This action was inspired by this ad, which asked the pale, huddled masses crammed into London’s dangerous-looking, two-story buses, “Are you beach-body ready?”
This apparently offended a lot of flabby Brits, who don’t like to be reminded that that don’t have nice bodies. They don’t have nice beaches, either, or nice weather to enjoy them in, just a lot of ocean-washed gravel adjacent to sheep farms and plagued by cold and damp year-round. Plus, they can’t understand each other’s accents, and they can’t just turn up the volume on the TV to help like we do when we’re watching something British.
But everything British eventually migrates over here to escape the constant rain and socialism of the UK, so It is up to Americans to make sure this practice stays an ocean away from the land of the free and the home of the supermodel gobbling a cheeseburger on TV. Although not formally on the law books as a constitutional amendment, the right of Americans to have products pitched to them by attractive people is taken for granted by we the people, and, frankly, the only reason we don’t fast forward through every commercial ever produced.
Handsome men, svelte women, cute children and talking animals are the only creatures we Americans will tolerate trying to sell us something. There have been exceptions through the years, but thankfully, I can’t think of any examples—I’ve blocked them out, I expect. Even commercials where the attractive young women remain fully clothed, like the Verizon person in the tight dress shirt or the credit score girl who wants us to monitor our credit so we can constantly go out and pile on debt are a low-calorie form of eye-candy, and when Kate Upton walks her cleavage through a series of explosions and attacks by dragons to encourage us to play a video game, we immediately go out and buy that game.
Uh, sorry, no. I still don’t play any video games. I also don’t worry about my credit score. I understand people who do. They think their credit score is like a batting average for their life, which may be important to the vast majority of people who don’t have real batting averages. Paying your electric bill on time is like a sacrifice bunt, and paying off your car loan is like hitting one out of the park, and the satisfaction of watching your credit rating go up as you inch your way through your drab, responsible existence may be the only joy you have in it, but I’m not playing that game. Score me any way you want for now, because someday my credit will be equal to everybody else's in the graveyard.
But I digressed, and rather morbidly, too. Back to the main subject of cheesecake in advertising! Here in San Diego we have been enjoying a series of billboards advertising one of the local casinos. Along with the name of the casino, they feature luscious young women in minimal dress, gazing out at traffic with a look of barely being able to keep their knees together. What these billboards are saying to me is that if I should go to that casino, I will be a winner, and finally able to financially justify the company of the willing, enthusiastic, attractive and affordable prostitutes who are thronging the premises.
I still haven’t gone, though, because I suspect that when I get there, it will be just the usual casino crowd of wrinkled geriatrics pulling away at slot machines and puffing away on cigarettes they should have quit years ago, and I will piss away a hundred dollars before I get sick of losing and leave.
Rather go to London.