Adnoxious

Truth. Isn't.

2010-06-23T10:27:00.000-04:00

Shit's about to get political up in this biz.

There's the poorly executed ads, the ads gamely struggling to market a terrible product, and the advertisements made by ham-fisted creatives who wouldn't know proper pacing, humor, or salesmanship if it burrowed into their thigh meat. But even the most content-free pile of flashing lights and bellowed voice-overs selling sugary snacks on a Saturday morning can hold its ad head up high and be thankful it isn't a Truth PSA. If effective, memorable advertising has a gold standard, Truth ads are as far from that standard as fillet mignon is from a Ziploc baggie of amputated fingers.

Holier-than-thou agenda aside, the naked assault on logic and critical thinking on display here is enough to describe this ad's own private circle in Hell. If advertisements had a Hell, which I guess would imply that advertisements had a soul. But would that apply to print as well as television? What about the little stickers on race cars? Would they be the unbaptized babes of the advertising afterlife? Would coupons be the Jews? You know... snip-snip?

Digress.

Truth's subtle little tactic, in case you weren't able to follow along with the subtlety, is that if one thing is bad for you but isn't being advertised as bad for you, and by exaggerating that strategy through the fine art of parody, we can wake up 'merica to just how **<--EVIL-->** the tobacco companies are. Hence, Glass Pops. How droll.

Let's explain Truth's fallacious argument in a manner which they may have some hope of understanding, as a high-school SAT-prep question:

cigarettes are to Glass Pops as unprotected sex is to...

a) flower

b) verb

c) dignity

d) anal fire rape

Cigarettes are (spoiler alert) dangerous and bad for you. They can ruin your health in all manner of hideous and frankly disgusting ways, despite making you look cool as shit while they're doing it. What Truth seems to be overlooking is that "ruins your body" is not the major selling point of tobacco. It also feels amazing. Glass Pops, on the other hand, are dangerous, ruin your body, and have zero pleasurable effects. They are effectively pain sticks and serve no other purpose, and this makes the comparison a pile of STFU.

The folks at Truth have a very difficult time understanding that smokers are not smokers because tobacco executives beat them in a one-on-one debate. They're smokers because smoking feels good and the chemicals in them are physically addictive. Glass Pops, they do not feel good, and they are about as addictive as under-nail bamboo skewers. The entire ad is based on a deductive fallacy as elementary as "Adnoxious is a web site. Epicurious is a web site. Adnoxious can provide me with a tasty yet wholesome citrus quinoa recipe for my next garden party."

Well, maybe, but you're going to have to get through a lot of rape jokes first. Forewarned.

So, "What if all companies sold products like tobacco?" (And yes, Truth, it makes no nevermind how powerful and thought-provoking you think your tag line is, it still needs a god-damned question mark. Grammar truth.) First of all, I'm taking your word for it that tobacco companies still advertise at all. It's not like they still have Tweety fellating Pall-Malls in between Loony Tunes anymore, and it's been years since I've seen one of those Kool print ads with a dozen women in one-pieces lounging by a pool. But while tobacco execs are never going to win Humanitarian of the Year, they've been tasked with selling a product that, if consumed properly, kills you, which has to be one thankless fucking endeavor. Coming to work each morning hoping you haven't slaughtered your consumer base can't be good for the ulcers, so cut them a little slack for not using a picture of a tracheotomy stoma as a billboard.

But the real ass-boil in this ad comes after you get past the ridiculous comparison and silly presentation. Let's assume Glass Pops were a real product, this was a real commercial, and there were people out there buying and eating delicious Glass Pops. What, then, is the problem that Truth has with this commercial. This guy comes on and gives you real information about the dangers of their product, information that you can use to determine whether or not the risk is worth it to you to consume it. He's using no trickery, no hyped statistics, no manipulative imagery or spokesmen. He's standing in front of millions and urging everyone to get the facts and use personal responsibility before engaging in risky behavior.

Isn't that exactly what Truth wants the tobacco industry to do?! If the CEO of Phillip Morris bought national ad time during the Super Bowl and with zero irony or artifice told an audience of millions that cigarettes were harmful and to please stop using them if you are concerned about health risks, I would have thought the offices of Truth would have run sticky with self-righteous orgies for weeks. So what's with the sarcasm and poorly-punctuated message? Is there anything at this point the tobacco companies can do that will make these pricks happy?

Imagine Greenpeace producing a PSA showing a group of hardened whalers silently sobbing over the slaughter they hath wrought, laying down their harpoons, and hugging dolphins ending with the line "What if everyone acted like whalers?" That's the kind of confusion I'm grappling with here.

Chances I will not buy tobacco products thanks to this ad: I'm tempted to start smoking again just to spite these assholes.

Hidden Valley -- no flavor can't be masked

2010-06-17T11:14:00.001-04:00

As Chef Boyardee conclusively proved, nothing makes children react explode with nova-like rage than the suggestion they consume a plant. If it isn't deep-fried, dipped in caramel or both, you'd have as much luck getting a kid to eat a carrot as you would teaching a kitten calligraphy. This is as solid a truth in advertising as you are likely to find, as universally understood as the fact that once a month, women menstruate windshield-wiper fluid.

Thank goodness Hidden Valley is here to defuse the ticking time-bomb of psychotic fury that is your child's aversion to vitamins. Their creamy balm of salad salve is all that stands between your progeny and crippling beriberi, rickets, or any number of other hilarious-sounding deficiencies. It helps if your definition of "balanced diet" includes the phrase "fat-slathered." It doesn't have to be right at the top, even.

Let's not beat around the dressing-drenched bush, Hidden Valley. You aren't making vegetables any more delectable. You're making everything taste like ranch. You could dip a fistful of lug nuts and pigeon bones into that gallon-sized bowl of dressing you got there and it would taste the same as a piece of cauliflower.

Do you think after emptying the fourth or fifth bottle of ranch dressing into that bowl, the mom took a moment to wonder about the exact moment she lost her fucking mind? Just out of frame, she's chewing on the end of her ponytail and murmuring, "I'm a good cook. I'm a good cook. I'm. A. Good. Cook."

Don't get me wrong, ranch dressing is some tasty stuff. Few people would dispute that, and you lunatics in the Pacific Northwest seem to think it's a fair replacement for other foodstuffs like ketchup or bread. But just because something is tasty does not justify loading into a fire hose and spraying your children with it under the guise of proper nutrition. That would be as insane as trying to make high-fructose corn syrup sound healthy.

Oh.

Chances I will buy Hidden Valley ranch dressing thanks to this ad: Proper hidden valleys are filled with iguana dinosaurs and giant apes, not flavored mayonnaise.

There's a fine line between amused and insane

2010-06-14T10:25:00.002-04:00

Women are not easy beasts to understand. They are lumbering, sweaty things who communicate in squeaks and titters about their need for proper-fitting underthings and how much they hate their co-workers. It is best, in my experience, to avoid contact with them whenever possible, venturing from safety only when insatiable sexual need forces you to suffer through a dinner with their parents. Only after her father soundly criticizes your choice of television programs for three hours and you have been rewarded with--let's call it "nectar"--for four minutes may you venture back into your subterranean hovel.

Like a category-5 hurricane or a Guatemalan sinkhole can occasionally remind us just how powerless we are against Nature, all women have secret maelstroms of crazy swirling in their hidden nethers, waiting to gobsmack you down into blank-eyed helplessness. "This she-mate of mine," men (and the stubblier of lesbians) often think to themselves, "is a levelheaded and intelligent companion, capable of erudite observation and pithy witticisms. Her raw, moistened sexuality is equaled only by her searing mental prowess. Why then is she bawling because I don't want to buy her a Blu-Ray copy of Ice Princess"? Back to your hovel. This is not for you to know.

But before we digress into a lousy "ain't women weird?" Bill Engvall routine (Here's one if you really feel the need. God help you if you do), I'll say that as befuddled as I am by the fairer sex, I have spent a fair amount of time around them, which is more (SO much more) than we can say about the mad men currently in charge of Laughing Cow's television campaign. To wit, I am aware--albeit only marginally, to be fair--that women cannot be brought to orgasm with cheese.

They live in a cheese-colored world, where happiness comes foil-wrapped in a wedge of toothpaste-colored fat. The women portrayed in this commercial find more pleasure in Laughing Cow snack "foods" than a scabby hooker finds in a syringe of eyeball heroin. The paroxysms of panty-melting pleasure into which this collection of dairy-crazed sows froth themselves would make Erika Kole, star of Interview With an Enema, blush with girlish modesty.

But the creative minds behind this ad didn't just stop at "Broads like cheese a lot." They couldn't. They WON'T. Variety is, after all, quite a tempting spice, and there are so many ways to misrepresent how much women like stuffing their fat faces. Why stop at one?

We have the "I'm feeling so impishly guilty about fisting three fingers of cheese into my face cave, I'm adopting an expression like my fiancé just walked in on me blowing the stripper at my bridal shower" girl.

There's the "Guess where my other hand is" girl.

Is it just me or is this chick showing an awful lot of tit for a cracker-spread ad?

Poor thing. Her soul-crushing suburban existence has so numbed her to pleasure, the only way she can feel anything is by chafing her nub while eating cheese pretzels. From the state of her hair, looks like she's been at it all morning, too. Thus are fetishes born.

Finally, there's a woman who has abandoned all pretense of sanity and has given herself completely to the unholy demons of The Laughing Cowe.

Imagine you're at a pleasant afternoon social engagement and a woman sitting alone in a hideous chair begins rocking violently in her seat, collapsing in on herself with laughter. Along the reaction spectrum, would yours be closer to, "Fuck me standing, that must be some good cheese," or, "Does she think that cracker is telling her jokes?" In the real world, she'd be permanently hooked up to a lithium drip and only allowed to write with crayons, but here, she's just a joyful soul helpless in the face of delicious hilarity.

I don't know why Laughing Cow decided only women enjoy (according to their packaging) "light spreadable original cheese flavor wedges," (mmm) but throwing in some curd-crazy males would have been a nice gesture towards equality.

Commercials like this are so terrible on so many levels, it makes me physically winded. There's too much to notice. It's like watching a tornado uproot a mini-mall and trying to describe every piece of nail-salon debris that whings by. Sexism? Yes, we have a duffel stuffed with sexism. Ridiculous soundtrack implying that women should never, ever stop eating? Yes, and made all the worse by the fact that the original music video for the "Don't Stop" song features a woman being tied to a railroad tie and run over with a steam locomotive, which only makes psychopaths hungry for cheese, if I'm remembering Psych 101 correctly. And does the ad cap everything off with a batshit voiceover that makes as much sense as enrolling a bagful of hornets in architecture classes? Well, shall we take a quick gander?

"With only 35 calories a wedge, feel free to laugh all you want."

Huh. Really.

I laugh for a few reasons. The suffering of old and/or orthodox religious people is one, and funny things is a close runner-up. It is a fairly complicated list, so let me walk you through one salient point you may have missed: the caloric content of my snacks is nowhere on it. Even if that number were very, very small or very, very large, it would be a diverting curiosity at best, not a sidesplitting Vaudeville routine.

Unless you're this lunatic, of course.

Christ, woman. Put down the cheese before you pop an artery.

Chances I will buy Laughing Cow light spreadable original cheese flavor wedges thanks to this ad: Erika Kole also stars in Bong Water Butt Babes, FYI.

Stop picking on BP

2010-06-11T09:51:00.000-04:00

I really don't see what all the fuss about BP is lately. Turn on the TV, radio, or telegraph these days, and it's all "Gulf Coast" this and "destruction of the ocean" that, and it's so easy for the public to sit in their suburban palaces and cast blame from the luxurious comfort of their beanbag chairs, isn't it? But maybe everyone should get off their sky-high horses for two seconds and realize BP has been on the front lines for more than 20 years fighting Australian cattle bloat.

Smug assholes. You try getting a cow to burp, you think it's so fuckin' easy. I think we all owe our benefactors at BP a hefty apology. Fruit baskets would not be out of line.

Something different about you, Michael.

2010-06-07T12:11:00.000-04:00

I don't follow sports. I know that the Yankees are moderately successful, the Phillies have a mascot that can only be fully appreciated under the influence of powerful hallucinogenics, and that a cup of stadium beer is expensive enough to require a home-equity loan. That's where my knowledge of sports ends. Even with this limited pool of knowledge, even I would understand that when it comes to the interest of my fellow airline passengers, Michael Jordan might be a bigger draw then my burgeoning carpet enterprise. Even if the Carpet King of Minneapolis never saw a Tar Heels/Bulls/Barons/Wizards game in his life, "Space Jam" is still a bigger deal than his March Madness Berber Blowout.

Personally, I've always been a little confused as to why I'm supposed to accept Michael Jordan as an expert on underwear. Nothing leading up to his Haines spokesmanship made him particularly qualified to to talk about elastic waistbands, breathability, or (and I'm just speculating here) moisture wicking. In fact, in this ad, it's not even he who is the undergarment expert; it's The Carpet Baron of Chicago who carries the doctorate on the terrors of bacon neck, not MJ. And if his puzzled expression is any indicator, it looks like Michael is hearing about this phenomenon for the first time. Are those beads of nervous sweat forming on his impressive dome? Is he worried that he's finally going to be called out as the hack tighty-whitey expert that he really is? What anguished torment must Jordan feel whenever he finds himself in the presence of someone far more knowledgeable than he in the ways Haines -- and ONLY Haines -- can soothe the tortured neckline woes of the modern first-class traveler?

Look at that steely glint in his eyes. That's the look of a man who will act swiftly and violently to retain his position as Emperor of Underpants, even if it means drowning the Sheboygan Shag Shaman in two inches of blue lavatory water.

Or maybe he's wondering if anyone's noticed that he's inexplicably sporting a goddamned Hitler 'stache. To answer your question, MJ: no, the soul patch does not make that okay. No, no, no. Just no.

I'd blame your stylist, but let's be honest with ourselves, the stylist of anyone whose wardrobe is comprised almost entirely of shirts that come three for $10 in a plastic bag probably killed him or herself long ago.

Chances I will buy Haines underthings thanks to this ad: I have to admit, imagining the Fuhrer with bacon neck makes him much less intimidating.

What happened to Adnoxious?

2009-12-17T11:41:00.001-05:00

I honestly thought I could push this to the side for a little while and no one in the overcrowded blogosphere would even notice, so as much as I loathe writing about myself, enough of you have written and posted about the sudden dearth of updates lately that I felt a brief word about it would be.. what's the word? "Nice"?

The holiday season is an insanely busy time in my field, which for the sake of brevity we'll call "television post-production." Production houses are notorious for waiting until the last possible minute to wrap their programs, the result being 13,000 television programs that are all clamoring to be finished before the Christmas/New Year break. This means a lot of 12-hour days and very little energy left over for making fun of advertising. Which is a shame, because this time of year really produces some truly terrible commercials.

So Noxxy isn't gone, just exhausted and waiting for the crush to ease so we can all get back to fighting the good fight.

Until then, watch this. BBL.

Bring me a blindfolded 10-year-old, I wanna test this

2009-12-04T12:31:00.000-05:00

We try to shy away from vintage advertisements, because they were all Godless heathens back then who didn't know any better, and we've never featured a print ad before, but sometimes it's worth stepping back and remembering that obnoxious advertising can happen anywhere, anytime.

Ah. Huh. In short shorts, no less.

Raisin Bran Extra -- A bowl full of... wait, really?

2009-12-04T12:12:00.000-05:00

Oh, hallo, Retarded Consumer. It's been a while.

RC's adore camping out for new products. Since it's so difficult to hold down steady employment, being R and all, there isn't a whole lot else to do 'cept wait for cereal and giggle at brassiere advertisements.

One would think, however, that after exhaustively researching every aspect of Raisin Bran's exciting new product line, one of these three would have had the foresight to call ahead to the store and ask about their hours. In fact, why are they not already familiar with the hours of their local Sav-U-Mart? Is this not their local Sav-U-Mart? Did they fly in from out of town for this?

But you know what goes perfectly with a sad tableau of middle-aged men trying to sledgehammer some pathetic vestige of adventure into their lives before the door to their youth is slammed shut forever, locking them in a sepulcher of wrinkled skin and tepid sex? A wacky catchphrase shouted at top volume formed from a poorly-researched understanding of modern slang. And you said there was no shortcut when it came to ensnaring both the youth AND Gen-X markets. Ha! Never underestimate the amazing powers of a lazy ad exec without a single glimmer of a notion regarding what's cool.

It must be very disheartening to be a working actor, land a part in a commercial, and have to simultaneously brag to your family and urge them never to watch it.

Chances I will Raisin Bran Extra thanks to this ad: A bowl full of FAIL!

Thursday Throwdown -- Mattresses!

2009-12-03T11:18:00.000-05:00

Welcome back to the Throwdown, all, where the best of the worst of local advertising is showcased, honored, and then made to compete for our amusement. Now that our stable of competitors has had a restful, tryptophan-tastic holiday break, it's time to get back to the action.

Last week, some rootin'-tootin' gun shootin' took place in the Throwdown arena. Two local gun-store advertisements went head to head, and your winner by a substantial margin was Don's Guns of Indianapolis, Indiana.

The too-friendly-uncle laugh combined with the baffling concept of gun rental really made this no contest. And frankly, I don't think anyone wants to witness the aftermath of an angry Don, so kudos to our mustachioed champion.

On to this week's contest -- mattress stores.

Frankly, I'm amazed that mattress stores have stayed out of the Throwdown for as long as they have. Sorting through this week's competitors, I think it's very likely that this one might go into overtime.

First up, in the red corner -- yes, that really is supposed to be an English accent -- it's the Rich Little-esque comedy stylings of Trent from Trent Bedding Company of Bowling Green, Kentucky!

Does anyone else feel the need for a shower after hearing Trent ask you if he was making you sleepy? Nothing personal, Trent, but, ya know... please stop that.

And in the blue corner, packing so many bizarre local-advertisement cliches into a single commercial, it damn near brought down the Adnoxious server, it's Ted from The Mattress Ranch of Wasilla, Alaska (among others)!

Puppets? Old white man shuckin' and jivin'? Poorly-rhymed song? Location "across from the bus barn"? Sound recorded next to a fleet of idling cargo planes? We plum ran out of checkmarks for this one.

Apropos of nothing, a fun fact about The Mattress Ranch: if you leave their website open long enough, it moos at you.

There you have it. Leave your vote for your favorite in the comments section. May the best purveyor of quality sleeps win.

Back from hiatus with Depressing Santa

2009-12-02T09:56:00.001-05:00

Holiday advertisements. Le sigh.

I'd like to believe that, year, after year, ad execs forget that the holidays are an annual occurrence and scramble to put something together around Thanksgiving. I'd like to believe that.

Imagine for a moment that you're the living embodiment of a 2nd-Century Turkish bishop canonized by the Catholic church and charged with the eternal task of bringing joy to the children of the world. For 11.9 months out of the year, you work tirelessly, selflessly, making handcrafted playthings so that youngsters across the globe, regardless of class or social standing, can know the joy of receiving and the warmth of fellowship.

Breaking all laws of time and space, you race from house to house millions upon millions of times within the span of a single night, aided only by magic reindeer and the occasional gratis oatmeal cookie. A labor of love it might be, but a labor nonetheless as you hoist a bulging sack over your shoulder again and again again for what seems like an eternity, as measured by your aching shoulders at least.

But when at last the job is complete, you can return home to your workshop, your spirit veritably afire with a self-satisfied aura that only giving can provide. At last, you have earned your rest. And so you return to your job as night-shift line supervisor in the Tuscaloosa, Alabama, Mercedes factory.

No commercial will ever match that descent into the Hell of Silent Screams brought on by that peek into Meat Loaf's home life, but I tell ya, Mercedes, you came damn close.

Every year, advertising manages to shoehorn a feeding tube down Santa's throat and tamp in a few more injustices. It's not enough that he's an enduring icon of the good that lies within all humankind, he also has to sled around on electric razor heads, drive a red-eye long-haul shift at a Coke distribution plant, and build luxury motorcars. He can't do it all, people!

And despite Mercedes' assurances that "Some people just know how to build things well," Santa is clearly out of his depth here.

He's inspecting the luggage rack, not exactly a piece of high-performance engineering. Ol' Santa's one step away from kicking the tires and asking how many stations the radio gets.

You can't blame him. Did you see his workshop? He's still making wooden merry-go-rounds, the daft old polliwog. He's not exactly kept up with the latest manufacturing techniques, has he? But Mercedes ringered him in anyway. They don't seem to grasp, as you and I and Santa all have, that just because someone knows how to build a certain type of thing well, that does not translate into them being able to build every type of thing well. You want a hand-painted wooden nutcracker? Santa's clearly your guy, no question. You want rack-and-pinion that won't sheer at 90 miles per hour and scissor through the passenger compartment in a million white-hot shards? I'd just as soon not trust the guy who still thinks pack animals are an efficient means of transportation, thanks.

So Mercedes made a bad call on that hire, but the economy's rough, so maybe Santa needed the extra income to keep the lights on in the workshop. Whatever the case, all threads of reason explaining Santa's tottering presence at an assembly line arrive at equally depressing endpoints.

But perhaps worst of all is the sight of Santa in coveralls.

Who knew that if you took Santa out of his red suit, he'd look so much like a guy you'd see in Stop n' Sip buying Powerball tickets while his wife waits in the Tahoe? That's a cold splash of water, that is.

Chances I will buy a Mercedes thanks to this ad: If there were a PayPal donation link to the Keep Santa's Lights On Fund at the end of the ad, I'd click it, but no, no Mercedes today.

PS: Yeah, we missed Tuesday Tagline this week. Real jobs interject at the worst times sometimes. But the entries have been great, and we'll get back on it next week. Keep 'em coming.

Happy Thanksgiving from Adnoxious

2009-11-25T10:30:00.000-05:00

For those readers who enjoy the singular guilt-free pleasure that comes from not being American, please note that tomorrow, the entire country will be shutting down to engage in ritual gluttony. Why we do this has been lost to history, but it has something to do with why we have to go to reservations to gamble.

We here at Adnoxious might be cynical bastards, but we also have a hard time turning down pie, so the Thursday Throwdown will be on hiatus until next week.

Until then, let's go into the holiday on a high note and enjoy a brief visit to the land of decent advertising...

It's warm, it's touching, it evokes fond feelings of holidays past without drowning you in treacle, it has instantly likable characters, the special effects are understated, and the product pictured, a metric ton of food, actually relates to the company, a chain of grocery stores. It's a commercial so perfect, to accept its bukkake on your smiling, upturned face would be an honor and a privilege. If you were dating this commercial and it got drunk and clocked you one in the eye, you would instantly forgive it because it works so hard and is just under a lot of pressure at work these days.

And then we have its unemployed cousin who rents a room in the basement...

Thanksgiving is the one time you can get together with your 9-year old? What, is he the only cardiologist on call? And if you "run out of table before you run out of food," that speaks to your shitty ability to plan a menu, not to Wal-Mart's erupting cornucopia of fresh beans.

Chances I will eat my weight in pillowy mounds of mashed potatoes tomorrow: very, very high.

Tagline Tuesday -- Giant goddamn cupcake

2009-11-24T10:34:00.026-05:00

Once, in the comments section, someone popped in to yell at me for jumping on the "Americans are fat, gluttonous morons" bandwagon. It is in the spirit of ramming my fist into that commenter's anal hole and planting a tiny plastic flag with "Fuck off" written in delicate cursive script that I'm posting today's Tagline Tuesday, featuring gluttonous American morons eating mountainous portions of cupcake.

But first, let's review the entires for last week's contest. We asked for a snappy slogan for the ass-lifting wonder that is the Booty Pop...

And of course, you all went above and beyond the call of booty.
Ba-BAM! That's why I'm a professional jokemaker, people.

Entries included the sly wink to other timeless products of the modern age...

Apply directly to the ass!

(moviemistress)

The direct approach...

Booty Pop:

Because nothing says 'sexy' like a big, fake ass. (moooooog35)

We learned more about how some people dance was absolutely necessary...

Booty Pop: So you won't feel men dry humping your ass

when you go clubbing. (Bill's Bayou)

And there was the inevitable bum pun...

Booty Pop: we'll help you make an ass for yourself.

(Anonymous)

But as always, there could be only one winner. After an agonizing 2-minute decision-making process, 1 minute of which was spent eating cheese and polishing off a chocolate malted, this weeks champion was chosen and sent off the Stephen Spinner, Director of Marketing for Fitness Quest, Inc., who markets and distributes the Booty Pop.

Stephen Spinner

Director of Marketing

Fitness Quest, Inc.

Canton, OH 44750

Mr. Spinner,

By now, news of Adnoxious.blogspot.com has probably reached even the bustling cosmopolitan hive of Canton, Ohio. When a group of advertising-savvy individuals this creative combines its critical thinking, not even the lofty glass-and-steel monoliths of the Heartland can block out the resounding mental sizzle! To paraphrase Whitman, we sound our barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world!

You might be wondering how Adnoxious can yawp for you. Well, recently, the butt-shaping sensation that's sweeping the nation, Booty Pop, came to the attention of the Adnoxious readership, and a consensus was quickly reached. To wit: while the BP is clearly going to take the world's ass handles by storm, the message of the ad was getting lost in a flurry of perky posteriors. What the advertising needs, Mr. Spinner, is a tagline, a summary, a quotable catch phrase, a simmering slogan! And the Adnoxious community was only too happy bend their considerable brain power to the task.

The result is yours to use absolutely free of charge as our gift to the company that is revolutionizing the way people think about dropping buttocks:

Booty Pop:

'Cause there's no excuse for a loose caboose!

Other companies pay millions for marketing TNT like that, but your humble gratitude is thanks enough. Of course, if a Booty Pop or two should find their way to the Adnoxious offices, well... ha ha, but I've said too much!

Thank you for your attention. Yours forever and ever,

adnoxious.blogspot.com

Taking aim at lousy advertising

Congrats to reader Steven Thompson, who came up with this week's rhymetastic winning entry. You have brought great honor to your family, and if we hear back from Mr. Spinner, we'll post the reply and/or resounding accolades.

No rest for the awesome, people. You've got a fleet of enormous cupcakes waiting for you that need taglines. We'll meet back here in seven days and all have our glucose levels checked.

Luke Wilson takes dick from W. Anderson's mouth, shills

2009-11-23T10:18:00.003-05:00

My first thought was, "Was Luke Wilson stung by hornets seconds before the cameras rolled'? His head's puffed up like a pool toy." Hey, actors get old, right? You can only hope you get bloated in a distinguished way like Alec Baldwin and not bloated in a carnival freak way like Jerry Lewis. But looking back on Bottle Rocket, turns out Luke Wilson always looked like that.

Puffy from birth. That's rough. Between that and being related to Owen, I'm not sure I could have resisted the sweet release of suicide as long as Luke has.

In case you've missed it, Verizon and AT&T are currently embroiled in a bit of a mud-sling regarding their respective 3G network coverage. And you have missed it, because no one gives a shit about this except for Verizon, AT&T, and a few spotty tech nerds who use words like "haxorz" and "pwned." But that's not going to keep AT&T from spending millions to reassure you about a problem that you never would have known existed had they not brought it up in the first goddamned place, which is kind of like your boyfriend mentioning, "You're probably a little concerned about all this gonorrhea I've been exposed to lately."

Verizon launched the first salvo with their "there's a map for that" campaign, which showed the difference in 3G data coverage between Verizon and AT&T. Spoiler alert: Verizon's was better. AT&T realized it had to act quickly to keep their easily panicked customer base from immolating themselves in despair, so they hired a guy whose character once tried to bone his sister and made him recite a list of major metropolitan areas. Whew. Problem solved, done and done, that's lunch, fellas.

Except he never actually mentions the phrase "3G network," only that AT&T "covers" a lot of places. Verizon's entire campaign centers around the fact that it has a better data network than AT&T. AT&T's rebuttal is that it has a pretty good voice network. And so not only does this commercial use a spokesperson bafflingly unrelated to the issue at hand, the issue at hand is not even the correct issue. No one ever even hinted that AT&T didn't provide cell service in Spokane, only that if you tried to download "hamster on a piano" there, it'd take three goddamn hours.

Let's replace the words "3G network" and "coverage" with different nouns to further highlight AT&T's perplexing Wilson-heavy argument:

Verizon: Our dry-aged beef is clearly superior to yours.

AT&T: We have the original achitectural drawings of Villard de Honnecourt!
Verizon: I... see. Touché.

The final irksome niggle of this ad is the "We cover 97% of all Americans" line, followed by a list of exactly what that means. I'm no math genius, but even I can work out that 97% means "most" with only a small amount of help. Listing all the places within that 97%, Mr. Wilson, means you don't believe that to be the case, and so it kind of makes me want to spit in your mouth. Besides which, it's oddly reminiscent of the "There are thousands and thousands of uses for corn, all of which I will tell you about right now," line from Pee Wee's Big Adventure, and I don't think the sojourn of a 30-year-old man-child is the image you want to leave me with.

There's not a lot to love about T-Mobile, but at least they don't bother with shit like this. They're like the fat kid in dodge ball who knows he sucks, doesn't bother trying, and gets out early so he can sit in the bleachers and read a Star Trek novel.

Chances I will switch to AT&T thanks to this ad: T-Mobile's entire ad campaign: "Look, a hot chick. Now buy a fuckin' phone." Nothing wrong with that.

A car company just told me to quit. Seems legit.

2009-11-20T10:21:00.003-05:00

Fight Club turns 10 this month, did you know that? Fight Club is a bundle of kickassomeness, but its anti-consumerist message can be a bit heavy-handed at times. I'm looking at you "blow up a franchise coffee bar AND destroy a piece of corporate art" scene. Free of the gluttonous abandon and spending free-for-all of the dot-com boom, the theme is starting to wear a bit dated, but it still has a few juicy morsels to take away from it, morsels which our friends at Jeep have chosen to piss all over.

As it relates to today's ad, I especially like second 22.

Let's put a pin in the fact that Jeep. Is. Using. The. Most. Annoying. Ad. Technique. Ever. Created. for the moment, hmm? Just say the complete goddamn sentence, all in one go. I promise I can stay awake through the whole thing. Breaking it up into tiny nibblets is not going to make it sound any more profound. Wanna see?

Yesterday.

I bought.

Frozen peas.

If your message were profound and/or memorable enough to stand on its own, you wouldn't need to phrase it like a cummings poem. On the flip side, if you do need a gimmick to make your message memorable -- and please pay attention, future advertisers -- GO BACK TO GODDAMN CREATIVE AND COME UP WITH A BETTER GODDAMN MESSAGE. Trying to put lipstick on a pig is humiliating both for you and the pig.

But like I said, we'll put a pin in that. It won't be the last time we'll cross paths with Stuttering Stanley.

The real tangy poison of this commercial is two-fold. First, of course, is the idea that you are what you drive, no exceptions, and you can either choose to live in a grey, desolate, lifeless plane of existence as a sedan or, God forbid, hatchback driver, or you can nut up and start living, dammit, being true to yourself and the ruddy-faced, spittle-flecked Viking that lives within you. The only way to do that is through 4-wheel drive. Most automakers enjoy playing on the fantasy that every driver longs to crash through the guardrails, ford a white-capped river, and roar into the mountains, spending the rest of their lives both communing with nature and running over it. The reality is most drivers only long to get to the store, buy more Cocoa Krispies, and get home before their idiot children start another idiot fire in their idiot bedrooms. "Commune with nature" ranks as high on their list of unfulfilled needs as "Give Dune another try" and "try wiping back-to-front."

The second problem lies with the more literal interpretation of this ad, that every day, you can choose to go to work, earn a living, and be a responsible, productive member of your society and, we assume, your family, or you can grow a hairy pair and "greedily, rightfully" tell your boss to suck a stanky dick, then go do donuts in the mud. In a Jeep. So what Ah, the American sense of entitlement. We can always count on you to suggest completely inappropriate solutions to nonexistent problems.

"I can choose to work or quit, and, man, working's a drag." Really? Have you seen this economy, Jeep Voiceover Man? Because if you aren't gratefully on your knees in front of your boss every day, thanking him or her for keeping you in a job stable enough to allow you to afford a new Jeep in the first place, there's about 500 people behind you ready to drop-n-gobble for the privilege. Whiny little shithead.

Finally, I leave you with the disturbing thought that, if you really love the "you're not your fuckin' khakis" message of Fight Club, you also really love the message of Scientology. Surprise!

Thanks to Jerod for bringing that one to our attention.

Chances I will buy a Jeep thanks to this ad: I like my job a hell of a lot more than I like nature. Nature has wasps. My job? Very few wasps. Happy birthday, Tyler!

Thursday Throwdown -- Guns!

2009-11-19T10:11:00.002-05:00

Welcome back to the TT, friends and Romans, featuring the best of the worst of local advertising. I hope you are well-rested after last week's excusrion into the land of bad credit, for this week, we take a look into another popular option for staving off debt collectors -- live ammunition coupled with a zealous devotion to the Second Amendment, the right to bear arms.

Eh. I don't get it, but whatever blows your hair back, I guess.

But first, the results! Poor Dodda Credit didn't stand a chance, did he? Not when faced with the avalanche of fat white rapping indiscriminately ejected from the food tube of this week's winner, The Credit MacDaddy of Moultire, Georgia's, Georgia Car Credit!

There's eye-wash stations located near the exits. I suggest you use them before we move on to this week's topic, gun stores.

Now, if you're thinking, "Poorly-funded advertisements in the hands of individuals whose sole purpose in life is to put holes in things are going to be unnerving on a level heretofore unseen on Adnoxious," you are a very good reader and should treat yourself to a puddin'.

Iiiiiiin the red corner, weighing in at "Why did he have to add the laugh at the end?? Why?!", it's Don's Guns of Indianapolis, Indiana!

Ain't no Lava soap strong enough to scrub away the layer of creepy ole' Don leaves behind. Trust me. It's part of you now.

Aaaaaand in the blue corner, wanting you to know that "You. Have. To. Have. A. Gun." it's The Gun Shop of Leesburg, Florida!

Why do I get the feeling he sets a plate out for that skeleton at dinnertime?

There are your competitors. That squirmy feeling welling up deep inside? That's patriotism, not nausea. Leave a vote for your favorite Proud American in the comments section, and then get out there and buy a gun. Or go live in Cuba, filthy Communist hippie.

Tagline Tuesday -- Booty Pop (UPDATE!)

2009-11-17T14:12:00.004-05:00

My my my. If you were planing to disappoint, you've all failed miserably.

Last week, we presented you this... well, I guess technically it's a piece of fitness equipment, but who knew the line between "workout gadget" and "marital aid" could be so paper-thin?

The Shake Weight recently gained immortality by appearing on both Ellen and The Daily Show and is gaining widespread notoriety by, heaven help me, doing exactly what its advertisements claim it will do. Assuming you don't mind looking like a truck driver coming off a meth binge for six minutes a day, this could be the machine that finally gives you those Michelle Obama arms (topical!).

But what it didn't have was a snappy tagline. We asked you to supply one, and oh, yes, you did.

As usual, everyone attacked the challenge from a variety of directions. There was the obligatory and totally inappropriate handjob reference:

Shake Weight:

All the fun without the mess! (eeyore19)

There were further inappropriate handjob references:

Shake weight:

It's like jerking off a robot. (H.K.)

There was the sinking realization that all I was going to see this week were handjob references:

Shake Weight:

Because you're tired of blisters on your dick. (Bill's Bayou)

And then of course, as was inevitable, we moved from handjobs to baby murder, at which point I gave up on the lot of you, closed the computer, and got blitzed on mezcal:

Shake Weight:

Burns TWICE as many calories as shaking a baby. (Alvin'sWorld)

I don't know and I don't want to know.

But as always, only one tagline could win, and so today the following email was sent to Permission Interactive, the company in charge of (online, at least) marketing the Shake Weight to the masses:

XXXXXXXX, Business Development

Permission Interactive

San Diego, CA, 92120

Dear Mr. XXXXXXXX,

I'm sure by now you have heard of Adnoxious, the Web's premier interactive portal examining all aspects of the business of advertising and marketing. In the past six months, Adnoxious has been featured on Dateline, 60 Minutes, Larry King kindly called us "the New York Times of advertising," and while none of the preceding is actually true, that does not mean that we do not have something to offer you.

Recently, the Adnoxious community developed a bit of a stiff one for a product whose online marketing campaign is handled by Permission Interactive, the Shake Weight for Men. Now, we are well aware that the Shake Weight has had a bit of a reaming by online and television jokesters alike due to its rather... suggestive, shall we say, method of toning one's upper body. Indeed, to say that the Shake Weight's movements toe the line of 'entendre' is an understatement akin to saying that Hitler had a bit of an anger-management problem, am I right? But let me assure you that I am almost 90% sincere when I say that we have something to offer you which you will enjoy.

The readership of Adnoxious noticed that while the Shake Weight for Men doesn't jerk you around when it comes to providing a solid fitness workout, the advertising message itself is a little flaccid. Much like Alka-Seltzer became the name in reliving G.I. discomfort when it hit on "Plop, plop, fizz, fizz" as its indelible mark on the world of advertising, so too does the Shake Weight need its own marketing 'money shot.' We opened the floor to ideas, and we are proud to present you the result of a long, hard week of effort. Please accept this tagline with our compliments:

Shake Weight for Men: It's only gay if you want it to be.

We think it nicely sums up what many of your more closeted marketing targets might be thinking and yet leaves that closet door open to a world of future possibilities. Quite a handy job, don't you think?

We expect no payment for this, of course. But if a few Shake Weights somehow found their way to the Adnoxious offices, well, we'd certainly thrust them into a good home right away.

All the best,

adnoxious.blogspot.com

Taking aim at lousy advertising

Surely there have never been more veiled allusions to masturbation ever contained within a single business correspondence, although I hear Churchill came close. Congrats to Bill's Bayou for coming up with this week's winning entry. If Nate is the first person to actually respond with a little bit of friggin' gratitude for all of everyone's efforts, we'll post his orgasmic letter of thanks right here.

For this week's contest, we're revisiting Asslandia, because butt jokes are comedy gold. Let's see what y'all can do with the... sigh. Really? That's what it's called?

Ahem. Let's see what y'all can do with the Booty Pop panties.

UPDATE: Exciting news! The message got through! As you may have noticed, the name of the recipient of Bill's Bayou's prize-winning tagline was X'ed out, and this was at the request of none other than he himself! Yes, at 2:51 PM, 11/17/09, we received a response from our unnamed honcho at Permission Interactive, and the result is... IS...

Well, frankly, it's a little anticlimactic, but hey, we might get a free Shake Weight out of it:

Hi -

Thanks for the mention, we actually just operate the website for this client, although I am happy to see if we can get a couple sent your way.

In the meantime, would you mind removing my personal information from your website?

Thanks,

XXXX

Eh? Eh? All right, so my research wasn't exactly spot-on that time, and I ended up writing to the web developer and not the marketer. Still, the message is in the pipline now, and if any Shake Weights do come our way, we'll ship one out to Bill's Bayou ASAP.

Fairy tales can come true, it can happen to you...

Help us celebrate our 100th with Cool Whip!

2009-11-16T10:43:00.001-05:00

Over the weekend, Adnoxious hit 100 Blogger followers. Huzzah! True, there are already a few hundred following on Facebook and Twitter, but I think we all know that Blogger people really know what's what, so it's a milestone we're proud of.

In honor of occasion, we've decided to take the advice of longtime reader JamiSings and take a trip back to a simpler time in advertising, a time when it was the product and the message that counted, not gimmicks and flim-flammery. So let us go now, you and I (literary!), back to the golden age of advertising and take a gander at how commercials should be made.

Ha ha, just kidding, JamiSings. This commercial sucks, too! It's not "Adnoxious -- taking aim at lousy advertising most of the time." Silly.

As you can see, even in the glory days, when TV was, like, brand-friggin'-new, advertisers still fell victim to the same lazy habits they do now. Funny white-urban accents used as a fast track to likability? Check.

Simultaneously announcing that your product is completely revolutionary AND exactly like homemade while hoping the skulls of everyone in your audience don't splinter into millions of shards out of confusion? Gotcha covered.

The gluttonous consumption of aerated vegetable shortening? Actually, this might be the first and only time that that one's come up, but it sets a bad precedent.

Subtly implying that homemade whipped cream, a recipe that involves cream, sugar, and three seconds with a whisk, is simply too arduous for anyone to consider attempting on their own? Ah, yes. Never underestimate the American television audience's willingness to agree to your suggestion to be lazy assholes.

The only thing that makes this commercial 100% unique to the time period (besides the fact that before the Vibrant Colors act of 1978, everything was the shade of a used coffee filter) is the use of people that actually look like people, not replicants from the Happy Family Simulo-tron, the device that produces nearly 98% of all of modern advertising's terrifyingly bland, shiny-toothed actors.

See this broad?

You can't buy realism like that, mnh-mnh. The one thing that made me believe this was a bona-fide pie-loving family was the inclusion of Seabiscuit up there, because we all have an aunt like that. See that apron? She's eating at the table in her apron. It doesn't come off. Ever. She showers clad in floral print.

Know who Cool Whip is using as the mother figure these days?

I AM MOM-U-LUX. FAMILY WILL PREPARE TO CONSUME FROZEN DAIRY. FAMILY WILL ENJOY FROZEN DAIRY. MOM-U-LUX WILL RETRIEVE PARTIALLY HYDROGENATED WHIPPED DESSERT TOPPING. FAMILY WILL CONSUME PARTIALLY HYDROGENATED WHIPPED DESSERT TOPPING. FAMILY IS HAVING A GOOD TIME.

Happy 100, everyone!

Chances I will buy Cool Whip thanks to this ad: No, it has not escaped my notice that she says, "Cool Whhhip," thank you.

McDonald's, you magnificent bastard, you've done it again

2009-11-13T11:16:00.001-05:00

Retarded Consumer, meet McDonald's. McDonald's, you're going to be working with Retarded Consumer today. I'm sure you two have a lot to talk about.

In the above scene, little RC has a dollar. It's not explained how he got this dollar or why he needs to spend it so urgently. Personally, I like to imagine a Brewster's Millions scenario where he has to spend it within 30 days, and if he succeeds, he inherits $30.

Adnoxious: proud to bring you the first Brewster's Millions reference you've heard in 15 years.

Trouble is, our little RC is so R, he's forgotten how to be a C. The rules of capitalism have fled his head completely, and he's reverted back to a barter economy. Instead of waiting for a business or vendor to offer something he can afford and then buying it, he presents what he can afford and asks the vendor to tailor their goods or services to meet his available cash flow. Has the world gone topsy-turvy? In Communist Russia, goods and services buy YOU!

So he quits his job, traces a circle on a map of the neighborhood with himself as the locus and embarks upon a campaign to waste the time of everyone within the radius of that circle. It never occurs to him, being an RC from Communist Russia, to say, "I'm sorry, it looks like I can't afford your services right now. I'll be on my way." No, he worked almost 20 minutes slinging batteries at Radio Shack, dammit, and he's not leaving until he's broken his mother's heart by wasting every dime of it on useless shit that serves no purpose.

Except he doesn't spend it, does he? After each scene in the vignette, he's back out pounding the pavement with the dollar still clutched tightly in his lube-slippery fist.

I admire the courage of a man who has the balls to waste 20 minutes of a spray-tanner's time getting a spot on their cheek, then (we can only assume) kick her in the shins and bolt out the door without paying. I'm my head, he's also calling her a "Jew bitch," but you can add whatever embellishments you like. That's the joy of imagination!

Finally, McDonald's, speaking through a broadly inclusive pseudo-ethnic word bazooka, offers him the only thing that will give him rest: meat. On a bun. Let us not begrudge him his surcease. Let us instead begrudge the glaring factual errors at the end of this commercial that obliterate the entire 25 seconds of the "humor" that came before them.

The whole point of the advertisement is that our hapless little RC has one dollar to spend. That's it. One dollar. If he had any more, he would have told the cabbie, "How far can I get with this dollar? But just so you know, I could go higher if I need to." Problem solved, and he's off to the MoMA. But no, all he had was the single dollar.

So why at the end of the commercial do we see three menu items sitting on his table?

Fibber!

Unless there's an old lady with a broken hip on the floor wondering why some spot-cheeked asshole just pushed her out of her chair and stole her parfait, McDonald's has some s'plainin' to do.

Plus, we already know he's in New York City, thanks to the addition of the always-hilarious "surly New York cab driver" and his New York license plate. In New York City, there is a sales tax. So after the... Indian(??) clerk presented his admittedly well-rehearsed presentation on the double cheeseburger, RC still would have been short 9 cents, which he has anyway because he's a dirty filthy LIAR.

So the message from this ad is, "Have money? Maybe a little more than that? Okay, come on in, have a shake."

Chances I will buy something of the McDonald's dollar menu thanks to this ad: The fuck is a cheeseburger "amenity"? HBO? Hot tub?

Thursday Throwdown -- Bad Credit? No Credit? No problem!

2009-11-12T09:46:00.002-05:00

The sweet smell of Thursday. Must be time for a Throwdown. This week, your lousy credit score won't keep you from driving away in the ride of your dreams, but first...

Last week, we made two truly heinous local piss-er-ia ads dance for our amusement. While they were both bad enough to actually make me consider staying in and heating up some Bertolli, it was Pizza-N-Go of... various locations that butt-waggled its way into your hearts.

Never underestimate the white man's ability to debase himself for a shot at local celebrity, a theme we're continuing this week with Local Auto Dealerships. Specifically, those local auto dealerships that specialize in serving customers who foreclosed on their house, maxed-out six credit cards, and initiated divorce proceedings. Think less "Burt Ward Midtown Lexus" and more "Crazy Pajeet's Motor Palace," something with a giant inflatable gorilla on the roof.

First up in our battle of the bad-credit bad-asses, iiiiin the red corner, coming to us from Moultire, Georgia, it's the Credit MacDaddy of Georgia Car Credit!

Raise your hands if you were thinking "This is the worst thing ever" before he started rapping.

I also like how he's not a Mack Daddy. He's a MacDaddy, of the highland clan MacDaddys. They fought at Bannockburn, I believe.

Aaaaand in the blue corner, inexplicably wearing credit-fighting swim goggles, it's Dr. Credit of Florida Auto Exchange, Dunedin, Florida!

The afro wig was a nice touch, Dr. Credit. Really helped sell the noir-like mystique of the character. What was your favorite part, the unexpectedly attractive nurse or "Tanks, Dodda Credit"?

Many thanks to reader Alyson for that entry. 24 karat local-ad gold.

You have your competitors, ladies and gentiles. Leave a vote for your favorite in the comments section, and keep an eye on that credit score, huh?

Bertolli confuses spectacle with wit

2009-11-11T10:23:00.004-05:00

They've also confused this...

With this...

But maybe there's a classic Italian definition of "lasagna" that includes "sagging polyps of greasy gray meat coagulating in a lake of Ragu" that I'm not aware of. What am I, a linguist over here?

There's a lot going on in this ad. An overwhelming amount of terrible, so much so that it's easier to think of it as a practical joke and not a legitimate goddamn commercial. But it is. So here we are.

Where to begin?

How about the fact that Bertolli, purveyor of Ameri-talian frozen cuisine, has so little regard for the Italian culture, it paints its chef with such broad brush strokes of stereotypical bigotry, he's one handlebar mustache away from being Mario?

Sorry, what was that? You "make-a lasagna"? Really? Sigh...

Why is it taking you all day to "make-a lasagna" anyway? Lasagna takes an hour, always has. So you're either churning out a Sorcerer's Apprentice-esque stream of never-ending lasagna, which, considering you have no customers, seems to be a flaw in your business model, or that one pan took you all day to make-a, which makes you about as competent a chef as a tube of bathroom grout.

And of course he's expressing his grief and anguish through the timeless Italian art of opera, which is something all Italians are wont to do from time to time, chef or plumber. That's a given. All we have to do to complete the illusion is ignore the fact that Carmen is a French opera inspired by a Russian poem. All opera is Italian, everyone knows that.

Now, a caveat: I've never eaten at Mario Lite's restaurant, and I've never eaten a Bertolli microwave cheese lump. But I do have access to some of the best eat-a-terias on the planet, and I've also seen the picture Bertolli thought was the most representative image of their product...

Once more to review...

Comparing the two, that Bertolli would try to sell me the fiction, even in jest, that a single Italian chef would be intimidated to the point of tears by that gloppy, blubbery monstrosity up there (the lasagna, not the chef) is... is... what's worse then "insulting"? Way worse? "Intellectual genocide"? That'll do.

It's like saying Lexus dealers are suicidally depressed because I dipped a stick into a mud puddle and drew a picture of a burning school bus.

There are two of my least-favorite average-consumer memes being played out in this commercial -- that no one in this day and age has the time to cook, and that no one in this day and age actually knows how anyway. They are both steaming skyscrapers of bullshit but have been looped back upon themselves so many times now, they're accepted as givens. You, yeah you, have more leisure time right now than anyone ever has in history. You aren't rising with the sun and working in the fields until sundown all day, every day, until dropping dead of croup during one of your mandatory thrice-weekly church services at the age of 22, dressed in burlap and attended by your 17 children. I think you can carve out an hour to put sauce and noodles in a pan instead of watching a Tivo-ed Amazing Race. Let your kids take the bus home from soccer practice, fer fook's sake.

Chances I will buy Bertolli lasagna thanks to this ad: Sauce, noodles, pan. It's an hour. Really. And you get to dip the leftover noodles in the sauce.

Tagline Tuesday -- Shake Weight

2009-11-10T10:33:00.006-05:00

Last week, we put out a call to help a product in need. HD Vision Wraparound sunglasses, without doubt the most important product to come along since the printing press, was in need of a snappy tagline. It is in need no more, which will come as an enormous relief to IdeaVillage, Corp., the company in charge of marking these wonders of modern eyewear.

With such an ad-enthusiastic crowd, we expected nothing short of pants-soiling greatness, and that's exactly what we got. There was some imagery that gave us a splash of heebie-jeebie sauce...

HD Sunglasses:

It's like Criss Angel performing a mind freak in your eye. (Alvin'sWorld)

Some gave practical advice from which everyone can benefit...

Dramatically lower your chances

of careening into a schoolbus with HD Sunglasses. (Lauren)

Some took the Catholic approach of conversion through terror...

HD Sunglasses:

Put them on before you kill somebody. (Bill's Bayou)

And some took the classic comedy approach of "He's saying what we're all thinking!"

HD Sunglasses: ..the fuck? (Moooooog35)

But only one tagline could be chosen. And so one was. And then it was sent to Lana Rascionato, Vice President of Sourcing and Product Development of IdeaVillage, Corp. in Fairfield, New Jersey, in the following e-mail:

Ms. Lana Rascionato,
Vice President of Sourcing and Product Development
IdeaVillage, Corp.
Fairfield, New Jersey

Greetings from Adnoxious, the Internet's most elite and, dare I say, intelligent collection of advertising aficionados. Collectively, Adnoxious represents a group of discerning, educated, and pleasant-smelling (with some exceptions) consumers who take advertising very seriously. As you can imagine, this can either be a boon or a headache for advertisers, but in your case, I think you will be very pleased our paths have crossed.

Recently, The Adnoxious community was discussing one of IdeaVillage's many excellent products, the HD Vision Wraparound sunglasses (HDVW). Forgive the pun, but we couldn't believe our eyes! Such an innovative and creative product, and no snappy tag line at the end of the advertisement with which to smack the average American couch spud upside the head, something to get them thinking, "If Jesus returns today, will I regret not having purchased several pairs of HDVWs? (expletive deleted) right! No time to waste!"

The Adnoxious readership set out to come up with the perfect closing line for the HDVW commercials, a "Melts in your mouth, not in your hand" if you will, or a "Please don't squeeze the Charmin." I think we can all agree that HDVWs are perhaps the greatest miracle to happen to eyewear since no-fog swim goggles, and so it is my great pleasure to present to you, free of charge, a tag line befitting of such an eye-boggling product. I hope you will put it to good use:

HD Vision: It's like you're actually there.

Please accept it as our free gift with no obligation. If for any reason you are not completely satisfied with this tag line, return it within 30 days, no questions asked.

Yours sincerely,

-- adnoxious.blogspot.com --
Taking aim at lousy advertising

Congratulations to eeyore19, who penned this week's winner. Lana is no doubt writing her accolade-laden response as we speak, and when it arrives, we'll post it here.

As for the rest of you losers, time to redeem yourselves. You have seven days to come up with a tagline for this, ~~the Oily Man Handjob Machine~~ the Shake Weight. Snap to it!

Adnoxious shatters the dreams of a generation

2009-11-09T13:50:00.003-05:00

Before we get to the housekeeping, I need a quick word.

Noxyteers, I love the enthusiasm you have for the Thursday Throwdown, and all the submissions and suggestions we get at adnoxious@gmail.com are lovingly and tearfully read over many, many glasses of merlot.

However -- and I know this is going to be disappointing for many, so please brace yourselves -- this...

...is not a real advertisement. So stop sending it in.

It was the creation of Big Dog Eat Child, a sketch-comedy troupe out of Chicago, the world's first city whose economy is entirely sketch-comedy-troupe-based. Big Dog Eat Child specializes in that subgenre of comedy known as "Portly Shouting Black Guy," as evidenced by another of their timeless classics "Jones' Good Ass BBQ and Foot Massage."

I find the fact that so many people submitted "Jones' Big Ass Truck Rental and Storage" for the Throwdown both sweetly and depressingly naive. I was tempted to wonder how Jones' drunken bellowing could have fooled so many.

Then I remembered that 9-volt age-defying terror masks and pubic hair dye are both legitimate products, and I wondered no more. Your confusion is entirely understandable.

Remember, folks, Tuesday is tomorrow, and HD Vision Wraparound Sunglasses needs your taglines. Submit a gem in the comments section for your shot at marketing immortality.

The Windows 7 pitch meeting, revealed!

2009-11-09T11:39:00.006-05:00

"Hey, boss. People are really responding to those Apple Macintosh ads."

"With the pudgy guy and the smarmy hipster?"

"Yeah. They think their easygoing banter is a natural and inoffensive way of talking about their product's advantages over ours."

"Even though the message is at best a biased, one-sided version of a reality that doesn't reflect actual user experience and at worst a flat-out lie that only serves to propagate the hysterical arguments of a rabid fan base against our product, which is essentially the same goddamn thing?"

"Yeah. They think the chubby guy is cute."

"Okay. Okay. Gotcha. Okay. So... what are we running?"

"We have a gratingly shrill adopted Asian who, according to our market research, most people... hang on, I've got it right here... ah, here it is, 'want to put into a self-cleaning oven.'"

"Where'd you do the research?"

"I just asked around the office. I was gonna do the focus group thing, but, you know. World Series."

"So our own people want to broil our spokes-Jap?"

"Yeah."

"Can't be good. What if we tried doing one of those ads like Mac that's... oh, damn, whaddyacallit?"

"Funny, sir?"

"Yeah. Wait, no. Is that the one where you laugh or the one where you feel like you have to pee so you go to the bathroom and you realize have to poop too, so you sit down to poop and then when you're all done and you've left the bathroom, you realize you forgot to pee?"

"The one where you laugh."

"Yeah, okay, let's do one of those."

"It's worth a shot, sir. We could do the other one later if this doesn't pan out. We have an idea we've been kicking around. How's this: we get the worst actress we can find, and I'm talking VHS porn bad here. She's in a coffee shop with a laptop big enough to be seen by the Mars rovers, and for some reason, she's surfing the web, watching videos, and editing her photo album at the same time."

"Sure, lots of people go to coffee shops for that."

"Exactly. And she's all like, 'Windows 7 lets me do all this, and the barista better get a mop over here, I'm so excited.'"

"Seems that would be more of a result of a good computer than the operating system, doesn't it?"

"Right sir, but we're counting on most people having the technical savvy of a bag of day-old bread."

"Well, it's worked in the past. But she might as well be praising the table for helping her run those applications."

"So she's running her 70 quadrillion programs, right? And she's reminiscing about how once, she had a vague, undefined problem, and then an indeterminate amount of time later, we released a product that was sort of related to that problem, but not really. This makes her happy. So happy, in fact, she ponders asking us to pay her housing expenses."

"Huh. Um."

"Let it sink in, sir."

"Ah! So we're marketing specifically to people who've suffered massive head trauma then."

"Bingo. Virgin territory, sir."

"What can I say? You've got the Midas touch."

Chances I will buy Windows 7 thanks to this ad: Heh heh. Heh. Ehhh... No really, where's the real commercial, you guys?

What could it be?!?!

2009-11-06T10:59:00.001-05:00

Hint: Starts with "another goddamn," ends with "phone."

Fun fact: Neil Armstrong spoke his "one small step for man" line on a Motorola radio.

Fun fact: This ad for the Motorola Droid is so insultingly terrible, it's making me feel retroactively angry at Neil Armstrong for using one of their products.

In this promo, we witness Motorola unleashing fleets of stealth fighters to carpet-bomb small-town America with flaming steel orbs. Somehow, this is supposed to make us excited to buy telephones. Between the massive waste of resources, the indiscriminate property damage, the close similarity between Motorola's delivery system and a all-out terrorist attack, and the insinuation that everyone living in rural areas is a clueless bumpkin who doesn't know what a cell phone is, it's safe to call this boycott officially on.

Let's assume for a moment that Motorola really does keep a fleet of delivery bombers on hand. That doesn't mean that they are the most efficient or cost-effective means of delivering a 3-ounce product. Fed-Ex is probably still your best bet. Remember, Motorola, just because you can do a thing, that doesn't mean that you should do that thing. The stockholders might have something to say to the board of directors about the fact that your product roll-out cost $763 billion.

The fact that they didn't warn the public that this was about to happen is at best dangerously irresponsible and at worst an all-out act of war. According to Motorola's web site, their mission statement is, "We are a global communications leader powered by a passion to invent and an unceasing commitment to advance the way the world connects." According to this commercial, their mission statement is, "Guess what, fuckers? TELEPHONES!!"

And at the end of the day -- and at the beginning and middle -- it's a phone. The tech has been a ubiquitous part of our landscape for years now, and as slick and shiny as the Droid is, it's nothing we haven't seen before. It probably works great and will no doubt sell like ping-pong balls in a Korean cat house, but trying to sell me on the idea that it's super alien technology that's going to crack my head apart with the sheer thrusting power of its otherworldly awesome puts a hot little red pepper of rage in my ass. Insult my ability to understand a telephone, Motorola, and you've successfully kept my dollars from your coffers.

Chances I will buy a Motorola Droid thanks to this ad: In 2012, they plan to release Droid.2 with an army of giant laser crabs.

Thursday Throwdown -- Pizza!

2009-11-05T10:32:00.002-05:00

Welcome back to the Thursday Throwdown, where we gather together to honor the best that local advertising has to offer. "Best" being used so loosely, it's borderline illegal.

Last week, we poured out a sticky puddle of electronics-retailer commercials and asked you to pick your favorite. In the closest round of voting seen so far in the Throwdown, it was a squeaker for sure, but in the end, your champion for this week is the repetitive stylings of Outrageous Audio of Portland, Oregon!

At Adnoxious, we try to remain impartial during a Throwdown and let the public decide the outcome without interference. But I have to admit, I was pulling for Crazy Gideon on this one.

Look. He's heartbroken.

Buck up there, little champ.

On to this week's match-up, category of -- pizzerias!

Iiiiiiin the red corner, trapped in the unending purgatory that is Twin Lakes, Wisconsin -- why yes, they do know a guy with a correspondence degree in computer animation, how did you know? -- give it up for Big Al's Pizza!

I checked. There's no such place as Big Owl's Pizza. They made the whole thing up, the lying poops!

Aaaaand in the blue corner, featuring the worst white dancing since your uncle got tippled on hard cider at your wedding, it's the tri-headed Cerberus of Pizza-N-Go of Gang Mills, New York, Elkland, Pennsylvania, and Lawrenceville, Pennsylvania!

If I had a time machine and a tack hammer, my first stop would be the birth of the guy who first thought a honky saying "Aww yah!" was hilariously ironic.

You have your competitors, gentleladies and mentagents, and now they need your votes. Will the pizza-snarfing public rally behind a green screen and no effort or porn-grade acting and perhaps a little too much effort? Suspense! Action!

Leave your votes in the comments section, and we'll meet back here next Thursday to review the carnage.