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Grandma's fine. Well, let's define "fine" for a moment: she got through the surgery, they patched up as much as they could, and everything's going as well as can be expected after such an invasive surgery. She's in intensive care right now, where she'll be for a few days; after that she'll have a few months recovery time. But all signs are pointing to a full recovery, and she should be feeling a lot better for it once all is said and done. I'm breathing a lot easier right now.
Jan. 16th, 2003
Going to pot (Ooo! A pun!)
Jan. 16th, 2003 09:38 amSo anyway, the battle goes on between consumers and marketing execs over who is the most blitheringly stupid. Have any of you seen the Ronco-esque ads for the latest Miracle Invention You Can't Live Without? It's basically a big pot for cooking pasta, which has (wait for it) the colander built right in to the lid! You just lock the lid in place, pour the water out of the holes punched into the lid, and voila! Perfectly drained pasta, and you didn't even have to remove it from the pot! How amazing is that? [NOTE: anyone who is sarcasm-impaired might want to move on to something else.]
So, okay, fine. Nothing wrong with the product, other than the faint whiff of tackiness, right? Well:
1) Among all the inconveniences I face in the kitchen, I can honestly say that pouring macaroni into a colander is pretty close to the bottom of the list. But the advertising monkeys, doing what they do best, try to show us just how necessary this wonder-product is, and how astonishing it is that we've been able to function as human beings for so long without it. So we get scenes of Mom trying to pour spaghetti into a strainer and failing miserably, splashing stuff around and getting bits of pasta all over creation, intercut with a shot of Mom's hungry family at the dinner table being blatantly pissed off that THE F%@#ING SPAGHETTI ISN'T READY YET. Personally, I think (a) this particular obviously-fictional Mom should not be trusted with hot stoves and/or sharp cutting implements, and (b) the equally-fictional family should get off their lazy duffs and do something.
2) We also get to see other miracle uses for the wonder-product, including using it to drain the grease from ground beef, which we see happening before our very eyes as Fictional Mom pours the beef tallow right into the sink. Good show, Mom! (Plus, if you order now, you also get the Miracle Plumber's Snake! Clears grease clogs in second! Order now!)
3) Here's the amazing part: there are not one, but two different pots-with-holes-in-the-lids being advertised right now. Yes, two. One is called simply The Pasta Pot, and the other is something to the effect of *gack* Pasta Magic. (For my next trick, with a wave of my wand, I'll mystically perforate this cheap pot lid! Alakazam! *poof*) The pots have exactly the same concept, very nearly the same design, and excruciatingly similar commercials, right down to the potato demonstration. As far as I can tell, the only real difference is the array of goodies you'll get If You Order Now: with one, it's the Mini-Pasta Pot, and with the other, it's the Amazing Cheese Grater. Wow. I'm so whelmed.
4) You can order either of these pots with your Free Gifts for only $14.95. Now, assuming that these companies are trying to actually make a profit (because frankly, there are much easier ways to make charitable donations), take a moment to do the math and estimate how much it cost to make these wonder-products. Now calculate how long they'll last before your six-year-old child manages to trash the thing by banging it with a lemon reamer.
Thank you for your time, Purveyors of Miracle Inventions, but, see, I have opposable thumbs. Move along, now.
So, okay, fine. Nothing wrong with the product, other than the faint whiff of tackiness, right? Well:
1) Among all the inconveniences I face in the kitchen, I can honestly say that pouring macaroni into a colander is pretty close to the bottom of the list. But the advertising monkeys, doing what they do best, try to show us just how necessary this wonder-product is, and how astonishing it is that we've been able to function as human beings for so long without it. So we get scenes of Mom trying to pour spaghetti into a strainer and failing miserably, splashing stuff around and getting bits of pasta all over creation, intercut with a shot of Mom's hungry family at the dinner table being blatantly pissed off that THE F%@#ING SPAGHETTI ISN'T READY YET. Personally, I think (a) this particular obviously-fictional Mom should not be trusted with hot stoves and/or sharp cutting implements, and (b) the equally-fictional family should get off their lazy duffs and do something.
2) We also get to see other miracle uses for the wonder-product, including using it to drain the grease from ground beef, which we see happening before our very eyes as Fictional Mom pours the beef tallow right into the sink. Good show, Mom! (Plus, if you order now, you also get the Miracle Plumber's Snake! Clears grease clogs in second! Order now!)
3) Here's the amazing part: there are not one, but two different pots-with-holes-in-the-lids being advertised right now. Yes, two. One is called simply The Pasta Pot, and the other is something to the effect of *gack* Pasta Magic. (For my next trick, with a wave of my wand, I'll mystically perforate this cheap pot lid! Alakazam! *poof*) The pots have exactly the same concept, very nearly the same design, and excruciatingly similar commercials, right down to the potato demonstration. As far as I can tell, the only real difference is the array of goodies you'll get If You Order Now: with one, it's the Mini-Pasta Pot, and with the other, it's the Amazing Cheese Grater. Wow. I'm so whelmed.
4) You can order either of these pots with your Free Gifts for only $14.95. Now, assuming that these companies are trying to actually make a profit (because frankly, there are much easier ways to make charitable donations), take a moment to do the math and estimate how much it cost to make these wonder-products. Now calculate how long they'll last before your six-year-old child manages to trash the thing by banging it with a lemon reamer.
Thank you for your time, Purveyors of Miracle Inventions, but, see, I have opposable thumbs. Move along, now.
