Nothing enrages me more than watching TV.  And it’s not really the TV shows that are to blame — I have pretty limited selection, and sometimes my choices are reality shows, reality shows, Christian talk shows, and more reality shows, but supposing I were to have access to more than 12 channels, I’m sure I could find something.  No, it’s not the shows that make me mad.  It’s the advertising.

There’s something really wrong with TV advertising.  I think it must be targeted exclusively at the bottom lip of the bell curve.  You can watch shows aimed at hip, intelligent Gen Yers, like, for example, the Colbert Report — shows watched by audiences with a highly developed sense of irony, a high degree of media literacy, and a pretty good sense of humour — but the commercial breaks are packed with ads that seem to be targeting a group of subliterate racist chauvinists.  I understand that advertisers can’t afford to be so edgy they alienate even a fraction of their potential consumer base, but does it have to be so insipid?

I suppose I should provide some examples.  Here’s my attempt to transcribe, from memory, a recent Gain ad:

[INT – KITCHEN – DAY]

A wizened OLD MAN (70s) and his wizened old WIFE (70s) sit at a mostly bare table in wan sunlight, eating watery soup. Gentle, inoffensive music plays.

ANNOUNCER (Male, 40s): We received a letter from Ann Madeupname from Walla Walla. She says, “I’ve been doing my husband’s laundry for 42 years, but he never said anything about it…………………………………until I switched to ‘Gain’ laundry detergent.“

OLD MAN: [Long pause] My socks smell great.

WIFEY glows with the satisfaction of a job well done.

ANNOUNCER: Gain. Bringing couples together for 30 years.

I’ve paraphrased the original spot pretty loosely because that was from memory, but you get the gist. This ad was in pretty high rotation for a while, and every time I saw it, I thought I must have lost my mind — because not once did anyone say anything to me to indicate that they were even a little disconcerted by this ad. I sort of assumed everyone would be freaking out about it as much as I was, but apparently not.

How is that possible? Surely almost everyone has seen it by now. So how can they not be totally offended on every level by this scenario? This woman has been washing her husband’s crusty gitch for decades and he never once expressed even the tiniest bit of appreciation? And then he remarks — a propos of nothing, without even looking her in the eye, his gaze still fixed robotically on his soup (which she no doubt made for him) like an automaton — that his socks smell great, of all things — not that his clothes smell great, or even simply asking, “Did you recently switch detergents, honey?” like any normal person would — and we’re supposed to buy that line of tripe?  And then she beams like it was all worthwhile — she’s been slavishly cleaning up after this guy for the better part of her (and his) life, just waiting for even a hint of appreciation, a glimmer of thanks, and he throws her this virtual insult of a compliment in the form of an indirect comment not about her labours but about the smell of the soap she used — “my socks smell great” — and she reacts like he just gave her the Hope diamond and a ticket for a six-month cruise. I mean, in what world does this happen? I find this objectionable on so many levels that I don’t even know where to begin. It’s insulting in that it expects you to believe this preposterous event ever happened, or that someone then took the time to write to her big, faceless detergent company about it and then actually pay actual money for a stamp and mail it (God help us all if it really is a letter from a real customer) — it’s insulting in its implication that when an egocentric chauvinist finally deigns to throw his benighted wife a tiny bone of oblique gratitude, she should be proud instead of standing up, dumping his hot soup on his lap, screaming “I WASH YOUR FREAKING LAUNDRY FOR 30 YEARS AND ALL YOU CAN SAY IS ‘MY SOCKS SMELL GREAT,’ YOU MISERABLE PRICK? I’M LEAVING YOU!” like any self-respecting person would — and it’s pretty insulting just for the way it plays on your stupid, sappy, sentimental emotions. Do they really expect anyone to be so impressionable they actually go buy this detergent in the hope that their unending labors will finally be recognized? And that this offhanded, awkward attempt at conversation over lunch passes for “bringing couples together”? This momentary lapse in the otherwise total and complete breakdown of any sort of human communication is supposed to be an acceptable, even welcome thing? Have we set our expectations so abysmally low that we would even consider buying a new detergent in an attempt to grab even a second of glory reflected from a product that comes in a plastic jug, even in the full knowledge of its soul-crushing futility?

Of course, the prospect of matrimonial bliss in a bottle is tame compared to some of the other things advertising offers us.  As I was driving down the street today, I passed a huge billboard which had only two words on it: “BE INSPIRED.” I suppose it could be a message from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, but I have a feeling it’s going to turn out to be part of an ad campaign. Whatever. It doesn’t matter.

What matters is that this type of thing passes for profundity these days. Whither real inspiration? I don’t know if people actually still practise meditation, introspection, or self-examination, but something tells me it’s not as popular as, say, watching TV. Instead of looking inside ourselves to discover our faults, and find the motivation to better ourselves, we read The Secret and call on God to give us the strength to just believe in ourselves, as if self-love was a substitute for self-knowledge. As if they were not, in fact, in opposition to each other.

To tell someone to BE INSPIRED, as a directive, is just about the most banal and lame thing I’ve ever heard. To inspire someone to action, whether it’s to create great art, or make a positive change on the world around them, is just about the greatest accomplishment a person can make. To inspire others on a grand scale is to reach the highest heights of intellectual accomplishment, and to join the company of Gandhi, MLK, and JFK. Could anyone really believe it’s as easy as simply being instructed to be inspired? As if all it took to find the beauty in your life, and to find the drive to bring energy and passion to everything you do, and to find the meaning in your own ordinary existence was to simply be told to do it? You might as well tell someone to BE WISE or BE TALLER or DON’T HAVE A STROKE, EH?

Advertising holds up an image of the life we want to have: it makes us a promise.  And even though advertising breaks this promise again and again and again, we keep believing the promises anyway.  Why?  Because we want to believe, for one thing: it’s a pretty illusion; the world would be a better place if we could turn ourselves into the people we want to be just by spending money.  And because it’s so tantalising, for another: when the thing being promised to us is eternal youth and beauty and the respect and admiration of others and all the sex we can stand, our enthusiasm can sometimes cloud our judgement.  Advertising plays with desires so base and visceral they transcend reason.  But as the saying goes, for every complex problem, there’s a simple solution — and it’s wrong. Our job as thinking people is to logically reason what solutions are good, and which are false benefit.

So what’s the solution?  Avoidance, for one; PVRs and, well, not watching TV at all are two ways to make advertising less oppressive.  But it’s so ubiquitous, there’s really no way to avoid it entirely.  And I have no fundamental objection to advertising; I do not begrudge its right to exist, per se.  The only thing we can do, ultimately, is to educate ourselves and others, and to make informed choices. The promises advertising makes may be appealing, but it’s important to always remember the source; a piece of advice coming from an impartial source is once thing, but a piece of “advice” coming from someone who wants something from you is another.  Offering information about a product or service you may need is one thing, but the promise of a different life is another.

Can we stop and think long enough to tell the difference?

[Jump to Part I.]