Cock-A-Doodle-Do & Glitter My Sack

Thanksgiving has come and gone. Meaning we are now officially in Christmas season. A season rife with traditions. And what is a tradition. Nothing more than a glorified rerun. So in honor of my own tradition here at ONE WORD I am rerunning this post which I modify and tweak each year before reposting as a service announcement.

Last night I did something I rarely do. No, I did not eat any green leafy vegetables. I said something I RARELY do, not NEVER do.

I plopped down on the couch and watched TV. All night long. I didn't read, I didn't write, I didn't even ponder the comings and goings of the characters in my stories. I simply shut down my brain and watched the boob tube. And Network TV to boot. This morning, I am dumber for the experience. (Actually last night I watched my beloved New Orleans Saints kick the tinsel out of her, New York Giants, but like I said this is a old post so play along)

Here is a rundown of what I saw.

A Muppet Christmas special called Letters to Santa. As a former Fraggle Rocker I can appreciate Jim Henson's creation, but this one lost me right from the get-go, when they opened with a big musical sing-a-long at the New York City Post Office. Trust me when I say, "Ain't nobody singing and dancing at the ol' PO this time of year." Or any other as far as that goes.

And another inaccuracy. There wasn't any glitter in the air. This time of year all of us that work on the mail sorting equipment look as if we've just returned from a stripper convention in Vegas.

That's right. All that shiny glitter you attach to your Christmas cards ends up in the bottom of the PO's automated machinery and when I have to change a belt or whatever, I come away looking like the love child of Tinker Bell and Sasquatch. So do all us Postal employees a favor and save the glitter for your kids school party, or help out an exotic dancer and donate it to your local gentleman's club.

After the Muppets, we joined an in progress Christmas story about a little orphan girl, an elf, a polar bear, and a fox all looking for Santa's sack. Okay, maybe my mind us filthier that a reindeer turd, but couldn't the writer's have called it Santa's bag instead of sack. And did the fabric have to be flesh colored? And did the animals have to crawl out of said container and say, "Santa needs to do some housecleaning because that is one nasty sack?"

Jay Leno narrated and Brad Garret and Norm McDonald both voiced characters in this poorly written kids story.

But wait, it wasn't just the shows that were bad. Let's talk about the commercials. Particularly the pharmaceutical ads. Is it really appropriate to advertise Cialis, an erectile dysfunction med, during a childrens show? Especially one about Santa's sack? And why do those people have not one, but two, bathtubs in their back yard? And I thought the whole point of taking Cialis was to share ye olde yuletime log. How can you do that from the comfort of you own backyard tub? Wouldn't they need to be in one tub together in order to jingle their bells. Am I alone in these thoughts?


And then there was the one about the insomnia aid Ambien. No wonder that woman can't sleep she has a rooster roaming around freely inside her house. Instead of wasting her money on pills she should invest in screens for her windows. Or maybe she's tossing and turning because she went to bed hungry. A big chicken dinner would probably solve all of her problems. Don't you think?

UPDATE on Cialis ADS

Last night I spied a Cialis ad where a dude was pitching an actual tent. Now that is a subtle message about the drug's capabilities. I wonder if next month they'll have a fireman polishing the big brass pole down at the station. Or a zookeeper doling out corporal punishment to an unruly monkey? Maybe a farmer giving the Heimlich to a chicken with grain caught in its throat? Maybe they can get the same fowl from the Ambian ads?

 

What does a weasel look like?