Like many Americans, I’ve had a couch grafted to my posterior the past few days watching the Big 10 Invitational (also known as the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament).
And while the stress of KU’s escape from Purdue, the schadenfreude of seeing certain other schools lose, and the ramblings of Sir Charles Barkley have taken their toll on my heart and brain, it’s the commercials that are the cause of my own personal March Madness.
Without further ado, here is my own semi-professional critique of Madison Avenue’s contribution to my mental illness:
Seeing Peter Frampton stand in with the neighborhood bar band didn’t make me want a Buick, but did lead me to seek out Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band on Netflix, a film I remember liking when I was a kid. Bad idea. I could only handle about 30 minutes of the young Frampton with the Bee Gee’s. The highlight of the film for me was George Burns’ cover of “Fixing a Hole.”
As my long-suffering wife will tell you, I’m not the only over-the-hill teenager who enjoys belting out, “I bought a ticket to the Wor-or-orld! But now I’ve come back again!” every time “True” comes on the stereo. But how depressing to think I’m now the target audience for a Chevy hybrid sedan. There’s a middle age gut-punch if I’ve ever taken one.
I’m thinking a night on the town with Allstate’s Mayhem guy would likely end up in either the drunk tank or at the Free Clinic. I don’t know whether I should buy insurance or just turn off my cell phone, cancel my Facebook account and hide in the basement.
Mayhem is light years better than Allstate’s other campaign, although I do think it would be really cool to walk around with Dennis Haysbert’s voice for a day. (Especially if it was the voice of Pedro Cerrano.)
I’m thrilled for the Domino’s manager in Findlay, Ohio who came up with the idea to serve up leftover shards of dough covered with cheese, but I’d hardly place Parmesan Bread Bites on par with a cure for cancer. You can put feathers on a dog and call it a duck, but I’m still not going to order one of your pizzas. I guess folks have a lot of spare time in Findlay these days.
I think Wego the rescue dog would have been better off at the pound (or maybe even “living on a big farm in the countryside where he can run around with all the other dogs”). I mean, is it right to take an abused animal and force him to be your own personal enabler?
There are still two weekends to go. Which ads do you love to hate?