Commercial punishment

In keeping up with my 2015 resolution, of which you knew nothing, I've decided to pen something, ANYTHING, original as much as possible this year. I will warn you that this first attempt won't be too lengthy, entertaining, or exciting at all. Stop with the wild applause right this instant.

Whilst vacationing on my own personal cruise ship, also known as the right side of my bed, (the left if you are me but for any bystander, it is the right), I took note of something and thought I'd share, of course.

First of all, or is it second of all at this point....I must also resolve to quit ruling the roost from said ship. I have melded with it over the course of the past few weeks and it simply has to end, pronto.

So, I guess one of my resolutions would be to cease in being a total lounge lizard and to, perhaps, give equal time to the chairs and other furniture in my life. They are all clamoring for caboose attention, so to speak. I think I might be digressing a touch as this was supposed to be about television jazz.

Oh, I didn't declare a major yet, so you would have never know about the digression, silly me.

Onward and upward with this crazed column. There seems to be a new trend in television commercials and it's driving me to drink. Allow me to elaborate until you are forced to self medicate.

You see, I generally tape any show that I might want to watch later but decided to view live television for most of the newspaper vacation. This was a hideous mistake, other than, in doing so, it has provided some much needed fodder for this particular space. Not sure if that is a blessing or a curse but, I digress again. (Another resolution would be for me to digress more than humanly possible in the new year. How am I doing so far?)

Here's the deal. Pauses between programming used to be fairly straight forward in that we'd maybe take in ten or twelve advertisements pertaining to laundry soap, toothpaste, deodorant, cleaning products and other run of the mill items. This is no longer the case.

I've noted for quite some time, actually, that rather than being forced to absorb information for thirty seconds to a minute, we now have what can only be described as infomercials gracing our screens at every turn, or during any lull in regular programming.

One in particular is so horrid that I either switch channels, mute the telly and/or shove cucumbers in my ears, close my eyes and sing in a blaring fashion whilst it runs its insanely long course. (Speaking of insanely long courses, how was that for a sentence?)

The infomercial in question is the one about the ASPCA. In case you are not familiar, the ASPCA stands for the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. At any rate, this seems to be televised at every turn and consists of a voice over, by famous actors, actresses, etc., as a montage of suicide inducing pictures are displayed of animals in various states of abuse. I understand that this provides shock value but, come on, can we get a break from this every now and again? I'm begging.

I'm not sure about you but, I do realize that people can be super cruel to animals and that many of our fellow creatures live in terrible circumstances. I adore animals and cannot take the thought of any of this. I'm trying to let you know that I am not an uncaring boob, which might come as a total shock in itself but, I digress again.

Every time this appears on my screen, I flee the room whilst singing or yelling. I really don't think that's the desired outcome on the part of the paying advertiser but, what do I know?

The above mentioned organization is not alone in terms of dominating every time period between regular programming while causing the viewer to spew forth green substances. We are also barraged with ways to sue due to pelvic mesh malfunction. (You might have to Google this one as I don't have the time or the stomach to impart details about this infomercial.) I'm not sure about you but I cringe over the thought of something called pelvic mesh and I recoil in horror when I hear of its erosion.

Whilst taking in reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond, the viewing public might also be subject to hearing and seeing everything from veterans in various states of permanent injury to the hysterectomy gone horribly wrong and how to sue over the whole deal, of course.

I never thought I'd long for the good old days of what product removes stains from floors and what kind of feminine products to seize. Ah, those were indeed great times, were they not?

Sorry to end abruptly but time and energy do not permit me to continue any further with this terrific first column of the year. Again, your collective sighs of relief have caused all pelvic mesh across the land to shift.

Happy New Year!!