It is no secret that our consumer culture is badgered by grifters and dissemblers. The hustle is continuous. Unceasing. “There’s a sucker born every minute,” a phrase commonly associated with PT Barnum, should be updated to “Every minute of television commercials makes suckers of us all.”
“And now a quick word from our sponsor.” This message comes shortly after a lengthy word from a different sponsor. And then another sponsor. And yet another. The result, as we all know, is that the television program we watch is interrupted for over fifteen minutes each hour. The trade-off is that we tolerate commercials so we can slog through our selected program, but we must pay the price of wading through those spots to receive what we believe is free television. It’s not free, is it? The price we pay is brain-numbing commercial manipulation, usually overloaded with deception and puffery.
“If you’ve been injured in a car accident, we can help.” That’s the pitch, one of dozens similar appeals for you, the viewer, to contact a personal injury attorney’s office so you can get a sizable settlement from an insurance company. The help these attorneys offer is part of a system that brings compensatory awards to those who suffer injury or to the estates of those who die, and, of course, to the lawyer’s bank account for handling the case. You may wonder how much your case is worth? The smiling clients (probably actors) on television claim to have settled for a quarter of a million dollars almost make one wish for an enriching car crash. That’s our litigious system in America. While “ambulance chasing” is unethical and illegal in most states, the business of making loads of money from the suffering of others is part of the American hustle. Always has been.
“Ask your doctor if Qzjaxk is right for you.” About 75 percent of ad money spent for television promotions comes from pharmaceutical companies. You can probably guess why prescription drugs are so costly. Though these commercials do not always say what illness a specific drug addresses, the spots suggest that you talk to your doctor about the medication anyway. You’d have quite a long list of drugs to recite on your next visit to the doctor if you followed the advice from the commercials. In some ways, a viewer may conclude, simply by being exposed to all those ads, that there is a pill or shot for all ills. There isn’t, though, is there? Don’t worry. Be happy.
“Guys, are you having trouble in the bedroom.?” One of those frequent commercial breaks between innings of a baseball game, the ED pitch is to men who not only strike out but to those who don’t even take swings in the batter box. Baseball, hotdogs, apple pie, and libido—that’s what America is in a nutshell. Often these commercials are staged as an interview with a “pretend doctor” who promises homeruns and double plays. We are eating potato chips, and the guy dressed as a doctor on television is reminding us of our reproductive shortcomings. It’s almost too much to bear, given the home team is down five runs and haven’t gotten one hit yet.
“You should only pay for what you need.” You’ve heard this one. The guy and his ostrich appear on your screen maybe twenty times in an evening of television. Ours is a car society. So, before we get in that car wreck and need a personal injury lawyer, we must have insurance. Certainly, a lot of money in that industry because we are, as I mentioned, a car society, and the law requires us to have insurance. Part of the reason your yearly premiums are so high is because you are paying for something you do not need, i.e., ads on television.
“Introducing the 2023 (car name here).” Pay attention to these ads. Nearly every car has that line, “Introducing the 2023 (car name here). Ad agencies lack creativity, I guess. The car looks surprisingly commonplace, like every other car on the road, but in this ad all heads turn, and mouths open in amazement—like the actors have never seen anything like it before—as the nondescript vehicle glides down the street. How do I get one of those unremarkable cars? I too want a stereotypical, non-descript automobile to park in front of my commonplace, middle-class home.
During the baseball game, I have noticed that commercials are wedged into the game while the action is underway. “This pitch is brought to you by Jiffy Lube.” Sometimes the screen is split, so while the pitcher is chucking a fastball, a guy on the other half of the display is selling Cheese Wiz.
Like submachine gunfire, these ads never stop blasting, and we are not allowed to duck. The only way to stop being manipulated is to turn off the television.
Click.
There.
Ahh!