This guy- I don't know what his name is, and I refuse to learn it. All I know is this smug-looking douchebag has ruined television for me by forcibly inserting his cheap, Tom Cruise-knockoff bullshit into every commercial break I try so patiently to ignore while I wait for Top Gear to come back on so I can watch Jeremy Clarkson strap a St. Bernard to a rocket and fire it into a lake filled with caramel while disguising it as a test in "dog-happiness-focused-candy-saturated-fuel-efficiency." Seriously, I get really into shows I actually like, and that makes it all the more painful when this cockhat decides to pop up to interrupt me with his awful fucking awkward dialogue with whatever poor stiff they glued to the seat next to him. First it was that ambling, coffee house fuckabout where he spent fifteen fucking minutes holding the door and dodging between tables as people fled from him like a god damned plague rat. I'd run too if I heard this assbag strolling towards me, speech full of pauses more pregnant than a bus full of Catholic schoolgirls. But I guess someone must have told him that people tend to doze off when you wait six eons between lines, so they came up with these HILARIOUS spots where they duct tape him to some photogenic agent and force the two of them to trip over each others' dialogue. I'm sure they had to practice for a while to get the timing of this delivery down pat, but I wish someone had explained to them that no matter how carefully you practice and polish a shit fucking commercial, you can still only hope to wind up with a smoothly-running shit fucking commercial. If, by some miracle, this guy is reading this post right now, please write me a letter explaining to me who you are and how you got this job. Then promptly tell that letter to piss off and fire yourself into the sun.But I actually don't hate...
A small selection of other advertisements- Commercials can be funny, but I don't want to point out any specifics because I feel like that would be encouraging them as a genre. Imagine, if you will, a classroom full of homicidal delinquent children who are given scissors and glue for some sort of lame arts-and-crafts project. If one of them should happen to cut and sculpt another one's hair into the shape of a gigantic, erect phallus it would clearly be awesome, but you certainly can't encourage the little bastard because then everyone will think it's okay to go apeshit in the name of artistic license. I may be stretching this metaphor as thin as it can possibly go, but I would like to save this article in the last minute by pointing out that the image of the wiener to the left came up in Google when I searched for "state farm guy." At least someone's got the right idea.
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