The Real Thing

Just a little Keeley Hazell, to clear BB9's Chelsia and Survivor's Natalie out of my brain.

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When Good Ads Go Bad

There are some great Cadillac commercials.  You know the ones I mean: the ones with Kate Walsh.  They are the sexiest, most arresting ads on the air.  They get the message across, and I never FF through them.

These ads are incredible.  Used to be, when I thought Cadillac, I thought either NBA or Del Boca Vista.  After these ads, all my dreams involved Cadillacs, Kate Walsh, and variations on the phrase "rack and pinion". 

But then Cadillac went all weird on me. Look at this ad:

How is it possible to take the muy caliente Sofia Vergara and make an ad as irritating as this one? First of all, it's a straw man: I don't believe that statistic one bit. Second of all, it undercuts Sofia's argument -- that women have more substantial concerns than cupholders -- when she extols the plaid leather trim. I think cupholders are a much bigger consideration than plaid leather trim, but what do I know?

Speaking of trim, if you are going to film Sofia Vergara and put her on my TV at every break, you had damn well better get that goddamn steering wheel out of the way.  I have a tremendous interest in, er, "cupholders" and in this commercial I cannot see them.  

Still, I was willing to give Cadillac the benefit of the doubt.  After all, any company that shares my love of Kate Walsh and Sofia Vergara gets the okus dokus from me.

But then they went and commenced me to head-scratchin':

I apologize to this actor, but I have no idea who he is.  I only know that I find his eyebrows disturbing, and his lust for hot windshield wiper fluid downright scary.  I also know that the last thing I want to imagine is him going to the bathroom in a car.  I mean, really?  Seriously?  This is the "takeaway" Cadillac intended?  That the car is nice enough to shit in??

There's even a sequel to this commercial, wherein Johnny Eyebrows quotes Martin Mull -- without crediting Martin Mull -- by saying life is like high school with money.   (From looking at him, I'm thinking life is like high school with a Dirty Sanchez on your forehead.)  With one smear cocked, he wonders "what the cool kids are talking about."  I can guarantee you, what makes the cool kids cool is that they don't talk about shitting in their cars.

Cadillac, I demand more Kate and Sofia, and less of this Man of Magnesia.  

Ask a Stupid Question...

Over and over this week, I've seen polls cited, showing that 40%, 50%, 60%, 20%, 10% -- pick a number -- agree with a statement like the following:

"The Reverend Wright controversy has damaged Barack Obama's campaign."

Okay.

I agree with that statement.  I believe Rev. Screwy Von Nutjob has damaged Obama's campaign.  However, it has not in any way changed my mind about Obama or about voting for him.  

Think about it: even the most die-hard Obamaniac agrees it's damaged his campaign.  But still plans to vote for him.  Because the poll is essentially asking, "Do you think other people are stupider than you?"  

Answer?  Yes.

And if you hate Obama?  Then you're being asked, "Do you think other people are coming around to your way of thinking?"  Who could say no to that?  (Unless of course they're the kind of idiots who hate Obama, a perfectly competent and reasonable man.)

It's a meaningless question, designed to do nothing but inflate nothing into "something" so people can talk about it.

I wish some other country would either destabilize our "democracy" or stabilize it.  Because it ain't working as is.

Food for Thought. Crazy, Crazy Thought.

The weird shark attacks this week got me to thinking... and that's never a good thing.

Anyway, I had a cat that started acting nuts one morning and made a friend go see what was wrong... seconds before an earthquake hit and a huge TV fell right where she was sitting.  She surely would have been terribly injured had she moved just one second later.

Well...  the last time sharks started going mental, 9/11 happened.

I'm just saying...

Requiem for a Presidential Dream

Watching Bush's press conference this morning, I am filled with a terrible sadness.  Bush is scary petulant when it comes to drilling in ANWR.

The simplest way to say it... the way I think we can all understand... is that we as a nation have a terrible addiction to oil.  And Alaska is our poor mother's last valuable possession, her wedding ring.  And Bush is telling us, "Shhh, she's asleep.  Let's go up there, steal that ring and sell it."

Instead why don't we just kick the habit?  Isn't that obvious?  Why don't they see that?

Little Big Brother

What a disappointing, lame, pathetic season of Big Brother. A trainwreck. A collection of half-wit losers that made Flavor of Love look like Jeopardy.

I'm fairly certain that on House Calls and The Early Show the contestants won't be asked the questions I want to have answered, so here they are, just for kicks:

Adam, without using your fingers, can you tell me what five plus two is? The truth now, do you have "R" and "L" painted on your shoes? And do you consider yourself more of a "moron" or an "imbecile"?

Ryan, do you seriously think growing a beard in the middle of your cheeks fools any of us into thinking you don't have a round face? Maybe you could move your eyebrows to the top of your head, so we don't think you're losing your hair. And Jen, the girlfriend who called you a racist behind your back on national TV? You're seriously not dumping her? Can you take the fifty thousand and buy some balls, please?

Sheila, do you think it would have helped you win the game if you had won, oh I don't know, even one competition? (And no, it doesn't count as winning if two people have to forfeit to give it to you.) Don't you think it's a bad strategy for a player to go into every competition telling other players they've "got to win this for me"? That they have to "have your back"? Why didn't you simply step up and have your own front? Your sad, shopworn front?

Sharon, have a lot of your boyfriends asked you for oral sex? Or asked to put a gag in your mouth? Or asked you to take a pill to "relax" you? You realize it's not because you're hot, it's because they want to shut you up, right? I mean, you can't possibly think any man ever wants to hear that shrill, lisping, braying voice of yours, right?

Also, congrats on your look at the finale. I didn't know there was such a thing as "spray-on tranny."

Chelsia, I know you know to put on makeup in the morning, but you do know you're allowed to occasionally take it off at night, right? I mean, if we cut your head in half, could we tell your age by counting the layers of makeup? And can we cut your head in half? Please? Also, thanks for wearing that outfit you wore on the finale. I always wondered if there was a dress that simultaneously said "wrestler thighs" and "ten dollar bus depot blow job."

And one more question, Chelsia: do you prefer "cooze" or "mega-cooze"?

Josh, same question.

James, when you kiss Chelsia, is it because her smeary makeup and tree-trunk legs make it easy to pretend she's a man in drag? I guess what I'm asking, James, is if your family knows you're gay, and also if you know you're gay. Because you really are gay. Seriously.

Also, James, what will you spend your $25K on? An amphibious bicycle for your around-the-world bike trip? Or a buttload of gay porn?

And for the Big Brother producers: Now that the season is over, how much Lysol will it take to rid the house of the stench of body odor, desperation and Adam? And do you realize that if you had left the grand prize vote up to the viewers, Evel Dick would have won in a write-in landslide? Will you please promise us this summer's season will be good enough to make us forget this awful season? And failing that, will you at least release the superb Season 6 on DVD, so we'll have something good to watch?

And Julie Chen, if you get a chance, will you please cut Chelsia's head in half? And tell James he's gay?

Thanks.