Not that I mind, really. I consider myself to be an amateur curator of the inappropriate. But it amazes me, the things I’m seeing these days. Rosie and Mr. Whipple must be spinning like egg beaters inside their graves at Commercial Icons Memorial Park.
Here are a few that jump immediately to mind:
Toilet splatter? It wasn’t that long ago when they wouldn’t even show or mention a toilet on TV. The Brady Bunch, if you remember, had six kids sharing a little Jack ‘n’ Jill bathroom, with no shitter. Apparently they believed America couldn’t handle the thought of Marcia or Bobby snappin’ a yam. It’s the same reason they covered up the flying saucer crash at Roswell. The country might descend into anarchy, possibly even cannibalism. The producers of the fine work above also have a skid mark version, and one that deals with “clingers.”
Heh, this must be an extended director’s cut. It goes on a bit. But even the shortened version makes me grimace. That dirty old man is fixin’ to do the nasty with the Snapple lady, or whatever, and needs a little help in the uplift department. That, right there, is too much for me. I’m out.
And what’s the deal with him completely missing his mouth with the pill? Does he have a glass eye, or something, and no depth perception whatsoever? It’s impossible to know. Then the car gets fully engorged… How did this get the greenlight? Hell, I’ve seen it a hundred times, and don’t even watch much TV.
Semi-related note: I miss glass eye humor. I don’t think there are any current celebrities with glass eyes, to keep it going. Back in the day we had Sandy Duncan and Sammy Davis, Jr. Possibly others. Remember that song “Bette Davis Eyes?” I used to change the chorus to “She got Sandy Duncan eye!!…” See? That’s the kind of comedy I miss.
Wow. This might be the worst one of the bunch. The Family Guy seems subtle and nuanced by comparison. And it’s not even funny! Somebody should go to prison.
This one makes my stomach churn. It features some old bastard, roughly my age, doing all sorts of shit-removal hand gestures, and speaking about “layers.” What?! Then he goes into a porta-potty, presumably wipes his ass and takes off his underwear. When he emerges, he appears winded, for some reason. This thing is disturbing, on many levels.
Semi-related note: I know a guy who years ago talked about trying to create one giant uninterrupted skidmark in his underwear, that would run “from waistband to waistband.” He estimated it would take four days, and would require him to wear his tighty-whiteys backwards for two of those days. Not sure if he ever achieved his dream. Maybe I’ll do a follow-up?
I’ve talked about this one before. Can you imagine something like it being broadcast in 1974, or whatever? For one thing, everybody would be confused about the concept of bush trimming. But the whole subject matter… It’s not something people generally want to contemplate during a Raymond rerun. Am I wrong? But I’ve seen this ad dozens of times, right alongside commercials for Prego spaghetti sauce and Toyota Camrys. It amazes me. I think we might be “evolving” a little too fast. There’s another version that’s internet-only, but the one above is on TV all the time. All the time.
I’ll see you again soon. Let me know your thoughts on all this high-end cinematic art, and the ones I might have missed.
Have a great day, my friends.
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