November 11, 2010

All the Better Alcoholics

Sometimes I think of commercials for products that would be better than their own; for example the Gilbert Gott-awful duck. He should be replaced with… well, anything really. Maybe the car insurance lizard has got a cousin who could use some work. Or maybe the toilet paper bears could get a big splinter in their ass and proclaim how if not for the formerly duck touted now bear endorsed disability insurance they would be shit out of luck.

I also have some ideas for products that don’t usually advertize on TV; such as one of my favorite chardonnays, Kendall Jackson. Yummy.

The idea was spawned by a night out drinking with a former ballerina turned stripper. A lovely girl who at the age of closer to forty than thirty can still raise each leg far above her head, (one at a time), do deep pirouettes, and balance quite nicely on the toes of her platform stripper shoes.

My stripper friend, who once belonged to the same Blue Bird troop as me, likes to drinky. Honestly, have you ever met a stripper or Blue Bird who doesn’t? But the difference between my exceptionally limber pal and other drunken strippers is her taste for the finer things. Not that Kendall Jackson chardonnay is the world’s finest, but it ain’t two buck chuck either.

So back to my idea for their new ad campaign:

The camera rolls on a chic woman seated at a fine, leather laden, Boston ferned, brass railed bar.

She orders a glass of chardonnay and is given an approving nod from the grey templed, floor length aproned, always has a lighter and cigar cutter in his pocket, bartender.

The announcer speaks in his best Dennis Haysbert voice. He says: Kendall Jackson…

Her first sip of the golden elixir provokes a serene smile from her classic red lips.

Then the announcer continues: All the better alcoholics start with us.

We jump to later in the evening, the same woman, lipstick smeared, stumbling, enters a dive.

The tattooed, greasy, Marlboro smoking bar keep sees her coming and puts up a tall jelly jar of two buck chuck. It’s an unidentifiable orange-ish color. She plops at the bar and takes a long pull, spilling some on her half unbuttoned blouse.

The announcer: Why not enjoy a fine chardonnay before you’re too wrecked to care what you drink. Kendall Jackson.

The announcer lowers his voice: Not available in all gas stations, cork screw required.

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