Uncle.

This commercial says to me that Citibank customers are complete defeatists. It seems to me that Andy still could have rescued that omelet, but at the first sign of trouble he just caves and surrenders to scrambled eggs. I'm not a cook, so I may be wrong. But since nobody, save one, seems to have an idea of how to write to me with compliments (yeah, right) or complaints, I don't have to worry about being contradicted.

A ripping good ending.

I hate easy, painless deaths. Not for myself and most people, mind you. But for villains in the movies. Nothing annoys me more than watching a movie where there is a vindictive, sadistic villain who performs unspeakable crimes against the hero and anyone else who comes across his path. Then during the denouement, he is killed by the hero by any number of plot devices and and dies instantly without ever suffering for more than a second. Why do they do that? A villain should know that he's about to die. It should be slow and painful and he should be fully aware that the hero has won and all his evil is being punished and there is no escape from his (or her) fate. An example of a good death is in the Elmore Leonard film 52 Pick-up (1986) when the evil character played by John Glover is locked in a car which he knows is soon to explode. He is terrified and unable to escape the vehicle. Boom. Great death. Another classic horrifying death is in my favorite Alfred Hitchcock film Saboteur (1942). In this case our villain, Fry, played by Norman Lloyd has slipped while trying to kill our hero Robert Cummings and is is dangling from the top of the Statue of Liberty. Our noble hero is foolishly trying to rescue him by tightly grasping his jacket sleeve. But he can see and so can our villain that the stitches are slowly ripping apart and soon Fry will be falling to his death to the viewers delight and the horror of tourists below. Now that's how villains should meet their death, terrified and fully aware. I felt the need to write this post today after watching a new film in which the despicable hero had an annoying instant death. What was the film? Sorry, that would be a spoiler.

NEW: 5% Cashback at Restaurants - Discover Card Commercial

This Discover spot is one of the commercials that after you've seen it once, you never want to see it again. I hate rhyming commercials anyway since most of them are done by hacks. For instance "seafood" and "fondue" don't rhyme. Whoever does Discover advertising lacks focus anyway. The Peggy concept was good, but has gone downhill since we first saw it. Actually I'm surprised there still is a Discover card. I don't know a single person who uses one.

Does he or doesn't he?

Only in recent years have men been so willing to admit they dye their hair. Despite that there are still many men walking around with grey or white hair that would look years younger if they got a dye job. We're not talking about the Cary Grant types who look fabulous with grey or salt and pepper hair, but people like me who just look old. Or did. Recently on vacation, I went to a salon in Boston and had my hair dyed. The stylist wasn't happy with the first color which was too light and redid it. I was very pleased and within days I actually felt different. I wouldn't say younger, but just more confident and less grandfatherly. Within a month I was once again grey and far away from that excellent salon. So I went to Supercuts in Miami. They couldn't mix the exact formula, but they chose a color that was close and I was, once again, pleased. The only problem was that my scalp itched for days, which I discovered by checking the internet is not that unusual. I should mention that I had tried home colors in the past, in fact several different brands. For some reason none of them took. I followed the instructions, wore the gloves, waited the right amount of time and when I shampooed, voila! grey. What's the point of this post? It's that men should learn what women have known for years. Not having grey hair makes you feel better about yourself and you should try it at least once. Of course you won't feel better if the color you choose is too black, too fake, or even too reddish (always a giveaway). You need to get something close to the color you once had before that shrew Mother Nature took it away.

I started Christmas watching the ending of the worst, most unbelievable movie I have ever seen, starring one of the worst actors who ever made a huge success out of having no talent or charisma at all. The movie: Evan Almighty. The actor: Steve Carell. I can't even imagine how a film let like this gets made. I couldn't possibly have been any better in script form. And if one were foolish enough to film it, why not choose an actor who had some kind of skill in making the absurd believable. Instead they chose Carell, who looks like any man off the street, has an ordinary voice and is about as bland as any actor can be. The only reason one noticed him at all in this film is because they gave him white hair and beard and robe and staff. I only wish I could talk to other actors in this film like John Goodman and Wanda Sykes to see how they felt about playing minor roles to someone so mediocre. I'm so glad I have a blog that nobody seems to respond to because I am sure there are those who actually believe Steve Carell has some talent and I can say here that he absolutely does not.

BEST COMMERCIAL OF THE YEAR.

I haven't decided yet what I personally feel is the best. Stay tuned.

WORST COMMERCIALS OF THE YEAR

Since it is the end of the year, I think I might as well choose the worst commercial of the year. In this case, to me, this (or rather these) are the worst commercials of every year. When I looked FreeCreditReprot up on YouTube there were nine entries. Since I couldn't possibly stomach watching more than one, I chose the first one I saw, which may not be the latest. I don't know what it is that makes these intrusive commercials so sickeningly repulsive: the awful songs, the creepy singer, the joy of their own mediocrity, but I always change the channel. I have also read that the company itself is a scam which only makes me hate these commercials even more. In a year of hundreds of really bad commercials, there are none I find more offensive than these.

Your New Year's Assignment.

Now play close attention. I like writing this blog and god knows I have a million opinions on everything. (Like god should be in lower case if you're an atheist, which I am.) But I am beginning to feel a bit foolish because I am getting so few hits. This is becoming more of a journal than a blog. So, here's where you come in. For starters nobody seems to write any responses other than my much-admired other blogger My Cats are Democrats which you should be reading regularly because it's absolutely brilliant and makes my blog seem pathetically immature and petulant. Despite that, if you enjoy my mostly cranky blog, I'd like you to recommend it to your friends, or your enemies. Even if you don't enjoy it, recommend it. Now there's no sense in recommending it to Republicans because I detest them and it's obvious. But Democrats or Independents will find lots to like. If you have any friends in advertising, give them the address. In fact, give it to lots of people. Write it on rest room walls. Slip the address into a pile of slacks when you're shopping. I don't care how you get the word out, just do it. Otherwise I will have to write one of those tear-jerking, "This is my last post" posts and none of us want that. Do we?

Note: Obviously this photo is a complete fraud. I haven't looked like that in decades. Also the IBM Selectric is a dead giveaway. So that sort of deception is kind of annoying. On the other hand, think of it this way. It's the only photo I have, proving that I am not some vain egomaniac who is forever leaping in front of a camera. In fact, if you knew me we would probably be the best of friends. So why wouldn't you want to help one of your best friends get a bit more traffic on his blog. I hate laying guilt on people, but am counting on you, and only you, to get those stats numbers up. And if they remain the same I'll know just who to blame and be terribly disappointed.

Where Will I Be Next Christmas?

The good news this week is that the war is over in Iraq and the soldiers are coming home. Sadly we are still fighting in Afghanistan so it's not good news for everybody. This Christmas song was written by John Dusenberry and me last year when America was still fighting two wars. It's not really a war song, but this seemed an appropriate visual theme this year when so many soldiers are still asking where they will be next Christmas.

Separated at birth.

Am I the only person that thinks the young Peter Billingsly looks like Karl Rove must have looked as a child. The big difference is that Peter grew up to be a very handsome guy and Rove is just a pudgy, weak-chinned, warmongering, meddling old queen.

Animal Amistad?

I know this commercial is supposed to funny, whimsical and adorable. But I find it creepy and bizarre. Here we have an African American who, in order to save on his electric bill, has turned guinea pigs into slaves. He trains them to row a boat, something I imagine actual slaves did in early America. All right, it's a stretch, but that's how it hits me. Also, loving animals as I do, I find nothing amusing about using animals as labor, even if they are rodents.

This post is not as Bah Humbug as you may think. As many readers know I have a pet peeve about mispronunciations, especially by newspeople who are paid huge amounts to speak correctly. Christmas brings with it a particularly annoying misspeak. This doggerel addresses it.

There is no Santa Claus.

In this festive season,
I wish broadcasters would pause
To remind each news staffer
That there is no Sanna Claus.

Reporters will be shattered
Anchors will be dazed,
And almost everyone in news
Will surely be amazed.

If you tell them bluntly
They’re sure to drop their jaws.
So why not whisper in their ears
“There is no Sanna Claus”?

There is no Sanna Claus, you know.
There simply is no Sanna.
Nor Sanna Cruz nor Sanna Fe
Nor a wind called Sanna Ana.

There Is no Sanna Barbara
What’s more, there never was.
There is no Sanna Rosa
And there is no Sanna Claus.

We put Christ in Christmas
So I’m asking you why canta
Group of news announcers
Put the T back in Santa.

The money that nobody wants.

Recently the United States mint has issued over a billion presidential dollar coins. Their goal is to encourage Americans into using coins instead of paper dollars, which would save the government half a billion dollars annually in printing costs. Unfortunately Americans are showing as much enthusiasm for coins featuring Garfield and Polk as they did for Sacagawea years back. So most of these shiny tributes to past presidents are being stored and here's one example of why. Not only ago I wrote a musical with composer John Dusenberry. The title was The Accidental President and the subject was Millard Fillmore, the 13th President. Since I am still trying to get asecond production (It was procuded in Manhattan Beach, California) I was delighted to hear there was a new Fillmore dollar. Ah, what a good promotional tool to send with the script and sheet music. I went to TD bank and they said they would order fifty coins for me. When I went to pick them up, I was greeted with a box of 1000 James Garfield coins. "But I wanted Fillmore." I protested. "The government doesn't allow you to choose specific presidents." was the response. "Then why did you order coins at all?" I asked. Her answer, "We thought we'd be lucky." Forgetting this foolish move on their part, I think it's stupid of the government not to allow choice. Some states would be more eager to distribute presidents who hailed from their area. (Fillmore, for instance, was from Buffalo.) To address this I called the Treasury and was eventually directed to the coinage department. The rep assured me that yes, I could order only Fillmore coins. However the price for 25 coins for $39.00 plus shipping and handling. I didn't think the government was into ripoffs, but $14.00 plus dollars for $25.00 seems excessive to me. I didn't order, and so my 50 Fillmore coins are sitting on shelves someone along with all the other unwanted presidents.

Citi: Accessories

This commercial represents one of my new pet peeves, but it would seem that nobody else notices it but me and a couple of equally picky friends. The commercial itself is fine, though it's a little too cute by half. What bothers me is that the female announcer says, "And what girl woonent want..." This is a new epidemic pronunciation problem, mostly among young woman but some men, too, as I pointed out in another post. Instead of saying "wouldn't" "couldn't" and "shouldn't", these challenged speakers say "woonent." "coonnent," and "shoonent". If you can't hear it, I envy you.

Harpies are not mythical.

I just saw another example of one of the lowest forms of Republican toady and, sorry, but its female. This person is not actually an individual,though she thinks she is. She is one of army of blonde, empty-headed, hate-filled examples of psitatious vacuuity. They are often incapable of answering a question as this person was just now on Hardball. But when they can't answer a question, they all have the same defense mechanism, which may have been taught to them by Ann Coulter: the derisive laugh. They think it gives them an edge, but it makes them look even more ineffective and stupid. Now I'm going to give you this woman's name, but it's really irrelevant because there are so many of them being cranked out at a basement in Stepford and they'll pretty interchangeable (except for the haircolor, some are dark-haired). This particular dummy's name is Sally Bradshaw. Just now on hardball she heartily agreed with Mitt Romney (who rarely agrees with himself) that Obama is guilty of appeasement. Of course she couldn't explain what she meant by that or what he should do differently, even when asked several times and given plenty of opportunity explain herself. She did know however that the President of the United States deserves all her unpatriotic, petty, vindictive, childish and mean-spirited vitriol. Having scored no points at all and revealed what an evil person she is, she sauntered off, angry as always, leaving behind the putrid smell of groupthink and the hollow sound of her derisive laugh.

Jerry Sommer FPL Commercial

There's nothing wrong with this FPL commercial. (Although I don't know who Jerry Sommer is and there seems to be some overlap with other commercials.) I only include it here because I find it very odd that in a commercial that talks about savings, they show a small child in a full-sized bed in a fully designed bedroom. Why do you suppose the art director chose such an unusual visual?

No picture thank goodness.

I heard a news story today both sad and infuriating. It seems a bicycler was being chased by a dog off the leash and he shot the dog to death. I am always disturbed by the death of an animal especially this one which was being trained as an service dog. I don't know how threatened the cycler really felt. You have to be suspicious of anyone carrying a gun, but I do know the dog's owner was an idiot to let him off without a leash. I have no tolerance for people who don't respect simple laws and this law is constantly ignored. Maybe now that dog owners know that their unleashed dog can be shot and killed without the supposedly threatened killer being arrested or even fined might make owners more careful. It's heartbreaking that this innocent dog had to die because his owner was so careless.

"Hmmm. Now where did I leave my good shirt?"

I don't understand today's fashion choices. Look at this ad for American Apparel. Does anything about this ad make any guy think, "Ive got to have that shirt and those jeans." ? There's nothing particularly distinctive about either of these items, certainly not enough to do a media buy to show them off. I know this anemic, almost-bearded, not-really-attractive model type is very in, but is this shapeless over-blue shirt? are these drab look like cheap polyester jeans? I have never been been a fashion maven and never will be, but even Old Navy polo shirts are more interesting than these probably costly togs. I'm pleased to see that these products are Made in the U.S.A. which is certainly in their favor.

Dodge Journey | Search | Commercial

This is the kind of commercial that seems to bother me and nobody else. I don't know who the announcer is, but he has a good voice. And he makes his living doing voice-overs and possibly acting. What I don't get is if you make your living reading English, you should take some care in using it correctly. There is no innanet. The word is internet. It has a t in it, one that should be pronounced. I don't understand why it's so difficult for so many announcers and average people to accept that simple fact. I find it a a very innarresting problem.

What'll I Do-The Great Gatsby (Song Written by Irving Berlin 1923)

So that you won't think I hate everything, I am including this opening sequence from The Great Gatsby, not for the cinematography, which I like, but for Irving Berlin's song "What'll I Do?" which I consider one of the most brilliant songs ever written for its mood and its use of so few words.

"DON'T RAIN ON MY PARADE" - "Funny Girl"'

You might think that I included this scene from Funny Girll because I like it so much. Wrong. I detest it. I hated the movie, and I wasn't crazy about the Broadway production even though I was fortunate enough to see the original with Barbra Streisand before she sold out to popularity. Actually the reason I am including this is to point out that songs often become popular despite some really stupid lyrics. I'm surprised that these lyrics were written by Bob Merrill, whom I greatly admire because, for the most part, they're really dumb. They begin with "Don't tell me not to move just sit and putter. Life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter." Is that dumb or what? What person said to her, "Don't move. Just sit and putter." Nobody. It's absurd. How is life candy and the sun a ball of butter? Frankly those are kind of sickening metaphors. I have several friends who really love this scene from Funny Girl. If they're reading this, they can enjoy it again. I personally find it annoying as hell.

Note: This segment is also an excellent example of a post I wrote a while back complaining about the "empty suitcase" one finds in most films. Even the best directors fail to make luggage look sufficiently heavy. In this sequence Streisand would not have been able to navigate all those moves if those already-heavy leather bags had anything in them. My feeling is if the scene lacks reality it loses a lot of its power. Empty suitcases certainly qualify as lacking reality.

Tight squeeze.

In case you think that billion dollar corporations aren't generous, I have an incident to report. Recently Colgate introduced a new toothpaste called Optic White. It was very costly, but I thought I'd give it a try. When I read the packaging I was surprised to see a grammatical error. One of the legends on the package read:With regular use it removes stains ordinary toothpaste don't. Being an avid letter writer, both pro and con, I wrote to the company pointing out this blunder. In a short period of time, I received a letter from the executive offices thanking me for pointing this out, assuring me that error would soon be remedied, and that to show their gratitude they were sending me a gift. What was the gift? A packet of coupons giving me as much as 25 cents off on a variety of products I wouldn't be buying anyway.

Note: Speaking of companies that have no scruples (were we?) don't you think the woman in this visual was deliberately chosen because she looks like Marilyn Monroe, which is like getting a celebrity's picture without having to pay a celebrity price?

I can name five terrific movies you will never see: Trap Line, Zacana, Shadow of the Rain, Deathstyles, When the Wind Blows. You will never see them because they will never be made. Each of these is a first-rate screenplay written by my partner, Peter Tomasello. And you will never see them because it is nearly impossible to get a Hollywood agent or studio to read one's material and even harder to get these overpaid suits to recognize quality writing. I was going to continue this rant, but decided that was just as futile as trying to make a Hollywood studio see why any one of Peter's scripts would make a movie a hundred times better than such multi-million dollar crap as Super 8, a pathetic overproduced bore created by the two self-satisfied hacks shown above.

A diamond among the paste.

As a Comcast subscriber, I have access to dozens of channels, so there's lots to see, but nothing to watch. Every night I go down the list of crappy programming, looking for something of value. If there is anything, you can pretty much expect that when you click it on, you are more likely see a series of commercials than the program itself. Then of course there's On Demand, which allows you to watch past episodes of all the lousy series you didn't want to see in the first place. I don't deny that there are good programs like Jon Stewart, the MSNBC shows, and a few intelligent sitcoms. I admit I like The Big Bang Theory, The King of Queens, Everyone Loves Raymond and Seinfeld. But I often turn them off mid-program when there have been so many commercials I've lost track of the story or don't care anymore. Besides how often can you watch an episode you've already seen too many times. Last night I tried The Green Lantern a recent film which cost $3.99. After 25 minutes of special effects and no story to speak of, I gave up on this boring loser. That's when I turned to Turner Classic Movies and had a great TV watching experience with no commercial interruptions. The movie was 1957's Sweet Smell of Success directed by Alexander Mackendric, which I had not seen in years. Everything about it was superior to anything on television today. A brilliant, hard-edge script by Clifford Odets and Ernest Lehman. Superb acting by Tony Curtis in one of his finest roles as sleazy Sidney Falco; Burt Lancaster as the Winchell-like J.J .Hunsecker, a cruel and powerful columnist obsessed with his neurotic sister; and Barbara Nichols as the vulnerable nightclub worker considered as fungible as the cigarettes she sells. Watching this black and white film, one didn't have to deal with the acrobatic cinematography of today's hack cameramen, because it was filmed by the master: James Wong Howe. No crappy imitative music since the original score was by Elmer Bernstein. And instead of the untalented exrras one sees today, supporting roles were played by talented and respected actors like San Levene, Jeff Donnell, Joe Frisco and Emile Meyer. On another night of wimpy television, it was great to see this perfectly crafted and disturbingly powerful film. Pity one had to reach back 54 years for quallity entertainment.

Mommy and Daddy Dearest

Who are these creepy advertisers and creative teams who are amused by misanthropic commercials like this. They set up a charming holiday scenario in which the parents are preparing their home for Christmas and the supposedly welcome arrival of their son. But as soon as he arrives they take off in his car. This is not amusing; it's not witty; and it really doesn't intimate that the car is that irresistible, just that the parents are sociopaths. Also they are obviously wealthy. If they wanted an Audi so much, why didn't they buy one of their own?

Caskets are creepy. Call them coffins and they're even creepier. But sarcophagi are kind of neat. I wonder why we don't follow the lead of the ancient Egyptians and bury our dead in beautifully decorated sarcophogi. I think it would make a funeral service much less depressing. Instead of all that pollished maple, those brass handles and those uselessly comfortable satin tufts, you would have a container of wood, stone or metal that was humanoid in shape and decorated with everything that represented the deceased. That could include family photos, album covers, Playboy centerfolds, or just the kind of things one usually puts on the refrigerator. The wealthy, of couse, might choose a sarcophagus of silver or gold, but that is very tempting to grave robbers. It occurred to me recently when I was at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts that I wouldn't find it nearly as depressing knowing I'd be buried in a colorful sarcophagus. But, then again, I did plan on being cremated. Decisions. Decisions.

Note: In case you care the word sarcophagus means "flesh eating" since early versions were made of limestone, which is considered to dispatch one's body rather quickly,

The gift of an argument.

As most of my friends know I am an atheist, and have been since about the age of 12. I am totally bemused that anyone imagines that there is a god who actually cares about what they do or don't do, and has a future planned for them in some kind of eternal paradise. I, of course, believe that, like any insect or animal, we have one shot at life and then are returned to the timeless oblivion from which we accidentally sprang. I could never accept on faith that "there is something there". Despite that I have come up with a good argument for those who feel one should believe in god on faith. And here it is. Imagine 500 years ago that someone said he knew there was a mysterious force on earth that could change every aspect of life. It could create light, motion, energy, power ships, allow man to communicate with the rest of the world within minutes, even allow man to fly. It would sound insane at the time, and of course he couldn't prove it because he didn't know how. In short, others would have to accept it on faith. Assume that many people did and became his followers (disciples). As such, they would then say to anyone who would listen, "Someday there will be this power that will change everything". Naturally centuries passed and one day the age of electricity began and our prophet's predictions came true. I think this is a good argument for those who believe in god and afterlife. Myself, I still think it's a lot of hokum.

I must say the flight was good.

After being offended by the two recent productions of H.M.S. Pinafore, I went to see the Boston production of Peter Pan, a so-called 360 presentation in a state-of-the-art theater at Boston's City Hall Plaza. It was easy to ignore the high ticket price of $75.00 since I had one of the best seats in the house, or rather tent. As I had hoped the special effects were excellent and the flying amazing, though the thin wires were far from invisible. Unfortunately other than that, the show sucked. This rewritten Peter Pan had no charm at all and in no way was a winning as the Broadway musical (which they would have been wise to have used). While the audience was filled with excited children with their one-must-assume affluent parents considerng the ticket prices, I could not tell how they felt about this show. I was especially surprised when I didn't hear loud "ahs" at the first flying scenes as one always does on Broadway. This show, according to the program, featured 23 actors—none of them especially appealing. Curiously Peter Pan was male (a rarity) and bare-chested. This was dumb, especially since it revealed a musculature that was not that of a boy but a late teen. Wendy had off-putting pigtails and both John and Michael seemed well into their twenties. Nana, a charming puppet was carried about by a highly visible puppeteer, which must have greatly confused the children in the audience. Mr. and Mrs. Darling were both ordinary, but then they had to deal with the script of some hack who deemed himself worthy of rewriting James Barrie. More irritating than anything was Tinkerbell, a talented aerial acrobat with the most annoying voice you can possible imagine. Even if the show had been good, I could not have listened to this cloying sound for long. Once again I cannot criticize the entire show because I barely got through the first act with its over-the-top pirates and far from childhood Lost Boys. I was also surprised to see Captain Hook graphically cut the throat of a pirate, an oddly violent action for a production aimed mostly at children. Having seen the Broadway musical on TV with Mary Martin, on stage with Sandy Duncan and on video with Cathy Rigby, I would proclaim all of them excellent so don't assume I have an animosity toward Peter Pan. Like the two recent versions of H.M.S. Pinafore, this is another example of arrogant producers, writers and directors who think they are much more clever the originators of time-honored material.

Two very leaky boats. Photo shown is not one.

Recently PBS announced they were going to present the new Tyrone Guthrie theater production of H.M.S Pinafore: a great event to a Savoyard like me. Unfortunately my enthusiasm was short-lived once I saw this dreadful travesty. In their arrogance the creators badly reinterpreted Arthur Sullivan’s music, gave short shrift to Sir William Gilbert's brilliant lyrics and book and created a production slightly less gay than Le Cage Aux Folless. Despite some good reviews, I cannot believe the audience was pleased with this musical mishmash distinguished only by a highly polished staging, and I literally mean the wood. The excessively fruity dance numbers weren't even original and nothing suggested the British Navy in 1800. The sisters and the cousins and the aunts were particular cringe-worthy with their mugging and overacting in general. I can’t honestly say I saw the entire show as it would have been too painful to see something I have always enjoy so badly done. And when I say it was bad, I mean it was worse than any of the many productions I have seen, including high school efforts. In 1878-79, after its introduction in London, H.M.S. Pinafore was so popular there were over there were over 150 unauthorized productions in the United States. I am sure the majority of them were far better than this absurdity. Shortly after being exposes to this trash, I went to Boston and to remove the bad taste I went to see a production of HMS Pinafore at Harvard’s Agassiz Theater. Once again, the director and producers seem to feel they know best and while they stayed true to the music and lyrics they presented the ship’s crew in U.S. Navy middy blouses and the sisters/cousins and aunts were— after first appearing illogically in trench coats—were all wearing cheap house dresses and carrying purses a la Mother Harper. Another costume "inspiration" was to have the long-legged heroine Josephine, except for the last scene, wear slacks. To make matters worse they were not miked so Gilbert’s lyrics were barely audible. It was still more entertaining than the Guthrie version. Why do so many theater people feel they know better than the brilliant creators of the material? H.M.S Pinafore should be done as was it originally conceived by its two geniuses. Pinafore is witty enough that it doesn't need to be camped up by some dizzy director. One of the joys of the show is the costumes, notably those of the female cast members. If the directors and producers of these classical operettas don’t appreciate the material then do something else. But don’t take a masterpiece and degrade it with the mediocrity of your ego.

Note: I was going to include a photo from either of the drab productions which I mentioned, but decided I would rather show you a cast dressed as they should be. When the H.M.S. Pinafore is done correctly as written, it looks like the photo above, making it a joy to the eye as well as the ear.

Garden pest.

It is just after dawn in Boston's Public Garden. The barely risen sun gives a golden glow to the dew-wet glass and makes the autumnal maples seem over more fiery. There are no clouds in the sky and though it is November the air is almost warm. This would be a rare moment of perfection except that something is wrong— the same thing that is wrong with almost every American city and town. Disturbing this idyllic moment of serenity is the loud monotonous droning of two leaf blowers, making a silent communication with Nature impossible. Not far away from me one joyless city worker is mindlessly stirring up clouds of golden maples leaves. To what purpose? None. Across the glass smooth pond another worker moves his even louder machine meaninglessly back and forth, scaring off any birds that might otherwise be singing and discouraging squirrels from scampering anywhere near this threatening sound. It is amazing to me that a device this foul and unpleasant is so ubiquitous and forgiven for it constant assaults on harmony. One would think that a city as civilized as Boston would have banned this monstrosity so that residents and visitors could enjoy the historic harmony of this city without the intrusion of this bullying monotoned polluter, which does nothing but foul the air, rearrange debris, assault the ears and depress the spirit. When I ask people if they are as bothered as I am, the invariable answer is “yes” followed by a shrug, which says they have no choice but to tolerate this tyrannical unpleasantness. And this is why nothing is being done to suppress one of the most annoying aspects of our society,

I wonder how I really feel.

I cannot escape the feeling that it I weren't taking medicines for my health, my health would be greatly improved. But we have been convinced that to cease taking these medications puts us in greater danger of debilitating illness or death, and since we are not physicians we have to surrender to the advice of experts. Still there have been days when I felt very, to use an old word, hale, and then recalled that I had forgotten to take one or more pills. It seems the more pills my doctors add, the greater number of problems accompany them. If your doctor prescribes a pill for your prostate, say goodbye to virility. Once you start a pill for high cholesterol expect to be weaker and less muscular. Take a pill for a good night's sleep, and you'll feel logy all the next day. Some side effects are unnoticeable, others very obvious. You may put on weight, lose weight, have diminished eyesight, have trouble sleeping, have difficulty waking or just plain not feel yourself. Others you may not know until it's too late, when your kidneys say, "I've had enough of this shit. Get me to a dialysis center" Still I get up every morning and take my Hyzaar, Simvestatin, Avodart and Prevacid, but never without this thought: What the hell am I doing? Carl Sandburg once wrote, "When I was ill, I took so many medicines that I was sick a long time after I got well."

Every now and then a movie comes along and as you watch it unfold, you think of all the people to whom you must recommend this wonderful film. You are stunned by the disturbing theme, and impressed by the stellar cast: Kirstin Dunst, Kieffer Sutherland, John Hurt, Charlotte Rampling and all the other superb actors who you should, but don't, know But it isn't long before you think this movie is really stupid. What was I thinking? To me that film was Melancholia. Perhaps I was taken in by the opening scenes and lush music, reminiscent of 2001. Or maybe it was the charm of the first actual scene of a gorgeous Kirsten Dunst, magnificently wedding-gowned. trapped with her handsome groom in a limousine too stretched for the circular country road leading to her wealthy brother-in-law's country mansion. They get there, of course, and the film then begins its pretentious and illogical plummet to become Smiles of Summer Night meets When Worlds Collide.While I wont deny it's riveting, it's also full of holes. Kirstin a copywriter? I don't think so. Kieffer doing what he did? Nah. And the ending which I won't reveal is about as stupid and unlikely as anything I've seen. As is usual with pretentious and obtuse films, many critics are falling all over themselves in praise of this pretty nonsense. The only reason to see it is because Kirstin is excellent and beautiful and because you'll want to ask yourself the question: What would you do?

Note: I am sure someone will tell me that in my ignorance I missed the entire meaning of this film. I hope they do. I'd love to know what it all means.

There are three words that always make me feel sad, frightened and angry when I see them. These three words are symbolic of much of the poverty and unhappiness in America. They represent the coldest, greediest members of our society. They are often associated with danger and corruption and vile deception. They have been related to many deaths of people and animals. Most people don't notice these words or don't appreciate just how much they adversely affect their lives. If you haven't already guessed those hideous words are "Made in China". It is almost impossible to purchase anything today that hasn't been made in China by cheaper labor working for companies that used to be here in America. But I think, and I hope, that that is going to change. Recently ABC News with Diane Sawyer did an entire series on seeking out goods that are "Made in America" which I absolutely plan to do even if means being inconvenienced or going without. Today I purchased a new WaterPic at Walgreens which was naturally overpriced at $64.00. But I needed a new one. When I got home I noticed it is made in China, so it goes back today regardless of how much I need a new WaterPic. I think we all have to start doing that. Ask for products made in America. Return products made in China. If you do, you will encourage thousands of companies to reconsider foreign facilities and move back here, thus giving Americans work and hope again. This weekend is Halloween. Every costume, wig, item of makeup and scary novelty was more than likely made in China. Made in China for our holliday in America. I don't know why this doesn't infuriate more people as much as it does me, especially now that we are on to these billionaires who are happy to sell us out for bigger bonuses. I was recently determined to start wearing T-shirts that proclaimed "Made in America" or encouraged consumers to "Buy American" but most of the shirts I saw were "Made in China". Check everything you buy, and you'll realize why we're in a recession why people are out of work and why those who care are in sit-ins all over this counry. If you want to see American strong again, buy products "Made in America" not in China.

It's amazing to me that everyone isn't an atheist. How can anyone believe that after you die and rot and are absolutely nothing but dirt, someone reassembles you, reactivates your mind, and lets your prance around some blissful paradise forever? It's absurd. And more than that, it's incredibly arrogant. To believe that you are so important in the universe that you can't just vanish into oblivion like and an ant or butterfly is absolutely the height of conceit. And talk about illogical. Do believers in afterlife also think that everyone who was ever born are candidates for heaven and hell? Does that include cavemen? Does it include Biafran children who starved to death at six and never had any worldly life to speak of? And what age would you be? And if none, just a kind of spiritual noneness, then what's the point of being there? Plus, even Paris would get boring after six million years. There is no logic to religion. It is so obviously the creation of generations of mortals afraid to die who had to come up with some escape clause and heaven was it. Hate to tell you this, but this is all you get. You check out, people cry and moan, they bury you. In a decade or so you are forgotten and you,my dear friend, will never be seen again. You have no awareness of the billions of years that occurred before you were born, and you will have no idea of the eternity that will follow your demise.I know, it's annoying. But c'est la vie. Or c'est la mort. So if it makes you happy to go to church and sing hymns and imagine all the fun you're going to have once they hand you that golden key on Judgement Day, then go for it.

Less goo-goo and more meow.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think those responsible for creating this commercial are confusing a baby with a cat. I'm seen lots of tots in my life and have never experience one who eschewed a costly, well-designed toy for a cardboard box. Cats, on the other hand, are notorious for not having any interest in the proffered gift, preferring instead a box or bag it came in. So, while this commercial is cute it's not believable.

Huh?

"If no one ever challenged the status quo the world would still be flat." That is the dopey line that opens a supposedly creative commercial for Infiniti. The spot goes on to make equally illogical statements about Einstein's theory and Elvis Presley as related to rock music. Then, like so many commercials, Infiniti tries to equate the great discoveries, revolutions and icons of the past centuries with their own me-too innovations. This spot has some of the tritest, most illogical and highly pretentious writing I have been exposed to lately (and there's a lot out there). I can't show you the spot because Infiniti doesn't have it on YouTube. I think that was a wise move.

There are a lot of stupid campaigns out there. This is one of the dumbest. How far do we have to stretch our credibility to buy into some of these supposedly creative concepts. The idea that someone has to justify eating a lousy bowl of cereal by rationalizing that it's morning somewhere is about as idiotic as commercials get. For one thing Americans have been eating cereal for lunch and dinner for decades. Add to that that the price Kelloggs charges for air and grain is so excessive, you should feel free to eat it whenever you like since it costs more per ounce than the costliest steak. I don't think ad agencies have even been as piss poor creatively as they are right now.

Note: From a personal point of view I will state that as much as I like any cereal, I get really tired of having it more than two days in a row. And I never have it in the morning. Morning is for pastries, donuts, ham and eggs, and other foods of which you never get tired.

Another poorly crafted Kraft commercial.

I hate this commercial. But then I hate most Kraft commercials. Whatever agency does them has no understanding of real people. In this spot the kid is an obnoxious cliche, the parents cartoons, the inlaws tedious stereotypes we've seen a million times. The supposed baby in this husband's harness is so obviously a doll and if I were creating a commercial for a starchy product I wouldn't have such a chunky child. But the most ridiculous aspect of this commercial is the suggestion that a family eager to impress snooty inlaws would clean the house, and then prepare macaroni and cheese. We all love it, but let's face: It's one of the most pedestrian and cheapest meals you can make. Hardly the entree you would ever prepare to impress a couple of critical old cranks. Also, as long as I'm being critical myself, why does the baking dish change three times. First it's small and white with cut-out handles, in the oven it's larger with rolled handles, and finally it's smaller with no apparent handles.

Today's Uriah Heep

This is James O'Keefe. James is a weasel. He looks like a weasel. He behaves like a weasel. Of all the creepy people in the news today Jimmy is one of the creepiest. He's the slime ball that lied about Acorn and bought it down. He's the turd who made a wildly edited videotape to shame PBS. His politics seem to be Republican, but I don't think he has allegiance to any person or party. He's one of those soulless, amoral drifters who, like one Shakespearean character, only lives to create venomous plots. He calls himself a journalist, which is absurd. Others call him a muckraker, which is perfectly apt. He fancies himself an actor though he has very little skill in that area. (Notably hilarious is seeing this effete anemic, impotent cretin posing as a pimp.) Among his many proud achievements is leading a campaign to have Lucky Charms removed from a cafeteria because it stereotypes the Irish. James is another desperate-for-attention nobody who will always be a nobody even with media recognition. And considering how duplicitous and careless he is, I feel certain his final fame will be when they find him in some alley or landfill having vilified the wrong person.

Right now the Syfi station is showing another of its low-budget horror films. So far some of the victims have been split in half, had their eyes eaten and one person had a huge spear thrust through his head. Needless to say all of these horrors were shown without editing. What was edited was the word "fucking" as in "I cut off his fucking finger". Isn't it great that kids growing up today can see this incredible violence without any of that namby pamby editing so many parents would like to have, but at least they won't be subjected to vulgar swear words which could harm their young minds in all kinds of unpredictable ways. I know if I had a child I would much rather expose him or her to rape, dismemberment, sadism, torture and emotional torment than corrupt a young mind with swear words or—god forbid—any kind of sexual act. Isn't it wonderful to live in a country that has clear priorities.

Note: The man about to hack his viictim to death is not from a movie but from a video game. Well at least he's not planning to have sex with him. That would be so disgusting as to be unwatchable. You've got to admit we Americans have a very weird sense of values.

The horror of it.

Stop it. Stop it. If you are one of those people who say Holloween instead of the correct Halloween, please stop it. You wouldn't say you like peanut butter and marshmollow, or that a field is follow, or one's skin is sollow, so why are you saying Holloween? I know I can't stop it. I will just have to cringe every time someone says it until Halloween is over. And in no time at all people will be saying that other thing that drives me nuts. "Sanna Claus."

Did they or didn't they?

I don't get this. Did Nissan actually do a demonstration of a jet liner landing on the back of a truck to prove this could be done? Or is it completely sham demonstration? And if it is, what does it prove? A commercial like this is of no value unless it's real, but I don't see any legend on the screen saying, "This is an actual demonstration."One could make any product look strong and powerful if you didn't have to prove that it was.

Venom.

It should be obvious to anyone who watched the CBS 48-Hour special, Amanda Knox, the Untold Story, that she's innocent. It clearly showed how she was railroaded by an obsessive prosecutor and further persecuted by a lazy and callous international press. So now she's free and home in Seattle after four years of false imprisonment. But she still has a prosecutor as eager as the one in Italy to ignore the facts and cling to their own personal and unfounded theory of what happened: Nancy Grace. This nipple-bearing harridan is insisting that Amanda is guilty and that Nancy Grace and only Nancy Grace, has the proof. One has only to look at this TV personality's scrunched up face to realize that she is a vindictive shrew eager to always have someone in her sights. It should be amusing to see what kind of case she can manufacture if, in fact, she can come up with any.

W, as in What a ripoff!

Think of this as a public service announcement. Every now and then I like to remind readers that Walgreen's pharmacies are outrageously expensive. Every time I have compared the price of a health and beauty aid at Walgreen's with the same product at Publix (which is not an inexpensive chain) the Publix product is far less costly. Today I foolishly made a purchase at Walgreen's of a product that cost $9.49 only to find the same product in Publix for $8.34. $1.05 is a big difference. So unless you're rich, I suggest you check prices before you buy anything at Walgreen's.

Note: This morning when I reurned an overpriced product to Walgreen's I complained that they charge too much. The clerk said, "Yes, but we're a convenience store." I said, "You;re not a convenience store; you're a drug store. And drugs should cost less in a drugstore than they do in a supermarket." Naturally I got no response.

Giving no quarter.

Recently I found myself totally offended by this situation that several other friends found perfectly acceptable. Recently I took my sickly cat Chance to a new Coral Gables vet. I thought they might find a cure that my regular vet couldn't. Anyway, I liked the doctor right away, though I was surprised that she looked more like a model than the the capable vet she is and the facilities were fine except that the waiting room is small for such a busy practice. Another annoyance is that there is no parking lot so one must park on the street at the costly Coral Gables meters. This hasn't been a problem till the other morning when I forgot to bring change. When I asked those at the front desk if they could change a dollar, they both said, "We don't have any change." Later I learned this was complete lie and that, in fact, they refuse to provide change to their customers. While this might be an acceptable practice at other businesses, I find this extremely petty of this successful practice. How difficult can it be to maintain a supply of quarters to make change for perhaps six customers at the most on any given day? Especially when each is unlikely to leave without having spent at least $75.00. No problem at all. When I suggested this to the once-friendly receptionist she became pissy and rude. At any rate, after three weeks of visits to this office and subjecting Chance to many costly tests, I was told his case was hopeless since they had just discovered he had a weak heart. On arriving home, he went into a coma. With great sadness I had him euthanized today by an independent doctor who came to the house. I don't feel any animosity to the clinic for not being able to save a cat I loved a great deal but I feel tremendous anger for having needlessly spent $1,600.00 to a facillity that didn't even have the common courtesy to provide change for a dollar.

I went into a graphics store today to buy a poster. I was the only customer there and the salesperson on duty started to listen to my needs. Then the phone rang. He answered it. It was obviously another possible customer. He immediately began to answer the questions of the person on the phone and provide details of what would be involved in fulfilling his request. After a minute or so I l just walked out. I will never understand why so many merchants seem to think that the customer on the phone is more important than the customer standing right in front of them. This is not rare. It is epidemic. It happens at supply houses, bakeries, department stores, practically every retail outlet. I don't get it. But I never wait around till the inconsiderate clerk is finished with the telephone call, and I hope you don't either.

Justice.

The verdict is in. After four years in prison for the death of her roommate Meredith Kercher, Amanda Knox and Raffaele Sollecito are free. And I, for one, am thrilled. Having read two books on the subject, I could never accept for a minute that this couple had anything to do with Meredith's death. Today's verdict seemed like the only just conclusion to this shameful case. I find it very depressing that the Kercher family were eager for the court to uphold the original verdict. I feel sorry for their loss, but unsympathetic at how vengeful this family is with so little evidence. Amanda, to my mind, was a victim of a nearly psychotic prosecutor who creates scenarios then tries to make the facts fit the fantasy. (When an American author came to Italy to write about the serial killer known as the Monster of Florence, this nutcase prosecutor accused him of being the Monster of Florence because he knew so many facts about the case, which he had, of course, gleaned in his research.) We will never really knew what happened in Perugia but the idea that Amanda and Raffaele murdered her when she wouldn't participate in an orgy with them and drug dealer and petty thief Rudy Hermann Guede is absurd. Guede is now serving a 16-year prison term, a mild sentence for someone who I feel certain committed the murder and allowed two innocent young people to serve time so he could get a lighter sentence. Amazingly the crowd outside the courthouse chanted "Shame" at the release of Amanda and Raffaele. I can't imagine why. Yes, I can. Amanda's sister said in a speech shortly after the verdict thanked all the people around the world who "took the time to research the case". I can only assume those who cried "Shame" never made that effort.

I'll never say that again!

Today my partner, who is always smarter than I am, pointed out an error we have all make and nobody has ever noticed that it's wrong. When we say something like, "She wears fabulous clothes and never repeats the same outfit twice." we mean she never repeats an outfit. But that's incorrect. She could repeat it once. But that's never what we mean, is it? What we should say is, "She never wears the same outfit twice". But we don't.

This used to be so appealing.

If you're as neurotic and phobic as I am, you will never feel the same about cantaloupe again. Not even if they say it's perfectly safe. I'm still nervous about an article a read in Readers Digest twenty years ago about deadly olive oil. Now I'm afraid if we have too many of these scares, I won't be able to eat anything. We've already been panicked by tomatoes, broccoli, spinach. I got deathly sick from a single shrimp, one of my favorite foods, and haven't felt totally at ease eating shrimp since. But then, of course, the news loves to put us into states of fear. They feed us constant trigger words: Listeria, Ecoli, Ptomaine, Hepatitis a, b, c, d, whatever. And if food scares aren't enough, this week's news told us all about the new horrors that can be inflicted by mosquitoes, not to mention the killer bees and vampire bats heading this way from—where else?—South America. I wonder what new fear I can expect when I put on tomorrow's news. I hope it's not infected ice cream. In that case, I would have to risk death.

Note; Well I wasn't disappointed. This is the first paragraph of a story that greeted me this morning on Huffington Post. Apparently we should soon expect marauding, hairy, biting ants.

NEW ORLEANS -- It sounds like a horror movie: Biting ants invade by the millions. A camper's metal walls bulge from the pressure of ants nesting behind them. A circle of poison stops them for only a day, and then a fresh horde shows up, bringing babies. Stand in the yard, and in seconds ants cover your shoes.

Nexium

Most people won't notice this error or insist it doesn't even exist, but for years it has driven me crazy. I think it started with the Valley Girls. Listen to the first words of this commercial. This announcer, like so many people, can longer pronounce words like wouldn't, didn't or couldn't. They say woonn't, dinn'nt and coon'nt. Most people don't seem to hear it. Do you?

What, no head-on collision?

I don't get this commercial at all. It seems to be a spot for auto insurance. The person gets up in the morning, brushes his or her teeth, dresses and then drives away from home. One expects he or she will soon have a disastrous auto crash and a mysterious insurance man will tell us the victim should have been covered by AcmeApexAmalgamated. But no. Our driver suddenly come to a school crossing and the voice-over is yapping about Capella University while a young girl, who may or may not be the daughter of the unseen driver, is coyly smiling toward the car. It looks like the kind of footage you buy hoping you can write some copy that makes some kind of sense with your product. If that's the case, the advertiser failed.

Fedex: Witness Protection

Too many commercials today are too complicated for their own good. This is one of them. The scenario is so involved it isn't easy to follow the logical. No matter. What intrigues me about this spot is one of the actors flubs a line. I can't see why they would have him do it deliberately, so I suspect that nobody noticed. This wouldn't surprise me as there are often mispronunciations that nobody picks up. An entire Carnival campaign done in Florida had what to me was a glaring mistake on the end of every spot. Nobody ever noticed it. Anyway in this spot he man's name is Gustafson. It's even printed out. But at the very last when the actor says the man doesn't exist he says, "There is no Gufstason." Deliberate or not?

Such a deserving couple!

When you're in advertising you meet lots of nice unknown actors. Most of them dream of that day when they land a national spot and become a household face. That's why it always bothers me when I see agencies who, lacking in creativity, hire a celebrity to do their spots. It's usual someone who already has a ton of money, unlike the actor waiting for a break. Among the most offensive of these celebrities is egomaniac Regis Philbin who saccharines us on TD, Advil and several other commercials. I know many people find him sweet and charming. I see him as a greedy narcissist who will leap at any opportunity to prostitute himself to be on television and pocket another million or more bucks. The latest of his pseudo-nice campaigns is for Advil, in which he brings along his wife for her share of the loot. Will people really buy more Advil because this tiresome couple use it for their tennis elbows? I don't think so. I keep thinking back to my favorite commercial of the year for Suburu with the father and daughter. Great commercial. Why? Because it was creative, warm, believable and had two new faces. I'm sure both those actors are financially better off for having landed that superb spot. Fortunately the account wasn't with an agency that would have used the increasingly aging zillionaire Regis and his his eternally cheerful and equally camera-happy wife.

Prius must be so proud.

There are many ways you could describe this Prius commercial; innovative, imaginative, whimsical, unique, dreamlike, or, perhaps, phantasmagorical. I would describe it as utterly repulsive.

Taking a stand on English.

It seems to me that most Americans refuse to use the English language correctly. Most people don't pronounce the letter "t" within words, ergo: innernet, dennist, Atlannic Ocean, etc. Even announcers like Diane Sawyer and Scott Pelley turn two syllable words into three-letter words. Examples: gambeling, troubeling, bubbeling. So I plan to take a stand on English rules of which I don't approve. For starters, I refuse to write TV. A television set is not a proper noun and there's no reason in the world it should be give that distinction. I had to do it for decades when I wrote for companies like Sears and Zayre, but no more. But here's my most hated rule because I think it's stupid and it's now universally accepted. Please read the following sentence.

John asked Mary, "Are you going to the concert?" That is written correctly, but I hate it. To me it seems illogical. The whole sentence is not a question, why should it end with a question mark? I would write that sentence like this: John asked Mary, "Are you going to the concert?". Discussion over. So when you see I have done sentences like that, don't correct me. I don't care.

The face of a Democrat.

Today, while the greedy Republicans or at least their Congressional puppets are exhausting themselves trying to find ways to avoid paying higher taxes or increased wages, one Democrats stands out even more for his decency and altruism: Paul Newman. Here is a man born with incredible beauty and intelligence who could have lived a life of egotism and indulgence, but didn't. Not only was Paul Newman a successful stage actor, movie star, Academy Award winner, stage and screen director, and championship race car driver, but he was one of America's most beloved and generous philanthropists. His enormously successful company Newman's Own as of July 2011, has given over $300 million to charities. In 1988 he founded the The Hole in the Wall Gang camp, a year round center serving children coping with cancer, sickle cell anemia, and other serious illnesses. In 2011, through summer sessions and family weekend programs at the Camp in Ashford, Connecticut, and year-round outreach to hospitals and clinics throughout the Northeast, the Camp will serve more than 17,500 children— all services are free of charge. These camps are what Newman felt he would be remembered for most. But since his death in 2008, Paul Leonard Newman is not remembered most for one thing, but for a life time of generosity, a long and happy marriage to Joanne Woodward, an incredible body of work, his constant campaigning for the Democrats, his racing, his humor, his incredible blue eyes, and being the kind of caring, generous American millionaire that today we see all too rarely.

Note: With so many photos of Paul Newman to choose from, I selected this. Why? To remind everybody that when you look like this you can spend your life being worshipped and adored without doing another thing.

The 1949 Rodgers and Hammerstein musical South Pacific included America's great hymn protesting intolerance, "You've Got to be Carefully Taught". In this musical, Lt. Cable sang the song to explain to Emile De Becque how we are learn prejudice from early childhood. While it specifically applied in the show to "people whose eyes are oddly made and people whose skin is a different shade" it was a universal theme. It is especially applicable today after the joyous repeal of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell". And it occurs to me that one of the show's strongest characters, Luther Billis, was more than likely imagined to be gay by the extremely liberal Oscar Hammerstein II, Despite Billis' eager promotion of the beautiful young girls on Bali Ha'i, he was much more interested in the the Boar's Tooth ceremony and the chance to buy grass skirts for resale. This only reminds us that heroic gay men and woman have been hiding their true identities while they fought valiantly in all our wars.

Less Bang for your buck.

Not only do I like The Big Bang Theory, but I think it's the funniest 10-minute sitcom on television. I say 10-minute sitcom because I don't see how it can be much longer considering the endless commercials that are presented during its running.This was true when it was only a network show; more true now that it's in syndication. This show, more than any other, reminds me that America is a nation of sheep. There's not a reason in the world that we should have to watch so many commercials other than greed and the fact that nobody ever complains about the amount of promotions they are exposed to every day. Broadcasters could make a killing just running a reasonable number of spots, but like most corporations they want to make a super killing and they don't care whom they inconvenience in order to do it. So while I love The Big Bang Theory, it's a constant reminder of how much I detest the obscene amount of advertising with which we are constantly and needlessly barraged.

Note: I wonder how upset evangelicals and other religious nuts (who must watch this show) get with the opening credits which promote evolution and the song which tells us that the earth is at least 14 mlllion years old.

At least it has Beethoven.

This is one of those commercials that after you've seen it once or twice, you never want to see it again. In addition to that, I don't really understand it. This young man is taking out money from an ATM. He doesn't know whether to accept the bank's $3 service charge. A series of people are shown encouraging him to accept the charge with a defeatist sense that he has no choice. He is torn, confused, unwilling, hesitant. Then his girlfriend threatens him if they're late for the movie, so he accepts it the charge.The whole concept is weird. Those who encouraged him made some good arguments. And ultimately he's a wimp. It seems to me that too much time was wasted on the decision and none on Ally explaining who they are and how they can help you. Their past commercials showing the businessman with the kids were great. This is annoying and unclear.

Were you the chef from Le Cujo?

This commercial well done as it is annoys me for several reasons. The first is that the very first words are, "My name is chef Michael". Obviously a lie since nobody is named "chef" and your title is not part of your name. But beyond that, sincere as this sounds, it's a total fraud. There is no chef Michael at Purina. It's an invention designed to make you think some inspired culinary genius created your dogs packaged dinner. So Chef Michael's Canine Creations were probably not "chef-inspired". This is annoying enough, but what's really offensive is that there are at least two famous Chef Michaels: Caines and Smith, both of the British Isles. I don't see why Purina couldn't have done some research before creating an imaginary and unseen celebrity. I think dog owners would be just as happy with Chef Osgood or Chef Vincent.

P.S, What's wrong with copywriters today. Couldn't anybody come up with a dog's name more original than the ubiquitous Bailey

That's an odd first name.

I had hoped to find the longer version of this spot, but it isn't on YouTube. I wanted to show it to you because it has the kind of error that drives me wild. It's a copy error I find unforgivable, especially in a promotion for a university. In the longer commercial this spokesperson who is very proud of managing a network of 1000 nurses says, "My name is Doctor Kimberly Horton." You would think anyone in university would know that your title is not part of your name. And it's just as easy to say, "I'm Doctor Kimberly Horton." For the first commercial that vexed me for this reason and others, check out the following post.

Note: The other annoyance I feel about The University of Phoenix is that one their theme lines is, "We believe an educated world is a better world". Duh. And I believe that not eating glass if better for your health.

Kohler TV Commercial - Possessions

Is this a gay commercial? At first I took it at face value. But think about it. When he arrives at his friend's door, the other attractive guy says, "How did she take it?" Indicating he knew what his friend was going to discuss. "I'll get the wrench." seems to suggest they plan to be living together for more than a few days. Illogical as it is this spot is it has a kind of surreal, foreign-film charm. Why doesn't he have a car? Why move so late? What are those means of transportation? Why is the women with a dog in her bathrobe wearing curlers? Because this is a wish-fulfillment dream sequence with Freudian overtones (the couple kissing at a distance) and a strong homoerotic undertone of which even the sponsor was, probably, unaware.

Funny FedEx commercial

Sorry, but this lousy print was the only version of this commercial I could find on YouTube. I wanted to show you this commercial because it's a great example of a good idea ruined. At least I think so. Everything about this commercial is fine until the young Asian woman says, "What's an executive compensation list?" That's terrible copywriting. Anyone who's important enough to be at a board meeting would know what an executive compensation list is and would be thrilled to have been accidentally handed one. So her response is totally illogical. What she should have said (other than nothing) is, "I don't believe it: an executive compensation list!" Dumb.

What most men will never admit.

This commercial is very clever as are all the commercial featuring this actor, Isaiah Mustafa, who is both incredibly attractive and talented. Not so amusing are the new commercials not featuring him, one showing a returning sea captain shouldering an octopus releasing gold doubloons which look like they will suffocate the captain and his beautiful mate. But forget the commercials. Let's discuss the product, at leas the original classic Old Spice cologne. Cologne snobs, of which there are many, revile Old Spice. They see it as cheap, common, and unworthy. I think this is ignorant of them because it's one of the great cosmetic products of the 19th century and it's still popular because it's a unique and distinctive scent: fresh, clean and masculine. Since I don't really worry about status colognes, I have used Old Spice over the decades along with more costly colognes like Moustache and the products of Halston and Calvin Klein. Truth is I always got far more compliments on Old Spice than anything else. Women love it because it reminds them of dad or someone they else they loved. Or they hate it for the same reason. The same is true of men—along with the snob factor—who regard it—wrongly—as inferior. Apparently the company, Procter & Gamble who purchased the brand from Shulton in 1990, also has no confidence in its own product based on their humorous rather than sensuous commercials. I don't care what people say: I think Old Spice is the best smelling of all men's colognes (a comment sure to infuriate many) and if it had always been priced and bottled like Clive Christian No. 1, even the snobs would buy it—if they could afford it.


Note: Arguably the world's most expensive men's cologne, Clive Christian No. 1 for Men features top notes of bergamot, lime, Sicilian mandarin and cardamon; a heart of Lily of the Valley, rose, jasmine and ylang ylang; and a base of cedarwood, sandalwood, vetyver and ambery woods. The scarcity of these ingredients and the six months it takes for the spiciness to crystalize give the cologne its extraordinary price. A regular bottle of Clive Christian No. 1 can be had for as little as $650. Sadly, the limited Imperial Majesty edition bottle is no longer available. If you can locate one of these handmade lead crystal bottles sporting a brilliant cut white diamond in a gold collar, expect to pay $2,350. P.S. I also love the
classic Old Spice bottle.