I’m not a retard, but I play one on TV.
How these people figured out how to make money, I have no idea.
(By the way, if you get the email of this feed, or don’t get pictures in my feeds…you’re gonna need ‘em for this post.)
I HATE watching commercials where someone with OBVIOUSLY less brain cells, looks and – in some cases – physical stamina than me is pitching their product.
They do stupid, STUPID sh*t on their commercials.
...they make more money then I do.
Thinking of this sh*t is why I sometimes cry myself to sleep.
The other times have to do with feelings of genitalia inadequacies.
…but I’ve gone off-topic…
..let’s get back...
#1: What about Bob?
I live in Southern New Hampshire.
(No...I don't own a cow, to answer your question)
In this area, there is a furniture chain named “Bob’s Discount Furniture.”
Now, if you were to meet Bob on the street…
...or engage him in a one-syllable word filled conversation, you’d come away with this feeling:
“That guy TOTALLY F*CKS GOATS.”
But he doesn’t.
Well…I don’t live near him, actually.
It’s possible that he DOES f*ck goats.
I honestly have no idea.
(No, I don't own goats, either)
…but I digress…
You see, Bob owns a chain of furniture stores.
He makes much more money than I do.
I know this…because I’ve bought furniture from him.
His commercials entail him yelling in true K-Mart Blue-Light announcement style:
“Come on Down!”
Here's one of his older commercials.
These days...he's much more energetic in his commercials...
At the taping:
Director: "Bob, imagine someone just FedEx'd you a female goat."
Bob: "Mmmm...hot furry goat ass. I'VE GOT MY MOTIVATION! Roll it!!"
His recent commercials include some incredibly annoying chick who is roughly the size of Mary-Kate Olsen.
I don't know if he's banging this chick...or if she's just in it for the money.
Maybe she puts on a goat outfit and calls him "Uncle Jessie."
I'm also not sure how it's possible...
...but she actually be MORE annoying than Bob himself.
I hate looking at him.
I hate listening to him.
Come on down.
Yeah, I’d like to come down.
I’d like to come down and beat him about the head and neck…
…as I ask him why a guy who looks like he played a bit-part on “The Hills Have Eyes” can be more successful than a guy with an Architecture Degree and an uncompromising sense of humor.
Then, knowing me…
…I’ll probably end up buying a f*cking loveseat.
#2: Vaudeville in Japan (a.k.a., “Rodrille”)
A fairly new Toyota dealership has opened in Massachusetts.
I see their commercials EVERY morning as I’m brushing my teeth.
(this takes a LOT)
As apparently, one of the owners moonlights as the Ringleader for the Barnum and Bailey Circus.
His moustache makes me want to be a magician.
His moustache makes me want to watch him do something evil so he can twist it and pull on it while leering into the camera.
His moustache makes me want to buy a car somewhere else.
I watch their commercials and think:
“Am I going to be buying a car from this guy….or watching him stick his head in a lion’s mouth?”
“I wonder if he’d let me touch it.”
The moustache, I mean.
THE VAUDEVILLE DAYS ARE OVER.
If you’re gonna have a moustache, at least make it a COOL moustache.
Maybe…just MAYBE then I’d buy a car from you.
…or at least get you to autograph my porn from circa 1971.
Until then, you’d have better luck getting my business if you had a “Free Moustache Rides” shirt on…
…at least it would give me SOME reason to respect you.
Maybe Bob should grow one.
(he should really check with his goats, first, though)
…or maybe I should stick my face in a wood chipper…
...or get into a fight with Mike Tyson...
...so I look and sound like Billy Bob Thornton in “Sling Blade”…
…and start doing commercials.
I’ll be rich.
...but I'm charging for the moustache rides.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008