The Insidious and Evil Commercial

• Do you want to be famous?

• Do you live in the U.S. – or are you willing to move to it – and conform to a Hollywood-style standard of symmetrical beauty?

• Can you smile with the open-eyed optimism of an infant while projecting a come-hither look?

• Have your teeth been bleached to a shade of white not normally found in nature?

• Have you lost, through Botox and other inject-ables, the ability to create any facial expression outside of a vacuous grin?

• Do you have the desire to wipe down kitchen cabinets with a chicken’s hindquarters?

• Do you have the urge to repeat, repeat, repeat parts of everything you say, say, say?

Do you? Because if you do, you, too, can parlay your idiocy into a television career! Turn your ability to sincerely lie on cue into a full-time career! Call now! Operators are waiting!


What is wrong with me?! I’m losing my wits! Why am I bothered by these actors and actresses, these people who can’t frown, these people whose collar bones jut out in a painful-looking fashion, whose knees are larger around than their thighs? And what bothers me more? The actors or the ridiculous commercials they’re in?

Is anyone else sick of these grinning, prancing, plastic people? Is it just me? Should I seek help? Is there a support system for people who are offended by the night-and-day bombardment of grinning, simple-minded folk? Why do I care?

The commercial scenarios that most make me want to medicate myself:
• Family scenes where mothers chuckle indulgently, fathers bumble about ineffectively, children do something that would, in real life, result in a spanking or at least a time-out.

• A 20-something model touting the benefits of a moisturizer for her “aging” skin.

• Slender, good-looking people dancing and eating in the parking lot of a fast food restaurant, because, you know, that’s where the In Crowd is.

Despite having cut down on the amount of TV I watch, I still feel like stupidity is being thrust into my life by even being in the room when these commercials are on. It’s hypnotic.

Must… watch… TV. Must… accept… mind… washing. Must… be… okay… with… dropping… IQ… points.

Oh, no. It’s worse than I thought. Tell the others. Save yourself!

And tell my son that I love him.