World's Best Marketing, Episode 1

I just heard this Mcdonalds radio Ad in my car, that was so fucking terrible, I had to share. I often hear or see ads that absolutely blow my mind. There are these fucking people, sitting in a room, being paid to come up with this shit. BILLIONS of dollars in research and focus testing and demographic branding and a thousand other factors, all being considered in trying to get you to pick these products, and these, are the fucking gems that make the cut.


I can't stress this enough. This was aired on the radio, for Mcdonald's, the largest Fast Food chain in the WORLD (look it up on wikipedia if this is accurate, I don't care right now, I'm in HULK BLOG mode) 


Other ideas where set aside, so that this, brilliant piece of marketing could shine through and reach their target consumer group. PEOPLE SAT IN A FUCKING ROOM, presumably Sleepless nights where had, in the formulating of the audio alchemy that is this Mcdonald's ad:


 It starts with what sounds like a mid 30's man and woman at a really Happenin' party.


Woman- "great Party, but I should probably call it a night."
Man- "You know, we don't have to call it a night, we could always take the party somewhere, like, Mcdonald's"

They proceed to Mcdonald's, she was tired, her feet hurt, she just wants to go home, scratch her records and pass out, but the proposition of going to a Mcdonald's is just too tempting! MACDO! HERE WE COME! where we then arrive at the fine dining establishment, go into the man's inner monologue, apparently concerned about her ordering expensive things AT A FUCKING MCDONALD'S


Man- "Please order a small drink, please order a small drink"
Woman, out loud- "I'll have a Large Diet Pepsi"

FFFFFUUUUUUU!!!!!A large at Mcdonald's is what 84 oz.? THANK JESUS AND BUDDHA'S  RESPECTIVE GHOST DICKS you went with a diet. Not that you're going to get any less breast cancer from it, tubby. 


Man, out loud- "Nothing for me thanks"

Not only is our protagonist obviously not well -to-do, but He's SO BROKE, that The size of the drink she orders will determine whether or not he himself has a drink, and he obviously wants that Ice cold coke so bad. The voice over work here, truly top shelf, giving every emotion of his disappointment in her choice in ordering.


What fucking 30 something guy, has the cajones (not sure if I'll ever use that word again in place of balls) to ask a girl out for after party drinks, to a fucking Mcdonald's, with less than enough money  for two fountain drinks in his pocket? 


It is at this point, that we have reached the lowest point in the narrative, our hopeful hero, must go without the sweet effervescent tickle of coke product, on his, what I can only imagine, is the type of mustache you grow because you live in your parent's basement, and you've decided to grow it, so they will "get of your case" about not being "mature" and people will stop carding him for trying to buy violent video games at Game Crazy.


Our hero stands, parched and defeated. 


Cashier-"OK, that will be one dollar."

Suddenly, the clouds part, the Golden arches part, the roof blows off the fucking building, and a solid, Life giving beam of light shows this man the way to salvation. His prayers, answered by a red nosed, yellow jumpered, clown shoed angel. 


Man-"better make that TWO Large drinks!"

AND BOOM GOES THE MUTHAFUCKING DYNO-MITE! and so does my brain. Goodnight forever, sweet world. 

Hipsters I love to hate OR, The bastard son of lethargy and irony.

If you don't know what a hipster is, congratulations, you live in a bubble, I assume in the rural midwest, where the disease hasn't yet broken through all the corn field defenses.

Let me go on record to say that hipsters are the downfall of western culture. This may not be a new statement to some of you, and I have no intent of backing it with accurate socio-political observations. Instead, I am going to ramble and foam at the mouth like a rabid street person.

I actually tried to date a hipster once, but she was too busy being indifferent to actually go out on a date. I'm pretty sure she put about 30 posts in the "missed connections" section of craigslist though.

I live in Portland, Oregon, which I believe is ranked 2nd or 3rd largest hipster population in the country. Portland has what is affectionately known as a "bike culture" and it very much is culture. Not a means of transportation, or recreation, it's a fucking status symbol. I mean, I get it, it's cheap... Oh, what's that? you put $500 handlebars on your 60 lb. italian fixy you restored from the 70's? Oh, it's just your "project" bike? Good for you. How about you do something else with your $3000 than pour it into a piece of technology that's biggest advance in the last hundred years is making the front wheel the same size as the back wheel. (no question mark, cause it's rhetorical.)

Cool bike chain tattoo. I'm gonna go get a pogo stick tattoo and we can both regret it when were too old to do either of those things. Oh wait, you'll never live to be that old, because aside from being vegan for six days, you only eat mcdonalds, drink cheap beer every night, and smoke two packs of american spirits a day.

Oh, you do all that Ironically?

You must have Alanis Morrisette's definition of irony. It's not ironic if you just look like a piece of shit. Do you know the difference between you and everyone else that shops at goodwill? Families that work 40+ hours a week at a shit job, and you have a part time job at a record store.

Which would be fine, if you had some other purpose in your life, but you actually specifically exist without purpose. It's dumbfounding and inifinitely contradictory. You're like a mobius strip of uselessness.

Going for "nostalgic" are you? Listening to records? Bitch please, I only listen to wax cylinders. vintage Ray Bans? i'm wearing blue blockers. Skinny Jeans? I'm wearing pantaloons. DO YOU GET THE PICTURE YET? YOU'RE NOT A FUCKING TIME MACHINE.

So in summation, I invite all hipsters that I've offended to send me hatemail. However, I don't need to provide an email address, because to send me an email, you would be a) admitting you are a hipster and b) showing that you actually give a shit about something.

The only way to stop this menace? by tricking a hipster into doing both a. and b. above, thus opening the portal and banishing them back to their dimension.

The Christening.

So, if you've stumbled onto this blog or someone suggested you view it, I'm sorry.

i apologize in advance because sooner or later, something here will offend you. I don't apologize because I actually care that I offended you, but I was told at a young age that was a nice thing to do when you upset someone.

That's not to say I have some sort of Kanye West scale, undiagnosed Assbergers-ish inability to show compassion or empathy. I just don't care. You're hang ups are obviously not mine, and we can agree to disagree. You like GI joes, I like COBRA, guess what? You lose. Why? because Cobra has cooler looking characters. gamesetmatch.

That said, and with the disclaimer now behind us, I'm not going to explain the purpose of this blog. Let's just jump right in, feet first and hope there's not jagged rocks six inches below the surface...

Fuck you tomatoes.

Seriously, where in the fuck do you get off? You call yourself a fruit, but I fucking love fruit, like all fruit, even shitty persimmons, which I'm pretty sure are like your asian cousins or something. I'd eat a whole crop of those till I shit lazers before I concede that you are actually a fruit. You're a vegetable, why? Because like many other vegetables, you suck. Oh, you have lycopene which is good for me somehow? Even more evidence you're a vegetable, because, like every other vegetable I hate, you have some PR behind you to help you not disappear into extinction.

Nobody has to sell me on strawberries, they could actually GIVE me prostate cancer, and I'd still eat those little bastards like candy while i watch my prostate flair up like an emergency raft in a 747. Strawberries even have their seeds on their skin, like "hey, you don't want all these seeds up in your shit do you?" and I'm like, "I appreciate your honesty strawberries, and for wearing it all on the outside, I accept you for exactly who you are. Let's make a food baby."

Now, one may say "Oh yeah? You hate tomatoes so much? What about ketchup?" To which I would retort, I love ketchup, but the tomato showed up to the party wayyy too early and just stands there. he's like the 100 extras in the background while Freddy Prince Jr. and Jennifer Love Hewitt eye fuck in the foreground. Yeah, you make up most the party, but nobody came to see you when they bought the ticket for "she's all that 2: electric boogaloo".

Salsa? Your'e getting closer Tomato, not as prepared, a little more raw, but wait, what's this? Oh shit! the Expendables showed up! you've got lime, cilantro, jalapeño, onion, and like half a dozen other action stars in this bitch, you're like the nameless henchman they dispatch wave after wave of. you're fodder.

V8? that's like a retirement home of shit I wont eat, all in the same place, it's like Florida for vegetables.

Bloody Mary? More like New Orleans, V8 drowned in Tabasco and alcohol, and I still don't want to go there. What's this? a celery stalk? not exactly a trojan horse is it? not even a good attempt at getting in my mouth.

on my burger? who the fuck invited you? It was probably sesame seed, those useless shits aren't even supposed to be here either, I just don't know how to get them off the bun without working too hard. That said, I love burgers, like "my one food on a deserted island" style. But that island would be straight littered with discarded slices of your slimy ass.

in a salad? Nice try tomatoes, hiding in there. I was barely gonna eat that salad anyways. It was mainly the dressing that put me over the edge on that rabbit food, but no amount of ranch dressing can disguise the fact you just contaminated the healthiest thing I was going to eat all week.

Tomatillos? you are literally retarded. like if the worst lime got drunk on tequila and fucked a tomato that chainsmoked through the entire pregnancy. that's you.

So to summarize, I guess I don't care much for you, tomato. The silver lining however, is I love strawberries, burgers, and COBRA. So all in all, I'd say this first post is actually quite positive.

A little dinner conversation

Oh, hey there! You like what I did with the place? Kinda romantic huh? Yeah, I'm classy like that. A little candelight, some fancy wallpaper, one of those menus that doesn't have prices on the woman's menu (yes, in 2011, these places exist) so you might be wondering, "why all the romantic ambience? I don't usually get so wined and dined at a blog."

That's because you're going to get fucked. in the brain.

Oh, did I just burst your bubble? did you think we'd just talk about your cats and I'd pick up the obviously expensive bill and drive you home? maybe a kiss on the cheek?

nope. this shit just got real.

This is happening, and there's very little you can do about it, cause I roofied your water. so just relax and enjoy the rants....