Quite recently I was enjoying a dandy 5-hour block of day-time televisions finest programming, Burn Notice. When in the midst of a crudely improvised car implosion and another tasteless spy tip by the sitcoms main protagonist did a commercial of the up most shameless quality appear. In this fabulous portrayal of mainstream advertising/marketing propaganda and visual presentation the commercial centers on two opposing children’s soccer teams in what appears to be a tightly contested match up (Think France v. Italy excluding the repetoire of Italian cheating technique). High stakes appeared to be in play somewhere in the neighborhood of trophies, honorable accolades, and playground shit-talking rights.
As the commercial progressed both teams clashed head on repeatedly–matching each other goal-for-goal and groin stomp for eye gouge. Excitement levels rose to that of a Europcup finals match up with a brawl erupting in my kitchen and improvised chants being heralded throughout my living room. All of a sudden the opposing teams striker, weaving his way through a battalion of pre-pubescent defenders, maced the goalie and bicycle kicked his team into victory. And then with middle-finger raised high McDonald’s proceeded to disregard all preconceived notions of television standards; by portraying the winning team jeering and mocking the losers, effectively torpedoing the losing team’s passenger ferry of morale and self-esteem. Real classy McDonald’s but I guess someone needs to teach the kids that not everyone can be a winner and that losing stings worse than daddy’s case of the clap. The winning team held their trophy up high, laughed, pointed, stuck out tongues, popped Crystal, and motor boated the team MILF’s. But the losing team just-… mmm broke your heart is what they did. The PAIN those kids portrayed was just so genuine and sincere they should be up for a day-time Emmy or Tony award. It’s as if they rounded up the kids prior to the shoot and set them up for disappointment by telling them Santa was a Nazi sympathizer.
But here comes this random Brazilian dude lugging armfuls of happymeals which is horseshit in itself since if the team did have a Brazilian player they would’ve won that game easy (refer: Pele), so lo and behold with a flick of a french fry and the slurp of a small Coke the losers began to swarm and manifest themselves into a pool of ecstasy and joy. In their celebration the winning team stood stock-still gawking in utter dogshit disbelief. One of the little pricks even began to cry a little (probably the tubby one). What kind of crap is this? What areyou trying to pull here McDonald’s? What kind of garbage life lesson are you trying to instill here? To supplant inconsolable grief we can find our salvation through shoddy fast food? You’re trying to tell me that the thing more gratifying than hard-earned victory over an unassailable opponent is a Big Mac curb stomping its way through my digestive tract?
So instead of feeling sympathy or remorse for these kids you can only muster a feeling of pity for them because it’s probably little Tommy supersizing his numbuh 3 or pudgy Billy scarfing down those fries is the reason for their 2nd half letdown.
Kiss my ass Mickey D’s. Endoring this kind of hoo-hah is what gets pricks and “investigative journalists” all in your grill. But let’s just go ahead and apply this lesson into the real world McDonald’s. How about the Laker’s lockeroom after game 6 of this year’s NBA Finals? I can imagine it now……
Coach Phil: Well that was a pretty tough loss team, I know we’ve gone through alot of struggle and turmoil as a team this past season. We’ve fought hard, gave it all, and never stopped believing. The unbeatable equation for victory that we were all taught as kids, teammates, and players by our parents and coaches has just been doused in gasoline and tossed into a bonfire. And we just ended our stellar season by setting a new NBA record for sucking the most ass in a Finals series. Plus we’ve also ascertained the fact that without Shaq Kobe is basically the equivalent of a one-armed, mentally handicapped child.
Kobe: I feel ya coach
Coach Phil: Shut up Kobe. But I got good news guys I’ll treat you all to some fast food!!!
Coach Phil: We’ll stop by Wendy’s and pick up a couple Shaq-attacks-… err I mean stack attacks.