Very few subgenres of commercials fall victim to unintentional self-parody so readily and easily as do commercials for jewelry. But as cloying and nauseating as Jared's commercials are, nothing quite lives up to the consistently-divorced-from-reality-and-logic parallel dimensions presented in the world according to Kay. More specifically, this world:
So, let's get this straight: This guy, who apparently doesn't know very much sign language, nonetheless knows a deaf women well enough to have established the kind of deep, personal relationship with her that two people presumably would share before one buys the other a gold watch? Look, unless they've played a lot of unusually deep and revealing games of Pictionary, this is a fucking impossible scenario.
Also, "every kiss" begins with "E". Assholes.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
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4 comments:
Right on about the idiocy of this Kay's commercial.
But Jerod's commercials are still more dispicable.
And as for deBeer's and their guilt-tripping ... When I can use the SAME money to make significant portion for a downpayment on a house, or otherwise invest in the future, I should wast 3 months' salary on a piece of stone that's so cheap that it's the most common industrial abrasive, why, exactly? To fulfill the same irrational expectations that you created in the first place? I don't think so. Assholes.
Where do they sell that new "Pandora" "jewelry?" Is it Kay? Granted, they're charm bracelets, but you have charm bracelets and then you have these bloated trinkets of doom.
Also, the best Kay commercial has got to be the terrifying "Thunderstorm" episode.
One of my favorite sayings ever:
"I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lites than Kay"
I think these ads are annoying to anyone who fits the youthful goodlooking demographic. Youthful goodlooking couples are mad-humpin' under the tree when no one's around. OLD PEOPLE will find this crushing corporate sentimentality so overwhelming that they won't notice the gangsta markup on the cheap sub-karat trinkets at a mall jewelry store.
I can hear the breakup spiel now, "Honey, we're a TV cliche now, I am so out of here. I found a parolee with tats and a Harley; at least now I can ride with my legs spread and feel something spontaneous for once."
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