WTF – Infomercials

For the last in my series of television related rants, I have chosen to unleash my oft abated fury on the infomercial.  It is not to say that I have a problem with infomercials, as they are a necessary evil and allow struggling affiliates and cable networks to reap the benefits off-peak-hours advertising.  However, as they say, the devil is in the details. 

  And who doesn't like an infomercial anyway?  Their cheesy hosts, the compensated studio audience, and the beautiful myriad of gadgets you can't possibly survive without ... until five minutes after the program is over.   They’re an American institution, and an oft marginalized beacon of Capitalism.  They bring the magic of the flea market hard sell to the boob tube.

Some of our best inventions have come to us by way of the infomercial.  What could be more iconic than the Chia Pet, the George Foreman Grill, or the Ronco Food Dehydrator.  Nothing says love like spreading muddy seeds on a clay base with a poorly glazed sheep's head.  Who wouldn’t like to “knock the fat”, out of an otherwise juicy and delicious hamburger?  And where would we all be without delicious fruit roll-ups made from strawberry jam, the all natural nutrition and pure goodness of dried fruit, or the lumberjack convenience of homemade beef jerky.

That's right, hold the phone, you can make jerky at home.  Could life be any better?

But wait, you're depressed with no direction in life?  Shucks, nothing a little Tony Robbins can't fix.  Top notch motivational speaking from a guy who looks like the girlfriend stealing douche from every 80’s movie.  Nice DeLorean asshole…

Thanks but no thanks, I’ll deal with my inner demons on my own.  For now, I’ll try to poison the little fucker’s with a steady stream of Jack Daniels and Bacon Ultimate Cheeseburgers.  Which is good segue to…

Fat?

No worries my tubby friend.  Drop your French fry and jump on Tony Little's Gazelle. 

True story time… I almost met an untimely death losing control of one of these fuckers sitting on the back patio of my parents house.  Do not, if you value your life the slightest bit, get on a Gazelle.

Better yet, hit up Chuck Norris' Total Gym. 

Speaking of Chuck Norris… (better fire up the JRTW Rimshot Monkey™ for this one)…

 

I hear that Chuck Norris is so strong, Volkswagens lift him to prove their strength.

I hear Chuck Norris is so tough, he shits sideways.

Hmm... one more...

Every time Chuck Norris ejaculates, a third world country suffers a natural disaster.

Thank you! Don’t forget to tip your waitress…I’ll be here all week…try the veal.

I'm sure I could go on for hours about the Chuck and/or the pseudo-benefits of the gadgetry of years past.  But this is not about then, this is about now.

And what do we get for our hard earned American dollar these days?

First, there's the ShamWow.  A magic little towel that holds 4 billion times it's own weight in water.  I recently read in Popular Mechanics that this little towel does in fact work as intended.  In their tests it sucked the cola right out of the carpet, and without the clever edit we see in the commercials.  From what I could tell they liked it, but felt is was better to dab than to rub, as it had a rough texture to it.

Little. Yellow. Different. Better.

My problem lies not with the product.  My problem lies with the former Tilt-a-Whirl operator they've now hired to hock this thing county fair style, Vince Offer (born Offer Shlomi).  With his best Sammy Davis Jr. impression, this lazy-eyed psycho is at best the meth-addled incarnation of Billy Mays and at worst... well, himself.  Although I guess now we know that Billy Mays was himself meth-addled, so it's kind of a moot point.

Fun Fact! - Coroners used OxyClean to sanitize the autopsy table after his death.

But I digress, apparently no one on set has ever heard of a boom mic so Schlomi here has to use a first generation Bluetooth headset to communicate with us.  Secondly, sweet merciful Jesus what is with that eye?  Thirdly I don't give a rat's ass what Olympic divers use to dry themselves off with, I only care about when and where they hit their heads and if they're HIV positive or not.  I'm looking at you Louganis!

And now Mr. Offer has moved to the Slap Chop.  The little gadget with the ninja name.  If I had a little person in my employ, I'd seriously dress him up in a dogi and call him Slap Chop.  I'd pay him to jump out at my guests at random intervals like a tiny Bruce Lee.

The Slap Chop is endearing in it's ability to whip up tiny mounds of pico de gallo faster than you ever thought possible.  It slices and dices, and chops onions WITH the skin on mind you! I haven't been able to chop up anything with the skin on since that incident with the Vegas stripper summer of 03.  FYI, it is true, what happens in Vegas, stays in the Glad ForceFlex bag behind the dumpster at CVS. 

What's better is the whole kit'n'caboodle opens up butterfly style for easy cleaning.  Somehow...sadly… also like the incident with the Vegas stripper.  Moving on.

So we sit there having our ears unapologetically raped by "Vince", to the point of ordering the damn thing in the hopes it will shut him up.  But no, it won't.  You’ll just cry yourself to sleep eating ice cream, like every other night… only this time with freshly chopped nuts.

Moving on....

It used to be the campy things in infomercials that I liked. The cheeseball audience, the ridiculous testimonials that were nothing short of poorly staged, it all had a very silly feel that made them ever so slightly funny.

Now I can't say really when it happened, but somewhere along the line infomercials discovered this as well.  So now they're playing to the cheese.  Deliberate cheese! Forced cheese, like an Easy Cheese enema. 

Now I'm all for camp. I dig it. It butters my bread. But intentional campiness is like Christian metal, it simply cannot exist.  If you're doing it on purpose, it's not camp.  If you're rocking about the lord, well my friend, you're simply not rocking at all.  And if you are truly rocking, you don't pimp a genre.

I recently saw an infomercial that didn't even have it's own paid audience. Instead it had a pre-recorded studio audience edited in.  That is something so inconceivably  artificial that I can't even begin to wrap my brain around it.  And what's worse, is was some infomercial audience from 20 years ago, with clear delineation in audio/video quality.  Deliberate cheese.

There used to be a few big names... Ron Popeil, Jack Lalane, Anthony Robinson.  Now every douche bag with a British accent need only latch on to the first fly by night time saver to make it big in the infomercial world.  I miss the good ol’ days when we'd simply light the hood of a car on fire and wipe our concerns away.  What do we get now, a thousand bucks courtesy of the "Magic Jack" stimulus package.  Personally, I'm only a few certified Obama silver dollars short of insanity.

Before long, we'll see infomercials re-enacting infomercials using clips of other infomercials.  We’ll be fed and re-fed parts of infomercials we’ve already seen come and go, a mishmash of digested parts, like those which inevitably led to mad cow disease.  But instead of it causing insanity in cows, it will lobotomize the brains of countless at home drones, waiting with open-wallets and empty closets, longing to be filled with regurgitated junk.

 

I don't mind crap products marketed to my weakened, inattentive mind in the middle of the night, with the crass authority one can only attain with high volume and a cockney accent.  But put some Goddamn effort into it!  I like my useless programming with some production value, even if it's a bunch of useless big dick pills being hocked by Ron Jeremy himself. 

And that's that.  TV, you're officially off the hook for awhile.

That’ll do Hedgehog…. that’ll do.

WTF - Terminator: The Sarah Conner Chronicles: The Hunt for Red October: Revenge of the Kraken: On the Beach

So yeah, what the hell is up with Terminator: The Sarah Conner Chronicles "running silent" to avoid "The Kraken".

Sean Connery just called and wants his plot device back. Last time I checked Sean Connery is the only one with a valid license to say the following phrases:

-"There can be only one," (Christopher Lambert's license expired when he took on the role of Raiden).

-"I've got a clear shot from here Moneypenny."

-"Crush depth."

-"Knight of the Old Code."

-"Welcome to the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen."

-"Losers whine about their best, winners go home and fuck the prom queen."

-"We named the dog Indiana."

And what's with transporting Australians by sub to a post apocalyptic North American west coast? Last time I checked (which was like a minute ago) that was the main plot point of the 1957 novel On The Beach, later made into a movie.

Are we all out of fresh ideas??

And the Kraken? Are there no more names available for deep sea dangers anymore. Is the Kraken just default for anything waterborne with the potential to kill us? Be careful, man! Don't get stung by the Kraken. Don't drink to much Kraken. Holy shit! Did you just see that huge Kraken demolish Indonesia? Croike, moi hahrt's jus been pairferated boi the Kraken?

No more Shark Week, it's Kraken week from now on!!!

Fucking Kraken, fuck the Kraken. You don't see J.J. Abrams whoring the unicorn in every other psychological action thriller do you? It's mythology for a reason, leave it alone.

Kraken out.

WTF! - The Old Switcheroo

The 2nd in this weeks series of television related rants.

If there's one thing we've learned these past few months, it's that what's old is new again. From grassroots presidents to the Not So Great Depression, Americans everywhere are experiencing a rebirth of ideas.

What we have on television is, instead, an afterbirth of ideas.

Again this particular take on the degrading quality of television has nothing at all to do with actual programming, which for the most part has taken stride with a happy medium of sitcoms, drama, and reality tv. Nay, this declaration involves advertising once more. Today's subject, the old switcheroo.

Here's a comedic taste of what I speak of by our beloved Farley.

Just golden, rest in peace my chubby friend.

Anyway, back to business. This particular skit mocks a popular advertising tool from the time, swapping out real brewed coffee for instant coffee crystals. Hidden cameras revealing that normal everyday people can't tell the difference. The clever little bastards behind the scenes reveal themselves and everybody has a good laugh. Farley notwithstanding, it's a cute trick that exploits the assumed power of assumption. In that half of believing something to be is not knowing there's a chance it isn't.

On a side not, I'm almost positive that somewhere somebody just defended a masters thesis on this concept ... a testament to my wasted genius.



So, again back to bad marketing. And by bad I mean Pastamania bad. Don't know? I think you can figure it out for yourself.

So in today's day and age what do we get for our marketing dollar? The same old bullshit, with the clean fresh 21st century smell of Febreeze™.

Only this time it's Pizza Hut. Purveyors of gimmick pizza after gimmick pizza (i.e. The 14-cheese 2-layer chicken wing lasagna pizza bordered by cheese-filled chocolate-dipped tear-n-share bread sticks with buffalo ranch dipping sauce).

Yes Pizza Hut is regurgitating the ads of old. Taking unsuspecting everyday people and replacing the shitty pasta they ordered with an entirely different shitty pasta transported from all points foreign. Enter the viewer, in a staged upscale dining establishment.

Now far be it for me to say that when you're opening an "upscale" restaurant you should probably spice up the menu beyond say... two dishes with the culinary complexity of a bread sandwich, but that's neither here nor there.

Ok, whatever, pasta at a pizza place. Feign excitement, roll eyes, continue watching The Office.

Now, I'm ok with the repetitive advertising, as there have been at least two to three tangible generations born and raised with no concept of the concept. It happens all the time I know, as do you, for I'm sure you as well as I have watched most of our beloved childhood toys re-released. And what's worse re-released, politically corrected, modernized, and mass-produced as though they were collectible before they were imagined on paper.

I don't want a neon green water gun. When I'm squirting water at my wife-beating step father I want the satisfaction of imagining I'm actually killing him. Neon green does not a weapon make. I want a jet black water gun molded from the same mold as the 9mm pistol the cops will inevitably kill me with after mistaking my water gun for an actual gun. If you want to rob a vending maching and don't want the cops shooting you, paint your own gun green!*

*It should be noted that the cops may still shoot you based on ethnicity, fashion, or neighborhood. This chance is multiplied by one order of magnitude for every jelly doughnut in your possession at the time. Also, Jimmy Rules the World in no way supports the use of fake weapons as real weapons. Opinions in this blog are solely those of Jimmy and should in no way be misconstrued as the opinions of Jimmy, Jimmy Rules the World, or it's parent companies or subsidiaries. All rights reserved. Not valid in AK or HI. See rules for details.

But I digress!!!

This isn't about me this is about shitty advertising. The old switcheroo as it were. I was willing to take it once but not a second time. And what do we get from Pizza Hut?

"The Natural"

Please sweet Jesus not again.

So here we are watching some douche of a chef preparing a fancy-ass pizza with "all natural" ingredients. Only to surprise an unsuspecting room of even douchey-er people with mouths agape at the concept that the pizza they've eaten came from a restuarant and not from an actress in chef's clothing.

Last time I checked the utilization of a chef was the only way for a restaurant chain to mass produce a dish. Do you think this shit just falls out of the air? Pizza Hut no doubt has dozens of people researching recipes and cooking full time, looking for that new gimmick or local favorite to rip-off. Even if the idea is simply ripped from pop culture, like The Natural, it still requires months of work to streamline for mass production and marketing. Why so shocked you moron, a shitty pizza is a shitty pizza, be it from a staged cooking show or a staged pizza delivery. It's all fake, get used to it. Cut, wrap, print.

And another thing! Thanks for reiterating the fact that every Pizza Hut pizza I've ever eaten was the polar opposite of "natural".

Natural pepperoni? What the fuck was in the original pepperoni? Newspaper clippings and old gym mats (bonus points for the reference).

Wow, tomato sauce made from tomatoes. Unreal!

And that whole grain crust. Bread made from whole grain wheat? Holy shit, stop the presses!

And the cheese? Actual mozzarella!! I'll be damned!

Well butter my butt and call me bread. Pizza Hut... you've almost made a pizza.

Now stop while your ahead.


Again, thank you and goodnight.
Jimmy.

P.S. Next month at Pizza Hut for $11.99. Oh yeah, they'll make it look like a large in the commercials but it's really a medium.

VOD - It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia

What can I say, if you're not watching It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, you're missing arguably one of the best comedies on TV. And with the evolution of cable TV, you get the added bonus of "M" rating language. Nothing spices up a joke like a well timed "Shit!" or "Goddamn!".

History tells us that the pilot for the show was shot by the three male leads with a camcorder for a total cost of about $85 dollars. As FX has currently ordered enough episodes for a sixth season, this represents a pretty good return-on-investment.

The simple premise is this: Dennis, Mac, and Charlie are all co-owners of Paddy's Bar, an ill-fated establishment in Philadelphia. Dennis' twin sister Dee works as a bartender, while their father Frank weasels his way into all their schemes (Frank debuted in Season Two, working his way into the ownership of the bar by buying the land underneath it). It's simple but it works, and with hilarious results always. More on the series if you need it here.

I've embedded Episode 1 from the current season (4) for your viewing pleasure. I know you probably don't have the full twenty two or so minutes at your disposal, but if you don't now, find time later.

FYI, the entire episode comes courtesy of Hulu. The brainchild of Fox parent News Corp. and NBC (who was looking for a proper outlet for their content after ending their Itunes relationship), Hulu has now become one of the top online distributors of streaming content, effectively silencing its doubters. Call me convinced, the website provides a fast and efficient way to enjoy a vast library of some great shows with limited commercial interruption. Now go watch!

That being said I fucking hate Fox News, may it burn in hell alongside it's pundits whom have all sold their souls to the devil that is Rupert Murdoch. But sweet Jesus I love The Simpsons ... what can you do?

Enjoy.

Review - Fringe

Well, having seen the pilot episode twice and tonight's episode, I have to say I'm looking forward to the rest of the season of FOX's new show Fringe. If you haven't had a chance to check it out I highly recommend it. The premise is this: FBI special agent Olivia Dunham becomes involved in an investigation into a flight which lands (through the aid of advanced autopilot) safely at an airport but with no signs of life on board and with complete radio science. The resulting investigation reveals that some synthetic airborne toxin had been introduced to the flight which, for all intents and purposes, melts the flesh off of all the passengers. An explosion at a storage facility she is sent to investigate seriously injures Dunham's partner John Scott, who is exposed to the toxin's ingredients. Scott is barely alive and in a coma, and his flesh is becoming increasingly transparent. This leads Dunham to research the effects of the toxin and leads her to Dr. Walter Bishop. Bishop was doing top secret research at Harvard for the DOD, but now resides in a mental institution after on of his experimental assistants was killed in the lab. Dunham wants to speak with Bishop, but cannot speak with him unless she is accompanied by a family member, of which Dr. Bishop has only one. She seeks out his son Peter Bishop and convinces him to help. Together they eventually find a cure for agent Scott, but unfortunately this is simply the beginning of a twisted plot. The lead investigator for the terrorist attack on the airliner is Homeland Security Agent Phillip Broyles, and he taps agent Dunham to join his task force researching "The Pattern", a series of unimaginable events not unlike the airliner attack that all seem connected. Dunham recruits Dr. Bishop and his son and accepts the position, and this is how the show takes off. Agent Scott recovers after some truly neat research involving shared dream states and LSD and sensory deprivation chambers. The brother of the man responsible for the airliner attack is captured. And all seems well until Dunham discovers the truth. I'll just say check out the pilot episode here if you have a couple of hours to spend.

I enjoyed the series a great deal. It felt well written and paced, with outstanding effects on par with it's 10 million dollar budget, a record for a pilot. At times Peter Bishop, played by Joshua Jackson, seemed a little too redundant with his sarcasm, but his character brings brains as well which helps to level him out. The rest of the cast is outstanding, especially Anna Torv as agent Dunham. Of special note is the performance of Blair Brown, who plays Nina Sharp, one of the higher ups at Massive Dynamic, the giant conglomerate which seems way to connected to "The Pattern" to fully trust. Agent Broyles, played by Lance Reddick, is spot on as well.

Excellent storytelling, excellent effects, and excellent twists make this one a winner in my book. While not without a few cliched shortcomings, for a pilot this show is incredibly polished and well deserving of a good look by anyone who enjoys good sci-fi or good mystery.

"Five alien heads out of five"

WTF! - Random Movie Computer Noises

Alright, I've had about enough of this. Now I understand many years ago the personal computer was not something the average person had access to in their home. These monstrous things often took up many rooms and required a shit ton of punch cards to operate properly. And by operate properly I mean to perform the basic function of a TI-82.Now given that the computer was a thing of privilege to even be near, it meant that the best means by which to experience this new technology was through television or the movies. Enter the realm of science fiction. I love science fiction, and who doesn't to some extent. In all classic sci-fi you'll see ships with computers and all sorts of futuristic technology, and with all those exciting things came wondrous sounds. *Beep* *Boop* *Whoosh* *Etc*

My question is, at which point will media realize that we know computers don't make cool sound effects every single time you use them? When I'm watching a film or television program set in the future, I'm ready to allow a certain suspension of disbelief. However, when your film or TV show is set in present time, I don't need unnecessary and entirely unbelievable effects for every move your mouse pointer makes. Clicks, beeps, whooshes of windows as you maximize and minimize. Save it for the explosions and the gunshots and mostly for the foley artists. They need a paycheck! You're not fooling anybody! I'm on a computer right now and it's not making any noise! Look, I'm switching tabs in Firefox, now I'm closing a window, and now I've pressed the Start button! And yet I hear no cacauphony of sound, simply the clattering of my keys and the wrinkling of my brow as my disenfranchised heart wonders why Microsoft didn't include those very sound effects in my copy of Windows XP. Maybe they're Vista exclusive... that must be it.

But really, knock it off.

Have a great weekend, talk to you all soon!

Jimmy