more random stuff to make you say "hmmm"
well, in light of the dumbass post that i left yesterday, the title "look, listen, kneel, pray" turned out to be a horrible waste of an astoundingly cool title. originally, i was going to post some more unsolicited netflix movie reviews and then forgot what i was gonna say.
but i did remember this little bit: (in my best tv announcer voice) i, robot was brought to you by; converse all-stars, helping cops run down bad robots into the next millenium, and audi, "bury our cars under 500 robots, and they'll still get you where your going!" now with new "dry-cleaning hanger" parking feature!
and 50 first dates has been brought to you by spam. not that i have noticed any product-placement in any of the movies i've seen lately.
yesterday, i saw a commercial for some jimmy dean breakfast thingy. the factory-worker lady says, (and i am not making this shit up!) "the eggs come from real chickens, the cheese comes from real cows, and the sausage comes from jimmy dean."
yes, that's right. yes, put me right off my jimmy dean sausage. if i'd only known all those years. but i think the real question is how they've managed to make sausages from jimmy dean for so long without killing him or at least rendering him unable to talk in his own commercials? maybe he is in a wheelchair, or takes a few years off every so often to regenerate the bogarted flesh. who knows?
then, last night, my wife asks me why it is that the major networks will run commercials for pads and tampons, menopause medicine, viagra, birth control pills and patches, preparation h, medicine that increases your breasts, and even medicine to cut down on the amount of your genital herpes outbreaks (you sick pervert!), but not a one for condoms? interesting.
my question is: why is it, when i see a condom commercial on one of the more forward-thinking cable networks, does the condom and package look more like a heavily-starched pillowcase placed over a life preserver instead of like an actual condom packet, with serrated edges and crinkles? did the suits at some ad agency think they would sell better if they were shiny and smooth in the ads? who knows.
finally, today, i leave you with this tidbit: yesterday, while watching a disney flick that had a segment about the samba in it, i had the joy of watching no. 1 dance around, his little legs stomping the ground, his stubby arms flailing, laughing, and singing gibberish made-up lyrics at the top of his lungs, tripping over toys as he ran circles around the room. he didn't care who was watching. he didn't care if he was doing it right. he didn't care if he was impressing the hot chick at the bar or whether he was gonna get her phone number. he was doing it cause it was fun.
i miss that a little. i do my best to dance around the house with him, (he already moshes and has an ear for what makes good moshing music) uninhibited, but no matter how much i flop around or act silly, some adult part of my mind is always worried about who might see. i'm very blessed that i have to children to remind me how to enjoy things for the pure sake of enjoyment.
so my thought that i would leave you with this day is: DANCE. doesn't matter if you're doing it right, doesn't matter if anyone can see, doesn't matter if it's gonna get you laid or not. dance for the pure fucking joy of dancing, of being alive, of being able to pop in your favorite song and do whatever it is you do to enjoy that song.
and yes, i know it is not usually my style to give you guys little nuggets of touchy-feely stuff, but hey, i've got a sensitive side, and i occasionally am moved and made happy by my children's antics, and no one can be pissed off all the time, and if ya can't deal with that, then fucking sod off.
i remain ever yours truly, my droogs and only friends,
darth sardonic
but i did remember this little bit: (in my best tv announcer voice) i, robot was brought to you by; converse all-stars, helping cops run down bad robots into the next millenium, and audi, "bury our cars under 500 robots, and they'll still get you where your going!" now with new "dry-cleaning hanger" parking feature!
and 50 first dates has been brought to you by spam. not that i have noticed any product-placement in any of the movies i've seen lately.
yesterday, i saw a commercial for some jimmy dean breakfast thingy. the factory-worker lady says, (and i am not making this shit up!) "the eggs come from real chickens, the cheese comes from real cows, and the sausage comes from jimmy dean."
yes, that's right. yes, put me right off my jimmy dean sausage. if i'd only known all those years. but i think the real question is how they've managed to make sausages from jimmy dean for so long without killing him or at least rendering him unable to talk in his own commercials? maybe he is in a wheelchair, or takes a few years off every so often to regenerate the bogarted flesh. who knows?
then, last night, my wife asks me why it is that the major networks will run commercials for pads and tampons, menopause medicine, viagra, birth control pills and patches, preparation h, medicine that increases your breasts, and even medicine to cut down on the amount of your genital herpes outbreaks (you sick pervert!), but not a one for condoms? interesting.
my question is: why is it, when i see a condom commercial on one of the more forward-thinking cable networks, does the condom and package look more like a heavily-starched pillowcase placed over a life preserver instead of like an actual condom packet, with serrated edges and crinkles? did the suits at some ad agency think they would sell better if they were shiny and smooth in the ads? who knows.
finally, today, i leave you with this tidbit: yesterday, while watching a disney flick that had a segment about the samba in it, i had the joy of watching no. 1 dance around, his little legs stomping the ground, his stubby arms flailing, laughing, and singing gibberish made-up lyrics at the top of his lungs, tripping over toys as he ran circles around the room. he didn't care who was watching. he didn't care if he was doing it right. he didn't care if he was impressing the hot chick at the bar or whether he was gonna get her phone number. he was doing it cause it was fun.
i miss that a little. i do my best to dance around the house with him, (he already moshes and has an ear for what makes good moshing music) uninhibited, but no matter how much i flop around or act silly, some adult part of my mind is always worried about who might see. i'm very blessed that i have to children to remind me how to enjoy things for the pure sake of enjoyment.
so my thought that i would leave you with this day is: DANCE. doesn't matter if you're doing it right, doesn't matter if anyone can see, doesn't matter if it's gonna get you laid or not. dance for the pure fucking joy of dancing, of being alive, of being able to pop in your favorite song and do whatever it is you do to enjoy that song.
and yes, i know it is not usually my style to give you guys little nuggets of touchy-feely stuff, but hey, i've got a sensitive side, and i occasionally am moved and made happy by my children's antics, and no one can be pissed off all the time, and if ya can't deal with that, then fucking sod off.
i remain ever yours truly, my droogs and only friends,
darth sardonic
posted by darth sardonic at 2:42 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home