Buy this! And look stupid about it!

Advertisers are cynical, calculating and vacuous beings.  Similarly, they’re cunning.  Advertisers have achieved preternatural mind-harvesting powers in recent years.  They can overwhelm those aware of their ruse.  Have you ever found yourself thinking: gee, that’s a cool ad

“Gotcha bitch!” as Dave Chappele would say.

That’s what they do.  They get ya, you bitch.

But here’s something that cannot stand any longer.

Advertisers must stop making all men mindless dolts.  I get it, a primary pillar of advertising theory proclaims that women control the purse strings.

Let me repeat, women determine the day-to-day financial decisions in what is deemed socially acceptable as human coupling.

That should piss you off.  Advertisers are basically saying, suck it guys. But they’re doing it – without even realizing – in the most cynical and socially destructive way possible.

Advertisers imply that women are naturally spenders.  Shoppers.  Grocery-purchasers and thing-getters.  In a word, housewives.  The replaying of this Shakespearean foible ad nauseum serves to reinforce this social role.  Perhaps that’s too deep of a read.  But fuck them, and don’t you start defending advertisers against whatever whimsical evil I desire to pin them with.

There’s a couple ads on TV at the moment that turn my piss into liter-fluid that’s already on fire.  Yes, it burns me, that’s why it’s such a big deal that I try and get these problems addressed by the right people.

1) Yogurt commercial: fuck you.  I’m a man, and I eat yogurt, with homemade granola and fresh fruit.  Better yet, I’m picky about which yogurt and granola I eat.  And you read that shit right, I said home-fucking-made granola. You know what else I do? Fuck women.  I’ll let your head reassemble before I continue.

You know the commercial I’m talking about.  Jogging-sweats lady is on the phone talking about eating pie, cake and donut cream filing.  Her dolt boyfriend – who does not have a speaking role: hint, like real life – overhears this conversation and rummages through the fridge, deliberately bypassing the cake-flavored yogurt.  I won’t even get into this jogging-woman’s inability to consume curdled dairy unless it tastes like fried dough stuffed with Boston crème custard.

Hey advertiser! Don’t act like I haven’t seen the reversal of that commercial where dolt boyfriend is on the phone talking about eating cake, pie, and custard all the time.  And never gaining weight!  Presumably, dolt boyfriend is doing this while his male-friend on the phone is urinating uncontrollably because he’s laughing so hard at what a faggot his friend is being. [1]

I bet there’s a reason I only saw that version once.

2) What about this shittily-made Rhapsody commercial where the sweaty boyfriend is making monkey-faces about monthly fees for music.  Apparently he was running in a grey sweaty tank-top with cutoff somethings on his legs.  Look.  I lived not that far from South Beach in Miami.  I’ve seen gay.

You weren’t even being quaint or ironic this time advertisers.  You might as well have had retard Jim elbow deep up his own nose digging for brain nuggets while his sharply dressed girlfriend pitched your product.

But hey, you’ve got a job to do.  I get it.  I can play capitalist with you.

But ladies.  Remember, your role in life is to spend money on bullshit to fill a void in your soul.

Because if  you had the wherewithal to set your mind to something and the ambition to succeed at a career, these advertisers might not be interested in you.  Advertisers want you to stay on the couch, flipping through magazines while watching the talky box.  They’re invested in the status quo.

Maybe one day, ladies, you’ll break those chains and earn all the money and us guys will get to spend it.  Wouldn’t that be swell?

[1] Now that’s funny right thar! I don’t care who you are.  No seriously, I made myself laugh for a good minute when I thought of that. Goddamnit I’m awesome.


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