There are two sets of commercials that give me the strong desire to throw a mug of beer through the TV screen: stationary bikes and pharmaceutical ads.
The biker aversion stems from my experience being screamed at by a silly-helmeted douche who was worried I was going to turn right on red in front of him and dent his carbon fiber rim. He squealed like self-entitled twat. I gave him the one-finger salute and cut him off anyway. Now, I subconsciously swerve toward these fashion-senseless, large-calfed ding-dongs every chance I get. And, if I ever see another person wearing a bike helmet on a stationary bike, I’m going to point and scream like a body snatcher.
Pharma ads are equally maddening. They spend more time listing the horrible side-effects than any benefits. These usually involve bleeding from some random hole, seizures, or sudden death. Lovely.
The worst of these is Viagra. Every commercial features a woman whose man has no fucking problem getting her man’s dick hard, unless he happens to be gay, in which case he can still get it hard, so he has no problem. Just like McDonald’s commercials showing skinny people, these commercials are unrealistic and misleading. Here is what they are saying:
“See this hot chick? Sah-mokin’, huh? Bet you’d love to fuck her, wouldn’t ya? What if you get the chance, and your hard drive goes floppy? How much would that suck? You’re not going to get another shot at a fine specimen like her for a long time. You need boner candy, and you need it now. Chew one back, and make us graybeards proud.”
But, again, that’s not the issue. Maybe the advertiser is speculating that the wife has aged fantastically, and the husband has turned into a sloth. Wife has one foot out the door, and is caught winking at a coed. Husband is about to lose her and a significant portion of his savings. Boner candy will get him back into her game like Bonds on ’roids.
Look, the guys who need boner candy, need it because they are no longer attracted to their sex partners. This is no indictment of the sex partner. Too someone, she’s quite lovely. He lost that loving feeling for any number of reasons, but none of those reasons are “because she’s just too fucking sexy.”
The commercials should show realistically proportioned mature women of average looks. Also, instead of a stud-puppy gray fox, the man should be balding, overweight, and so-not-a-Clooney. The commercial should tell the most-likely truth.
“Look, she’s not built like Jillian Michaels. So what? You’re no Ryan Reynolds, either. Sure, she can be a pain in the ass, and bringing her to O-town is as difficult as playing Croquet with your tongue. Well, here are your options: Lose the house and kids, or suck down one of these pills an hour before bedtime. Sure, you’ll be seeing blue, your nose will run, and your next shit will be pudding. Small price to pay, me lad. You’ll have a rebar cock, which you’ll be able to use to pound your curvy lover senseless, and keep her from whining to her friends about your sexual ineptitude.”
Now, that’s a commercial I can respect.
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