Holy Sexual Harassment Batman...That Looks Like A Cock Smacking That Guy In The Face
Sex is just about everywhere. Look at some of the Disney movies, look at MTV at just about any hour of the day, and I even see this sexy beast just about every time I look in a mirror. I often breathe a sigh of relief that it’s my reflection, and I’m not gay for the guy who just broke into my house.
Such is the case when I see those ridiculous Tums commercials. Sex is just about everywhere, and it’s here as well. What did Batman say to Robin when he asked, “How the fuck did this creative meeting go to wind up with this final commercial.
This meeting was absolutely legen (wait for it) I hope you’re not lactose intolerant because the next word is “dairy.” That’s right, dear reader, it was legendary. There were 4 members during this creative brain storm: Team Leader “Serious von Stick Up His Ass,” Second in Command “Inappropriate McRapey,” Intern “Bubba,” and Creative Director. Tums was expecting something memorable and memorable is exactly what they got. Here’s how it all went down.
CD – Okay guys, this pitch is due next week and all we’ve got is a bunch of people farting. Thanks Intern. *shakes head.
Intern Bubba looks up and smiles innocently not realizing the sarcasm.
Serious – What we need is something that people will remember, something that says “We’re here!” something that says, “This is in your face so it doesn’t come out of your ass.”
McRapey – That’s what she said.
CD – Thanks for that, McRapey. What do we have so far?
McRapey – Well, my ideas were to have a bunch of ass shaking party sluts. One of them has gas. She dances her ass in some dude’s face and rips one. She says to herself, “Not again.” The guy’s hair waves in the breeze, and the music stops. “Tums…In your mouth now or out of your ass later.” Then they high-five and give a Mentos thumbs up.
CD – No words. I have no words.
McRapey – Thanks!
CD – Not like that. It’s terrible.
Serious – I knew I shouldn’t have led with him. Here’s the real pitch. We start out with a camera panning over a field into a cabin. There’s a young couple, morning style flutes play in the background…
*47 painstaking minutes later…
The husband falls to his knees crying over his dead dog, 7 quarters, and a pot of water. And that’s when the screen fades to black. “Tums… Take it now. Save yourself the trouble later.” So just let me know when I need to start writing the copy for this.
CD – No. Intern?
Intern – What?
CD – Do you have anything to add?
Intern – Was I supposed to?
CD – If you want a job.
Intern – Well of course I have ideas. Way better than these douches if I can speak freely.
CD – Spill it.
Intern – Well I sort of got this idea when I was watching porn, I mean uhh when I getting head, the other day. Totally. You know when the girl starts smacking the dude’s wang in her face?
McRapey – Yea my girl does that. Rather, I make her. Totally why she wears glasses when she blows me now.
Intern – Well I had this idea. A guy’s eating a corn dog at a fair, and the corn dog starts smacking him in the face all flaccid like. Like a cock. His girlfriend is with him holding a stuffed animal he had won. She covers its eyes while the corn dog is whipping him getting mustard all over his nose and cheeks. The voice over comes in…
McRapey – With great penis comes great responsibility?
Serious – Food fighting you? Fight back. Tums.
Intern – Yea. Uhh yea. Totally what I was going to say. 100%.
CD – And you don’t find this at all inappropriate?
Intern – Well, they asked for memorable. I’d say the balls are in your court, but the truth is they’re in my fist because my idea is just ridiculous enough to work. Otherwise, you can kiss this account in the ass and yearn as you watch it walk away.
CD – Good job everybody. I want the copy end of day tomorrow. Intern, come with me. McRapey, go back to HR, and take that sexual harassment seminar. Again.
My Partner In Crime Responds
My take on it: The meeting to brainstorm this commercial took place on the south side of the 22nd floor of the tall building that stands at 233 North Michigan Ave. in Chicago. Though I work on the 20th floor of this particular building, I am sure the meeting that led to this phallic hot dog bitch-slapping this guy in the face - leaving creamy mustard evidence - must have taken place on a Friday afternoon two floors above my cube.
First of all, nothing productive happens on a Friday afternoon, as everyone is already mentally checked out, getting slap-happy, and daydreaming about their upcoming golf outing/date/dinner reservations, etc. The bunny mass was invented in my office on a Friday afternoon. (So how can we list each of these animals’ weights in a fun and engaging manner? … I know! Let’s calculate how many bunnies it would take to equal the weight of every animal! We can call it “bunny mass!”) Need I say more?
And although I have a pretty good view of it from two floors down, the hardworking TUMS folks on the 22nd floor have an eye-level view of the happy penis drawing that greets me every morning from the window of the building adjacent to mine with a simple, yet cheerful “hi”.
Now I know how much the penis drawing amuses my colleagues and I. We enjoy pointing it out to other colleagues, marvel about how it’s “the happiest organ ever,” and brainstorm about how to respond (since my entire department is female, we have overwhelmingly decided cheerful boobs would be the most appropriate response to the happy penis).
Therefore, on the Friday afternoon when the TUMS employees were grumbling over who the hell thought it was OK to schedule a meeting on a Friday afternoon, all they were thinking about was what they needed to throw out that would cause the bigwigs to throw open the gates and free them for their weekend plans.
Humor. Though it’s a difficult genre to do right, it’s also the most welcoming and the most rewarding (hence the non-gendered, yet smart cyborg with three arms that I drew with green and pink markers at a meeting today with not only both of my bosses, but the president of the company and representative from our parent company to illustrate what I think World Book the person would look like. My pathetic excuse for a robot drawing did get a big laugh from the 40 people in the room, though. Mission accomplished.)
So humor is the genre and since it’s Friday afternoon and the creative juices of the TUMS employees goes on their weekends early – leaving it physically impossible to craft new ideas - they don’t have much choice other than to pull a Brick Tamland in Anchorman and throw out ideas from what they can see. (“I think carpet.” … “What about lamp?”)
This is the point where one employee gazing out the window wishing it was 5 o’clock already spots the penis poster and says “What about a peni – err… uhh – hot dog? We can feature a hot dog!”
The boss says “go on,” and the employee scrambles to come up with something that will just get her out of the hot seat and immediately thinks “Ummm carnival! There are hot dogs at a carnival!” And since she’s still looking at the penis that is so happy and funny and makes everyone’s day brighter, and is well into the throes of Friday afternoon slap-happiness, she begins to describe a slap-happy hot dog designed to sell heartburn medicine.
And since it’s Friday afternoon and there is an actual idea on the table, everyone enthusiastically agrees that it’s a great one because really what else do they have? “I love lamp… buy TUMS?” A slap-happy hot dog smeared with mustard is such a better idea than that.
Now let’s get out and enjoy the sunshine.
First of all, nothing productive happens on a Friday afternoon, as everyone is already mentally checked out, getting slap-happy, and daydreaming about their upcoming golf outing/date/dinner reservations, etc. The bunny mass was invented in my office on a Friday afternoon. (So how can we list each of these animals’ weights in a fun and engaging manner? … I know! Let’s calculate how many bunnies it would take to equal the weight of every animal! We can call it “bunny mass!”) Need I say more?
And although I have a pretty good view of it from two floors down, the hardworking TUMS folks on the 22nd floor have an eye-level view of the happy penis drawing that greets me every morning from the window of the building adjacent to mine with a simple, yet cheerful “hi”.
Now I know how much the penis drawing amuses my colleagues and I. We enjoy pointing it out to other colleagues, marvel about how it’s “the happiest organ ever,” and brainstorm about how to respond (since my entire department is female, we have overwhelmingly decided cheerful boobs would be the most appropriate response to the happy penis).
Therefore, on the Friday afternoon when the TUMS employees were grumbling over who the hell thought it was OK to schedule a meeting on a Friday afternoon, all they were thinking about was what they needed to throw out that would cause the bigwigs to throw open the gates and free them for their weekend plans.
Humor. Though it’s a difficult genre to do right, it’s also the most welcoming and the most rewarding (hence the non-gendered, yet smart cyborg with three arms that I drew with green and pink markers at a meeting today with not only both of my bosses, but the president of the company and representative from our parent company to illustrate what I think World Book the person would look like. My pathetic excuse for a robot drawing did get a big laugh from the 40 people in the room, though. Mission accomplished.)
So humor is the genre and since it’s Friday afternoon and the creative juices of the TUMS employees goes on their weekends early – leaving it physically impossible to craft new ideas - they don’t have much choice other than to pull a Brick Tamland in Anchorman and throw out ideas from what they can see. (“I think carpet.” … “What about lamp?”)
This is the point where one employee gazing out the window wishing it was 5 o’clock already spots the penis poster and says “What about a peni – err… uhh – hot dog? We can feature a hot dog!”
The boss says “go on,” and the employee scrambles to come up with something that will just get her out of the hot seat and immediately thinks “Ummm carnival! There are hot dogs at a carnival!” And since she’s still looking at the penis that is so happy and funny and makes everyone’s day brighter, and is well into the throes of Friday afternoon slap-happiness, she begins to describe a slap-happy hot dog designed to sell heartburn medicine.
And since it’s Friday afternoon and there is an actual idea on the table, everyone enthusiastically agrees that it’s a great one because really what else do they have? “I love lamp… buy TUMS?” A slap-happy hot dog smeared with mustard is such a better idea than that.
Now let’s get out and enjoy the sunshine.
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