2006-01-26 - 9:35 a.m.
Operators are standing by...
More ads on my mind. Mind you, I should be doing some actual work, but my hands are *killing* me, and it's all I can do to punch out this incredibly clever witty entry; I have no time for such dull things as, oh, the job that justifies my paycheck. (If my boss is reading this, I'm on my break, and I'm only kidding.) Sometimes the ads I see on TV actually make me wonder how stupid the manufacturers of the product think we are; the "two lesbians eating yogurt" ad comes to mind, as does any ad for "Slim Jims". But since I'm high up in the nosebleed cable channels (mostly to get away from the yogurt commercials), I get to see more of those ads for Things That Will Make Your Life Better![tm]. I'd say immeasurably better, but that's three syllables too many for the ad agencies that produce these things. I have developed a strange affection for most of them; the guy that looks like Billy Baldwin who advertises Oxyclean has been doing it so long that he's gone from dark hair to gray hair to "rabbit soaked in Grecian 2000" hair. He's also started yelling a bit; I'm waiting for the day he bursts a blood vessel over how truly *excellent* his cleaner is. The stay-at-home moms who create the strange kitchen utensils are fun, too; the whisk that doubles as a pair of tongs, the spaghetti-strainer saucepan, and my latest favourite, the tall glass cylinder that you stick whatever needs to be boiled in and then pour boiling water over it. I'm not sure what perceived need these products fulfill, but they're earnestly well-meant, and heck, someday I may suffer a complete break with reality and decide I'm the kind of person that fills a cake with jello pudding and I'll buy the Betty Crocker three-piece cake baking pan that lets me do just that. Then, there are the bullshit ads. I don't like these as much - they're trying to sell you something you don't need by lying to you. They're not as bad as the "if you have a wallet, you have a lawyer" ads, but they're close. The current shining star in this mould-encrusted pantheon is the "Learn to Sing!" software ad. They claim they will send you an "interactive" computer program that tells you how you're doing, a weird microphone setup that makes you look like a switchboard operator, and some other stuff that's yours to keep if you don't like the program, even though it seems that the bits you keep would be pretty useless on their own. It's one of the more expensive ones, too; it costs over $100 after all is said and done. The cost is not really the point, though; it's the ad itself, which shows you people singing really badly, then - miracle of miracles! - singing like a professional!! (A professional wedding singer, from what I can tell, but hey.) This ad appears to claim that even if your singing voice drives the family dog to commit terrorist acts upon the living room carpet, this handy dandy program will make you sound like Kelly Clarkson and Christina Aguilera combined. It shows the "before" singers singing in a manner that causes people in the background to make faces like someone just commited an act of gross indecency, and then shows a glorious "after", where you sound like Glen Campbell on crack if you're a guy, and Whitney Houston on Thorazine (which would make a nice change, actually) if you're a girl, and people speechless with admiration all around you. They *swear* their program can make you into a star. They SWEAR that no matter how you sounded before, you'll be filling in for Celine Dion in Vegas before the year is out. DO NOT BELIEVE THIS AD. THIS AD IS FEEDING YOU A LINE OF BULLSHIT THAT WOULD MAKE DICK CHENEY BLUSH. Now, we expect a certain amount of falsehood in our advertising; life really isn't as shiny! happy! perfect! as it is in the ads, even if you do buy the right car, the perfect face cream, or the Bud/Miller Light. We're okay with that; being lied to is part of the game. We know that the chick in the wrinkle cream ad is being shot in soft focus, and the guys getting dinner at Ruby Tuesday don't have a hope in hell of even picking up two cute girls, let alone *four*. We know that our lives will not change substantially just because we bought a new car. The issue I have with the Learn To Sing! ad (hereafter known as LTS! or "that bastard lying ad") is that it's not a little lie they're selling, it's a big fat betrayal. Not everyone is born a singer. It's a harsh truth, but if you've watched any of the audition episodes of "American Idol", it's a truth you must admit to. But you know, singers need an audience, and an audience of other singers is just too catty ("I could *so* sing that better than *her*."). We like to have at least a couple of people watching us who genuinely like to listen. In return, we'll happily watch and admire you doing your thing. Quid pro quo, as it were. This LTS! ad wants as many people as possible to buy it, sure; that's what every product wants (insofar as a product has feelings. Work with me, dammit). But to get as many people as possible, it has decided that simply telling people they could learn to sing better was not enough - they faked the bad singing. I've been singing a long time; I *know* what bad singers sound like. I also know what good singers pretending to be bad singers sound like, and here's where the ad caught my ear. The "before" demonstrations were *clearly* faked. This is cruel. A whole load of people who like to sing, but know they can't carry a tune in a bucket are going to buy this thing (those who cannot carry a tune in a bucket but don't know it - like many of the "Idol" auditioners - wouldn't buy this thing because they have no idea they need it), and it's not going to make a damned bit of difference. It's like any talent; you either have it, or you don't. If you don't, nothing short of a genuine miracle is going to give you that talent. (No, not even for $199.95. You could try calling the Holy Pontiff to see if he'll ask God to give you talent, but I think he's kind of busy these days.) By faking their success stories, the makers of this product have broken the sacred sales contract between buyer and seller, specifically the bit that reads "we will only lie to you a *little* bit". For $20 (plus shipping and handling), I'd let it slide, but $100+ is not chump change. For all the good this program would do people who really can't sing, they may as well buy the combination tongs/egg whisk and use it as a pretend microphone while they sing in the shower (all the steam is good for your throat; you can also try it in the kitchen while boiling spaghetti). In fact, if you order now, we'll throw in a second whisk and some soap on a rope. You'll get two whisks, some nice soap, and if you call within the next thirty seconds, the Oxyclean guy will come to your house and show you that there are worse things than not being able to sing - having hair that looks like a rabbit pelt soaked in Grecian Formula 2000, for instance. If not completely satisfied, well, you only wasted $20, not $100.
Dorsal - Ventral
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