This Post Brought To You By The Color White

I was watching the nightly news last night for my daily dose of mass hysteria... "Could we see a potentially disastrous wintery mix all the way down to the valley floor? Details at 6:30."

It's a case of the boy who cried wolf with a chance of snow.

Yeah yeah, I remember last winter's snowstorm that turned Portland into a mess for close to three weeks. We've got a city of nearly a million people, and fifty five city trucks capable of dealing with winter weather. It doesn't take much to bring this place to a screeching (or sliding) halt.

...but still...

We'll see what happens this weekend. The forecast on my Mac says it's going to be sunny all day Saturday with a high of 40 degrees.

As I sat at the table munching my dinner and watching yet another Portland weatherman get overzealous, I saw something that made my jaw drop. It was a commercial for - of all things - Pillsbury dinner rolls!

First of all, there's the issue of the Pillsbury doughboy. Am I the only one who finds this little fucker to be just 'not right'?

Even worse than the image of that little must-be-highly-medicated always-way-too-happy little gob of ultra whiteness, however, was the equally white, older, presumably married couple featured in the ad who can agree on nothing.

He likes this.
She likes that.

He: up
She: down

He: round
She: square

But - of course - there's one thing they can agree on: dinner.

He: rolls
She: biscuits

Oops. Maybe they can't agree after all. Thank fucking GOD Pillsbury makes a package that contains both rolls and biscuits. It's the only thing keeping these freaks out of divorce court.

Well, that, and their love of getting it on I suppose.

The commercial closes with the woman saying something to the effect of: "I'm not one for experimenting. Well..." (she says as we see her give hubby the world's most over-acted bedroom eyes) "...at least, not at the dinner table."

"What about ON the dinner table?" I wondered to myself while shaking my head... It's a mighty leap from biscuits verses rolls to missionary verses whatever comes just close enough to setting their geezer pacemakers off without actually killing one of them.

What has our society sunk to when Pillsbury has to resort to this sort of thing in their ads for dinner rolls?

What's next? Betty Crocker in a revealing nightie pimping a late-night cook book that'll really make our nights sizzle?

::::: | Thursday, Jan 13 2005 at 8:12 PM
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