Looking for the Best Men

There’s a reason why Ted Cruz has a beard. He’s ready to start his second killing spree as the Zodiac Killer. He’s not going to let some razor tell him he can’t sexually subjugate women and brutalize weaker men. This person knows what I’m talking about:

Damn straight. I want my men made of meat and as violent as possible, please.

For the bearded or those who don’t live their life on Twitter–I’m in the former category–I will catch you up to speed. Gilette ran a commercial today about toxic masculinity and teaching boys to not succumb and, as expected, some people lost their minds. Some people took offense that the various scenarios within the commercial, e.g. men sexually harassing, a man man-splains and a group of boys beat the shit out of boy, were portrayed as negative.

Hey, didn’t you go to prison for accepting a bribe?

I know, I know. You want to be able to raise your son the way you want to raise him so that one day he will be sitting at his Supreme Court nomination hearing crying about a calendar, reminiscing about lifting with Squi and angry bellowing to the high heavens about how much he likes beer.

I’ll admit it’s a little hard to empathize. My experiences with advertising are all about making me my best self if I could just lose some weight; get bigger breasts; age in reverse; bring home the bacon and do all the domestic duties; make my teeth whiter and my face less ugly; lose more weight; febreeze my vagina; and disappear once I turn 35. So I don’t know what I would do if my Bic For Her pen ran some commercial saying the emphasis on a woman’s appearance and the objectification of women is a big pile of fermented shaven beard hair.

Oh, I know!

 

I’m going to write something pretty controversial for an object that has no use in the world.

Misogyny is a real thing. It’s the reason why we have yet to see a woman become president. It’s the reason why when a woman tries to run for president, we get think pieces on whether or not she’s likable enough (she never is).

This is why a country rejected and raged against an accomplished stateswoman who used a private email server and collectively shrugged at a man denigrating entire swaths of people, having close ties to mobsters, and showing a remarkable lack of knowledge and interest in about anything other than fast food hamburgers. This is why we have this:

The only thing this commercial has illuminated is that we have a long way to go in breaking free of engendered stereotypes. This person knows what I’m talking about:

Or maybe not.

Hooter-rific!

Mother’s Day is quickly approaching.

Before you resort to yanking a handful of dandelions out of the yard and purchasing this card:

consider taking Mom here:

Hooter’s is offering moms a free meal on Mother’s Day as long as they bring proof of their mommyhood like a child or a photograph of their stretched out uteri, which will then be placed on the Hooter’s Loves Your Cooter bulletin board.

Apparently Hooter’s is having trouble attracting a female client base. Hm. That’s puzzling. Maybe ladies aren’t into the oversexualization and objectification of the Hooter’s girls or the rape den-like atmosphere?

But a free meal!?! Well then get me a white T-shirt, spray me with a hose and let me wrestle in jello because I am so there, buddy. With my child too!

Let marketing wizard Dave Henniger explain: “We know you don’t think of Hooters as a typical place to take Mom, but we want to make it more appealing for Mom to come in. We view Mom as a pair of tits with legs too.”

“And we have salad, ladies, so you don’t get all fat on us!”

Happy Mother’s Day, everyone.

A Poke from Facebook

 

Dearest Reader: Speaker7 is attempting to write a post every day in November so she doesn’t have to participate in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). Is it seriously still November? 

Mentos, the Porn Maker

I was looking at Redbook magazine, trying to find ways to juggle my career and my belly fat, when I came across this ad:

Hm. What exactly is happening here? Is the hand, the hand of God? If so, nice manicure, and what happened to the “fresh and full of life” Mentos ads? I remember less breasts.

See the Mentos ads of my youth were like this: the heroine breaks a heel, pops a Mentos, and decides to break the other heel while a dazzled Mitt Romney-type gestures emphatically.

You know, something dorky like this.

This new ad campaign is something else:

I feel kind of squicky looking at it. I know women are sex objects. I realize that is our only purpose–oh and to work flexible hours so we can be home on time to make dinner–but I thought gum was just gum. Do we need a women’s bare breast or butt to say “chew on this?”

This new ad campaign is the equivalent of finding out Bert and Ernie engage in a sado-masochistic relationship.

“You will submit to rubber duckie.”

See I feel weird that I’m suppose to be thinking sexy time when it comes to gum. I just want something to cover up the hummus I had for lunch. I don’t want to feel like I should be masturbating. Is this what the future holds?

Actually that last one kinda works for me.

Dearest Reader: Speaker7 is attempting to write a post every day in November so she doesn’t have to participate in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). This is the ninth post. She appreciates any and all suggestions unless you recommend she make out with Hugo, the man of 1,000 faces. He scares her, and is currently hiding in her closet. 

A Gift from the Direct Mail Gods

As you know, I received a non-pink pink slip the other day. At first, things seemed bleak, but as the saying goes: “When one door closes, a mailbox opens and in that mailbox is a barely glued flyer containing the most important documents on earth.”

Evidence:

This arrived yesterday. I got the feeling that it was extremely urgent (I’m psychic) so I threw the mail on the table, ate five Reese mini-eggs and flipped through Entertainment Weekly. My heart pounded in anticipation when I remembered nine hours later that I received something important in the mail.

It was like a gift from the gods of direct mail mass marketing. Their names are Bob and Gennifer:

I could win a car or a 3D TV or an iPAD 3 or a Kindle (not a Kindle Fire? Boo!) if I just matched three like symbols. Amazingly I had two of each….what could the center spot be???

This was nearly as thrilling as the four to five chain emails I receive weekly from work colleagues that tell me unspeakable horror will befall me if I do not forward to 10 “lucky” “friends”.  This was almost as exciting as the day I received a paper prayer rug from a post office box calling itself “Saint Matthew’s Church.” The helpful letter told me I could use a placemat bearing Jesus’s face to pray for a car just like Jesus did when he fed the masses at Walmart.

Was my prayer answered?

Bingo.

This is the American Dream, my friends. Why just a mere two days ago, I was adrift.

Now I can go to some random mall parking lot, and insert a key with metal the consistency of a yogurt top, into an American Dream Machine™.

I wonder what it will be?

Could it be this, and then I could have a new profession of delivering prayer rugs and credit card applications to others?

Could it be a hog, and then I could have a legitimate midlife crisis a few years early?

Could it be a real hog?

Will it help me compensate for my unusually tiny penis?

Will it be a gas guzzler?

Will it even be a car??

So much incredibly urgent excitement.

Yes, I may soon be unemployed, but I will have a dope ride to park in the driveway when I stay inside and become the shape of a Reese mini egg due to the constant eating of said eggs.

You can have this too. Simply forward this to 10 friends or else the world will explode.

All the best,

Speaker7

My New Exclusive Best Friend

This is a momentous time.

I’m not talking about the return of “Where in the World is Matt Lauer,” a segment where Matt Lauer travels to five secret destinations and everyone or no one should care, take your pick. I pick no one.

I’m also not talking about the release of Clown Beck’s new book I Cry Therefore I Am: A Study of Adult Baby Syndrome. It sounded really good when he cried about it to Kathie Lee Gifford. “I’m much more than a cartoon character,” he cried cryingly.

Heinz is releasing a new ketchup, an exclusive ketchup only available to the billions of people who use Facebook. This is a big story. I heard about this on NPR this morning. I first had to check that NPR was still a news agency (it is) and then I realized that this was a momentous time hence the opening line of this post.

The new flavor is balsamic vinegar ketchup. You can obtain it by becoming its friend on Facebook.

I am very excited. I’ve never made friends with a ketchup before, let alone a famous ketchup. At first I thought I mustard misheard, but now I relish the opportunity.

I wonder what its status updates will be?

Maybe “I’m a ketchup! Just sayin.” or “I may be a ketchup, but even I don’t give a flying f*** about ‘Where in the World is Matt Lauer.'”

I cannot wait to find out.

I wonder if it will like the same bands as me or watch the same TV shows. I hope so because I don’t know what else we can talk about.

Will it laugh, if I put “Heinzee, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship” on its wall?

Will it get angry if I question why that watery crap always seems to come out first and ruin my hamburger?

Will it be a godketchup to the second child I’m pressured into having by work acquaintances?

Endless possibilities…people are already posting how excited they are on the original Heinz ketchup Facebook page. These people have incredibly fulfilling lives covered in generous amounts of tomato concentrate.

This is what the original Heinz ketchup has as its status update: “Pumpkins aren’t just for carving! This weekend enjoy our Pumpkin Spice Bars as a delicious treat while you put the finishing touches on your Halloween costumes.”

Pumpkin spice bars made out of ketchup sound wonderful…almost as wonderful as becoming friends with a bottle of ketchup.

Momentous times.

A Day of Reflection Brought to You By…

Today is a day of reflection. One thing I remember about the 9/11 attacks was that short period after where it seemed as if all advertising had stopped. It was as if our culture had woken up to the notion that crass consumerism meant nothing, and that there was more to the American identity than shopping–that we were all connected, not only as Americans, but as citizens of the world who have all suffered from acts of terrorism.

As I mentioned above, this was a very, very brief respite from marketing and advertising, which is how we are able to have this:

While Hooters ® remembers, it would also like you to know it’s offering a special on its “Nearly World Famous!” chicken wings.