The Country Curmudgeon: Those TV ads
By Roy Hicks
Thursday, February 12, 2009 10:37 AM PST
Don’t know about you, friends, but I get awfully weary of certain television ads.
Oh, there are some good and effective ones out there, like the little, green animated Geico lizard. Likewise, I’m in love with “Flo,” the brunette with big blue eyes, also peddling auto insurance. Although a live model, she’s almost like a comic-strip caricature and looks like a great party girl. Better yet, she’s unmarried (look closely next time, and you’ll see no ring on her finger) so there’s hope for me yet.
But some of them that really wear me out are those medical ads for anything from shortness of breath to excessive cholesterol. “Talk to your doctor about ProblemAid!” these promos bleat, followed by the most alarming disclaimers. “Common symptoms include insomnia, stomach cramps, diarrhea, headaches and possible death. If you experience any of these, talk to your doctor before continuing to take ProblemAid.” In most of these, the risks sound more ominous than any possible benefits. “Be sure to talk to your doctor if the side effects of these include any of the above.” Yeh, right. For sure, talk to your doctor if the risks include death.
Then there are the irritatingly abrasive ads like those of the incorrigible Billy May with his orange wristwatch, that loud-mouthed huckster pushing anything from household cleaners to kitchen gadgets. Ditto for the young man who appears to be his protégé pushing “ShamWow” wipecloths.
The ones that really gall me are those for curing “erectile dysfunction.”
“Size matters!” chirps a young brunette honey. “Yeh, size matters!” echoes a dark-haired young man. Followed again by a gray-haired, 50-some man with a younger wife. “I bought Bigger’n’Better not because I thought it’d make me bigger but because I thought ‘improving my performance’ would be worthwhile.”
To which his silly-smiling wife chirps, “Yeh, that turned out to be a lot more fun!”
I loathe the one about redeeming your old gold.
“I got $600 for my old gold!” crows some superannuated woman, likely from a couple of wedding rings from former husbands she buried. But I like the one about a cocky TV reporter blatting, “There was a robbery in this neighborhood last night,” and BONG! he runs squarely into a street sign, and the amateur flag-football player who catches a pass and then runs squarely into a telephone pole guy-line.
It was bad enough when Bob Dole — that miserably failed candidate for president in 1996 — thumped the tub for Viagra, as if that were a miracle cure for senior citizens’ bedroom dysfunction. Now, it’s even worse.
Perhaps the most startling of these obnoxious ads are the ones for the “Trojan tickler”: a battery-powered fingertip device for ladies. Two young dollies are casually chatting about this. “Ooh, I wish I knew how to get one of those!” one of them chirps. To which the harpy on a telephone switchboard just behind them sticks her nose in and says, “Well, you can order them online. That’s how I got mine!” she cackles, and and they all giggle together.
Good grief! Is nothing sacred any more?
Roy Hicks, a Payette resident, writes a weekly column for the Argus Observer. Comments or questions for Mr. Hicks can be directed to: Roy Hicks, Argus Observer Newsroom; 1160 S.W. Fourth St., Ontario, OR 97914
