Snuggling up to Stupid Commercials

My son and I have been arguing a lot lately about commercials, the stupidest commercials on television, to be exact.

It's all boiled down to this: Big City Slidder Station vs. Snuggie.

I'm going with Big City Slidder Station. This small burger press is the latest in the museum of absurd products endorsed by infomercial pitchman extraordinaire Billy Mays. Mays may have been onto something with that orange cleaner stuff, but things have really dried up since then, as evidenced by "The Hercules Hook" and "Mighty Puddy."

Now, he's pitching the Big City Slidder Station, a contraption that apparently shapes and cooks Whitecastle-like hamburgers. My favorite part of the commercial is when Billy shows us an old-fashioned hamburger literally flying out of the pan like a greased meteorite. Damned dangerous malformed burgers!

It's a terrible commercial, but my son, Trent, argues that the Snuggie commercial is even worse. The Snuggie is basically a blanket with arm holes, giving cold consumers an amazing combination of warmth and dexterity. After all, you have to be Houdini-like to escape from those strangling traditional blankets.

Additionally, the Snuggie has the terrific side effect of making anyone who wears it look like a Catholic priest or a wizard from Harry Potter. After a recent airing of the commercial, Trent said blithely, "Ever hear of a robe?"

That's the big problem with these commercials. They represent products that solve nonexistent problems. I've somehow gotten by all these years by patting out my own hamburgers. How uncivilized! I don’t dress like a wizard, yet I'm warm.

It makes me wonder who buys these things. I'm thinking only somebody who would pay with those Obama silver dollars.

Shoe Toss Heard Around the World

Why is it more people aren't outraged by an attempted assault on the president of the United States? That's a question I've been asking myself a lot lately in the wake of the shoe toss heard around the world.

Following are some of the comments I've heard, from educated people, no less:

1. Too bad he didn't hit him
2. Should've thrown a brick
3. Stuff that makes the first two comments seem tasteful

The same people who would be begging for police protection if someone hurled even an insult at them, find this incident acceptable -- or even merited. Worse yet, they delight in it, as if Bush finally got what was coming to him.

News coverage of the event seems mostly intent on embarrassing the president.

Over the last several years, I've heard a lot about supposed hate speech bred by right-wing commentators. Apparently, hate speech cuts both ways, as evidenced by the way some people embrace this zealot and his lawlessness.

As I've said already, this wasn't an innocent case of free expression in my book. It was an outright attempt to injure our commander in chief. Wonder how many people would stand for a loved one being attacked with a shoe?

I applaud President Bush for his measured response -- as well as his quick reflexes.

Even if you don't like Bush, our president deserves respect, regardless of whether you voted for him or agree with his party or policies. We'll all be reminded of that soon enough, just not until Obama takes the oath.

They Don't Always Live Happily Ever After

I was pondering my favorite movies the other day when I noticed an alarming trend. If you’re the lead actor in one of my favorite flicks, your days are probably numbered.

From Cool Hand Luke to One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest, the lead actors in my favorite movies don’t usually make it to the closing credits. I’m one of those guys who wished they had whacked Tony Soprano. Thinking about a sequel? Fughgetaboutit!

I’m not sure what this says about me. Perhaps, I watch movies for an emotional release … and there’s nothing more gut-wrenching than watching the lead pay the ultimate price.

Let me give you an example. There’s a move called In the Line of Fire. In it, Clint Eastwood plays the only Secret Service agent ever to lose a president (JFK). It’s the ultimate tale of redemption as Eastwood sacrifices everything to save the current commander in chief.
Of course, Clint saves the president, gets the girl and lives to fight another day. It’s a decent movie, but it could be better. To me, there was a more challenging – and perhaps more fitting – ending. In my version, Clint takes the bullet … and the Oscar!

Don’t worry. Clint got it right in another movie, Million Dollar Baby.

I don’t know why I don’t enjoy a traditional “happily ever after” ending. It’s probably my mom’s fault. After all, she’s the one who took me to Charlotte’s Web.

I'm as Cuddly as a Cactus

The Courier-Journal has had a lot of fun with the recent controversy involving Dr. Seuss Enterprises and the City of Louisville. Dr. Seuss Enterprises sent the city a cease and desist letter because it planned to use characters from “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” in an annual Christmas celebration.

No word yet on whether the letter was delivered by Thing 1 or Thing 2.

Regardless, according to the C-J, this amounts to Grinch-like activity. If that’s the case, then I’m as cuddly as a cactus, too.

As a writer, I appreciate the value of copyrighted material. I wouldn’t take kindly to someone taking my intellectual property and using it as their own, which is exactly what the city intended to do. (Writer's note: I am, however, available for the right price).

Sure it’s flattering, but flattery don’t pay the bills.

This is no different than illegally downloading music or presenting a play without the playwright’s permission. In fact, the C-J won’t let you reproduce their stories with immunity either. Those guys must have garlic in their souls, too.

While it’s not great public relations, Dr. Seuss Enterprises has to aggressively police its brand. Otherwise, every city in America will be brimming with unauthorized Grinchs. Nobody wants that kind of havoc.

In closing, some might call the whole thing rather Mickey Mouse. Not me. I don’t want to get a letter from the Walt Disney Company.

Rachel Ray: Gone to the Dogs

Rachel Ray is peddling a “super premium” dog food called Nutrish. To me, this symbolizes everything wrong with Ray and her chief benefactor, Oprah Winfrey.

First, there’s the oh-so-cute name -- Nutrish. It reminds me of the way Ray refers to extra virgin olive oil as EVOO. A few other definitions from Rachel Ray’s “Dictionary of the Adorable” include “fav” for favorite and “veggies” for vegetables. For most of us, this stops being cute around age six.

Maybe I’m just an old fuddy-duddy, but I’ve always taken the English language pretty seriously. So this kind of stuff just TMT – turns my tummy.

Secondly, there’s the presumption that Ray knows what dogs should be eating. Call me crazy, but maybe that decision is better left to a veterinarian rather than a perky television talk show host.

What’s next? Kelly Ripa’s tips on animal husbandry.

It shouldn’t surprise me, though. Oprah and her crew have already told us who to vote for, what to read, how to communicate, how to feel, what to eat, what not to eat, what to wear and what not to wear.

Now the doghouse is not even safe from Oprah’s influence.

I don’t know why I’m getting so exercised about this. After all, I don’t even have dogs. But if I did, they’d get nothing but Alpo.