We were talking last night about the concept of the discount coupon, the refund and the free meal ticket. So say you go into a restaurant, you order a nice big meal, you eat it, then you get sick and end up spending the next nine hours pinwheeling in your bathtub. For those of you who don’t know what pinwheeling is, imagine you’re spraying out of both ends. If you were to take a spear and stick it through your side into the wall, the force of the liquids coming out of you would propel you to spin, doing backflips on the spear.
After you spend all night in the shitter, you call the restaurant, or even better – go back up there, and they give you a free meal ticket to make it up to you. Ahem. Like you really want to eat there again? That was one shitty cookie! Can I have a discount on my next shitty cookie? Yeah it really doesn’t make much sense. Same thing with shitty haircuts. You might get a coupon for a free haircut since they effed your head up this time. Uh huh. That is one valuable coupon. I know I don’t keep going back to places that don’t do their job right.
So then, somehow, we got onto talking about Blue Star Ointment. Now you’ve all heard the commercial, right?
Blue Star Ointment! Cures jock itch, ringworm, psoriasis, tetter, and removes corns and callouses! Blue Star Ointment: the one that’s guaranteed! Ask for it!
So can you see what disturbs me about that yet? Blue star ointment relieves jock itch, ringworm, psoriasis, tetter (whatever the hell that is), and removes corns and callouses. Removes them. Okay, so I’m going to get cream that removes corns and callouses and use it for my jock itch? Uh uh. I’ll pass, friends.
I’m not sure I even know what jock itch is. Hell, I’m not even sure I know what a jock is. I know in high school we called all the guys who played football the “jocks”. Was that actually an insult, in retrospect? I know also, there is a jock strap. Jock, all together, just doesn’t sound like something with which I would like to associate. But yeah, apparently, I have one. Well, it itches sometimes. So I scratch it and it feels better. Just like any other part of my body. My face itches sometimes too. Do I need medication for it? Seriously? And who refers to the area down undah as their jock, really? I’ve called it a lot of things, not one of them ever being jock.
“Hey ladies. How we doin’ tonight? You gals like a little jock on your chest?”
Yeah. So have you ever purchased a product or service that was guaranteed to do something or other, and it just simply didn’t? Sham Wow would fall under this category. They show you the video where it picks up six buckets of water, and retains it. They promise you that if your ship is going down, just drop this cloth in the water and you’ll be shortly standing on dry land. You order one for 19.99. And it doesn’t even clean the damn water drops off my windshield. It just moves them around. It’s so anti-absorbant that it makes a better squeegee than a towel.
And so on for every one of those ab roller-type contraptions you see on television constantly. Ab roller, ab flattener, ab remover, ab shrinker, and the best, Ab Son Of A Bitcher. “Son of a Bitch, it’s just gone!” And since America is so lazy and fat, you can almost be guaranteed to see at least one of these type contraptions in almost every garage in the country. Siting there collecting dust. My dad had the Ab Belt Sander, or the Ab Jiggler, as I called it. You stand on a platform and put this wide belt around your waist and turn it on. It literally just jiggled your fat away. Well, not away. But it damn sure did jiggle it. We kids had more fun playing on it than did it actually work. I sure would like to get hold of that belt jiggle machine today though. I have several, um, experiments I’d like to conduct involving the jiggling belt and, uh, certain other things I would like to see jiggle with an intense fury.
But why do we honestly believe all these things will really work to make us skinnier? Look, people, getting fat takes work. It takes eating a lot of shit, fried fast food and bacon. So you have to think, you’re going to have to work at least as hard getting it off as you worked to put it on. There is no magical machine or silver bullet that’s going to just knock your weight off just because you sit on it. Stop being lazy! Ask Haycomet how hard she has to work to stay that skinny! Wait. No, uh, she doesn’t eat anything, at all, ever. So she’s just exempt.
But you know the one product that continually works, year after year, and does exactly what it proposed, which was non-stop fun? The Rubik’s Cube. Yes, friends, I’ve had one since about 1985, and it still keeps me entertained. Trying to find new ways to solve it, beat my record, make new patterns and work on blindfold cubing. Thank you, Erno Rubik, for ruining my life with a toy whose addictive power is so strong I cannot possibly get away. I spend hours at a time solving everything from my Pocket all the way up to the Professor. LEAVE ME ALONE! Let me get on with my life instead of being forced to come back to this toy day after day! Let me rest in peace, for Kevin’s sake!
That, friends, was a great investment though. So what products can you think of that just really don’t do what they were advertised to do? Feel free to leave them in the response section below.