I may need a new glasses prescription (or a magnifying glass), but don’t all those expensive luxury cars look just the same? Back in the day you could recognize a vehicle just by its front grill.
Now you need to inspect the whole animal to differentiate vehicles, maybe even the ID tag as well.
Why pay so much money for something that, well, is just another model T? How do the big car companies even convince us to buy those ugly metal monsters?
I guess they get into our heads and reprogram our lower brain stems to equate “big shiny new car” with “big firm tits” (or cojones, as the case may be).
The problem is that since Joe Camel used his penis-shaped folds to addict a generation to smoking – well, people are wise to that old sex trick.
Yea, right…
I saw a lays potato chip ad on cable TV the other day, a beautiful broad having an orgasm eating a Lays potato chip. Maybe next time I go out on a date to a swank restaurant I’ll order Lays potato chips for the lady and a 24 oz. rib-eye for me please. Medium rare.
Hay, baby, hows about afterword we crash at my place, and I’ll lay you good.
Sex has always sold beer. Beer and sex go together like horror films and tits, hot dogs and cat-sup, barbecue and wet t-shirt contests.
Shiatsu, but why do I always stop surfing the movie channels to watch that stupid Piranha flick. Just one more look see at the heaving tits before the hordes of hungry fishes strike.
Lust is always better with a side dish of fear and anticipation.
Back to the luxury cars. I think anymore it’s the total package that they’re using against us. Sex as a hook just doesn’t work that well anymore. Now they have the hook, line and sinker to reel us in.
Enter the Geico gecko stage left. The little green talking penis. No doubt Geico has 100% of the homosexual business. The guys get hard, and the gals get all wet between their legs.
For the really hard cases, we have (Aunt) Flo the Progressive insurance dish in the pristine white fashion statement of a costume. Which any self-respecting guy would love to splash with a healthy dash of menstrual sauce – oops! – I mean barbecue sauce.
Heinz!
You’ve got to wonder, honestly, how Geico and Progressive can plaster the airwaves with advertising. I guess cars are so big and safe now nobody has accidents anymore. When you spend more for a car than your first house you tend to drive safer. Slower!
Is it my imagination or is traffic just plain going slower any more? Why not?
Who wants to call in your accident claim to a green penis-shaped lizard with a fuggy British accent? Or an air-headed hag named Flo? Not me!
That black Allstate dude who reminds me of Obama every time? Safe hands? Obama?
Piranhas!
