Celebrate Black History Month with Walmart: Buy Timberlake & Bublé for $9?

A little disclaimer: These photos depict the way things were when I found them. I did not set up these pictures. It is possible Timberlake's and Bublé's albums are coincidentally $9 and were placed in the wrong area. If Ke$ha had been there too, I would have known they were serious. I'm gonna go listen to some Muddy Waters now.

 

 

Take My Wife, Please! - Super Bowl 44 Ads

It's about power - who's got it, who knows how to use it. If you want a picture of the future, imagine a Louboutin stamping on a man's face— forever.

I am now two months away from my one year wedding anniversary. My balls and spine have not yet been removed, sealed up in jars and handed over to my wife. I can leave the house (without express written permission from my wife) to hang out with my underemployed friends. I have occasionally accompanied my wife shopping, yet I don't hide out in the electronics department watching sports. I love Big Wife. Still I feel for my married brethren. The festering frustration of emasculated men all over these United States has finally spilled over into the mainstream consciousness via Super Bowl ads.

Poor bastard. Men need to rise up to turn the tide of power back in our favor. We put up with a lot of crap and get so little in return. It's time to make a stand, preferable by re-appropriating some compensating cliche symbol of a simpler time and of hope for the future.

Man's last stand? Let's not exaggerate here, Dodge. A shiny muscle car is not an end in itself, it's a means to get to an end- like a man cave at home or a secluded hunt camp in Georgia. Your hot wife can still be in the car as a passenger (a nagging, back-seat driving passenger! Amiright, fellas?!). Realistically she will be deciding where you drive "your" car. Like to the next Matrix Convention. He won't want to go. He will mention the post-apocalyptic, marauding gangs in search of Bridgestone tires, but she will just tell him to not worry his pretty little head about it.

See how the entire gang is like, "Aw, crap! Now this incredibly hot woman is our problem!" They know the nagging is going to start any second. If only they had those sweet, sweet tires instead of a woman. Smart guy, the driver of the car. He's a free man, driving the car he wants to drive with the last form of currency left on the planet wrapped around all four wheels.

The odds of that scenario playing out are slim, which is why a car isn't Man's Last Stand. It's really Bud Light. This magical hops elixir can give any man power over almost all women. Fellow men will welcome you as hero. Only a woman with intense control issues and a savior complex would be able to resist the one who wields the beer.



So fight on my brahs (they've even destroyed our slang with homonyms!) and find what solace you can in your fast cars, man caves, and beer consumption. Work towards a better future for all men. Raise up your children to be lone wolves, if it is men you wish had the diversified portfolios.

Carry on wayward sons, there will be peace when you are done. Once you've accomplished instilling your children with classic male societal roles celebrate your long "Journey to Comfort" by taking a nice, relaxing shower with Dove body wash. Cuz you deserve it, man.

Other stray observations:

Meanwhile the German's had a little schadenfreude fun by playing into ultra-conservative fears by offering us a glimpse into some sort of Liberal Fascist regime where Cheap Trick songs have been reworked. Beware the Green Police! Buy an Audi! I mean, damn. I expect all Tea Party members to be driving Audi's by Tuesday.

• Mini Kiss + Kiss = Excellent.

• Google's ad was nice and simple.

• If I go to Denny's and spill a free Grand Slam on my pants, then I'll enter the Dockers contest.

• The Intel commercial would have been funny if a they actually had a sentient robot.
  

• David Letterman FTW.
  

• Yes dear, we'll go to Universal Studios once they open the new Harry Potter park, but I'm pre-gaming with Bud Light.
  

• Somebody at Bud Light must have read my review from last year... T-Pain finally made an appearance as the man putting the last nail in the auto-tune coffin.

• Male influence hasn't disappeared yet: 1) Fiddling beaver in hot tub with human women!? 2) GoDaddy.com's usual tomfoolery. 3) Free Willy Bachelor Party. 4) Doritos. 5) Meagan Fox in the tub.
  

Consumer Report: Wandering the Super Target

Bashing my head against a desk wondering why fax machines existed was getting kind of old, and I needed to get out of the house. My wife and I went to (Super) Target to wander around and take in the sites. We perused the clearance items for low priced Snuggie blankets and then moved on to the toy section.

The toy section is very telling of the current state of pop culture's future.Those isles should contain the cherished memories of the next generation waiting to be raped by Hollywood for a quick buck. So what did we find?

Girls: Barbie (Basic Line), My Little Pony (huh), Strawberry Shortcake!?, Rainbow Bright!? What year is it? Boys: Legos, assorted Marvel/DC/GI Joe action figures...same old, same old. Little Kids: a line of throwback toys from the 1960's. Toys my mom (and me and my brother too) played with and still has on a shelf. The toy market is collapsing in upon itself. Amid a late 1980's/early 1990's resurgence in clothing the raping of the same time period's toy lines for new movie ideas is causing a feedback loop in Toyville. I can predict the only movie idea that will be left by 2020: Webkinz: The Movie.

We have the most fun in the little kid section with the learning toys. They got 3D View-Masters, cat synthesizer keyboards, and Leapfrog stuff. My wife being a reading teacher noticed the Leapfrog Alphabet Pal teaches phonemes. The sounds letters make more/less. So we of course (in keeping with the time honored tradition began with Speak & Spell) immediately tried to make it say dirty words. We went straight for the F-bomb (/f/+/u/+/k/). Yes, the quality is poor. No fancy phones in this family.

Leapfrog Techs: 1; Childish Adults 0. After you get the first two letters, the caterpillar interrupts with a giggle and, "That tickles!", followed by the the last phoneme! Frustrated we tried a word a homonym - damn. It censored it the same way! How is our imaginary son, Jubjub, supposed to learn how to say he went to the Hoover Dam? What do beavers build, Jubjub? Da-thattickles-m! Guess little Jubby will have to learn those words the old fashioned way: from mommy and daddy's heated "discussion".

We moved on to the holiday section. Valentine's Day rules this week, though St. Patty's Day has infected the $1 bin at the entrance. Do kids still exchange V-day cards in class or has the practice been PC-ed out due to sexual harassment suits? The cards were still for sale, so I guess not. The other usual candy and card suspects were all around in red and pink. Then I found the Reese's Tiger, who plays a booty-shakin' tune, I call it the "Reese's Cup V-day Booty Dance".

Nothing says "I love Reese's peanut butter cups and jingles from Chester Cheetah knock-offs telling the me to buy more of them" like this tune. I expect a remix, people.

Overall, it was a good hour or so spent in the land of consumer goods. Now back to preparing Fu-thattickles-cking fax cover sheets by bashing my head against the da-thattickles-mn keyboard.