During our last foray into the idiosyncrasies of television commercials, we encountered some that were not only sensible, but entertaining and, believe it or not, poignant.
Not so the recent batch, many of which are incomprehensible.
I offer for your inspection the one with the hamster in the cage and the old man and several other goings on. I have watched it several times and have yet to find out what it is about.
There is one for Google that has circles with triangles containing pictures of various things. I don’t get that one either.
Some of the others are explainable, but just plain stupid.
For instance, why would Mr. Potato Head be eating potato chips? Is that not verging on cannibalism?
By the same token, we see a pig offering up bacon, along with eggs, for breakfast. Shame on him.
There are all kinds of animals visiting all sorts of venues and none of them make sense. Would you really buy an insurance named Elephant? There is a woman who notes, having been praised by the elephant, that he won’t forget. Ridiculous!
There’s a cow who apparently has raised a young girl to womanhood and is there at the wedding to sing her praises. Also ridiculous.
There’s the lady blow-drying a chicken, talking about how to fluff up your eggs. That’s not eggs, lady. That’s a chicken you’re fluffing.
Moving right along, we have food attacking people so the sponsor can sell more antacid medicine. I hate that nasty meatball falling down out of the sky.
Speaking of antacids, which we really shouldn’t, how on earth are we going to bear all the drug ads?
Almost every one we see on TV these days is something that has to be prescribed by a doctor. Do the pharmaceutical companies expect us to go running to our caregivers asking for this or that magic remedy?
Apparently, they not only expect it, they achieve big business in this nefarious way.
I hate the one of the person with the naked tummy who has all kinds of arrows and lines and blocks drawn around his belly button to indicate some kind of intestinal problem. That’s just too gross.
There’s one I thought amusing. If your name is MIKE or JANE or FRED and you have COPD you can take BREO. Well, I have COPD, but apparently I can’t have BREO because I have too many letters in my name, CATHY.
I was wrong, however. Or the commercial was. My doctor gave me a sample of BREO to try. And it works like a charm.