False Advertising, or: Non-Sequitur Monday

For example:

Cheez Whiz adds Personality.

I mean, isn’t Cheez Whiz pretty much synonymous with bland, flavourless plastic? Is that the kind of personality you want on your celery (which, in itself is rather blah, though crunchy)?

Was it the power of positive thinking the Cheez Whiz people were hoping to draw on? Or of telling people something that isn’t true but because you are a powerful Cheez Conglomerate (I don’t know if that’s the perfect word but it sounds so good with “cheez”- I think it’s the “-glom”) just knowing that the world will believe you. Believing that you are believable.

Like Kirsten Dunst in Spiderman 2. She believed she was believable – I could tell by her earnest squinting at Tobey MacGuire while she talked; she was really having that conversation with Peter Parker! – but I cannot be the only person (I count me and SA as one person here because 87% of the time we agree on this sort of thing) who thought she should be shipped back to The Magical Acting Fairy Kingdom for more training.

Cookies. I made ’em. Here is my theory about how Christmas baking came to be: people don’t want to go out because of inclement weather. 20% of those people are pregnant and can’t drink alcohol so have to fulfill their holiday boozing needs with sugar instead.

I made these (they are about 14x as good as they look, holy sheeet) which recipe I nicked from elevated umbrella and I made these which I googled for because I though lemon shortbread sounded nice (recipe mod: zest of two lemons and the juice of one full lemon, plus a pinch of salt) and I have never made shortbread except one time watching Sarah make hers only I could still drink then so I was very supportive from a nearby chair. Saint Aardvark made Linzor cookies, which are those cookies with the jam in the middle and is still watering (with Canadian Club) a fruit cake he made last year.

So I went to the Canadian Club website just now and after assuring the website that I am over 19 (tell me, what the hell is the point of telling a website a random birthdate so I can look at their whisky pictures?)(wait, I know: we are puritans and idiots) I was let in to their secret lair where their new ad campaign waits! Maybe it’s not new – I don’t read Men’s Magazines – but it’s new to me. There are three print ads, with the title: DAMN RIGHT YOUR DAD DRANK IT and the ads themselves are titled as follows:

1. Your Mom Wasn’t Your Dad’s First
2. Your Dad Never Tweezed Anything
3. Your Dad Had Groupies

From #1: He went out. He got two numbers in the same night. He drank cocktails. But they were whisky cocktails.

Oh, sweet merciful heavens. Well, WHISKY cocktails are very manly. Yes. Anyway, I’m pretty sure my dad drank Black Label beer and I am further pretty sure that it tastes like piss and there has been a lot of progress in the booze world since my dad’s drinking days, progress I have taken advantage of just as I have of improved medicine and social safety net and I am all-the-way-around-the-world certain that I have consumed more whisky in my 33 years than my dad has in his 72. Oh, but I guess you’re not really talking to me, are you, Canadian Club. SORRY! I’ll get back to the kitchen and bake more cookies. PS: My dad does SO tweeze. We are a very hairy people.

Would you believe that when I started this post, I really had no idea I’d be able to wrap it up so nicely, hence the title of Non-Sequitur Monday? But then Canadian Club saved me. Thanks, Canadian Club! Let’s all be throwbacks to the ’60s together!

Shoot. Just remembered I have to go to work today. Happy hols, all. May your plastic consumption be negligible and your delicious foodstuffs be plentiful and may your stress be low, low on the pole like an emptying battery flickering in a fog.

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