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i would like to not talk about my bum

i mostly just tune out advertising when i watch television. although i'm sure it makes some impression, i mostly perceive as background noise. i'm sure i couldn't tell you what products most of the ads were for, because it's all a jumble of cars, insurance, travel sites and stuff that you need because you have children. for me to remember an ad takes something pretty special.

a couple of years ago, for instance, fed ex had an absolutely adorable ad with animated singing frogs and scenes from a happy forest that talked about the company's efforts to reduce emissions and their carbon footprint. aw. that was cute.

more recently, however, i've been haunted by the spectre of a perky blonde woman with a british accent demanding to talk about my bum. i don't know her and i don't know why my posterior should be of such interest to her, or what she's getting paid to be forever tagged as the woman who's obsessed with ass-chat, but one thing has become clear: she is evil and must be stopped.

ok, maybe she isn't evil, i've never even met her. i'm a little uncomfortable with her predilections, but i try not to judge. [note: i can't help it. if you go around demanding to talk to people about their wazoo, i am judging you. i'm sorry.] but whatever she is, she is flogging a product whose sole purpose is to destroy the planet and everything on it.

you might think that i'm exaggerating when i say that cottonelle wet wipes spell the end of civilisation as we know it, but stay with me.

first of all, these new "flushable" wet wipes are the antithesis of everything that environmentalists have been telling us for the last half century. in order to use them, you are supposed to wipe the area with regular toilet paper, follow with a wet wipe and then wipe with toilet paper again. a one-step, one-product process becomes triple the work and triple the garbage goes down the toilet. congratulations, you are now truly wiping your ass with your own future. forests are being destroyed, chemicals are being leached into the soil, all so that we can walk around secure in the knowledge that our buttholes are minty fresh.

second of all, the entire point of this campaign seems to be to layer shame on top of already extant shame about the filthiness of our own bodies. because clearly, if some chipper lady needs to talk to you about the state of the arsehole, it's clear that there's a problem. wipe all you want, shower twice a day. the fact is that your back passage is less than pristine and this complete stranger can tell without so much as sticking her nose in your pants.

history teaches us many lessons and among them is that people do horrible, disgusting things to each other when they feel they have things to be ashamed of. how long do you think it's going to be before some powerful organisation foists the anal inquisition on all of us? bleach enemas! sell-fumigating underpants! this is the future, people and it may be clean, but it's still ugly.

i for one, will be abstaining from this terrifying new trend and attending to my back passage the old-fashioned way. well, the toilet paper way at least. anything more old-fashioned than that gives me the heebie-jeebies.

here, watch the fed ex ad. it's adorable.

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i keep seeing this ad for tictac candies:



am i the only one who finds the suicide bomber clown at the end a little unnerving? all the nice natural things like the bunny and the [extinct] woolly mammoth and the fruit get devoured by a trying-to-appear-nonthreatening-but-obviously-psychotic clown who then blows himself up. congratulations, tictac, i think this ad has landed you on about a dozen watch lists.

oh and by the way, showing me that your product will somehow cause my stomach to explode in a rainbow of wtf makes me believe that doing consuming tictacs would be a worse dietary decision than the time i ate two raw eggs and a half a bottle of hot sauce on a dare.

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