One of my many pet peeves in modern advertising is when a commercial adds, for no reason, a newfangled techie element... every now and then, you'll see an actor in a commercial, apropos of nothing, messing around with a touch screen, or utilizing a smart phone app, or, in an annoying new ad for Dannon, texting...
It seems every suburban housewife ever is so enamored of Dannon Pure yogurt that they need to text insipid messages of yogurt "luv" the minute their family cracks into a six pack of live culture dairy goodness. As they ignore their families and sport looks of contentment and relief, the matriarchs of many households bash away on their phone keypads, belching iPhone-like text bubbles into the air with sad little blurbs about how incredible it is that even their "hubby" "luvs" this fucking yogurt. Who are they writing to? Who could possibly care? How tiny have their worlds become?! The conceit is dumb, of course, but it's advertising... I get it. It would be odd if, while their families slurped down cup after cup of Dannon Pure, Mom was texting her pals about last night's episode of "The Good Wife." But why are the characters in the ad texting at all?!
It strikes me as a very Poochie concept... Poochie, of course, being the hip new dog character added to "Itchy & Scratchy" on "The Simpsons" by a committee of out-of-touch corporate a-holes. When the whole premise of your ad is built around the idea of texting, and that's it, it just feels like a bunch of suits with no creativity, humor or intelligence stared at the contents of their pockets until coming up with a text message based spot. No effort was put into the messages and no connection was made between the premise and the product... In 1894, the ad would have consisted of a bunch of ladies typing out stupid Morse code yogurtisms on telegraphs... in 2039, they will be telepathically spreading the hot news of how much their cyberhubby luvs his nanoyogurt. It's just such a time capsule... a weird attempt to exploit something that's part of our lives, but not quite a fad... But, I suppose it's not like most yogurt ads are aiming for timelessness.
Also, the song kind of sucks.
Now excuse me while I text everybody I know, "My whole family h8s this stupid commercial."
Monday, March 19, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Weight Loss And Migraine Guaranteed
There are few things I care about in life LESS than Mariah Carey's weight. Bulgarian politics interest me more. (I can't say that definitively, I guess... I don't know much about Bulgarian politics... it could be less interesting than Mariah Carey's weight, but I doubt it.) But Jenny Craig assumed I, and millions of other potential dieters, would be so interested in it, that they released a teaser ad last year that would whet our appetites to see just whose legs those were busting out of a nylon egg.
The horrible soundtrack composed of noise and the repetitive smash cuts of appendages pushing through fabric amounted to a minute and a half of eye strain and fuzzy headache, which would likewise whet our appetites for the migraine inducing campaign it was launching.
That's right, America, Mariah Carey has apparently lost some weight! And to celebrate, Jenny Craig is inviting you to the worst club in the world, where normal women who have recently lost weight awkwardly dance and the only music, ever, is the worst possible remix of a Mariah Carey song in which her shrill as a banshee voice repeats "YOU CAN MAKE IT... YOU CAN MAKE IT... YOU CAN MAKE IT..." over and over and over again until your ears commit suicide just to escape the pain.
This ad mentions just how much weight some of the poor ladies trapped in Club You Can Make Ad Infinitum have lost. It does not mention how they lost this weight, but I assume being assaulted by this terrible music for hours on end would have such a soul crushing effect on your well being that you'd never want to eat again. Is the Jenny Craig system of weight loss just a pair of headphones and this song? If so, kudos to Ms. Craig for finally solving our nation's obesity problem. It makes me want to preemptively skinny up just to avoid ever having to hear Mariah screech at me again.
The horrible soundtrack composed of noise and the repetitive smash cuts of appendages pushing through fabric amounted to a minute and a half of eye strain and fuzzy headache, which would likewise whet our appetites for the migraine inducing campaign it was launching.
That's right, America, Mariah Carey has apparently lost some weight! And to celebrate, Jenny Craig is inviting you to the worst club in the world, where normal women who have recently lost weight awkwardly dance and the only music, ever, is the worst possible remix of a Mariah Carey song in which her shrill as a banshee voice repeats "YOU CAN MAKE IT... YOU CAN MAKE IT... YOU CAN MAKE IT..." over and over and over again until your ears commit suicide just to escape the pain.
This ad mentions just how much weight some of the poor ladies trapped in Club You Can Make Ad Infinitum have lost. It does not mention how they lost this weight, but I assume being assaulted by this terrible music for hours on end would have such a soul crushing effect on your well being that you'd never want to eat again. Is the Jenny Craig system of weight loss just a pair of headphones and this song? If so, kudos to Ms. Craig for finally solving our nation's obesity problem. It makes me want to preemptively skinny up just to avoid ever having to hear Mariah screech at me again.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
The Cheesesmith Will Touch You And You Will Not Like It
There is a sort of mini-trend in advertising, now, to be as bizarre as possible, drawing people into some twisted little universe of non-sequiters and oddball characters in order to sell, say, Skittles or Burger King flame broiled burgers. And sometimes, those ads are amusing... "Hit me again, Tube Sock," still makes me laugh when I see it or think of it... in fact, I'm laughing right now. "Ha ha!" I'm saying, aloud, as I think about an old guy demanding tongue shocks from anthropomorphic hosiery.
Weirdness, however, is an art, not a science... Why one weird thing can be delightful while another weird thing can just be a total drag is kind of a mystery, but I think a lot of it has to do with the very subjective sense that the weirdness hinted at in the ad is part of a larger picture, and not the tossed off whim of an ad exec trying to be hip. I know I'm thinking about this far deeper than is necessary, but the best weird ads tend to build little pocket dimensions of oddness, where there's a sort of parallel reality to the situation... Skittles ads, especially, tend to do this well, and for a brief moment, I'm drawn into the world of the boy with the Skittles tree growing from his abdomen. I think, too, that the seeming simplicity of weirdness tends to attract a host of imitators, folks who think creating a memorable surreal moment is easy as just stringing together nonsense... Velveeta's "Wield The Skillet" ads prove that good weirdness isn't easy to come by...
Again, there's a relatively high production value to the Wield The Skillet ads, meaning that thought and effort went into these unpleasant little films. The skillet wielding... blacksmith? Goldsmith? Cheesesmith? is a totally off putting presence... He appears from nowhere, dirty and disheveled and incongruously pompous by way of overwrought dialog. He has the unnerving power of slipping into women's imaginations, dragging them to a dark, medieval workshop and recreating the sexy pottery wheel scene from "Ghost" in an incredibly skeevy manner. These women, by the way, never seem seduced by the Cheesesmith, but always leave the encounter shaken and scared. While that's certainly logical, given the predicament, it seems like a bad way to sell macaroni and cheese, unless the goal is to get consumers to just make the damn stuff before having to be "persuaded" to do so by a time traveling, working class frotteur.
Also, a good rule of thumb for any food ad is to make the food being advertised seem palatable. Does equating Velveeta to a liquified metal and then showing a flood of neon-yellow, wholly manufactured cheese-like-product attacking some poor noodles really accomplish that? It does not.
The commercial definitely attempts to mine our ceaseless appetite for the bizarre, but fails spectacularly. It doesn't help that this creepy dude keeps reappearing in ad after ad after ad. Weird characters, when they work, work best as one offs... nothing dulls the sense of oddness not like repetition. So it would be wise, for so many reasons, to retire the Cheesesmith as soon as possible.
Weirdness, however, is an art, not a science... Why one weird thing can be delightful while another weird thing can just be a total drag is kind of a mystery, but I think a lot of it has to do with the very subjective sense that the weirdness hinted at in the ad is part of a larger picture, and not the tossed off whim of an ad exec trying to be hip. I know I'm thinking about this far deeper than is necessary, but the best weird ads tend to build little pocket dimensions of oddness, where there's a sort of parallel reality to the situation... Skittles ads, especially, tend to do this well, and for a brief moment, I'm drawn into the world of the boy with the Skittles tree growing from his abdomen. I think, too, that the seeming simplicity of weirdness tends to attract a host of imitators, folks who think creating a memorable surreal moment is easy as just stringing together nonsense... Velveeta's "Wield The Skillet" ads prove that good weirdness isn't easy to come by...
Again, there's a relatively high production value to the Wield The Skillet ads, meaning that thought and effort went into these unpleasant little films. The skillet wielding... blacksmith? Goldsmith? Cheesesmith? is a totally off putting presence... He appears from nowhere, dirty and disheveled and incongruously pompous by way of overwrought dialog. He has the unnerving power of slipping into women's imaginations, dragging them to a dark, medieval workshop and recreating the sexy pottery wheel scene from "Ghost" in an incredibly skeevy manner. These women, by the way, never seem seduced by the Cheesesmith, but always leave the encounter shaken and scared. While that's certainly logical, given the predicament, it seems like a bad way to sell macaroni and cheese, unless the goal is to get consumers to just make the damn stuff before having to be "persuaded" to do so by a time traveling, working class frotteur.
Also, a good rule of thumb for any food ad is to make the food being advertised seem palatable. Does equating Velveeta to a liquified metal and then showing a flood of neon-yellow, wholly manufactured cheese-like-product attacking some poor noodles really accomplish that? It does not.
The commercial definitely attempts to mine our ceaseless appetite for the bizarre, but fails spectacularly. It doesn't help that this creepy dude keeps reappearing in ad after ad after ad. Weird characters, when they work, work best as one offs... nothing dulls the sense of oddness not like repetition. So it would be wise, for so many reasons, to retire the Cheesesmith as soon as possible.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
It's Really NOT Time To Get Real About What Happens In The Bathroom
Let me start by saying I HATE the Charmin Bears. I hate them with a passion. I hate them so, so much. The "Enjoy The Go" campaign is one of the worst things ever unleashed upon mankind... just beneath The Black Plague and just above Carlos Mencia.
I think this Quilted Northern ad is a response to the cringe-inducing bear-shit antics of Charmin's colored pencil ursine toilet paper consumers.
Quilted Northern, after speaking to women nationwide (portrayed in the ad by disclaimer-noted actresses standing on a map of the United States (to indicate, I suppose, which nation Quilted Northern's nationwide interviews took place in)) decided to FINALLY get real about what happens in the bathroom. That's right... the women of America (portrayed by actresses) are SICK AND TIRED of toilet paper commercials not even mentioning that we don't actually want fecal matter on our hands after wiping up. When will toilet paper companies realize that American women have no desire to watch adorable cartoon bears talk about paper schnibbles left behind on furry haunches? No, dammit, they want to hear about clean. Clean! Clean! Toilet paper is about feeling clean. Nobody wants to talk about it, but, by God, our toilet paper makers have been silent on the topic of shitfinger for too long.
Luckily, these actresses are finally steering the country in the right toilet paper advertising direction... Why, just a few years ago, Quilted Northern had fallen into the terrible trap of cartoony advertising.
The adorable quilters in the old Quilted Northern ads never once mention how well their quilted product will hold up to a big soppy mess in your backside. And this, of course, would have made the women of America apoplectic with rage.
I think this Quilted Northern ad is a response to the cringe-inducing bear-shit antics of Charmin's colored pencil ursine toilet paper consumers.
Quilted Northern, after speaking to women nationwide (portrayed in the ad by disclaimer-noted actresses standing on a map of the United States (to indicate, I suppose, which nation Quilted Northern's nationwide interviews took place in)) decided to FINALLY get real about what happens in the bathroom. That's right... the women of America (portrayed by actresses) are SICK AND TIRED of toilet paper commercials not even mentioning that we don't actually want fecal matter on our hands after wiping up. When will toilet paper companies realize that American women have no desire to watch adorable cartoon bears talk about paper schnibbles left behind on furry haunches? No, dammit, they want to hear about clean. Clean! Clean! Toilet paper is about feeling clean. Nobody wants to talk about it, but, by God, our toilet paper makers have been silent on the topic of shitfinger for too long.
Luckily, these actresses are finally steering the country in the right toilet paper advertising direction... Why, just a few years ago, Quilted Northern had fallen into the terrible trap of cartoony advertising.
The adorable quilters in the old Quilted Northern ads never once mention how well their quilted product will hold up to a big soppy mess in your backside. And this, of course, would have made the women of America apoplectic with rage.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Should I Worry That My Depression Is Taking Notes?
Abilify, a antidepressant supplement that keeps people on antidepressants from being depressed ("Yo dawg, we heard you like antidepressants so we put an antidepressant in your antidepressant so you can not be depressed while you're not being depressed) has two spots in which depression is represented as a googly eyed shape shifting black mass or a googly eyed bathrobe.
In both spots, for some reason, a cartoon doctor explains the possible side effects of and provides numerous warnings and caveats about Abilify to the cartoon lady afflicted with depression (plus extra depression) via a film of himself... which is smart, I suppose, since, like most medicines, the list of side effects is ridiculously long and convoluted, and memorizing it would be WAY harder than just carrying a screen, projector and prerecorded list of pharmacological horrors. Weirder still is that the google-eyed manifestations of depression sit next to the lady... they concurrently take notes on the doctor's film of himself.
Why is depression taking notes on the medicine designed to destroy it?! Does it just want to be prepared for the onslaught of forthcoming happiness? Is it looking for flaws in the plan that can be exploited (the wamprat sized exhaust vent in Abilify's Death Star)? Is depression just naturally studious? The answer does not come.
In the end, the depression is not destroyed by the supplemental medication, but is, instead, just slightly reduced in stature. So even with two medicines, depression still hangs around being all googly eyed and miserable. And that's kind of depressing
In both spots, for some reason, a cartoon doctor explains the possible side effects of and provides numerous warnings and caveats about Abilify to the cartoon lady afflicted with depression (plus extra depression) via a film of himself... which is smart, I suppose, since, like most medicines, the list of side effects is ridiculously long and convoluted, and memorizing it would be WAY harder than just carrying a screen, projector and prerecorded list of pharmacological horrors. Weirder still is that the google-eyed manifestations of depression sit next to the lady... they concurrently take notes on the doctor's film of himself.
Why is depression taking notes on the medicine designed to destroy it?! Does it just want to be prepared for the onslaught of forthcoming happiness? Is it looking for flaws in the plan that can be exploited (the wamprat sized exhaust vent in Abilify's Death Star)? Is depression just naturally studious? The answer does not come.
In the end, the depression is not destroyed by the supplemental medication, but is, instead, just slightly reduced in stature. So even with two medicines, depression still hangs around being all googly eyed and miserable. And that's kind of depressing
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