A Model of Success

(posted by t.j. peters)

Now I don’t know much about advertising, but I’ve picked up a couple things along the way.  For one, sex sells.  That’s why most ads are full of boobs and butts and stuff.  It’s awesome.   Injuries seem to work, too.  There’s nothing like a good groin shot or near fatal blow to the head to make you buy beer (the consumption of which often results in groin shots and near fatal blows to the head).  So, knowing these tactics to be true, I am completely baffled as to what LowerMyBills was thinking when they created the web ad below.

This ad – featuring a man that I’ll refer to as Earl – was on MSN’s weather page this afternoon.  Best I can tell, Earl is in his mid-seventies, suffers for some form of dementia, is possibly incontinent, and was completely unaware that his picture was being taken for this ad.  In addition, he’s the sexy, laugh-out-loud bait that will draw you in to using LowerMyBills’ services.

I can respect the reality that a company who wants to refinance your home isn’t looking to grab your attention with sex appeal or humor, but I don’t think they need to defy the rules of traditional advertising altogether by drafting the scariest geriatric patient they could find as their poster boy.  And if the idea is that Earl is supposed to represent the consumer – that I’m supposed to relate to this man – then LowerMyBills clearly doesn’t understand their own company.  That is not me.  That’s the old pile of bones I plan on throwing in a nursing home once he starts smelling like a bag of garbage and his house has been paid off (no financing necessary).

Though I’m berating LowerMyBills’ decision to use Earl, I don’t want to rule out the possibility of him working for another advertising campaign.  There’s value in Earl, and perhaps it’s just going to take the savvy eye of some adman to find where it lies.  It might be a controversial choice, but I think he could really be used by the company below.

Whoa, Earl.  You make me want to fuck.  And you make me want to do it safely.  There’s something about your vacant eyes and spinal problem that are completely irresistible.  Not to mention that face your making. . . it’s hilarious!  Looks like you just got hit in the nuts by a miscued billiards ball.  Hahaha!  You’ve got the gift, Earl, let me tell you!

Oh, wait.  That’s not raw sex appeal or comedic brilliance I’m seeing, is it?  You’re just dying, aren’t you?  Yeah, that’s not really making me want to use a Durex condom.  I think I’ll give Trojan a try.  At least they use sexy models.

My name is t.j. and this blog sells.

Follow-Up Yours, Tiger!

What the fuck, golf??? Giving me cause to write about you twice within a month? NOT COOL.

Tiger has proven the age old adage: “Show me a beautiful woman…

…And I’ll show you a man tired of fucking her.”

It turns out I was wrong about Tiger Woods and his little game of bumper cars. I thought he faux pas-ed but now I see he transgressed. Oh how he transgressed. He probably was drunk. He was definitely shoeless and snoring. Everyone’s mama was there. Sounds like the worst nightmare ever.

I stuck my neck out for you and you fucked me, Tiger! You fucked me like one of the seven to ten slutty waffle-house-waitresses that have come forward in the last week to say you fucked them like you fucked me. The only difference being that the penis you fucked me with was made of lies and the penis you fucked them with was made of penis.

One week ago we (sort of) believed Tiger Woods had no mistresses. At last count he has…all of them. He makes Tony Soprano look like Beaver’s dad. He makes himself look like beaver’s daddy. Lord of the poon? Pusseidon, god of the V?? King Sexy Dance??? Fine, you come up with one!

Meanwhile in golf’s global-warming-induced pole shift, always-fucking-up John Daly has lost 115 pounds and is pulling his life together. He still doesn’t look like an athlete, but at least he appears human again. He credits the weight loss to improved diet and exercise…and also that surgery that makes people not fat. True story, he credits those factors in that order. Regardless, his weight loss is a good thing. Because it makes for a really boring story, and that’s exactly what golf needs right now: A return to boring so that I needn’t write about it anymore.

I’m serious, golf, don’t make me write about you again. For fuck’s sake, why is golf so boring?!

My name is Ben and I blogged this.

Carmen, C’Mon!!!

There’s this preview of a soon-to-be-released Carmen Electra sex tape floating around the internet sites today – Because apparently sex tapes have trailers now. I’m posting it here because it’s relatively harmless and most likely won’t get you fired for viewing at work. It’s just a little strip tease; some light girl-on-girl makeout; nothing TOO erotic. But if you get either horny or angry watching awful women being awful it’s probably NSFW to you.

If I wanted to see Carmen Electra have sex I would have sex with Carmen Electra. She’s not unattainable. Hell, she seems affordable!  Six McNuggets and a compliment could get the job done. What? You don’t know the McNugget test? I better school you.

If a woman will sleep with you for a four-piece McDonald’s Chicken McNuggets that woman is a homeless prostitute and you just paid for sex with deep-fried chicken parts. DON’T DO IT. The sex is mediocre and the next morning it’ll burn to pee. Six McNuggets, you’re dealing with your garden-variety amateur tramp. Sleep with her, but know she’s gonna waste most of the time talking about being Carmen Electra. Nine-piece Nuggeteers know the value of their pussies and aren’t afraid to exploit them. Those girls are keepers. And any girl who downs twenty McNugs? SEND THAT BIG GIRL BACK! Shoulda brought her to a salad bar.

Joking aside, taking a date to McDonald’s says way more about you than it ever could about her.

Moving on. Celebrity sex tapes are only enticing when the celebrity doesn’t essentially make sex tapes for a living. Have you ever seen a Carmen Electra movie that wasn’t borderline pornography? No, for two reasons: Because all she makes are almost-pornos AND you’ve never seen any of them. You have discerning tastes and when you see her name on the box at your local video store you put it down and rent either a real movie or a real porno. It’s one of the things I respect about you.

We all love it when good girls go bad. Bad girls going worse, that’s just a cry for help. And if I’m watching a video of a bad girl’s cry for help, she better literally be crying “HELP!” Celebrity snuff, it’s coming. And so am I.

Too far, blogger. Toooooooo far.

My name is Ben and I blogged this.

Stranded!

I’ve been thinking about which three celebrities to be stranded on a desert island with today. My first thought was the three Jessicas – Biel, Alba, and Rabbit – for the obvious reason. Sex. Sex is the obvious reason. I can’t believe you thought I meant acting. Have you seen those chicks act? SEX!

Upon further reflection, though, that might not be smart. Maybe it’s too pragmatic for a fantasy, but c’mon, even stranded on desert island waiting to die, the three Jessicas aren’t having sex with me. It would go exactly like this:

BEN
Jessica Alba, would you like to make sweet desert
love with the only man you’ll ever see again?
ALBA
Who? You? No. Gross.
BEN
What about you, Miss Rabbit?
RABBIT
(Sexily)
Nooooo. I’m busy sending out an S…O…S.
BEN
When you say it all sexy like that it just makes
me hornier.
RABBIT
(Sexily)
Sorry, bad sailor.
BEN
What about you, Jessica Biel?
BIEL
I’m building a raft trying to save us.
BEN
Well at least you’re putting those muscles to use.
I guess if you need anything I’ll be over by that
barren coconut tree masturbating.
BIEL
Actually, it would help if you…
BEN
YES?!
BIEL
I was going to say tie together logs. Jesus, man.
Put your pants back on.
BEN
Sorry, I just thought…
ALBA
This is a desert island not an Ecstasy tank. We’re
still us and you’re still you.
BEN
You’re right, I apologize. Maybe just a quicky handjob
for motivation?
3 JESSICAS
No!!!

So here’s my current thinking: Sure, I could spend a couple weeks NOT making sweet desert love to the three Jessicas before starvation and dehydration have sapped me of sexual desire and precious fluids anyway; OR I could not have sex with two Jessicas and trade one in – Biel’s muscular physique IS a bit cartoonish – for one television survival expert who can rescue and return me to the civilized world where normal girls with names besides Jessica won’t have sex with me. Much smarter.

Who do you peg for a smaller penis: Bear Grylls or Survivorman? This is already Emasculation Island, I’m not trying to get alpha dogged.

My name is Ben and I blogged this.

My Penis Has a Case of the Mondays

I just clicked on this video titled “Jessica Alba getting spanked,” because that’s what you do when you have a decision-making penis. I thought it would be sexy: Light, sensual hand slaps followed by tight gluteal close-ups, interspersed with spanking banter, like:

SPANKER
I’m gonna get you.
ALBA
Please don’t get me.
SPANKER
I’m gonna get you.
ALBA
Please don’t get me.
SPANKER
I’m gonna get you.
ALBA
Please don’t get me.
SPANKER
You’re baaaaaad.
ALBA
Yes, I’m baaaaad.
SPANKER
Ooooooooh.
ALBA
Aaaaaaaah.

Y’know, like when our moms used to spank us. Decison-making penises beware! You get none of that! You get plenty of violent belt whaps; one close-up of Alba’s bruised, welted buttocks; and a lot of close-ups of her spanker’s deranged face. Just like when dad used to spank us! There is interstitial spanking chatter, but it’s unfit for print. Not because I won’t write graphic dialogue, but because I don’t know how to spell out the sounds of unadulterated shrieking.

And then, just as decision-making penis is acknowledging the error in judgment and crawling back into his cave, passionate sex happens. Previous erection is unprepared for this. It sort of feels like tailgating before your team’s big game, followed by your squad totally tanking under pressure for 3/4 of the contest, only to rally for a victory after you’ve given up hope and left the arena.

That’s what it figuratively feels like. Literally, it feels like having an inverted boner.

My name is Ben and I blogged this.