So you're sitting there watching T.V. and boom!  There it is.  Another stupid commercial.  Granted, not a big shocker.  It seems about 70% of commercials are geared towards people who's brains aren't wired for independent thought but are merely life support units for their bodies.  It keeps their heart beating and their lungs drawing breath, but doesn't permit functions of intellect beyond "Oh goody, Wheel of Fortune's on!"  Not to claim that I am a being of supreme intellectual prowess, able to bleat Neitzchean philosophies in a single bound, but I like to think I am above "Gotta be, gotta be Domino's...Buffalo wings!"  It scare me to think that there are enough people out there who enjoy that commercial, or at least tolerate it enough to merit multiple playings.  I can picture an entire trailer court rocking and swaying as they all stamp their feet in unison.  The horror!  Another example of atrocious commercials comes from the advertising firm responsible for those damned Rogaine commercials!  "I wanna know...""I wanna know more about finding that special someone." "Not in this commercial!  I wanna know..."  "I wanna know more about staying fit and eating healthy."  "Sorry."  "I wanna know more about Rogaine."  "Anyone else?" Chorus of "yeah."
 I found these commercials especially annoying because they never mentioned what the hell Rogaine was.  Well apparently it's a remedy for baldness.  Now, are bald people so goddamned sensitive about the fact that the have no hair that it can't be mentioned in a commercial?  Get over yourselves, chrome-domes!  They have commercials about feminine hygiene products that do everything but demonstrate how to apply them!  "New Tampax with the comfortable applicator tip."  There are maxis with wings that wrap around panties.  They have douche commercials.  "Mom, do you ever get that not-so-fresh feeling?"  "Monistat-7 clears the itch of yeast infection."  They have commercials for anti-diarrhials, like the one that takes place at an airport customs desk.  "Do you have anything to declare?" the customs clerk asks our intrepid hero.  "Diarrhea," he responds.  There are commercials for that "gassy, bloated feeling,"  Ads for hemorrhoid creams and suppositories, and bald people are sensitive about their condition?  Sheesh, unclench thy buttocks (which probably have more hair than thy heads) but enough about that.  Here's an example of children's entertainment nearly as nauseating as Barney was.  Bananas in Pajamas.  Yes, twin Bananas who's only differentiating qualities are their pajamas.  I think they have differently colored buttons or something.  How does this relate?  Commercials for the Bananas in Pajamas merchandise, of course.  If you haven't been awake early enough on Saturday mornings to catch it, get down on your knees and give thanks to the powers that be.  Oh, and an honorable mention for beer commercials which helped make this country what it is today.  I'm eagerly anticipating Bud Bowl 12.
 I would like to work in the advertising business.  Either that or as a writer for the Weekly World News.  "Yam shaped like Newt Gingrich found on Navajo reservation.  Shaman claims evil omen.  Final days at hand." Or, "Were-shark found off coast of Nicaragua after UFO sighting."  I believe that if UFO's truly did exist, they would indeed possess the technology to receive and translate all radio and satellite transmissions from Earth.  Now imagine you're an alien in your ship, searching for intelligent live anywhere in the cosmos and your monitors indicate signs of life on the third planet from the sun in the galaxy you're approaching.  You filter radio transmissions you pick up, and after a few seconds hear "Gotta be gotta be Domino's.  Buffalo wings!"  Now after hearing this, would you want to get close enough to the planet to be seen?  I thought not.
 Here's another perspective.  Let's say you're an alien teenager, hot rodding across the cosmos, bored out of your mind.  You've got some pals with you because it's a road trip.  You come across this dinky little planet and do a swoop and watch all those ape-like beings (cavemen) scramble for cover, screaming and covering their heads, running into each other.  You and your buddies are rolling, tears streaming down your eye-stalks.  What fools!  So you leave, fulfilled until, say, next summer.
 You remember that dinky little planet full of goofballs and try to talk your friends into going back.  Slak won't come because he has a new girlfriend so you bring Zank instead (Zank's not his real name but rather a nickname he got back in grade school from when he had to go to the bathroom but Mrs. Rokan wouldn't let him because they were in the middle of a test so he zanked in his bojies) and the rest of the gang and head back.  When you get there, you notice some changes.  The apes have constructed crude edifices and done something to air.  You can hardly see a few microns in front of your ship.  Also the apes have adapted to crude clothing, but beyond that, nothing really has changed.  Oh, except they don't run and hide anymore, they just stand there staring with their mouths open, drooling all over themselves, imagining Zork knows what.  Boring.  So Zank says, "hey, what's on the radio?" and he flicks it on and you hear "Gotta be gotta be Domino's...Buffalo wings."  You rip the radio out of the console, slap the stick into drive and haul your andy out of there, swearing never to return to this Zork-forsaken intellectual black hole of space ever again.
 Are we seeing a pattern here yet, people?
 This is why I want to write commercials.  The worse, the better.  I want to leave an indelible impression in peoples minds.  I want the power to make intelligent people go insane and to make couch potatoes drool and stamp their feet, staring vacuously.  I want to write an ad for cutting boards that will make people cream their pants at the thought of owning such a cutting board.  I think I could do it if I just set my mind to it, but my mind just isn't what it used to be anymore.  I can't seem to shake the craving for Buffalo wings...