Let’s face it. I watch a lot of TV. Not as much as some of you bastards, but still more than is reasonable for any human to watch. Most of the time, I’m not even enjoying myself when watching these shows, and it’s primarily because of the commercials. Some people shout at the news, other people yell at sports, I blow a vein over commercials. Sue me.* (Also, after spending nearly all of 6 minutes looking for video of these ads, I wasn’t able to find them, so you’ll have to use your imagination.)
Before I go on I feel I need to make something clear. I realize the commercials described below paint a stereotypical view of women. It is not WOMEN that I am criticizing, but the CHARACTERS being played by women in the commercials.
The first commercial that pisses me off is the Chrysler Town and Country (I think. It makes me so damned angry that I can’t remember the actual company) ad where you see a woman coming out of shops and stuffing her van’s hideaway cargo areas with the shopping bags. Then when she gets home a man, presumably her husband, meets her at her vehicle and says, upon seeing the vehicle devoid of any shopping bags, “I thought you went shopping.” The woman simply shrugs, content in the knowledge that she has tricked her husband. Cue the vehicle specs, white print on a black screen, announcer voice, and me flipping my ever-loving shit. What kind of horrible bitch is so mendacious that she can’t even own up to her in-fucking-ability to control her spending? Why doesn’t she just be honest, show her husband what she spent and say, “Fuck off, it’s my money.”? If it’s not her money, what gives her the right to blow his money all over town and then LIE IN HIS FACE about it? This commercial pisses me off so much. If I was the commercial husband in that ad, I’d stuff her in one of the storage compartments and drive the van off a cliff while screaming, “I hope you enjoy your unlimited line of credit… IN HELL!”
The other commercial that I hate is the H&R Block commercial where the woman says something along the lines of “Honey, we’re being audited. Why don’t you ask the people who did our taxes for help. Oh, we didn’t use people. We used a box. Honey, ask the box what we should do.” Then she holds the box up to his head and he looks completely emasculated. And he should, because he agreed to marry such a shrewish, harpy bitch. Once again, if I was the commercial husband I would say, “Oh, wow! You should hear what this box has to say! First of all, he says you’re equally responsible for the audit. If you wanted to get our taxes done by somebody at an office like H&R block you SHOULD HAVE SPOKEN UP LAST YEAR INSTEAD OF RIDING MY ASS NOW. The box also says you’re complicit in the responsibility for the audit because you were too busy being a soulless, tight-assed bitchosaurus to pitch in and help with the taxes when I did them last year. But since you’re full of nothing but criticism and the genetic stamp of the QUEEN OF THE FUCKING HARPIES the box says I should beat you to death with a chair!”
Then the guy from the first commercial should get together with the guy from the second commercial and they should start a support group for husbands in commercials that have to put up with such horrible shit from their spouses. Commercial wives whose commercial husbands keep showing up out of nowhere and asking “What’s for dinner?” while ignoring screaming kids can also join, but only after they kill their husbands.
*No, seriously you litigious American fuckwit, start a lawsuit against me. I dare you.
That’s right, you’d better step off. Punk.
