Badvertising: Even for Comical Dildo Commercials, This Sucks

Are you in the market for a dildo? Bully for you! I don't know a whole hell of a lot about dildos, so I can't really make any informed suggestions. I can tell you which one I'd recommend avoiding, though:


Hurrah, Sports!

I love football and hockey, but I'm not afraid to expand my sporting horizons with the occasional World Cup dalliance or maybe a WNBA game if I'm too high to get off the couch or something. But the point is I am always looking for the next innovation in sports and sporting, because I live a life from which I need constant distraction or else my brain will cave in on itself with hatred and anxiety.

So I'm really psyched about whatever the fuck this is migrating over to the United States:

See? It's a sport because there was a ball on the field. At some point. I'm pretty sure I saw one. Anyway, I don't speak Italian so if you know what the hell's going on I'd love to hear it.

It's no Kronum, and it's certainly no Tazer Ball, but I'd watch a bunch of dudes beat the shit out of each other on a dirt field on a Sunday afternoon.


Okay, Things Aren't COMPLETELY Shitty.

This thing exists. That makes the world a little better.

Sometimes I Really Hate My Industry

I work in Marketing for a company that markets to advertisers. This means that I work firmly in the middle of a Venn Diagram depicting the shittiest people in the world. But it pays the bills and the team is cool and yada yada yada whatever I made my peace with it. But part of my job involves subscribing to industry rags to keep abreast of various goings on.

Which means sometimes I get a reminder of just how completely, utterly shitty these people can be:

Come the fuck on, guys.


The Perfect Metaphor for Project Management with 25 Stakeholders

"Please let's just release this thing. We're on our 18th revision. Please get out the door, please get out the door, please get out the door."

h/t reddit


Back at Ya, Anonymous Indian Internet User

I'm sure this person was actually looking for porn, or based on the article they landed on maybe some sort of anti-American screed. But I like to think that somewhere in India, someone just hates my guts.


I Have No Idea what This is but I Made a Bunch of GIFs of It

This commercial is pretty typical run-of-the-mill Japanese consumer insanity:

I do not pretend to know what the fuck that thing is supposed to do to your face. Tone it? Like, sucking on a shake weight will give you a rugged jaw line or something? I don't even understand. But Ronaldo's in it so it's gotta work, right? That guy surely wouldn't just smile and sell us some sucker's bet, would he? (hahaha of course he would).

Anyway, watch that and be horrified. Then use these GIFs for all your reddit and message board needs:

All together now!

Hard-Hitting Offseason Journalism

Asking the tough questions in Kentucky:



I like to think of myself as smarter than average. I realize that if anyone were to actually test that, it might not work out that way. Call it delusion or positive self image or just good ol' hubris, but it helps me get through the day by imagining that I'm just slightly more clever than your run of the mill hairless ape wandering the streets.

Which is why I scoffed at the line at the ATM by my house when I stopped by for a third time to find two people struggling mightily to figure out how to cash a check. This is despite the instructions clearly printed on the side of the machine. Any time you see someone on the phone waiting for customer service at an ATM, you have to concede you're going to be there awhile. I wouldn't even expect the customer service line for an ATM to actually work, to be honest. I figured it's sort of like a corporate appendix; someone long ago thought it was necessary but it stopped working long ago.

So I rolled my eyes and muttered under my breath about what a bunch of morons they were and headed back to my car determined to find a different ATM where I wouldn't be slightly inconvenienced because I'm an American god dammit.

As I reached for the door I noticed a scratch, which is a real bummer because it's pretty severe and the car is still less than a year old. I tried buffing it out with my fingernail, hoping it was actually some sort of debris. No joy. I sighed, resigned myself to the deterioration of all material possessions with my mantra, "It's just stuff," threw open the door and hopped in the car.

Except it wasn't my car.

It was the same make and model as my car. But the dashboard was all wrong. The upholstery was the wrong color. It was the wrong texture, even. For a split second I thought I was simultaneously occupying two time streams, which goes to show the lengths my brain will go to in order to protect my fragile ego's notion that I'm smart.

It's not even like it was parked right next to mine. It was on the other side of the row. I just saw a familiar shape and color and beelined for it. 

I'm not a smart man. Or at least not an attentive one.