Fun With Ads

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October 6 , 2005

Yeah, this is pretty typical for a comic book ad of the 1980s. The kid makes the shot, because he is inspired by the awesomse taste of a random food product. My poroblem with this, though, is the way the other players keep telling him he's "a Cracker Jack," like it's something awesome for people to call you. I just don't buy that, though. Maybe it's just me, but "you're a Cracker Jack" sounds more like some weird-ass little kid insult. I picture this scene looking more like this:

I dunno about you, but where I come from, calling someone a Cracker Jack is grounds for an old fashioned country ass-whoopin.

[click to see a larger version]

You know, I also have scary, bouncing, ugly balls, but thankfully, no muscular green men with pirate boots have pursued them. Yet.

[click to see a larger version]

Hell yeah. He wears spiked collars and cool shades. He wears his jacket collar flared wide open in defiance of your middle class capitalist values. His stare is the piercing black stare of the revolution. He fights The Man every day, and some day, he will bring The Man to his knees. And when he's done, he will kick back and relax by playing board games based on video games. Yeah. What a fucking Cracker Jack.

[click to see a friggin' huge version]

Switching gears from old comic book ads, here's this one from a football magazine that seemingly had advertisements for online poker places every three pages, but that's another rant entirely. And there's a whole helluva lot going on here.

	First, there's the Mopey Injun. You can see from the look on his face that he's just totally bummed out that his cards suck, he's got almost no chips left at all, and now the White Man is going to take everything away from him, just like it's always been for the last few hundred years. "My people have looked over this land for thousands of years. Now, we must sell it to pay off my gambling debts." Better luck next time, Chief.
	This guy, I don't know what to think about. He kinda scares me. Let's move on.
	Look, here's the Biggest Dumbass, Ever. "Huh, well. Look, I got mah card in mah hat! That's the way them big city folks do it up in Branson! With all this money I'm gonna win playing this here card game, I'm gonna buy a t-shirt that says 'save a horse, ride a cowboy!' Don't that beat all?" Upon further inspection, though, it seems that the card in the B.D.E.'s hat was actually computer - generated somehow. I think that second creepy guy has hologram powers.
	"Yes, you will have your T-shirt, my redneck friend. But with my winnings today, I shall buy bigger and better medallions for my manly Cuban chest! I will be the envy of all Little Havana! THE WORLD IS MINE!"
	Wow, this guy looks like the biggest slimeball, ever. Between the cigar, the creepy little girl-toucher moustache, and the card slyly hidden up his sleeve in plain sight of everyone ever, this looks like a guy who's going to try and pull some shit. Like, he'll talk himself up like he's the absolute shit, but he'll live in a shitty little apartment in Meth Lab Town, and he'll sell you a 1997 Nissan Sentra GXE, but he'll always want to borrow it from you, because he has no car now, and then he'll ask you to drop the car payments off at his lawyer's office, because he's going out of town for a couple weeks, and then you never hear from him again for over a year. Or something.
	"This is so humilating, dealing cards for these subhumans. If my modeling career ever takes off, I can leave this foul life behind. But who am I kidding? I know that within five years, I'll be back in L.A., waiting tables and shoving my script in the face of everyone who looks important. Maybe I should have just gotten hooked on steroids, like my twin brother, Dave Batista."
	Wow, this is one cranky-looking motherfucker. He looks like the guy you say "have a nice day" to, and he responds with something like "what's so nice about it?" and glares at you like you had forgotten to stay out of his yard again. Also, I think he stole those shades from that lame ass Cracker Jack with the board games from earlier.
	And this guy looks like he's what's wrong with everything, ever. The dopey, vacant look in his eyes and the gel-laden douche hair lead me to believe he's one of those guys who read something about how awesome poker is in FHM, Maxim, or one of those other magazine's that's basically Playboy without nipples. So he watches some poker tournament on ESPN and thinks it makes him this awesome poker expert, when he's just a fucking idiot showing his cards to Cranky Guy while he's busy staring at the waitress's chest. On the other hand, at least he is Just a Nigga That Loves Titties™.
	Here's the waitress, just doing her job, delivering drinks and being cheerful, and - OH HOLY FUCK! She got a fucking gun! It was all a clever plot to steal all the poker chips that the front desk will just refuse to redeem anyway! So remember, folks: If you go to MillPoker.com, you will fucking die. Someone will run up and shoot you in the chest like eight times, and there's nothing you or anyone else can do about it. Everyone goes all in at MillPoker.com, and they never fucking come back.