There’s an advert for some wine that is rubbish and a gaping example of the awfulness of the endless aspirational advertising the TV vomits at us. A review:
It starts with the words “here’s to true character”, so right from the off they’ve nicked Apple’s “here’s to the crazy ones” spiel from their 1997 Think Different ad campaign. So true character is not having your own character, then?
In the first shot a besuited cock purposefully walks around a corner with smug smirk on his stupid face. Normal people don’t walk that fast around corners because chances are someone will be coming the other way. Of course in his case he’d bump into some Deschanel-alike and help her pick all her stupid twee things up and then marry her in some convoluted fashion, but for normals walking around busy street corners like that is just inadvisable. You might collide with an old lady and break her hip and put her in hospital where she catches MRSA and dies just before Christmas because you’re galavanting around like a metrosexual wanker on a mission to look in a mirror. He starts hastily taking off his tie and jacket whilst looking really satisfied with himself. Anyone in the real world who looks that out of touch with reality and is undressing in public would be sectioned by the end of the day. But we’re meant to assume he’s either just finished work or has just quit his job to pursue his real passion. If that’s the way in which he leaves work everyday, or even just every Friday, then someone needs to tell him he’s too old to be pretending to be Clark Kent on so regular a basis. And if he’s just quit, what is that guy’s real passion anyway? It’s hard drugs and high class prostitutes. He needs that job stealing from pension funds to finance his addiction.
In the next scene a couple are cycling. The narrator says “to those who follow their heart”. They’re just riding flipping bikes. They didn’t wake up that morning and say ‘how shall we follow our hearts? I know darling, get your trouser clips on.’ Unless you’re doing the Tour de France, going for a bike ride does not qualify as following your heart.
Then it’s some men who’ve been surfing while a woman awaits their return with a picnic and some wine at the ready (that is good of the woman to do that, she needs to pass the time somehow while the menfolk “stay true to their passions” and “live on their own terms”, the terms being men do things and any women play the role of glamorous fisherman’s wife.
It’s probably the phrase “live on their own terms” that bothers me the most. No one lives on their own terms. No, wait, I’m in error, I can think of a few. The Sultan of Brunei, Goldman Sachs COO David Cohn and, until recently, Muammar Gaddafi. Okay, so not all people who live on their own terms reached high office, or control those in high office, some are just serial killers. If you think you “live on your own terms” you’re either very dangerous or a silly prick.
And there’s some people ‘enjoying every moment’ of ‘living on their own terms’. “Every moment”? If you enjoy every moment of your life then you’re almost certainly an artificial life form. Have you checked with your parents that you’re not a prototype they pulled out of the rubble of the cybernetics genius’ house after he burned it to the ground in an attempt to thwart the inevitable dystopian society his work would ultimately bring about? Are your memories really your own? Think about it now. If you just genuinely enjoy every moment of it, exactly what sort of pleasure is it you derive from wiping your arse? At best you should be indifferent.
Ah Rich, this is brilliant! Your magnum opus!
