear spooge is looming zombie dismemberment. Just so we're straight. I'm a rock star filled with zombie encroachment spooge. Wait, not that I'm blowing zombies, like the rock stars. No. Wait. Not that rock stars blow zombies. Zombies blow...encroaching rock stars...the cum is...isn't...not-hm...spank? Dammit. 

 Zombies get me kind of like this, but with lots of pee pee and 

a large amount of shit in my pants...and uh...no cum.

      I can watch a show about them and be entertained, grasping fully that zombies don't and are incapable of existing, however. It's what my mind does with zombies. Turns them into reality nightmare fuel. I have dreams where I imagine myself in a zombie crowded situation, be it in the classic boarded up house or the trashed wing of a hospital. Then, the poorly constructed barrier's break and there I am, gunning away while the house/room/hosipital wing/adult book store is consumed by walking dead ladies and gents. It fills me with a sense of being absolutely, unequivocally fucked. 

Fucked.

      So, I get this hopeless, closing in feeling of being completely fucked, in every nightmare I have about these fucking things. Why is that? I sort of think the zombies represent the concept of "death" for me in a way. As I am a slow witted simpleton, I have appropriated a group of walking dead men to symbolize death bearing down on me. I'm not creative. This doesn't feel like an satisfactory answer, however. For during my non-panicked nightmare hours, I distinctly have a feeling of not fearing death. I realize the futility in fear it. It's inevitable. I understand that. Though, I won't know until the day, if I'll react that way, right? I mean, anyone can talk a good game but, when it comes down to the wire, none of us know. 

A pan and a plan of attack is the knee jerk reaction sure...

      Is death's inevitable arrival veiled as zombie encroaching finality in my head? Possibly. I do seize up and sweat, like a priest at a molestation trial, at the thought of zombies taking me the fuck out. Overall, it only seems to partly fit. Perhaps, their promulgation to end my existence isn't the message of death approaching. It's eminent failure they represent. Those fetid corpses walking toward me, closing in. That's failure. An all encompassing end to whatever it is I am or will be doing...forever. Shit. Maybe it's a combo of them both, death and failure. I know for certain that when I watch them on t.v. I don't shit my pants. I think it's kind of cool. So, what the hell's with that?

Zombie-rific!

      Maybe in watching the representation of my fear of failing or of death...or both, in a television facsimile,  I distance myself or own the fear in some way. Who knows for sure. I'll have to find a psychiatrist that'll work for dick jokes and spare change one day. They might help me sort it all out. There will be a lot of Kleenex used for tears instead of masturbation that day. Until then, I'll keep watching zombies consume humanity with a perverse sense of wonder. The apocalyptic grandeur they leave in their wake teasing a smile from deep within, because after all, it's not me their devouring. It's a stupid bastard that failed at a fucking head shot.

In the head...ALWAYS in the head. Dumb ass.