There’s a problem on American television.  There’s an insidious, disgusting problem that I wish the FCC would step in and regulate the hell out of.  Actually, I’d settle for the FBI or CIA to take care of this problem.  And no, it’s not the usual scrambled-porn parental issues or trying to figure out why they bleep out certain words while allowing others to spring forth on any FX shows.

Some of you may have guessed what I’m talking about already.  Or simply read my title and so I think you’ll know where I’m coming from.  Sandwiched in between the 300,000th Denzel-On-A-Run-Away-Train-With-Some-Random-White-Dude movie trailer and the Miller Lite ads that seem intent on making sure that we all know we’re not a man or, in fact, even slightly masculine if we don’t get easily and completely seduced by a swirling glass pattern in their beer bottles was something lurking in the darkness.

I was sitting in my living room, mind atrophying with the 4th of 12 straight glorious of Sunday afternoon NFL football, when suddenly I was stunned.  Blindsided like so many of the QB’s with crappy offensive lines that I had just watched on TV.  The commercial started out simply enough.  What sounded like a sweet love song wafted through the airwaves.  It sounded innocent enough.

Then the commercial started rolling.  *BAM*  The camera backhanded my eyes with an excruciating closeup of some old guy dancing with a greasy, dripping-with-faux-barbecue-sauce-blood-colored abomination.  The McRib.  Yes, the McRib is back.  And it’s frickin’ disgusting.

The ad continued.  My horror grew.  As this sweet, schmaltzy love ballad tinkled along with a piano background music they showed person after person pounding down McRibs like they were crack on a bun.  The ad was gorier than a Robert Rodriguez movie.  He certainly wouldn’t allow any of his kids to watch this ad until they’re at least 17 (*Author’s Note: they’re named Rebel, Rocket and Racer.  No.  Seriously.).

As the ad continued the gore grew.  Like famished zombies diving into human brains, the people in the ad ravenously tore at the McRibs.  I was appalled.  Closeup after eye-bleeding closeup they showed people diving in, incisors glinting in the artificial studio light, red bootleg-barbecue sauce staining their idiotically grinning faces.

They smeared the sauce all over their faces.  It was like war paint for the obese, eye-black for the unathletic.  The music jangled on, as the people licked their fingers as if trying to suck the marrow clean out of this disgusting sandwich.  Slowly shuffling and dancing.  Dancing a waltz with leftover horse-meat slathered in sugar-mixed-with-ketchup-mixed-with-Red-Dye-40.

I nearly spit out my far classier Diet Citrus Drop Xtreme Cola.

As the ad faded from the screen it lingered in my consciousness.  I almost tasted the sticky, nauseatingly sweet BBQ.  I drank another hit of cheap, knock-off, store-brand pop just to cleanse my unrefined pallet.

Just as I was settling my queasy stomach back down.  Just as I was preparing myself for the run of the mill Extenze ads mixed with another Denzel-On-A-Train-The-Size-Of-The-Chrysler-Building-Barreling-Towards-Not-Only-Kids-But-A-Schoolbus-Full-of-Nuns-And-Puppies movie trailer, it happened again.

*BOOM!*

My mind exploded with grotesquerie.  The music swelled and I had to watch another moron doing the Foxtrot with Cancer on a bun.  I couldn’t believe it.  I watched in mind-numbing, limb-failing horror, remote dropping limply from my hand.  The people again cannibalized the buns, bathed themselves in BBQ and didn’t seem to mind that they were slathering on sauce like it was SPF 50 at the beach.

On and on it went yesterday.  Oh, yes, people.  The McRib is back.  Board up your TV screen, get as many cans and non-perishable items as you can get a hold of and, whatever you do, make sure to DVR or TiVo everything so you can fast forward through these God-awful ads.

FIN

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Comments
  1. Sue Tolles says:

    so you don’t mind the ads about feminine hygiene products or erectile dysfunction meds, or birth control? I remember when they couldn’t put a bra on a real woman in the ads, print and TV.

  2. madhat says:

    Oh, man! This steamrolled, building laugh after laugh with each exaggerated, hilarious image. I’ve never even seen the ad, but I was doubled over with laughter, trying to stay quiet in the library where I was reading this. “War paint for the obese”, and then that last description of Denzel’s movie, and then “Fox trot with Cancer on a Bun”, BP, your timing and sense of humor is outrageously funny. Thank-you for a good morning guffaw.

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