So how’s everyone? Gettin’ back into the swing of things, after the Thanksgiving break? Gettin' geared up for Christmas?
I was messing around with a candle today, getting all festive, and ended up slicing my finger open—don’t ask—so typing’s kind of a bitch right now. But I’m a trooper, as I think we all know. Also, I have a Care Bear Band-Aid on it. Yeah, no, I’m not kidding. It sucks. Why do I have Care Bear Band-Aids, you ask? Well, it’s a long story, and one I can’t tell with any degree of honesty, so let’s just leave it alone, shall we?
Instead, let’s talk about flying monkeys with giant swords and built-in cigarettes. I still don’t have one. What I do have is a pack of clove cigarettes that that bastard Trey left out on my porch while he was here. They got rained on, so they weren’t any good to him, and he abandoned them. They’ve been singing their siren song day and night, and I’m really going to have to get off of my lazy ass and throw them away before they dry out, or there could be trouble.
So I’m watching TV today, right? I do that about twice a day, for Simpsons-related reasons. I’m sitting there, eating my supper, reading my book, waiting for the commercials to end, and I hear the jingle that has really been driving me crazy lately.
I don’t know if you watch much TV, but if you do, you’ve probably seen this commercial. They play it twice each commercial break down here, which means that while watching The Simpsons, I end up seeing this stupid commercial about eight times.
What it is, is there’s this cartoon bear, and he’s taking a shit. And yes, he does it in the woods, in case you were asking. He’s standing behind a tree, so you don’t really see him taking care of business, but you know what he’s doing. And you know what he’s doing when he starts wiping his ass, too.
And then this little duck floats down the river, towards the bear, singing this little song about how wait just a second, you might not be done yet, not if you’re using just regular toilet paper. Did I mention the bear was shitting by the river? Yeah, he is. And this little duck, he comes floating down on this box of wet-wipe things, singing his little song.
See, because the thing is, the bear’s ass is still dirty, even though he wiped. Apparently, if you’re a bear, you don’t know how to wipe your ass properly. And I think that the little duck was actually suggesting that perhaps I don’t wipe my ass properly, either, because he wants me to buy these wet wipes. To demonstrate how hard shit is to wipe off, they show a picture of this hand (a real one now—having a clean ass is serious business, and we don’t want someone taking our dirty ass demonstration as an exceptionally crude attempt at humor, now, do we?). This hand has a drop of lotion on it, and when they try to wipe it with ordinary toilet paper, it spreads out all over the place.
Man, I bet the hand model from that one was proud to go home that night. “How was work, Mommy?”
“It was…uh, it was fine, Sarah.”
“Mommy, why are you washing your hands so much tonight?”
“You’re going to dry them out.”
“No I won’t.”
“But you told me that if you wash your hands all the time, they dry out, and then they won’t be beautiful anymore.”
“Mommy’s hands are fine, Sarah, I just…can’t…get…them…clean.”
“You want some lotion, Mommy?’
“Get that lotion away from me, you little shit!”
Good times. Anyways, although it’s a harmless drop of lotion, the imagery is repulsive, right up there with showing how absorbent a super-tampon is by dipping the damn thing in a glass of red water and watching it all get soaked up. These commercial people are out of control. They constantly push the envelope about how disgusting they can get. I’m afraid, boys and girls, because there is no rating system for commercials, there is no parental advisory. You don’t have a chance to avert your eyes or turn the channel. One second, you’re watching America’s favorite animated family, and the next moment, you’re assaulted with some chick talking about how her vagina is itching like a leper on PCP, and she would sure like it cured in five days instead of seven.
It’s only a matter of time before they just completely shatter the barriers. You’ll just see some old lady standing there in the park, shit running down her leg, she’s crying, people are vomiting and running away. And the voice-over: “Do you have trouble controlling your bowels? Well, not any more!”
Or some guy in his late fifties, he’s standing there at the foot of his bed, naked, with a flaccid penis, a look of shame on his face, his wife’s glaring at him, talking about how why doesn’t he find her attractive anymore. And then some other guy walks into the picture, “Do you suffer from erectile dysfunction?”
And yet they won’t show Lois from The Family Guy naked. What kind of world are we living in? I was actually talking to my mother about the nudity thing this weekend. My mother is very, very, very opposed to nudity, which is an absolutely fantastic quality to have in a mother.
When I was a kid, we owned the only movie theater in town. I remember watching that scene in Robocop, where the bad guys stand over Murphy and blow him apart with their shotguns, piece by piece. He does a lot of screaming, and a lot of bleeding. I watched that movie three times, and had nightmares for a month, but I wasn’t allowed to see The Hand That Rocks the Cradle because of the breast pump scene.
That’s not right. It’s too late for me—there isn’t any magical time machine I can sit on and fly back to the past. There’s no way for me to go back and tell my mom to let me see more dirty movies so that I don’t just get flat-out obsessed with the idea of nudity and perversion. But I can try to make a difference in the present. Join me, and let us change modern media, let us revolt against the corporations that make these commercials, let us stop them before there is no way to stop them!
Look, I’m not saying that we have to change commercials so that you don’t have a little duck singing to me about my dirty ass. I’m just saying that if you’re going to assault me with all of your disgusting images, at least put a naked lady at the end to reward me for sitting through the filth.
We can do it, team!