Stop It, Commercials

Disgusting Commercials

Posted in Uncategorized by hendyhendel on March 27, 2010

Today, we’ve got a three-fer going – three supremely foul commercials that stimulate the gag reflexes more than anything monetary. I mean, I guess I can pay in vomit. Would I make that compromise?

First, something repellent both in subject and in style:

This commercial successfully combines the grotesque realities of aging with the celebratory candor of tampon ads. For that matter, it’s about time I bring up a daytime cable mainstay like this one. I mention this to acknowledge that the commercial is clearly not aimed at my demographic. Still, do they have to be so proud of solving their denture troubles? Personally, I’d take more pride in growing new teeth. The point is, of course, SeaBond replaces gummy, awkward paste, which is fine. However, they’ve taken that simple message and dipped it in the Early Bird special at the public golf course. As a member of a younger generation, I feel like I am forced to visit and endure advice about women delivered with abrasive elderly irony more suited for 7-year-olds.

Next is another ad frequenting cable as of late, infecting it with a type of misery you can almost taste and smell, like driving past two skunks fucking.

Of the three I’m looking at today, this is the most disgusting, possibly the most disgusting 30 seconds I’ve experienced on television (remember about 10 years ago when late at night, TLC would show graphic sex ed programs featuring live birth? This commercial makes me want to eat that for dinner.) Everything is horrific. Everything. Look at the asshole drinking the carbonated energy drink. I want to punch that jacket. I want to fight it in a fucking alleyway. The up-coming belch is so dead-on, the stakes are so high that it goes beyond showing what it wants to show and instead evokes sense memories. I watch this commercial and remember the deep-seated burps that might actually (God forbid) be puke sneaking its way out in a loud mouth-splosion. And then, to top it off, he goes from being someone people no one imagine themselves as to being the type of wretched slob people pray nightly they are not. Here’s the motherfucker of the commercial: 5-Hour Energy is a good product. Damn good. It ain’t a cup of coffee, but if you need that sort of clear-headed bump, take the fucking shot. You’re getting an energy drink anyways, might as well get this one that tastes less like devil semen. But one thing 5-Hour Energy has in common with all energy drinks: It’s got holy-fucking-shit-God air! Bitches what?? Inhale a shot of anything, be it whiskey, chocolate milk, or glue, and you are going to burp. Not the sphincter-clenching burp the commercial shows, but a burp all the same. 5-Hour Energy just told you a lie. A disgusting, hate-inducing lie.

Finally, a newer, classier one for the Primetime crowd:

While not as foul as its predecessors, it follows trend with the 5-Hour Energy commercial in that it made things so much more unpleasant than necessary. “So many things your hands can do,” apparently all of which involve dipping your hands in straight-up gook and swirling them around. These hands aren’t just dirty – they are caked in the sort of uncomfortable muck that drive some people to tears. These are things that don’t come off easily, that clog drains when they do come off, and are awful in general. Let’s play out a scene:

“Ugh. I’ve been bathing my hands in rubber cement for like 4 hours now. Apart from the fully crusted layer on the skin, there’s a good pound of wet stuff on the outside. How dreadful! Better wash ’em. Ah! A faucet I don’t have to touch with my hands. Thank God this remarkable mess only goes up to my wrists (like all remarkable messes of the degree shown.) Fuck! Fuck it fuck! Hot! How do you change the temperature?? Jesus! Goddammit, there’s no pressure either!”

Enter someone else, hours later, finding the first person adhered securely to multiple surfaces, sobbing uncontrollably.

Also, as my mom pointed out, “Our sink can turn on with no hands; just use your elbow like that to lift the lever.”

These commercials know how disgusting they are and do not need the likes of me to tell them. They meant for them to be like that, to demonstrate that with their product, these disgusting problems are no more. No more sticky paste; no more digestive discomfort; no more messing up the sink with messy hands. The major problem with these commercials is how far over the fence they hit these fouls. They wanted me to relate to feeling gassy when I drink energy drinks, but instead made me feel like a fart that refuses to come out. Watching these commercials should not be visual equivalent of heart burn and I should not be rushing to the bathroom, laying my face on the cool tile next to the toilet, waiting for the misery to pass.

Let me also reiterate, just to make it nothing short of crystal: I would love nothing more than to set that jacket on fire and beat that man with the flaming pile of crap he wasted segments of his life to own. I would then douse the jacket with stagnant water, extinguishing the fire. The jacket will beg for sweet, sweet death and will be summarily denied. Fuck. That. Jacket.

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