It’s a weekend, so your already low expectations for this blog must be lowered a bit further. But, hey, at least I’m posting stuff. The same can’t be said for many bloggers (including myself usually).
So anyway, I’ve been laughing at this ad for a while now. Watch it and see if you catch what I think is so funny.
If you don’t see it, here’s a hint: In keeping with my love of creatively exploitative children’s names, I shall slap my first child with the moniker “Perfect Wave One”. (Because the previous 97,366,238 waves missed the mark, and were therefor, imperfect.) :)
Sigh. As much as I really tried to keep this post superficial, I couldn’t help but stumble onto some interesting background information this ad. It seems the college research paper-writer in me just couldn’t help but investigate. According to Alex Wade, a British surfer and freelance writer for Times Online, the main character/narrator of this ad is based on real person he refers to as “Paula the Surf Mom”. (As luck would have it, she has a blog too, and is very much aware of the ad! Yep, that post confuses me too. :?: )
I don’t know anything about Paula the Surf Mom, but I disagree with Mr. Wade’s assessment that we can “readily infer” that the oldest of the kids getting out of the car is the main character’s “partner”. Until I read the post, I assumed this was another sad baby-boomer ad who’s underlying message is you will still be hot and irresistible to young, horny surfers, even if you have nearly adult children, so long as you drive a Lincoln.
I had another hysterically ridiculous commercial I wanted to embed in this post. It’s for a Georgia-based company named Builders Surplus. (I’m linking to the website purely for education purposes. This how NOT to make a professional website.) If you’re from the Hotlanta area, you probably know what I’m talking about. It involves a redneck with a crowbar, random breaking of glass and culminates with a flying “Yee Haw!” If you happen to have it, please upload this gem to YouTube. The world needs to see it! (And I need to write sarcastically about it.)
If you do, I’ll send you a cigar. I have a bunch of Ashton Maduros robustos left over from a dinner party turned herf my wife and I threw a couple of weeks ago.