(10) T.V. commercials I would like to never see again. Ever.
10. Aflac. A swan with throat cancer is attempting to sell me insurance. I never was able to make the connection. I believe this canary would make a better spokesperson for Ricola. Just saying! Does anybody actually have Aflac insurance? I feel like this company doesn’t even exist. It’s just a duck and that referee.
9. Geico. Again, a green amphibian with a British accent doesn’t seem to sell me on an insurance decision. The desperate attempt to toss a caveman into the mix peaked my interest for a minute. The only connection I made from any of these advertisements was the sudden urge to buy a reptile imported from Britain. I can save 15% anywhere so cut it out.
8. Progressive Insurance. Obviously insurance commercials may be the theme here because there all over the fucking place. I won’t even get into that little army guy jumping around my television screen. I’m all for the army and our military but a miniature GI Joe / Santa Claus hybrid will not seduce me into buying your insurance. And Flo from Progressive has no sex appeal. It’s like watching my Mother. It’s terrible. Flo belongs in a doctors office scheduling appointments. Period.
7. Bobs Furniture. Really Bobby? Really? You are filthy rich. Can’t you just hire an actor to play your part and sell the furniture? I’m at my wits end with you. I want a sexy man like Rob Lowe luring me into the abyss of a furniture purchase. After all, I will be fornicating on your recliner. I don’t want the image of your green teeth and boot cut Levi’s in my head as your blonde haired sidekick mistress pitches me with her over exaggerated voice. You should be selling hammers at Home Depot. Your side piece should be a manager at a “Rub & Tug.”
6. Red Lobster. The individuals in charge of this marketing monster happen to be the most brilliant fucks in the business. I see a Red Lobster commercial and I pack up my wife, kids, grandmother, and pet hamsters and bring all these pricks to the restaurant. Next thing you know I’m dropping $39.99 for that 68 year old extremely sick lobster floating around the fish tank just begging to be eaten. You fuckers are brilliant. If it wasn’t for your biscuits you would be out of business.
5. Kia. Great car. I own one myself. Please don’t hire an intellectual being to prance around on your screen and tell me you will buy back my car and give me a new one. No matter what. And don’t say “all I need to earn is $250.00 per week” you fucking dumbass. As soon as I get past you and the paperwork is passed to the “Under writer” I couldn’t get approved to purchase an air freshener. So don’t blow smoke up my ass you fucking half wit. I come in expecting to drive away in a fully loaded Kia Sorento and I ride off into the sunset in a Yugo with 227,000 miles. Fuck off ass knot.
4. Keytruda. Ok. So what exactly are you curing or helping me with? It treats Melanoma. Skin cancer. It’s serious. I will eventually die from it. But why would I ingest your product to quicken the process? The side affects will give me 300 more problems I currently don’t have. My ass will bleed. I will kill myself. My shins will disintegrate. My liver will catch fire. I will eat my great grandmother. It goes on and on. I’ll take my chances with a cancerous skin tab dumb dumb.
3. Papa Johns. The worst pizza on the planet. But he is smart. Team up with Peyton Manning because he really knows how to make a good pizza and bam, every asshole buys into this bullshit. Yankees score six or more runs and you get a free pie. Fuck that. I’m a big Yankees fan but I hope they lose every game 6-5 just so I’m
not eligible. Papa Johns pizza reminds me of a 16” circle of diarrhea. So bad. Two hillbilly’s trying to sell me pizza. Get the fuck out of here Papa John. I’d rather eat mozzarella sprinkled on a frisbee than eat that crap. “Better Ingredients, better pizza” Papa Johns. Your pie costs $5.99 bro. Stop! Hire Giada De Laurentiis, Lydia or the mother of Joe Pesci in Goodfellas if you want to sell me pal.
2. JG Wentworth. Get cash now. Yeah ok JG. Cut the crap. Unless I’m backed by a 987 Fico score and have 27 million in the bank, you ain’t giving me shit. At that point why would I need you anyway. Hiring an overweight opera singer in a viking hat riding a bus will not make me think of you first for a loan. I’ll stick to the shy-larks on the street.
1. The Sarah McLachlan animal rescue commercial. Stop. That dog actor should win an Oscar. Those sad puppy eyes and the fact it could only cost me .53 cents per day to save him has me sobbing uncontrollably. The amount of guilt I’m consumed by as Sarah’s lullaby serenades me crushes my emotions & inspires me. I didn’t feed my family for a month straight so that dog could eat. That message is powerful.