Infomercials

If you have ever suffered from insomnia, you have likely had your own bout with infomercials. If a product has that familiar notification in the upper right-hand side of the box that says "as seen on TV" you know you are getting a quality product (insert fail sound here). When Chuck Norris and Christie Brinkly team up to sell me exercise equipment that could turn me into a human pretzel that doesn't excite me much. Besides, Chuck is nearly 85 years old, just how flexible could he still be? At 3AM when that dude with the English accent starts talking about a kitchen gadget that that can double as a pressure cooker, a crock pot, a rice steamer, rotisserie oven, a back massager, a bathroom scale, and can also file your taxes I am skeptical. It's not so much because I am tight like Willy Nelson's headband (which I am), but because I am a realist. A realist is just a person who already knows going in that the light at the end of the tunnel is a freight train with no brakes. And just for the record, the only reason I can dream up a scenario where I would need a Craftmatic Adjustable Bed is if I were looking for a way to scratch my knee with my chin.

Does anyone remember what the cost was, or for that matter what The Thigh Master looked like? Most people don't, but I'd bet a dime and a donut that the cost was $19.99. The quality comes and goes but the prices always remain the same. One thing is for certain though, if you were a teenage boy when that commercial came out there is a mental picture of Suzzane Sommers in spandex burned into your gray matter. That alone is worth one pair of Maryann's shorts and two of Barbara Eden's belly button exposures. Who knew one navel could cause such a hubbub in Hollywood? It is bizarre just what kinds of things get burned into a teenage boy's brain over the years. Have you ever seen the commercial for a product called "Snuggies?" This frilly but bizarre product is a blanket, and a shower robe wrapped into one. My thought when I saw one for the first time was "why is this necessary in life?" And while we are on the subject contemplate this fact, since its inception they have racked up an astronomical $400 million dollars in sales. If that won't keep you up a night thinking about the mental well-being and the disposable income level of the American public, nothing will.

The Ginsu corporation has put a lot of thought into the slicing of produce. In their advertisements they show someone cutting through an aluminum can and then (and I quote) "slices through a tomato like it's melted butter." If you think that is necessary, maybe you should wait until the tomatoes are no longer green. No knife should be strong enough to saw through a draw bridge and then still remain sharp enough to do RK surgery. If I ever catch my wife using one of my pricy kitchen knives to dispose of an aluminum can there will be a budget divorce in our future. Of course, I'm joking, but only slightly. Two nights ago, I saw a product that was being called a "Comfort Wipe" and is nothing more than a long piece of plastic with a feminine napkin attached to the end. Have we all become such a country of prima donnas that we can no longer get our head around the most mundane of chores? Have we forgotten (on laymen's terms) that feces will come off of our hands easily with a bit of soap and warm water? My whole childhood was built around that premise, and for that matter still is.

I'd like nothing more than to tell you that I have never been hoodwinked into an informercial, but I cannot. Once a man is high on a double dose of Nyquil and has gone three days without any sleep any number of asinine products start to sound good, or at the very least like a viable idea. I found myself couch bound with a credit card in my hand and a longing in my heart for a rotisserie oven, who knew?! I didn't even know I wanted one until I listened to Ron's snake oil pitch. See, that's how they get you! I must say though, as mad at myself as I was after the purchase it turned out to be a good buy. Thirty years later and it is still turning whole chickens and full racks of ribs like a pro. Of course, that is mostly just a testament to my refusal to let anything die. I am still using the same alarm clock I received as a high school graduation present in 1986, that makes it what, 37 years old? As far as I know any time you hit the power button a rotisserie oven or an alarm clock should never shock you, but then I never claimed to be an electrician. So, the next time you find yourself in the market for a shake weight or a "Flowbee" resist the temptation. Call me and I will be glad to talk you out of it. Maybe there should be a support group for that, there might as well be, there is one for everything else. Act fast, operators are standing by.