“If your last name is A-N, you have permission to call now. If your last name is O-Z, you can call tomorrow beginning at 9 a.m.”
Seriously? My last name is Smith, and you expect me to remember to call 12 hours from now for a chance to buy your witches’ brew, or whatever it is you’re selling?
(Still haven’t figured out what it is that they’re selling, incidentally. That’s strike two on how bad this commercial is. Don’t know what you’re selling, and you offend me with the call to action.)
Turns out that my last name begins with G-, so I’d be good to call now, but malcontent that I am, I’d play the last name game.
“Uh, my last name is Tortellini. That’s with a T-. But I’m having my spleen removed tomorrow at 9 a.m. sharp. Can I go ahead and order your crap now, or do I have to wait until I’m out of surgery?”
Good commercial: those Viagra commercials with the ladies laying seductively on a bed talking about how women prefer curling up with their man instead of books.
The one lady has a British accent, which is exotic. The other has a lady who, for some reason, either shaved off her eyebrows and tried to paint them back on, or severely plucked them down and drew around them.
Whatever. I’m sure the target audience, for the most part, wasn’t looking at her eyebrows.
(Wait … I’m 40-plus. I’m the target audience!)
Ahem. Ladies on a bed, trying to sell you, um, you know …
Much better commercials for that product than those silly Cialis spots that have the people in separate bathtubs outdoors.
That whole concept makes no sense. First, separate bathtubs? What decade is this, the 1950s? You can’t, um, you know, in separate bathtubs. Wouldn’t Cialis make you want to be in the same bathtub?
Two, outdoors? So you get nekkid outside and then jump into these separate bathtubs, and sit there, a few inches apart, holding hands, and this makes sense?
If that’s what Cialis does for you, I don’t want that stuff. I’m kind of scared of the Viagra because of the lady with the shaved eyebrows, but I understand where that one is going.
And I’m not calling the other people from the other commercial until tomorrow at 9 a.m. sharp. Because my last name begins with G-.
Hell with them if they have a problem with that.
– Column by Chris Graham