Yes, I know. I’ve written about them before, so this may be my last on the subject, until more truly awful ones come along. They’re a fact of life. They sell products and services, and generate income. And they’re more and more pervasive. You will notice that there are no commercial messages or pop-up sales on this blog. I keep it strictly professional. In full disclosure, though, if somebody wanted to fling cash at me to advertise and monetize “I’m thinking . . .No”, I would succumb in a heartbeat. Oh, offers do come in, but they typically are offers to “upgrade”, which will increase readership, and those come with a price. Should I spend the money? Would you, my faithful readers, pay to subscribe, or be annoyed to see an ad for wrinkle cream or a gutter protection seminar pop onto your computer screen? I’m thinking . . . . .
Every so often, I see an episode of House Hunters where there are professional bloggers who need special spaces for their presentations. I understand. Many seem to be doing ads to protect Tik Tok, so I’ll presume that’s where a number of them reside. One the other night is a “fashion” blogger, and needed closets the size of Ohio to store and prepare the wares she was marketing. She went so far as to say, and I quote, “Yes, it’s a thing.” Another, appearing a few years back, was, and perhaps still is, a “food” blogger. She needed a large kitchen with light countertops to display her finished products. OK, that makes sense. I’d guess that baked goods and desserts wouldn’t show well on brown or black granite. They’d look like, well, my banana bread. A third one, and this fascinated me, was a “puppy” blogger. She needed a space to broadcast her puppies. Does she have warehouse of small dogs that she keeps at the ready? Or did she raid the local animal shelter weekly for potential internet stars, or an arrangement with a veterinarian to “borrow” animals for her presentations? How does that all work? The logistics of that really made me wonder. But my curiosity didn’t drive me to the point of actually doing research.
The whole nature of marketing and advertising seems to have changed dramatically in the major markets. In the Golden Age of Television, when I was growing up, ads were typically no more than 60 seconds, and were sprinkled sporadically throughout the show. Yes, they were modestly annoying, but it was something we could live with. They paid the bills so we didn’t have to. Now we can’t survive without paying access fees, but we still have the commercials. They’re longer, and they come in bunches like grapes. Six or eight of them in a row. And worse, we’ll see the same commercial repeated within a block. Who, ever, thought that was a good idea? Even the streaming services used to be commercial-free. That’s why you paid the fee. But now, we have to pay an added fee to avoid the commercials. Commercial-free is a thing of the past. Remember when you could record the shows and then fast-forward through the advertising? The techies have found ways to block that, with a perky little notice flashing across the screen that says, “Fast-forward may not operate.” You think? Of course, it won’t. Unless I pay and extra $12 a month. They’ve designed it that way.
I would urge those advertising on television to spend a bit more and make lots more commercials. That way, we won’t need to see the same one over and over (and over). Have you noticed that, after seeing a cleverly made commercial roughly two hundred times, the mystique and interest have worn off? The folks waving their hands for their excess “stuff” to disappear. That doesn’t happen in my basement when I wave. Although the spiders are becoming more friendly. Like the woman sawing down her daughter’s tire swing. Just buy the darn tires, lady, and stop bothering us. Or the insurance guy driving the bank robbers and counting “one Mississippi” at the stop light. If I were behind him in traffic, I’d be tempted to acts of road rage too, and I don’t typically rob banks. I am happy to see that one of the airlines is returning to “Want to get away?” I think the insurance commercial is rather a rip-off of theirs with the man getting into what he thinks is an Uber, and the ink pack explodes in his face. That’s a classic. They should make a bunch more of those. That theme featured some of the best ads on television.
I constantly return to the commercials for medications. The most recent flurry of them features big dance numbers. Someone at the agency is a huge Broadway fan. Nothing says “diarrhea” or “lowering your A1C” like a full-blown company of dancers boogying around the town square. If I hadn’t been a professional blogger in my second career, I think I’d have become an inventor of names for medications. What a fanciful, colorful lot those people must be. No doubt the pharmaceutical companies pay very well for names of new drugs. What I like particularly is that they put together underused letters, and put them together into unique and unpronounceable combinations. Maybe, like in Scrabble, extra points are involved. I also like the disclaimers. “This may cause infections, suicidal thoughts, or death.” Wouldn’t that be rather a deal-breaker? “Fred was doing really well until he had suicidal thoughts and, well, you know how that ended.” There’s a major lawsuit. But we have just the legal firm to handle the claim. It’s huge, a national network, and will get Fred’s estate way more money than any other. That local guy may be ok, but is he really “for the people”? Plus, their ads have no lawyers dancing around the office, so we know they mean business.
What I find interesting in those medication ads is that they end with curious statements. “Tell your doctor about the medications you’re taking.” Wait, didn’t he or she prescribe them in the first place? And they check regularly. Every time I have an appointment, they go through the list again, and again, and again. I keep a list in my wallet because it’s getting harder and harder to remember them all. “Stop taking Buxxogluqazam if you’re allergic to it.” Do you actually have to put this in the ad? That should “go without saying”, as the expression says. I mean, yes, the first time you get a reaction, ok. But after that? Can’t people connect those dots and figure out they’re getting an allergic reaction? When you can’t breathe, or a rash covers 98% of your body, you should really take yourself off that drug. And call your doctor. Or 911.
In my spare time, I may set up the Institute of Truly Awful Commercials. Those That Never Should Have Been Made. The title webpage will have the legend, “What Were They Thinking?” Or perhaps, “Was Somebody Paid for These?” There will be various portals sending the viewer into, for example, “The Truly Disgusting”. You’ll be able to see the one where the dog licks the food off the child’s face, while the father expresses “that’ll work.” Somebody please phone Child Services. Or the one where the two teenagers have small colored candies stuck to their faces – the imagery of candied measles really doesn’t work. The advertising brain trust behind that masterpiece should be swabbing decks on a freighter bound to a third world country.
There will be a Gallery of Business Owners Who Decided to Make Their Own Commercials. And shouldn’t have. The little man selling cars that looks like a garden gnome who pops up every so often, trying hard to “keep it awesome”. Another guy running a chain of tire stores, looking like he styled his hair with a leaf blower and promised “not to be beat on price”. There was a furniture store owner a many years ago who looked like he was being held at gunpoint in some kind of a hostage-taking. He’d stare unblinking, unsmiling into the camera and deliver his message with the charisma of a prisoner-of-war. And finally, the spokesperson for a discount clothing store who is trying just a little too hard to be girlishly flirtatious. Her obvious cosmetic makeovers tell a different story. Or the lady who remodels bathrooms in “just one day”, wearing a black dress and swinging a hammer while running through her sales pitch at breakneck speed. In a sequel, she is filmed on a surfboard on an unfortunately choppy day at sea, delivering her final lines to the fishes. That’s just advertising magic. To all of these hearty, do-it-yourself business people, I give a brisk headshake and a decided, “I’m thinking . . . . . really no!”
I'm Thinking...No! 