The requisite commercial hate post

Watching endless hours of television may rot your brain, but that doesn't mean you're any dumber than then average advertising exec. Well, maybe "dumb" is a little harsh of a word...yes, I can do better than that. Perhaps "uncreative", "insipid", "bland", "vapid" and "obtuse" are better words to describe what comes on in the other 20 minutes of each hour of TV time. A man named after the patron saint of quality footwear once said, "There is a fine line between clever and stupid," and some of the commercials I've seen recently don't cheekily tiptoe the line so much as they attempt to sprint across it, then slip off and get crotched.

MSNBC (the network fast becoming my go-to source for links, it seems) just did this roundup of the best and worst commercials. The worst include the Lamisil toenail monster (amen to that) and Head On "Apply it directly to your head!" headache snake oil. Heading up the favorites are the series featuring the Geiko cavemen ("Not! Cool!"). Sadly, my personal fave was nowhere to be seen (but here it is in all it's glory: "Ooh, baby, baby!"), nor were my current most loathed:

• Kraft Crumbles...they're crumbelievable! Possibly the worst revamping of a song in a commercial ever.

• The Universal Studios ads—"I want to get closer to my children." You know what I'm talking about. All those people having all that exaggerated fun is beyond embarrassing.Especially those poor kids that get smothered into that woman's gargantuous bosom. Someday those kids' classmates will find out about their past in commercial work and when they realize this one is on their resume, they're pretty much dead.

• Why are people personally calling Lindsay Wagner about the Sleep Number Bed and how did they get her phone number? That unappealing couple that advocates it who are "at a 35 now" or some such shit certainly don't sell me, either.

• Anything having to do with Wal-Mart and their pitiful attempts at trying to be "cool" and "hip". "Get your Alan Jackson on!" You're kidding, right? Oh, you're not? Ow.

I'm in full support of this guy and his website of shitty commercial rants. Here's a little preview; see if you can guess which ad this is and what they're shilling before you get to the end of the rant:

"Today, we're doing self-portraits. But I want you to paint your SOUL!"

Raising a power fist, the painting instructor surveys her students. Paint your soul, she says, and this old foxy lady clearly knows all about soul. She is one bas-ass headscarf-wearin funky fresh old school soul SISTA. This is a woman with black velvet paintings of afro ladies in her living room.

One student in particular looks Mighty Pleased with herself. As she pours her soul out onto the canvas, the wise instructor comes around to have a look.

"Oh," she says, "Now THAT's what I'm talkin 'bout," as if giving the definitive answer to Arnold Drummond's oft-repeated query.

So what did the girl paint? A fucking Jeep.

A giant ass SUV. That's her soul.

A corporate symbol. That's HER SOUL!

A possession. Something she owns. Is her SOUL!

And the old bitch bought it! "Yeah, girl, that's yo soul right there. Yo Soul is a Jeep."

Shoot me! What the frickety frack is THAT?

Sing it, dude. I would say at least it wasn't a Hummer, but well, at least it wasn't a diamond anniversary ring that was mined by an 8-year-old in Zaire and three people lost their lives for so someone could spend two months' salary on it for you. 'Cause all us greedy bitches want are expensive jewels. And Jeeps.