Pet products fascinate me, because they are, generally, a total frivolity marketed at the buyer but not the consumer. I do not have pets. I have probably said so before, but I dislike somebody who is needy, erratic, unable to be reasoned with and can never be expected to grow out of that. That job is already taken in my house.
I am jealous of dogs. I have to brush my teeth constantly but dogs just get to eat meat flavored cookies shaped for some reason like pieces of dead bodies and apparently that’s enough.
Ah, wonderful. What can you tell me, Roy?
Lovely. Like what?
Is that so! How does it pertain to this situation.
Please don’t talk to me anymore, Roy.
This bag contains little dogs to feed to your big dog.
Similarly, the anthromoporphic dog here wants to eat his normal dog deputy. I assume. I hope he’s not mouthily lusting over that big peanut on a fork. That would be weird, and then this product would need to be recalled.
If it WAS recalled, and discontinued, that certainly would not be because thousands of people reported that their dogs became sick/dead from kidney failure after eating these things because they were made from imported Chinese poultry meat. The New York state factory just happened to flunk the antibiotic test and the owner has no intention of using meat that does not contain antibiotics (or letting one of its factories outside New York get inspected), because these are legally considered SAFE, in China, even though the investigation only happened because of people reporting that the product was harmful and the discovered health code violation was entirely coincidental. Do you understand? Explain it to me after class.
This is the Nestle corporation, after all. It only inadvertently kills human babies [in the 1970s].
You can also buy Waggin Train products in Canada, because the dogs there really culturally identify with the covered wagon mythos. Also, they are more humble and less likely to complain than American dogs when they get poisoned.
Still, getting back on topic,
It has been my experience that peanuts are weird, at least.
And some peanuts are totally normal and pleasant.
And a reasonable reader would know very well that’s not what I meant and that nobody should do that.
You are atrocious.
Are blind taste tests telling me I should close my eyes all day just to buy different brands of the same food? It doesn’t seem like much of a trade off. But I would have to do that, because I am already biased, and I would know what I was buying. Just for the taste tests, might I suggest disposing of your empty cans rather than placing them beside the bowls? It’s bad housekeeping first, and having the evidence gone might also help you cut back on your blind-fold budget.
Ehhh, soup is hard enough to
This is from a recent advertisement for the Campbell soup company, which has decided to make its marketing strategy accusing its biggest competitor, Progresso, of infusing its product with Alpha-Bits. When our blind broth biter slops the Campbelled soup she claims to taste chicken meat and nondescript green vegetabloids, and when her mouth molests Progressoup, she only tastes preservatives and MSG. Quite an astounding thing to be able to do, and I think with such keen senses this person may have a bright* future as a drug sniffing dog, but what is MSG? Another ad makes it more clear…
*or dark, if she insists on keeping her eyes covered
Typical half-literate consumer in need of guidance who speaks on our behalf, reading label:
Confident right woman:
Oh, lombard street! This year I resolved to always wait until arbitrary declarations of number-change to attempt to stop my bad habits, so I guess I’ll have to keep requesting infirmity until 2010.
Here’s a hint to tell you a company hack might be behind something: if each and every trademark is acknowledged every single time. Is this the brand power website or the back of a box of Froot Loops?
Phrases like “sponsored by [the company whose junk we’re pushing]” are also generally worth looking into. Adding some vaguely named company ending in “group” or solutions” is merely zesty monosodium glutamate flavoring in the mix to guarantee its irresistability.
Though experts consistently agree I am no commercial artist, I am yet fascinated by the incredibly efficient buchanan group logo. That being a bee (B) with a head which is a G, the G’s open space also functioning as pleasant highlight with a normal background and a violent hemorrhage in the actual very red ad.
Notice how the woman at the front page morphs mightily depending on what place your cursor fondles the flag of. Make sure you choose the one you most closely resemble. If you are a man, why don’t you go out and split logs or something. Don’t you know shopping is woman’s work? If you want, punish yours for using the internet unsupervised.
This is not simply showing you regional spoke-people, your agent under cover, behind enemy lines, under siege, a time to kill; none have names attached, they are just hobos pulled out of boxes, well explaining their passion for the first bowl of soup they get. If they were in any way identified you might be able to look them up and find out what they were actually qualified for. Also, as far as I can tell, in the actual ad clips they’re all lost on the same supermarket set.
I do like the Philipine woman, for having something of a look of disgust in her avatar and also for evidently being the same person as the one on the package of the product she sells.
Although she’s not really selling anything, I suppose, since you practically get it for free.
It is further worth observing that the artist in residence didn’t finish whiting out the boxes of Tide in the background. Hey, it’s a rigorous job.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Google, that’s just rude.
Eh, beets.
——————-
There is a nother artist meeting, on Thursday, at the same place as last time, and once again from 5 to 7 pm. I only have one picture there, though (everybody only has one), and if you’ve read this website with your eyes for any length of time you’ve surely seen it before. Additionally, if you actually are a resident of the new haven area you’d be better off coming to my own house to see… my junk, at least, because all my pictures from the previous showing are currently imprisoned within an oblong box on my porch.
————–
Page 22, it seems, of this. You may be surprised to learn that I do not own a ruler.
The tyrannosaurus is so irresponsible. It must be that impulsive carnivore lifestyle. Trex doesn’t think about how its actions affect others or itself longtermly. But it’s just so happy! It doesn’t know tough times are ahead. They’re going to take your house away, Trex!
And by that you mean “Tom Cruise is insane and we assume you agree.” Wow, you’re only two, three years late with this commentary? While I’m mildly intrigued to think how my clicking an ad to share a rarely challenged opinion which affects nothing with a party which has not been identified and possibly does not exist generates revenue, as long as it does I will have no part of it. Perhaps Mr. Cruise is perfectly sane, but his mind’s abilities simply transcend your comprehension; indeed, you’ll probably never understand how he flies through the air and controls the weather. His halo suggests deification.
And what the turtle is “soda head?” That sounds like a rejected Cranium™®© character, and I’ve seen the stuff they accepted! I think I just in general hate website names. Or perhaps in my ignorance I have overlooked the possibility that soda are in fact meat products whose heads and any other recognizable pieces are hacked off prior to distribution so people feel less bad about eating it. That site seeks to raise awareness through making cheap insults against easy public targets. Which is much different than complaining about banner ads. Everybody loves banner ads.
I might play Christmas Doom in march, but I’m not paying to watch Christmas movies I’ve seen before in April. I may, however, complain about an ad which suggests I do such a thing in May. Who do you think you are, Rudolph? Enzyte Bob?
It looks like the ad is telling this guy to rent from the Net Flicks. I think he’s supposed to be standing near a police car, but what I can see looks as much like a mailbox. The man appears unenthusiastic because he has just received a dvd in the mail which he doesn’t remember ordering and foresees many hassles in the future if he does not return it promptly and simultaneously cancel the free trial somebody has prankingly signed him up for.
Well I don’t want it if it’s broken!
DO NOT EVER BUY THESE! DO NOT THINK GEEK! Horrible, horrible, horrible. The way potatos were incorporated and the fact that they were are regrettable, but since when does R2D2 have eyes? None of these should have visible eyes! You thought you were making them “cute” but instead you made them monstrous and frightening in addition to brain-robbingly daft because you did it wrong and you shouldn’t have done it anyway! Why were these made? Did market research reveal that the allegedly existant nearly human hunchbacked recluses who collect “celebriducks” weren’t contributing any money to the Star Wars galactic money bin?
I don’t want free Quacktm messaging! So goof luck finding someone who would pay for it! Also, you’ll be hearing from ducks once they realize you trade-marked the noise they make. You’d best hope they don’t get any celebri-ducks supporting the cause. I will also hope that. I don’t want to see them on The News if I start watching The News.
Not just for trivial public situations, apparently men need to phonily cover up their hair color full time because they just aren’t good enough for their kids anymore.
To be fair, because I feel a need to be fair to the untouchable billion-dollar corporate short haired square-skulled smirking desk monkeys who leave me ever-miserable, the actual “plot” is that these kids are concerned with their father’s inability to attract a new mate, and they think it’s because of his grey hair. I can imagine their conversation.
Later, this man who could pass for Mitt Romney, Wink Martindale or any other overpromoted funny-named scumcylinder who wishes he was significant enough to destroy America, sends a magic telephone picture to his
young incestuous conjoined twins to let them know he made the score. He got the goods. He powered up with Just For Men and won the game. Because he is pro-victory.
His exploits inspire children all around, and not merely his own.
It’s Just For Men, after all, and while his redundantly chromosomed defects may rejoice from a distance, they can never truly know such glory and triumph, that which only comes with slopping fudge over your follicles. At best, they can support their man.
Yes.
It is better, though, to want to win. Perhaps some day you’ll get to buy hair paint, too! If you’re man enough.
Although the expiration date did not occur until August, somehow I knew it was a good idea not to buy these pringles. Besides, regardless of his feud with Everlast, I know all about His Music…
This is all quite distressing. I must cleanse my aural palate with some pleasant, wordless, inconsequential late 1980s synthesized music. It is all I can handle for the moment. Ah, the Turbo Grafx 16 Hudson Entertainment System sound format will do for this…
NOOOOOO!
No one wants to listen to your victrola, Mr. Pringles! And if I were trying to sell snacks out of a can I’d shut up about wax cylinders altogether! So if you don’t mind, please step into your horseless carriage, fasten your dictabelt and begone! I hear there’s a crowd gathered at the Kill Devil Hills near Kitty Hawk, maybe you should try and entertain them. Hey, why don’t you be the first person to sail a boat through Panama? Preposterous, you say? I think you’d be pleasantly surprised! Or I bet if you hurry, you can beat out Max Planck in publishing your theories about black body radiation.