Creepy.
I noticed something today. I've been watching a lot of television lately. Mostly reruns of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and various baseball games. As you may well know, between segments of entertainment, they play various short, quirky and occasionally entertaining quips known as commercials, designed to convince you, the viewer, to purchase an array of products.
There is one particular commercial where a middle-aged gentleman plays a guitar (left-handed, although the guitar is right-handed........it is also the same guitar that I own) and sings a song about the individual parts that form a Snickers candy bar.
I've always liked Snickers. In the pre-diabetes days of my illustrious life, I would eat about ten per day.
Ok, that's not true. In all reality I preferred a Mr. Goodbar or a Nestle Crunch, but a Snickers would do in a sweet-toothed pinch. I mostly reserved candy for the special stomach grumblings of a long road trip, but these days, when my blood sugar plummets, a nice hunk of chocolate helps prevent me from turning into a blue-faced diabetic coma icicle.
Now, to my dismay, this middle-aged candy bar crooner is also featured in a much more disturbing advertisement. He is placed, in this commercial, in the awkward position of hawking VALTREX to you and me. Personally, I don't have genital herpes (unless anyone I've slept with has something they want to tell me?), and I feel some empathic discomfort for those who do. But in all honesty, the last thing I want is a herpes-ridden old fart trying to sing me to sleep with a song about a fucking candy bar. I'd like to eat my chocolate treat in the personal comfort of knowing that my loins are not burning with the fires of little red blisters covering my love machine.
The immoral of my story is this: Pay attention to commercials. Know who is selling you what. Also know if this person or these people have any little red bumps on their genitals that could cause your own happy times to burn like living hell. And cut back on all that candy you've been eating. You might end up like me and have to shoot up at restaurants before you eat with a bunch of inbreeds telling the waitress that someone is doing drugs at the table. IT'S INSULIN, YOU DUMB F*@%$#*@.
