I was watching a candy bar commercial on TV and there was a website address.
I looked up the site, and it asked what country I’m in.
America.
And it showed me the candy bar commercial.
I reloaded the page, but this time, I told it I was in England.
Same graphics, but this time they listed different flavors.
Mint… Orange… Caramel…
“Why don’t we have those?” I said.
“Can’t you just buy caramel at the store for dipping?” said my roommate.
“They think we’re simple,” I grumbled. “Stupid. Ignorant.”
We sat in silence as the TV blared more nonsense.
Tag: television
Negativity
After years of negative ads the citizens were so disgusted with politics that when Election Day rolled around, nobody showed up at the polls.
Not even the poll workers.
The media weren’t surprised at all, since they were so disgusted by the negativity, whoever hadn’t gotten time off for vacation or a faked-up medical emergency ended up chasing other stories besides the election.
Absentee ballots were completely absent.
Even the urban churches filled their buses with the faithful… and drove them to church to pray.
Washington and every state office was closed.
And people pretty much got along as normal.
Ribbon
I didn’t watch any of the Olympics on TV.
Not even the women’s beach volleyball.
However, a friend of mine at NBC is scoring me a tape of all the Ribbon Gymnatics footage.
No, I’m not interested in that shit either, Those chicks wear a lot more than the volleyball chicks, and they’re usually only thirteen or fourteen.
It’s for my cats.
They love to play and jump at with twirling ribbons, so I’m going to leave the tape running while I go to work.
Forget what the Russian judge says. To the cats, every performance is a perfect ten.
Tennis
Oh. God. No.
Not tennis.
Aside from the Monica Seles stabbing in 1993, I don’t find tennis all that interesting.
Sure, some of the chicks grunt, but that gets repetitive.
And I appreciate a cute butt in white shorts when I see it, but Pete Sampras retired.
Golf is boring, too.
You hear about people getting struck by lightning while playing golf, but they never show that on the Golf Channel.
And the chicks don’t grunt.
Has there ever been a stabbing?
Well, there will be one if you don’t change the channel.
Oh, and get me a beer, too.
The Challenge
Do you remember The Pepsi Challenge?
There’d be a table in a supermarket with someone offering colas in a blind taste test, and the people who said they preferred Coke but chose Pepsi would be put in a commercial.
I always thought it was a fake, but just the other day I saw someone in the supermarket conducting a taste test.
A woman drank one cola, squinched her face up in disgust, and then tried the second.
She spat it out: “They’re both horrible!”
I looked behind the screen… two brands of rat poison.
“Can I be next?” I asked.
Chicken Soup
My mother always said that chicken soup cures all ills.
When I got older, I had the temerity to question this.
“Yes. Every one of them,” she said.
“What about crazy people?” I asked.
“Hit them in the head with the can until they shut up,” she said.
That night on the news, the Supreme Court was debating legality of chemical castration of a rapist.
“I bet chicken soup couldn’t cure him,” I said.
“Mine would,” said my mother.
And she poured the hot soup in my lap.
She handed me the phone. “Feel like calling your shiksa girlfriend now?”
Parallel Universe
In the parallel universe
Everyone is evil
And Spock has a beard
If Spock were a practical joker
He’d buy a false beard
And wear it every so often
So that when Kirk saw him
He’d think he was the Evil Spock
And then Spock would pull it off
And laugh.
But Spock is a Vulcan
Vulcans have no emotions
Or sense of humor
So the odds of Spock
Actually making a joke
Are incredibly small
Spock would say they are zero
But he knows the exact odds
To the fifteenth decimal place
Because he’s a scientist
And a nerd.
Sarcasm
We were watching the Super Bowl, and a television commercial for a bank came on.
I read the fine print:
SUBSTANTIAL PENALTY FOR EARLY WITHDRAWAL.
I made a joke: “What do they do, cut your head off?”
Everybody in the room went silent.
And the red alarm dot on the television began to flash.
“Oh, shit… the sarcasm detector,” said the host. “They heard him.”
“They? Who?” I asked.
The screen went black, and outside… the sound of an approaching helicopter.
Oh great. The Sarcasm Police. Just what I need.
The red dot on top of the television flashed brighter.
Your Mission
After listening to the tape describe a nightmare Doomsday scenario facing the world, Jim listened to his mission, and then pondered whether he should accept it or not.
Before the tape had self-destructed in a whiff of smoke, Jim had made his decision:
No.
Instead, he went fishing, and caught a pair of trout that grilled up nicely.
Finishing his beer, he turned on the television to watch the news.
Just a tone and a test pattern.
It was on every channel.
Jim figured the new regime would probably hire him.
He hoped that his retirement plan would roll over.
The Price Of Fame
The agency sends special girls.
Stare into their eyes long enough, and you become them.
Mind-Body Psychic Transfer, they call it.
What people do, well, that’s their business, as long as they pay, and don’t get the girls hurt.
I work for this Hollywood star who pays a fortune to get away from himself.
He can go to dinner, or just walk around without getting harassed or chased by paparazzi.
Or, he’ll have the girl walk him around, and he’ll watch the crowds swarm, begging for autographs.
Weird? Yeah.
But I don’t judge. As long as he’s back for rehearsals.