Adtacular

The Quizzical Quizno’s Self Censorship

quiznos.jpgQuizno’s has a history of questionable ad campaigns. Their most recent one featured a commercial in which a sentient oven with a voice akin to HAL9000 commanded a chef to build a Toasty Torpedo. It ended with a perspective shot from inside the oven, and the HAL-oven saying “Scott, put it in me.” Scott shot the oven a baffled/horrified look. And…scene.

And that’s just the condensed variation shown in my market. For a truly horrifying experience, check out the full-length commercial. In this version, Scott is totally on board with humping a red-hot oven.

This ad generated a lot of buzz. And by “buzz”, I mean “vomit”. Google “creepy quizno’s commercials” and you will be treated to a plethora of WTFing over this ad. Quizno’s must have decided it was a bad idea for a restaurant to nauseate potential customers. So they altered the voice-over, but the results aren’t any less weird.

Now, instead of the innuendo-filled line quoted above, the oven says “Scott, I’m waiting for it.” I suppose this could be interpreted in the same dirty way as the original line, but you’d have to stretch pretty hard to do so. And you probably wouldn’t have dirty connotations in your mind unless you’d seen the original version.

All Quizno’s did was alter the line. Everything else about the commercial is the same. So Scott the Chef still gives the oven a terrified look, which is just baffling. Why does the line “I’m waiting for it” frighten him so? It’s disjointed and bizarre and unreal. It’s been transformed from creepy-in-a-weird-German-porno way to creepy-in-an-Eraserhead-way.

I think Quizno’s should’ve stuck to their guns and kept the original. Because now tons of fast food franchises have debuted their own dirty slogans:

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Pundidiots

There’s No Way Joe Buck Could Have Expected This

joebuck.jpgThank you for sticking with Joe Buck Live, starring me, Joe Buck, as Joe Buck, the humble middle American sportscaster who rose to the pinnacle of the sportscasting world by sheer grit and determination and being the son of a legendary broadcaster. In my next segment, we discuss the intersection of celebrity with sports. Has it gone too far? Is there any way to stop it? And what’s the deal my hair? To discuss this compelling topic with me, here is the renowned social commentator Artie Lange.
artielang.png/spews filth and gay jokes for ten minutes

joebuck.jpgAmerica, I apologize. When I invited Artie to be a part of my show, there was no way I could have known he would act like this. 

artielang.png
What are you talking about? I always act like this.
joebuck.jpgAnd I share your OUTRAGE and DISGUST that someone would behave like this on national television.

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C’mon, this is HBO. Is what I said any worse that seeing Phil Leotardo’s head crushed by an SUV? Or any more horrifying than Sarah Jessica Parker’s head?

joebuck.jpgHopefully, my next guest will stick to the topic and elevate the level of discussion. Please welcome the Distinguished Professor of Sports Anthropology at Cornell University, Miss Typhoid Mary.

typhoidmary.jpg*cough*
/room fills with deadly bacteria

joebuck.jpgI apologize to my studio audience for infecting them all with a hideous disease. But honestly, how could I possibly know such a thing would happen when I invited Typhoid Mary to my show? I’m certain that my next guests will do a better job of keeping the decorum at a family-friendly and less-life-threatening level. Please welcome two bonobo chimps.

bonobo.jpg/fling feces
/engage in ritualistic homoerotic behavior
/fuck each other violently

joebuck.jpgThat is just unacceptable. I apologize again, America. Nothing could have prepared me for these primates’ behavior, other than decades of zoological research. I’ll have to go back to my original plan: I’ll place these pressurized cans of solvent next to a lit acetylene torch and a pile of oily rags. I’m sure this group can stimulate a lively adult conversation.

explosion.pngFOOOOM

NYC

The Wheels Have Come Off (Your Mind)

The mini-topic of last night’s Best Show was “the dumbest vanity license plate you’ve ever seen”. I wasn’t listening live, otherwise I would have called in with these two gems:

Gem #1: There’s a nondescript green Ford minivan frequently parked on my block or nearby in the neighborhood. It’s a total Soccer Mom Car, except for the personalized license plate: BACKSTAB.

So either this soccer mom is (A) a former member of The O’Jays, (B) a professional turncoat, or (C) a fucking maniac. Most of the time, when I see weird things in the street, I want to know The Why behind it. In this case, I have no desire to know what chain of events would lead a person to get BACKSTAB as their license plate. There’s no way that story doesn’t end in a depressing and/or horrible manner.

Gem #2: I was driving around Howard Beach, a neighborhood that virtually guarantees to show you something horrible/awesome. Cross Bay Boulevard was all backed up, so I took a left onto Pitkin Avenue. And boy, was I glad I did.

Parked on Pitkin was a Scion with a custom yellow paint job, the kind usually found on super-souped-up muscle cars. Except this was a Scion, a car that, even without a custom paint job, looks like a Cheez-It box with wheels. In yellow, it looked like large chunks of government cheese held together with toothpicks. And across the windsheild, in jagged No Fear-type letters: THE ASSASSINATOR.

I did four takes before I realized, “Wait, that’s not a word!” What’s even more hilarious is that I’m sure the detailing cost him an assload of money. Nine times out of ten, there is a directly proportional relationship between how much money is spent customizing a car and how idiotic it looks.

I pulled over across the street, because I HAD to have a picture of this. But then I considered the neighborhood and thought better of it. I had visions of some mook with a Dragonball-Z haircut jacked up on Red Bull beating me to death with a chain for mocking his car. Even without a photo, it will remain burned in my memory.

A potentially explosive collection of verbal irritants