Saturday, August 12, 2006

Snobservations III

Mister, if you keep tailgating me in your little midlifecrisismobile, you're going to smash it all to heck on my back bumper. There's a reason I'm driving the speed limit here--I happen to know these twisty downhill S-curves like my tongue knows my teeth, and I know people have driven off the road and died here. So back off before you wind up inside a heap of crumpled metal, you brainless twit.

Lucinda Basset, I find you utterly despicable. Your syrupy, Mama-knows-best voice has always irritated me, but I figured maybe you could help a few folks, so what did I know? But now you've got new radio commercials, and you're talking as if nobody ever needs to take any kind of anti-depressant or anti-psychotic medication, so I went looking for your website. The first thing I noticed is that there's no address, so I don't know which state you're in. That means it wouldn't be easy to check with the Better Business Bureau to see if there are complaints. The second thing I noticed was that your "helpline" phone number is identical to your "order it now" phone number. That clinches it--you're in this for the money. L. Ron Hubbard started by preying on people afraid of psychiatry, you're preying on people who are afraid of medications. Vampire. I hope someone stuffs a bulb of garlic in your mouth before you hurt someone.

Oh, and Match.Com? Yeah, I'm sorry, but Dr. Phil ain't a selling point. If I ever die behind the wheel, it's a tossup whether it will be a stroke from anger (see next paragraph) or laughing so hard I drive off the road. I'm not going to take relationship advice from someone who believes "Don't dream, do" is profound. I'm especially not going to pay for meeting someone dumb enough to have been lured in by your celebrity hayseed, thanks.

On the subject of stroking out while driving, if it happens, it will be because a certain Cleveland store hasn't gone out of business soon enough. I don't care if you have to sell all your inventory because you're bankrupt. As far as I'm concerned, anyone who uses the word "semi-antiques" deserves to go bankrupt, and it can't happen fast enough. "Antique" is a word with a specific meaning. A chair can't be "semi-antique" any more than a person can be semi-pregnant. Oh, and if you extend your "final three days" one more time, I may have to drive up there and beat you with the first volume of the unabridged OED.

More laughter while driving--the commercial for the vocabulary program. It doesn't sell your product to say things like, "In business and in social, people judge you on the words you use." Right now, I'm judging you don't know as much about words as you'd like me to believe. *snort*

Further snobservations as events warrant. Or not. Who knows?

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

yep dr phil doesn't work at all