One of the side effects for America’s best selling smoking cessation drug is murder, seriously. One of the others used to be “suicidal thoughts”, but they had to upgrade it to “suicide” because so many people were killing themselves as they tried to quit smoking. Can you imagine that? “Hey did ya hear? Johnny quit smoking but then he murdered a few people before hanging himself.” I’m not sure if I’m allowed to name the drug in print thanks to this litigious culture of ours, but I’ll give you a hint; it starts with a “C” and ends with a “hantix”. Here’s a fun fact. Do you know how I quit smoking? I stopped putting cigarettes in my mouth and lighting them on fire. It’s crazy, I know, but it’s surprisingly effective.
I simply love prescription drug commercials. My favorite part is that montage bit in the middle wherein some attractive actor (who’s obviously too fit to be taking the drug being advertised) walks along a stream or something with a smile while a pleasant voice quietly narrates all of the possible side effects. If you mute commercials, you’re missing out; there are some seriously awesome side effects out there. “This drug may cause nighttime tongue biting, this drug may cause cancer or death, this drug may cause severe short term amnesia.” Did you know that police officers in California are now required to ask suspected drunk drivers if they take Ambien for insomnia because a freakish number of people taking the drug sleepwalk themselves into their cars and drive around like zombies? Awesome, right?
I’ve been dealing with astigmatism for quite sometime, but I only recently got around to getting glasses. I guess I got tired of squinting; I’ve been told that it made me look like an angry asshole. Now that I’ve got them, I’m never going back. I have no idea how glasses work, but I’m pretty sure it involves wizardry of some sort. I can see all sorts of shit now. As it turns out, that blurry little cloud at the bottom of my favorite commercials is actually fine print. The commercials I once considered to be only half retarded are now quite obviously full on short-bus.
There’s an Acura commercial running right now that shows an attractive couple driving through the streets of some large fictional city surrounded by open-wheel racecars and the fine print down at the bottom says “This sedan will not perform like a race car. Do not attempt.” which I thought was painfully obvious. Is there really someone out there that needs that? Look, I understand the justification behind all the disclaimers because spilled hot coffee leads to million dollar lawsuits, but seriously? Would some dude see that commercial, run out and buy an Acura, and then drive it past security and into the Indy 500 under the delusional assumption that he’d win? And if he didn’t, and he ended up getting hurt, would his case really stand up in court without that aforementioned disclaimer? I’d like to think that no jury of my peers would grant any sort of settlement because Acura forgot to tell you that your sedan can’t actually hang with all those Italian rockets.
I suppose this is where I should make some sort of trite commentary alluding to the fact that my glasses helped me to see idiocy more clearly but I just can’t do it. You’ve made it this far and I’d like to think that you don’t need it. I’d like to think that there are millions of consumers out there that either don’t need the fine print, or at least that most of us wouldn’t call one of those lecherous TV lawyers that sandwich their ads in between the drug and car commercials if we did something stupid. But I’m starting to think that maybe I’m wrong. Case in point: