Guys, I Just Gagged!

I don't drive so I don't need auto insurance. To me, auto insurance ads are merely a source of amusement (Geico), bafflement (Progressive) or annoyance (Nationwide). Isn't it most gratifying to write about annoyance?

There are a few different scenarios; let's take the one in which a nice-looking young woman named Liz places her insurance future in the hands of an obnoxious beyond-nerd who charms her by gagging into the phone while attempting to get her a "brilliant idea." Would you be charmed? I was anticharmed. The advertisers did not make it clear whether we were even supposed to be charmed; Liz never stopped smiling. I did.

Yes, I am aware that the ad was supposed to be humorous. I am equally aware that if I were perhaps 12 years old, male and somewhat dim, it would in fact be humorous. Since my age is almost five times that admittedly interesting age, I am not now nor have I ever been (or wanted to be) male, and I am willing to take a chance on claiming, in your presence, not to be dim, for me it fell flatter than a Minnesota accent (which I think I do not possess, even after more than a decade here). Sorry, Nationwide: if I drove, I would not choose an insurance company that trusts the advertising company or department that came up with this crap. It would make me doubt your judgment in other areas as well (such as auto insurance).

Everything Changed (Forever)

Plus ca change, plus c'est la même chose. Just when I thought perhaps not every TV commercial was going to invent its own "technology" to woo your patronage (I am still waiting for "shout in your ear technology" for television itself), documentaries of the sort rerun into the ground by the likes of Investigation Discovery, WE TV and the Bio Channel picked up on a new catchphrase. It's not a sales pitch, rather just lazy writing (on top of their existing illiteracy; an interviewee may get away with "just between you and I" and while we cringe, we know the awful phrase was uttered spontaneously; narration, on the other hand, is scripted and supposedly proofread, maybe even edited, and leaves no possible excuse for its mangling of my mommy tongue. This particular bit of lazy writing, this cliché, is "... changed (his/her/their) life(ves_/everything changed (forever)."

Mary was a happy child. Then something happened that changed her life (dramatic pause) forever. (Cut to commercial.)

Crapville was a peaceful town. Little did they know that in an instant, everything would change (dramatic pause) forever. (Cut to commercial.)

It's getting old, folks. I forgive the recaps after every commercial because the docs themselves are so slow-paced I tend to doze off (which is one reason I keep this kind of show on at night) so the recap can actually be helpful; never mind that they exist because their creators are so sure that your average viewer, coming back from the awfulness of television capitalism, is missing a few more brain cells and needs to be reoriented. I am working on forgiving the shameless recycling (it contains little or no new footage). I even forgive the smarmy tone affected by some of the narrators. Could we just have a moratorium on this particular cliché? It would change my life (dramatic pause) forever.

I Listen to Too Much TV

I wrote this on February 18, 2010, and used a blank draft instead of opening a new post. Result: this post ends up with a 2008 date on it, tucked away where it is unlikely to be found. I am therefore copying it and reposting it (minutes, rather than years, after writing it).

Having tinnitis, I listen to too much television. I sleep with it on. I compute with it on. I'm selective about the shows to which I tune in but unfortunately it is not within my power to be selective regarding to which advertisements I am exposed. Therefore I find myself in various stages of mental, emotional and even audial irritation.

Now, Billy Mays is dead, and dead younger than one wants to be dead, and far be it for me to wish someone dead, but since he is dead, couldn't he stop shouting in my ear? And now we have Anthony Sullivan, the purpose of whose existence I have not yet fathomed, trying to be Billy Mays, having reshot a Mays ad for some gadget that lets you play your phone calls over your car radio (not a bad idea but, apart from not being a driver, I would never purchase anything touted that obnoxiously; it only encourages the obnoxious to continue their obnoxiousness) almost verbatim, and in a somewhat Maysian pitch. Sullivan is annoying enough just being himself; trying to be Mays too is toeing the human pain threshhold.



Then there is the creep who thinks if he never takes a breath we won't notice he's talking nonsense; his product, some chopper slicer thingie, may or may not be the eighth wonder of the world, but I can't stand his patter, and someone over at the company that distributes the product agreed with the advertising department or ad agency that it would be a good idea to put this annoyance on the air. My only defense is to refrain from purchasing something I might otherwise actually want.



KMart has jumped onto the screechwagon with a series of ads narrated by a woman with a painfully shrill voice (and how dare she wax so chipper about disturbing my rest!) Light and Fit, on the other hand, slurps at me. I always had to look away during their old commercial: the one in which a slender young blonde woman dispatches some yoghurt, right in the supermarket, with such verve that the sides of the small plastic container collapse inward; she then glances furtively around to see if anyone has witnessed her uncouthness. Now it's worse; in the new ad she is absolutely disgusting, licking the insides of the container, swishing her finger around in it, making the kinds of noises that would get some small children slapped at the table (okay, others would be gently admonished) and being something of a sow. My tum's been rough lately anyway; this ad turns it.

There's more -- oh so much more -- but you probably already know what they are, even if you don't always remember the name of the product (and let this be a lesson to you, o gurus of spin) and I need to sleep now. I just hope the late Billy Mays doesn't wake me up.

photo of Billy Mays courtesy Sharese Ann Frederick

Shot in the Chest Area and Basically Killed

I may have mentioned that I watch too much television. This is not strictly true; I listen to too much television. To counteract tinnitis (which used to be called tintinnitus but somehow managed to lose a syllable during my lifetime) I sleep with the TV on, often tuned to the Science Channel (which gets noisy -- for some reason they think shows about gigantic cranes are enhanced by relentless heavy metal scores) or Investigation Discovery (slower going but generally less noisy). It is from the latter I am learning, and being reminded, and being rereminded, that Americans can't speak English and policepersons, whether they can speak it or not, are unwilling to do so.

Have I somehow missed some legal reason why "the suspect drove into the garage, got out of the car and tried to run away, so the officer shot him in the chest and killed him" has been replaced by "Upon driving into the garage area, exiting the vehicle and proceeding on foot, the officer shot the suspect in the chest area which basically killed him"? I am not presenting the former as a perfect sentence, but the latter is not only ungrammatical (it says, in fact, that the officer got out of the car, when it is the suspect who did so) but hazy (what is the garage area or the chest area and how do you basically kill someone? Is the left arm, for example, part of the chest area? Is the kitchen part of the garage area, or is the lawn? If you are basically killed, are you more or less dead than if you are complexly killed, or would the opposite be "completely killed"?)

The whole matter is giving me a basic pain in my head area.

Product Placement? Entertainment Replacement!

I am not familiar enough with Jimmy Fallon to have formed an opinion about him before tonight. Talk shows haven't been my cuppa since they stopped being about conversation and started being about cheap shots and cheap laughs (which these days translate to the same thing). However, tonight's show's first guest is Dick Cavett, a person who actually knows how to carry on an interesting -- even fascinating, even intelligent, even enlightening --conversation without shouting down his guest, promoting homophobia or making fools out of random street people or audience members. Therefore I tuned in to Fallon's show and suffered through a fairly lame but only mildly offensive (and old! who pokes fun at Bill Clinton's sex drive anymore? who cares?) monologue, a silly but totally inoffensive "finger skating" segment and a horrible bit of business in which a "preacher" (perhaps meant to bear a vague resemblance to James Brown, or perhaps I missed the real reference?) "preached" an endless Subway commercial (there was a real one in the next break). Now what is the purpose of presenting a commercial (pretty straight after all, despite the obvious conviction of the participants that there was some humor involved) right before a commercial? Everyone knows, and perhaps groaningly accepts, that these late night talk shows have more commercial time than show time to start with. The only justification I can imagine for this stupidity is that the alternative may have been more of the same crap, or worse, that passed for a monologue.

And to think I actually LIKE Subway. At this point I'd rather see a real Subway commercial (and they're not all that amusing) than Jimmy Fallon.

Then Cavett came out and although the conversation could not be called cohesive, it was at least coherent, because Cavett took control of it, told stories without being interrupted, joked without being trumped and actually wowed everyone with a rope trick.

When Cavett was done, I was also done, and I assure you, it will take someone of Cavett's presence to woo me back.

Panic!

Facebook is going to charge (fill in blank with price) for using its service starting (fill in blank with date)! If you join this group, my father/mother/brother/sister/dog will stop smoking/shooting heroin/voting the wrong way and/or some unidentified person or group will donate some unidentified amount to some unidentified party in aid of the hapless Haitians/their daughter/sister/neighbor with cancer/cancer/cancer. It's all TRUE, hurry up, the sky is falling!

Okay, none of it is true and the sky is only falling a little bit. Relax.

Why don't people do the teensiest tiniest little research before they jump onto the bandwagon that's tipping over into the quicksand? It's so easy! There are reputable sites that bust urban myths and demystify hoaxes. I like Snopes (http://www.snopes.com/) despite some minorly annoying popups. Check http://www.snopes.com/fraud/distress/valentin.asp out as an example of the tug-on-heartstrings scam (the first part of the page shows the various versions of an email that went out over a period of years, after which you may read what the real situation was and what became of the scammer). Here is a general hoax roundup: http://www.snopes.com/inboxer/hoaxes/roundup.asp . To find more hoaxes, just search for "hoax." This result most closely matches the Facebook charge hoax, though it isn't among those mentioned: http://www.snopes.com/inboxer/hoaxes/overload.asp. There are sites other than Snopes, too; in addition, one can always Google the specifics of whatever one has heard.

Apart from all that, common sense seems to be a rare commodity. HOW will joining a specific group send money to Haiti? What PROOF has a group got that Facebook intends to charge? Can it quote a legitimate FAQ, email or article? When you look outside and upward, do you see the sky falling, and if not, do you see any secondary indications that it might be? No? Then RELAX. DON'T PANIC.

(And for God's sake, don't pass it on to everyone on your email list!)

Gaming on Facebook

I've been frittering away my time. I have a good excuse: I am chronically ill and my various types and levels of energies allow me to do only so much, and of only this or that, at any given moment. However, I also happen to enjoy roleplaying games, AKA RPG, and have enjoyed them since discovering Ultima (in JAPANESE, yet!) on Gameboy, some eons ago. I can't help myself.

For a few years I eschewed Facebook involvement, even though I dutifully made a page, populated it with whatever MySpace (totally icky IMNSHO) had asked, to avoid rethinking stuff that hadn't changed, and then pretty much ignored it. I found an old college friend, some people I thought were old friends, turned out not to be and wanted to be Facebook friends anyway, and lots of "friend"-collectors. I was baffled and uninterested.

Recently, though, I've returned to Facebook to find more old friends, current friends, relatives, There friends and WebRing friends... and games. GAMES! Some of them are downright annoying. I am too blind and too laggy to play shooting games, which I don't enjoy anyway. I like the idea of farming, zooing, cafe-running, but can't bear the gameplay in any of the games of those ilks; they afford no actual control to the players over elements that matter most to me (for example, the recipes, or the crops). The farm and zoo animals are, in addition, unbearably cute. I have a low tolerance for "cute."

The first game I enjoyed playing was School of Wizardry. Happily for me, I am almost completely unfamiliar with the Harry Potter phenomenon, so I am not bothered by its association therewith (and possibly, for all I know, plagiarism therefrom/copyright violation thereof -- I am not in a position to know but I have my suspicionsm and if they turned out to be founded I WOULD be bothered); I don't read the actual text. I just "take" the lessons (by clicking), decide which ones to take when, bank or spend the gold, duel, buy "school supplies" or properties, deal with the intricacies of all that per game instructions, increase my order and advance along the pretty rigid lines of the game. I have no idea why this should afford me any satisfaction; there is no story apart from the one I'm ignoring and that is barely a story at all. Yet I do rather enjoy the small decisions that go into playing School of Wizardry.

Unfortunately, the makers of SOW have also produced a few SOW clones, identical in gameplay and differing only in decor and superficial details. Some of them are insulting. World War is SOW in darker colors, with no female character for female players to use (I chose to look something like Martin Sheen as President Bartlett from "West Wing" but would rather have been Mary Robinson or Golde Meir). Pet Wars is just plain obnoxious; it barely even qualifies as cute, but rather strikes me as downright ugly. (Does anyone on Facebook know what a real animal looks like?) City Life: Girls in New York is offensive for its sexist assumptions. I don't spend my energies trying to outwalk fashion models on a runway, and if I had the funds, youth and health my cartoon counterpart had, I would not squander any of it on the activities the makers of this game seem to think females consider the ultimate thrill (I can't remember any of them now; I think an awful lot of them involve lunch at classy New York landmarks, which in itself would not displease me -- I do eat! -- but isn't the be-all or end-all of New York life). Godfather is the Mafia version of SOW and is to me the LEAST offensive, because most people admit they don't actually admire gangsters; this is just acting out, which is in its way healthy.

Treasure Madness does not pretend to be RPG, and involves clicking on squares on different maps, to collect gold, nourishment (for the points to continue playing) and (the object of the game) treasures, in the form of artifacts which can be collected and "secured" in a museum. When a treasure is found, its identification and acquisition must be earned by the playing of a short (timed!) action game, at most of which I am miserably inept. I am not too bad at the memory game but the ones that involve fast mouse clicks to pop little pearls or dissolve stones are only barely doable, and the Tetris and Bejeweled clones too hard. Sometimes I can do the fruit swappy thing (sorry that I don't have this open at the moment to tell you the exact names). Still, I can do enough of them to collect some treasures and feel some satisfaction from the game itself. I don't go there often.

(I should say that because of School of Wizardry, in which the number of one's order members is crucial in winning duels, and which requires that order members first be Facebook friends, I have acquired almost 500 Facebook "friends," with some of whom I have become friendly for real.)

By far superior to any of the above is an almost-real-RPG called Dream World. I only say "almost" because the storyline is so rigid. (Ah, I do miss Might and Magic(s) six through nine!) However, there is a lot to it, especially compared to School of Wizardry and its clones. One chooses a character (one's own photo is the icon, which does not appear as a moving character) and a class (using guns, swords or magic) and proceeds to accept quests from a succession of locations, to which one acquires access as one fulfills the major quests. There are, as with Treasure Madness, puzzles involved, but one need not do any of them to progress (it helps; in Treasure Madness, no game, no treasure!) and they involve thinking rather than just fast clicking. Some of them even involve mathematics and/or logic! There are trivia questions as well. Some measure of humor is buried among these procedings, and best of all, Dream World appears not to be a clone.

All of the abovementioned prevent players from frying their brains too badly, through the device of making one wait from half a minute (Treasure Madness) to six minutes (Dream World) for energy/health/whatever they call them points (without which one cannot make a move) to refresh. Of course anyone determined to roast those cells can do so by playing as many games as possible simultaneously, to avoid waiting, but then this actually exercises said cells, so (hopefully) one breaks even.

There is a Facebook game called Realm of Empires which is even more compelling than any of these and it deserves its own post, so stay tuned for that! I have to go attack an enraged succubus, duel a SOW member who isn't in my order, click a map square in hope of being confronted with a game at which I don't excel, and... you'll see.

Magic Jack

This is a simple math question. How does $1.70 a month times ANY number of months end up as ANY number ending in a five? The good news is that the annual cost announced is LOWER than $1.70 times 12. The question (apart from the math question) is which one is the consumer actually charged? Is Magic Jack offering a discount for paying for a year in advance, and simply forgetting to mention that discount, or is Magic Jack either bad at math or trying to deceive the consumer, or...? Does anyone reading this actually use Magic Jack and if so, what do you actually pay? And have I used the word "actually" enough yet?

Criminal Minds Revisited, and Bootlegged!

I know I could have responded to my previous post on this topic but I have enough to say about it that it does deserve its own post. I have now seen every episode of Criminal Minds ever aired, and am totally hooked on the show which, in the previous post, I did blast, rather.

Nothing I said was untrue and I stand by it all. However, I have since been able to appreciate all of the actors and all of the characters, and their uniqueness (some of which was in question), much better for having seen more. In particular I have come to enjoy Kirsten Vangsness' Penelope Garcia, who at first reminded me of whatshername in NCIS, a show I really, REALLY dislike (I must, or I'd be watching it for the marvelous David McCallum): you know, the gothy girl. I thought Garcia was CM's answer to NCIS. She's not. She's herself, a very GOOD self, too. I also have come to appreciate Paget Bewster's Emily Prentice (and her uniqueness) quite a bit more than when I saw her as a replacement for Lola Glaudini's ever-staring Elle Greenaway based PURELY on her having long, dark hair (not to upset the balance in the full-cast picture; I saw their choice of Joe Mantegna's David Rossi as a replacement for Mandy Patinkin's Jason Gideon the same way -- dark-haired white men -- except that I was already very familiar with both actors and despite my opinion of how Mantegna may have been chosen, was glad to see him on the show; I should add that I don't hate Glaudini but she really never drew me in, even when she was the focus of the show and should have done so.) Brewster creates a much fuller character, whose depths have not even yet been plumbed by the writers, who are by and large (not without exceptions, alas) turning out better material than they once did (although an early two-parter, "The Big Game" and "Revelations" was flawless and played a large part in my becoming completely hooked on the show).

But I am not here to write a review (nor, as I may have implied, to apologize for the previous post). I am here to tell you a story about international deceit, if not intrigue.

I asked my fiancé to buy me the boxed set of the first four seasons (for those not familiar with the show, the current season is number five and only a handful of episodes have aired, so this won't be available for a while) if I could find a fantastic price. Amazon's SALE price is $135 plus shipping (or maybe shipping is free, who knows?) I've seen it go on eBbay for as little as $77 (but that was unusual; more often it has sold for $90-120). We decided $75 was our limit. Then he upped it to $80 and then to $100 (which I refused to do; that's too much, as we are impoverished; we should not even have considered spending $75 but for what was being sold and considering the going rate, that would have been a good price). I bid a few times, lost all those times.

Then I clicked on one of eBbay's sponsored links, where the same item was being sold for $49.99 plus $14 shipping. Good price, yes? Not an insignificant amount of money, if you don't happen to be rich, but less than the lowest price winning such an auction, and not itself an auction. It was also not the only sponsored link and the others were a tad higher but comparable, so I did not think it was "too low" (meaning likely a scam). The site, at dvdscollection.com, looked like any other store of its type, with a nice enough picture of the product and an assurance that it was available in both NSTC and PAL formats (a little odd since DVDs are generall classified by regions, not formats, and at any rate there was nothing on the page to permit anyone to choose between those formats). It looked okay and the price was right -- only a little under the lowest winning eBay auction I'd seen for that item. A lot less... yuou have to wonder why. A little less? You grab it!

My fiancé handed me his credit card and hovered while I paid for the item (he himself being hopeless on the computer). Easy, right? Wrong. I was briefly shown a page that said the payment would be verified in 24 hours, and then, without my clicking anything, was redirected to an order page showing the following order status: order confirmed, unpaid, unshipped.

Now, a credit card charge may take time to post, but it gets verified or rejected right away, so what was with the 24 hours to verify? While I pondered that, I received an email with a subject heading indicating that I should confirm (it didn't say precisely what, and the order page showed my order status as confirmed). I opened the email and read an affirmation that I had purchased the item, nowhere in the email was I asked to confirm anything, nor was I provided with a URL or link, nor given instructions (not even "reply to this email). I replied to the email, asking why and what I had to confirm, how to do so, if necessary, and why it would take 24 hours to confirm a credit card payment.

After sending this rather baffled and somewhat cranky email, I returned to the order page and found a new message: I need to confirm my order; click here to have confirmation email sent to me! Irked, I clicked, and to my guarded relif, such an email DID arrive, this time containing a link (or a url anyway, I forget whether it was clickable). I used the link or url and reached a page completely in Chinese, except for the letters HTTP and the number 404.

A moment of stunned silence, please, to match my own when I reached that informative page.

As soon as I overcame my momentary astoundment, I quickly rechecked the order page, which still told me my order was confirmed (without any messages telling me to confirm it, again or otherwise), unpaid and unshipped.

The site is entirely in English (despite that one Chinese confirmation page). The prices are all listed in U.S. dollars. There is no physical address or phone number offered under Contact Information (or anywhere else) but there is an email address -- the same one from which they sent both confirmation requests, the ridiculous one and the actual but useless one. I wrote to them asking to explain what was going on, and why even after much more than 24 hours they had not yet confirmed the payment. They wrote back saying they could not confirm the payment because the name on the card wasn't the same as the name of the person ordering the DVDs. That is when I realized they had not asked for a billing address, which would be different from my mailing address, as my fiancé was paying. They requested that I fill out a form (attached to the email) and send them a picture of both sides of my fiancé's credit card, for our security. I did not download the attachment and Ii wrote back that under no circumstances was I going to send them a picture of the card, which would at any rate prove nothing, since I had already given them the card number, expiration date and three-digit security code. Would my having the card in my possession prove I hadn't stolen it?

They backed down, and four days after payment was made, it was finally acknowledged on the order page as confirmed. It posted a day or two later to my fiancé's bank account... in a slightly higher amount. When we asked the bank what was going on they said the extra (approximately) two bucks was a currency exchange fee (as I understand it, if the price is listed in U.S. dollars, that means, in the absence of notification prior to purchase -- and we didn't get any even AFTER purchase! the order page to this DAY says we were charged $60.99!) -- THEY eat any exchange rate fees or wobbles. The banker disagreed; the customer pays the fee. (But why was that not part of the agreement? We were not buying an item whose price was listed in a foreign currency; had it been, we would have expected such a fee. Why did we need to pay a fee to convert U.S. dollars into U.S. dollars?) The banker was confused, though, about our confusion; hadn't we physically been present in a store to buy this item? After all, the card had been physically SWIPED.

Some at the company with which we were more and more regretting our interaction had made a physical copy of my fiancé's credit card. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that considered at the very least NOT NICE? I am not conversant in international law but I can't imagine there is a reasonably developed country that hasn't got some kind of law against that!

Two weeks after making this order I received notice of an attempt to deliver a package. My fiancé picked it up for me at the post office. The package was from Beijing, People's Republic of China, and had, of course, a different company name on the packing slip than the one on the website. Instead of Dvds Collection, this company now turned out to be (or claim to be) Yan Hai Electronic Commerce (Beijing) Ltd. Nowhere on the site is there any indication that the company has another name (not so much as a dba), or a physical location at all (it floats in space?)

I was quite relieved to receive the boxed set lafter all that; it looked gorgeous but when I opened it up, the DVDswere in plain plastic slips, without episode titles, and there were no episode titles or descriptions anywhere on or in the box (no literature at all). The only information on the DVDs individual labels were the season and disc number (Season 1, Disk 4, for example. I had to play each one to see what was on it, and while all the episodes from all four seasons were represented, there was something else wrong: some of the discs had proper warnings and distribution credits on them, and came with extras, and had episodes complete and uncut, including end credits, but most of the discs were VERY obviously recorded from television broadcast! The CBS or CTV logo was at the bottom of the screen for the duration of an episode, while promos for those channels' shows would pop up the way they do when you watch a tv show being broadcast, the segues (where commercials were cut) were sometimes ept and sometimes inept, and without exception the end credits were missing. Shows ended abruptly with a freeze frame on the producer credit that appears at the end of a show, without regard for whether or not the music had finished fading. It was truly shoddy.

One could argue that you get what you pay for. I would counter by saying this was not a watch sold on a street corner. It was a product sold by an ebay sponsor, for a price not so VERY much less, once shipping was added, than the lowest winning auction price, and that at ANY rate, promises should be kept. By pretending to be a legitimate company, these folks promised me the real article and I got a bootleg, and a poor one at that. Ignoring for the moment the hassle they put us through just to get the order made, consider, please, the fact that they effectively stole my fiancé's credit card! (We're dealing with it, thanks, and the idiots, not asking for a billing address, probably can't use what they have anyway.)

I am not certain how to pursue this, since the company is in China, but I am starting with a complaint to my state Attorney General's Office, and I am sure they will direct me to someone who will direct me to someone who will direct me, ad infinitum, either to the right party or to a dead end.

Meanwhile I have now seen (as I mentioned at the beginning of this post) every episode of Criminal Minds ever aired, albeit most of them I have only seen slightly butchered, and without end credits, and sans extras, even though I have the DVD boxed set. Kind of.

Saturn: Whose POV?

If I were not chronically ill and stuck in bed for extended periods of time I would not watch/listen to so much television, and you would be reading someone else's blog. But I am, and am, and do, so here we are.

Saturn has a newish commercial out, in which a man speaks past the camera, presumably (therefore) to someone we can't see -- perhaps an interviewer -- and immediately avers that when he comes home, he turns on the television and listens to pundits talking about the fact that American car manufacturers are not producing cars that Americans want to buy. He calls it a fact; I may be misquoting slightly but I have the essentials correct. He uses the word "pundits," these days a rather popular word in ads, meaning "self-professed or actual expert," used in these instances derogatorily to mean "self-professed." So why, then, does he use the word "fact"? It's odd. But he goes on to explain, again oddly, not that Americans DO want to buy some American cars, but that Saturn has recently PRODUCED some new cars. He emphasizes that the cars are not revisions of older models but totally new cars, which may be of interest but certainly has no relevance to his argument against the assertion of the so-called pundits. In fact, he never actually rebuts their assertion. He never even says anything along the lines of, "they're right; Americans don't want American cars... but they SHOULD and here is why!" He just tells us what he hears them say when he comes home from work and turns on the TV, and then drops the ball.

He ends the ad, still looking past us at the unseen recipient of his "information," by urging us to stop by and check out the new Saturns, adding that "we" have always stood by "our" cars (or some such thing). Okay... if he works for Saturn, 1. why does he have to come home and turn on the TV to find out what the "pundits" are saying and 2. why isn't he speaking directly to us when he urges us to come by and see what he's got? Lately I've been seeing this "technique" of having the speaker look past the camera used and abused half to death. SOMETIMES it works. If the intended effect is that the speaker is being interviewed by someone off-camera, or speaking to a friend, not directly to us, this works. But I think some commercial directors use it without understanding (or perhaps caring) what it means, what effect it has or anything other than that "this would be cool" (which, if it gives the wrong impression, has the wrong effect, makes not sense, it is NOT).

Semiotics aside, the whole thing is just a shifting, albeit brief, hodgepodge of non sequiturs. Makes me want to run out and buy a Saturn... NOT. Aww, that's not fair. The new cars might be quite nice. I'll never know.

Of course I don't drive. Please don't take this to mean I'm just a pundit when it comes to auto ads. I know incompetence when I see it. Find yourself a new ad agency, guys!

Addendum, 9/14/09: Well, I do not flatter myself that Saturn or its minions (no, honestly, I have nothing against Saturn; the cars even look okay!) read my blog, but the very same day I wrote this, the ad changed: it begins, audially, the same way, but with a label identifying the speaker as a Saturn dealer, and a line has been added saying outright that (proving the "pundits" wrong) Saturn makes cars that Americans want to buy. Obviously unless I fall prey to a severe and sudden case of megalomania, I must believe that others have noticed the shortcomings of the previous version of the ad.

The POV problem remains.

(And I still don't drive!)