My mother always said that you are lucky if you can count your friends on one hand. But...she never mentioned eating them!
Do kids really need to fall in love with the "Frosted Mini Wheats" family? You know, the one with the adorable wheat kids and wheat puppy, off to school on the shoulders of our children who have been programmed to be their best friends. Suddenly, the commercial cuts to those same smiling children chewing their little multi-flavored frosted friends to death. I guess murdering and swallowing these "lil' buddies" is the most important meal of the day? I always heard "familiarity breeds contempt," but this really pushes the limits!
What good does it do making you care about Frank Perdue Jr's. favorite "Gladys" the chicken when you knows he's gonna murder her once the hormones fatten her to full roasting potential. Is that supposed to make you hungry? I'm not saying that everyone should be a vegan, but just don't make me friends with the sacrificial lamb. Obliviously the advertising world thinks we're all cold-hearted sociopaths. But with the exception of Dr. Lecter, I don't think most people want to get to know their meals on a personal basis.
This is not a new advertising concept. The almost extinct "Drive-in Movie Theaters" had the talented dancing popcorn. hot dog, drink and box of candy. They were probably forced at gunpoint to do that "hurry to the concession stand" commercial that ended their life of toe tapping treats.
At least Wienerschnitzel's ad has some degree of shame with the fully loaded hot dog running for his life trying to keep on step ahead of the dreaded human digestive system. What about the M&M creatures that we've all become friends with? There are even stuffed dolls of them! We laugh at their struggle to avoid termination, only to kill them thru melting in your mouth not in your hands? Now, there's a clever little pretzel guy that doesn't want to be inserted inside one of them to eventually be... eaten alive.
The Foster Farms driving chickens are crossing America in a jalopy with speakers advertising the natural taste of their friends that are being slaughtered back home at the farm in Cali...or should I say at concentration camps. How you gonna keep' em down on the farm with Rudolph Hess as Mr. Green Jeans?
Sure, we all started with a box of animal crackers and biting off the lions head. That was fun, but we weren't friends and I didn't know what he was thinking. Can't we go back to anonymous consumption? Just knowing the calorie count is enough to keep me up all night in a panic--hoping my pants fit in the morning. Any knowledge that my curried chicken salad was once named "Gladys" or "Hilda" is just too much! Six months ago she was starring in a TV commercial and maybe I'm the reason she lost her SAG card.
Pass the unknown Ketchup please!!!!!!!!!!
