Friday, November 10, 2006

 

Two Minutes of Torture

Is it me or was Roger MIA this morning? I sat through In the Papers, Weather on the Ones, and Gary Anthony Ramsey three times - not to mention a totally bizarre report from the hirsute nebbish George Whipple who attended a L'Oreal cancer fundraiser seemingly for the sole purpose of telling Diane Keaton a hundred times that she's "a legend" - before calling it quits after Roger failed to appear. Sadly, I've got the entire loop memorized. Clark's absence did give me the opportunity to really give careful consideration to my favorite low-budget commercials on NY1 and here are my thoughts:

1. Select Dental: Featuring the slim, soft-spoken guy in the tuxedo shirt and lip gloss who fears the rising cost of dental care for he and his "wife." Makes you wonder who the woman sitting next to him is supposed to be.

2. Dial 7 car service: Formerly known as Tel Aviv before someone realized that naming anything after a terrorist target was a bad idea. This ad is remarkable purely for how brazenly offensive it is. A white family is being driven around by a Middle Eastern guy - straight out of central casting - who giggles to himself and points to something on the NYC horizon all while fake airplanes are flying around in the background. You haven't seen stereotyping until you've seen this ad.

3. Arris Lofts: This classic features exotic animals showering (I'm serious. The elephant really seems to love the fog-proof glass) in big, boxy lofts in the heart of Long Island City is like water torture, especially since it's on every fifteen seconds. If I have to hear "spacious, gracious living" and "expansive, not expensive" one more time I'm going hunting.

4. Intimacy: Apparently, this is a bra shop featuring "bra fittings." I know this because of the commercial's ingenious use of two ladies chatting about it over a meal. One lady says to the other in all seriousness: "I know. It gives me a lot more lift. I feel slimmer, taller." When will advertising agencies learn that absolutely no woman chats about her feminine hygiene produts, let alone how much her bra is cutting off her circulation because she's short and fat, over lunch. We save that type of convo for dinner parties.

Here's hoping Roger's back tomorrow.

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