Stupid Advertising Tricks...
...Or excuse me sir my burger is talking to me.
The other night I found myself situated in front of the boob tube, watching Home Videos on Cartoon Network. Now this is not a normal activity for me, I try to keep as far away from the idiot box as humanly possible, but I find that Cartoon Network has some of the funniest new animated shows around and I allow myself this small period of time to be hit by radiation all the while being entertained by shows I should have given up on 10 years ago. But I digress; it was in between shows when an old feeling started creeping up my spine. I had this anger, this rage, and hurt against the TV, I was indeed feeling insulted by it. Well not by it itself, the series of tubes and chips that are designed to carry the signal to the screen really can't be blamed. Rather it was what was on it. A man in a well-tailored business suit is at the car wash to have it indeed cleaned. The young attendant asks if he's like the interior clean. Quick cut (note, in commercials all cuts are quick because the human mind only holds an attention span of 3 seconds, unless of course you're a politician then it's about .3 seconds.) A quick cut is made and we see this obviously well tailored and apparently well-educated man, ponder over this decision the way one would ponder a life or death situation, then he opens the car door and steps out. When BAM! About 3 dozen white castle boxes fall out of the car behind him. He simply smiles and tells the young man, "No thanks" then cheerily walks off, most likely to the nearest rest room, so he can unload himself before his intestines shrivel up and die. Cut to black, where an omniscient voice tells us "Oh yeah, he's one of ours." Cut back to the kid who stands there, smiles and nods his head, signaling to us that he's also in on this whole secret little sect of society that !daily! gorges themselves on mini-burgers that aren't even fit for catholic high school cafeterias.
So now, where to begin is the question? Okay here's one: Who is this omniscient narrator proclaiming proudly that HE'S one of OUR'S!, I think we can safely rule out all of the God's in most eastern and western religions, well okay maybe the Roman God's might have one, they stole all of their gods from other religions anyway, so I'm sure during a drunken orgy someone joked about Disentarias, the god of bowel movement, and the Roman's took it as a great idea. I however doubt that they would get someone of that magnitude to come down and do a quick commercial for White Castle, he's some form of demigod he could at least hold out until the superbowl to start plugging himself.
Then there's the statement alone. "he/she's one of ours." So is that to mean that others aren't. Is there some sort of initiation to enter, a hazing perhaps? Is it akin to joining a fraternity? Perhaps, I think it might even be worse, most frats only ask you to swallow one or two goldfish, white castle however asks that you regularly consume, their burger-substitute patties, maybe even on a daily basis. Sorry but if I'm not being invited to a party whose guest speaker is irritable bowels, and the MCee is gastric distress I can live with it. Of course however the fast food industry has always thought of their customers as people who have bowling shoes with higher numbers then their IQ's. Think back to other tricks of the trade. Remember the MCDLT? With the separate non-biodegradable Styrofoam containers that kept the hot side hot, and the cool side cool? Wow weren't those a waste. Anyone who's eaten at a McDonalds, and partaken in one of these sandwhichwannabe's, know for a fact that all the container did was a small holder to put your fries and ketchup in, instead of on the placemat. Both sides still both felt like they needed to be put in the microwave for a few more seconds. Their claim was that it kept the lettuce, crispy, which during that time was important, because it was before McDonalds decided to stop playing the illusion and just started putting green pieces of cardboard paper between the patty and condiments. One wonders what next they'll try and shovel off to us during late night TV.
Considering the trend to take ideas from earlier generations perhaps they will do the same and use "better Off Dead" as the jumping point. Remember the scene where John Cusack creates the walking, talking, guitar strumming, head banging rock and roll burger? No doubt someone somewhere in some exec room will think this is brilliant.
Some CEO who makes more money than God: You know I still get a kick out of that yo quiero taco bell dog, but we need something new, something to scare the parents, get kids hooked.
New Ad guy: A suave talking camel?
SCEOWMMMTG: No, no we already used that one to get kids to smoke. We gotta think of something else.
NAG: Hey how about a talking burger.
SCEOWMMMTG: Kid, I don't know your name, and I think you're ugly but you're going places, get ILM, let's film this mutha.
Ugh, and this happens everyday, really it does! Trust me on it. Of course this might cause fast food vendors to mess around even more with genetics, think of the overhead they could save if they just made food that served itself.
Me at a fast food joint: Hi, I'd like a... Jesus GOD! What sort of freak are you!!
Burger: Me? I'm the manager, how can I help you today?
Me: Oh god, this is like out of a twilight zone episode. How can you talk?
Burger: (yells to the back) hey guys I'm gonna take a break in five minutes, I need to go smoke myself. (To me) So what is it you want sir, might I recommend the number 4, Yves will make a delicious main course.
Me: ummm.
Yves: (looks up from his post at drive through) Yo!
Me: Do you have any food that isn't currently alive?
Burger: Well there was chuck, he died yesterday, was moving a bunch of french fries from the deep frier to under the heat lamps, when the newbie over there. (I glance over to see a burger sweeping up the floor, his face covered with pimples (sesame seeds?), he turns away embarrassed. Trips over his feet and knocks poor chuck into the damn frier (Manager burger begins digging around in his ear, with his grossly deformed oversized Mickey Mouse gloved hand.) So yeah what'll it be again?
Me: I think I'm just going to have water.
This of course would make happy meals even more interesting. "Honey stop playing with your food and bite it's mutant head off."
Check please, table one!
The other night I found myself situated in front of the boob tube, watching Home Videos on Cartoon Network. Now this is not a normal activity for me, I try to keep as far away from the idiot box as humanly possible, but I find that Cartoon Network has some of the funniest new animated shows around and I allow myself this small period of time to be hit by radiation all the while being entertained by shows I should have given up on 10 years ago. But I digress; it was in between shows when an old feeling started creeping up my spine. I had this anger, this rage, and hurt against the TV, I was indeed feeling insulted by it. Well not by it itself, the series of tubes and chips that are designed to carry the signal to the screen really can't be blamed. Rather it was what was on it. A man in a well-tailored business suit is at the car wash to have it indeed cleaned. The young attendant asks if he's like the interior clean. Quick cut (note, in commercials all cuts are quick because the human mind only holds an attention span of 3 seconds, unless of course you're a politician then it's about .3 seconds.) A quick cut is made and we see this obviously well tailored and apparently well-educated man, ponder over this decision the way one would ponder a life or death situation, then he opens the car door and steps out. When BAM! About 3 dozen white castle boxes fall out of the car behind him. He simply smiles and tells the young man, "No thanks" then cheerily walks off, most likely to the nearest rest room, so he can unload himself before his intestines shrivel up and die. Cut to black, where an omniscient voice tells us "Oh yeah, he's one of ours." Cut back to the kid who stands there, smiles and nods his head, signaling to us that he's also in on this whole secret little sect of society that !daily! gorges themselves on mini-burgers that aren't even fit for catholic high school cafeterias.
So now, where to begin is the question? Okay here's one: Who is this omniscient narrator proclaiming proudly that HE'S one of OUR'S!, I think we can safely rule out all of the God's in most eastern and western religions, well okay maybe the Roman God's might have one, they stole all of their gods from other religions anyway, so I'm sure during a drunken orgy someone joked about Disentarias, the god of bowel movement, and the Roman's took it as a great idea. I however doubt that they would get someone of that magnitude to come down and do a quick commercial for White Castle, he's some form of demigod he could at least hold out until the superbowl to start plugging himself.
Then there's the statement alone. "he/she's one of ours." So is that to mean that others aren't. Is there some sort of initiation to enter, a hazing perhaps? Is it akin to joining a fraternity? Perhaps, I think it might even be worse, most frats only ask you to swallow one or two goldfish, white castle however asks that you regularly consume, their burger-substitute patties, maybe even on a daily basis. Sorry but if I'm not being invited to a party whose guest speaker is irritable bowels, and the MCee is gastric distress I can live with it. Of course however the fast food industry has always thought of their customers as people who have bowling shoes with higher numbers then their IQ's. Think back to other tricks of the trade. Remember the MCDLT? With the separate non-biodegradable Styrofoam containers that kept the hot side hot, and the cool side cool? Wow weren't those a waste. Anyone who's eaten at a McDonalds, and partaken in one of these sandwhichwannabe's, know for a fact that all the container did was a small holder to put your fries and ketchup in, instead of on the placemat. Both sides still both felt like they needed to be put in the microwave for a few more seconds. Their claim was that it kept the lettuce, crispy, which during that time was important, because it was before McDonalds decided to stop playing the illusion and just started putting green pieces of cardboard paper between the patty and condiments. One wonders what next they'll try and shovel off to us during late night TV.
Considering the trend to take ideas from earlier generations perhaps they will do the same and use "better Off Dead" as the jumping point. Remember the scene where John Cusack creates the walking, talking, guitar strumming, head banging rock and roll burger? No doubt someone somewhere in some exec room will think this is brilliant.
Some CEO who makes more money than God: You know I still get a kick out of that yo quiero taco bell dog, but we need something new, something to scare the parents, get kids hooked.
New Ad guy: A suave talking camel?
SCEOWMMMTG: No, no we already used that one to get kids to smoke. We gotta think of something else.
NAG: Hey how about a talking burger.
SCEOWMMMTG: Kid, I don't know your name, and I think you're ugly but you're going places, get ILM, let's film this mutha.
Ugh, and this happens everyday, really it does! Trust me on it. Of course this might cause fast food vendors to mess around even more with genetics, think of the overhead they could save if they just made food that served itself.
Me at a fast food joint: Hi, I'd like a... Jesus GOD! What sort of freak are you!!
Burger: Me? I'm the manager, how can I help you today?
Me: Oh god, this is like out of a twilight zone episode. How can you talk?
Burger: (yells to the back) hey guys I'm gonna take a break in five minutes, I need to go smoke myself. (To me) So what is it you want sir, might I recommend the number 4, Yves will make a delicious main course.
Me: ummm.
Yves: (looks up from his post at drive through) Yo!
Me: Do you have any food that isn't currently alive?
Burger: Well there was chuck, he died yesterday, was moving a bunch of french fries from the deep frier to under the heat lamps, when the newbie over there. (I glance over to see a burger sweeping up the floor, his face covered with pimples (sesame seeds?), he turns away embarrassed. Trips over his feet and knocks poor chuck into the damn frier (Manager burger begins digging around in his ear, with his grossly deformed oversized Mickey Mouse gloved hand.) So yeah what'll it be again?
Me: I think I'm just going to have water.
This of course would make happy meals even more interesting. "Honey stop playing with your food and bite it's mutant head off."
Check please, table one!