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For as long as I can remember, a certain breed of commercial has
truly and totally pissed me off. These are what you might call
“local” commercials. Whether it’s for Hagerstown Honda or Morgantown
Motors or any equally alliterative company, there’s just something
in that
grainy picture and bad acting that ignites the coals of my soul.
Granted, these guys have to advertise, too. It’s just that you’d
think that if they would spend the money on the cable spot, the
least they could do is hire a freshman marketing major or something.
It’s most likely that these businesses are too poor to fund such an
enterprise.
So, this week, I feel benevolent. That is why, this week, I—with the help of
a two-person tribunal of my good friend McCoy and our friend… Janet—am going to
write a series of commercials, giving ideas for those helpless small business
owners, to compare to that of Bud Light and E-surance (I’d like to bone that
pink-haired bitch… as long as the carpet matches the curtains! Ha-HAH!).
Tri-County Learning Center
Setting: The Ghetto
Opening Scene: Two black men are walking down some alley towards
another black man leaning against a brick wall. The man alone should be dressed
as to convey that
he’s a drug dealer (shouldn’t be too difficult, as he is already “wearing”
Nature’s clue that he sells drugs). The two men get to single man and the
dialogue proceeds:
Dealer: Yo, nigga I got da good she-it right hea!
Dealer and buyer exchange archetypical Negro greetings.
Buyer1: Yo, lemme smell dat shit.
Buyer 2: I must say; this marijuana is quite aromatic!
Dealer and Buyer 1 stop, look at Buyer 2 in “I’m an Angry Black Man”
manner.
Dealer pulls out his “piece” and sticks it to the temple of Buyer 1.
Dealer: (Very angry) Yo NIGGA, I thought you says dat dis nigga be cool an’
shit.
Buyer 1: SHIT MAN, HE WAS JUS’ AT TRI-COUNTRY LEARNIN’ CENTA YESTERDAY!
Dealer: (Suddenly very curious, looking to Buyer 2) That shit true?
Buyer 2: Assuredly.
Dealer: WELL SHIT NIGGA, I GOTTA GET ME A G.E.DIZZLE.
Flash to PowerPoint presentation. Sting and the Police’s “Message in a
Bottle” play. White man with educated voice reads the text that displays: At
Your Nearest Tri-County Learning Center you can pursue your education while
still:
-Jackin’ up frontin’ niggas
-Smokin’ up that fine dro
-Bustin’ out fat rhymes
-Strokin on fat bitches’ asses
-Sippin’ on bubbly
Call us today! 1(800)-Whatever.
Duseyland Daycare
Setting: Trailer Park
Music: Brooks and Dunn, “Only in America”
Opening Scene: Fat woman stands in front of trailer holding a bottle
of Old Crow and a long cigarette. She has long, bleach-blonde hair with dark
brown roots. She’s wearing a Tweety-bird shirt with the words, “Don’t Ruffle My
Feathers!” in black lettering on it. Also, she’s wearing purple sweatpants. Four
babies are crying the background.
Huger: Sometimes, you just don’t have time to… you know… watch your kids.
Bein’ a full-time hard alcoholic, things get busy. It’s a hectic lifestyle, you
know? Sometimes, you can’t be bothered with changin’ diapers and fillin’ their
food dish.
Flash to baby crawling up to an open, empty tuna fish can.
Huger: That’s why
the good folk at Duseyland Daycare take the responsibility of motherhood off
my hands.
Huger lifts bottle and cig.
Huger: They’re full enough as is!
Baby crawls to trailer door.
Baby: MUMMY, BABY HUNGEE.
Huger: (indignant) SHUT UP YOU LITTLE SHIT! THIS MY FIFTEEN MINUTES OF FAME!
(drinks)
Baby cries.
Huger: GO FIND YOUR DADDY!
Baby leaves.
Huger: That’ll take him awhile. (winks) It sure has me!
Cameraman: Ma’am?
Huger: (Looks at the camera) OH… BUT DUSEYLAND!
Hornsby’s Diamond Emporium
Setting: Middle class living room, late at night on Valentine’s Day
Music: Chris Isaak, “Wicked Game”
Opening Scene: Average-looking white male of about 32 sits with his
wife, exchanging presents. Wife hands large box to man. Man opens it; it’s a
belt-sander with 40 attachments. Man smiles homosexually (PUSSY!) and hands wife
her present. Wife acts surprised (you know, like she didn’t expect you to get
her anything, right? Christ…women piss me off).
Wife opens gift. It’s a bowling ball. Wife throws ball down, breaking the
hardwood floor, dramatically. Music cuts. Camera flashes to apartment below,
where an erudite guy is reading the paper with a pipe. Erudite looks up. Poof of
purple smoke, Jew Jewstien appears, “floating,” wearing King’s attire.
Jewish guy: HE SHOULDA WENT TO HAWNSBY’S!
Erudite: Who are you?! (Shrugging at camera as to convey he’s very confused)
Jewish guy: I’M JAKE HAWNSBY, OWNA AND OPERATA OF HAWNSBY’S DI-MOND
EMPORIUM!
Erudite: I’ll have none of this. (Grabs a shotgun from off screen and aims at
Hornsby)
Hornsby: EASY THEA, YA SCHMUCK! If you kill me, ya wife’s gonna kill you for
passin up on the newest JADE CUT DI-MOND!
Erudite: Well… alright. Where are you located?
Hornsby: (Camera zooms in) Wea located past the mile ground beside Barry’s Bail
and Bond. BESIDE BARRY’S BAIL AND BOND. BESIDE BARRY’S BAIL AND BOND!!
Erudite: Great, now get out of here, you kosher cunt!
Hornsby: (Camera zooms in, Hornsby shrugs) OY VAY!
XTREME MARBLES
Setting: Playground asphalt
Opening Scene: Three kids (each of different ethnicities) sit around a
marble circle. WAY TOO COOL GUY dressed in Tuxedo and aviator sunglasses walks
through the game of marbles, kicking the game aside.
Kids: HEY MISTER!
WAY TOO continues to walk a few steps, turns dramatically
WAY TOO: HEY KIDS, YOU TIRED OF PLAIN JANE MARBLES?
Kid1: …Jane Marbles?
WAY TOO: THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT!
Kid2: Ehhhh…
WAY TOO: (Reaching inside his crotch) HERE!
Kid3: We shouldn’t talk to—
WAY TOO: XTREME MARBLES COMIN ATCHA! (Throws as electric guitar wails. Camera
zooms in on marbles “flying,” circling with flames forming behind them.)
Kids: (Surprised and looking at each other rapidly) WAY XTREME!
Kid 2 catch marbles WITH BOTH HANDS; marbles burn hands
Kid 2: Ow…
WAY TOO: THAT’S JUST THE XTREMENESS!
Kid 1: He looks really hurt…
WAY TOO: HURTIN FOR SOMETHIN’ XTREME!
Kid 1: How do you feel?
Kid 2: XTREME! (Passes out from pain)
WAY TOO: YEAH! (Gives thumbs up, sticks arms in the air, flies away)
Nick Gaudio’s Points in Case Column
Setting: Main Street
Opening Scene: A dog with a sweater that has “www.pointsincase.com/columns/nick/archives.htm”
on it runs across the screen a few times, crossing the street. A bus with my
face on it runs over said dog. Camera switches to inside the bus. I’m driving.
Zooms in on my face. There’s a tattoo of my face and the link on my face.
The bus is full of naked sluts, chanting my name.
I jump off the bus as it drives off a cliff.
Nick: Everybody knows.
Sluts can’t swim.
The end.
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