Well hello there. Intentionally or otherwise, you’ve found your way to Poposophical. This blog is going to blow you away. Kind of like this:
As the portmanteau implies, Poposophical is about a blending of pop culture and philosophy (not to be confused with other uses of “poposophy” meaning popular philosophy, such as Ayn Rand or The Matrix). And by ‘philosophy’ I don’t exactly mean Plato and Kant (though it’s likely that Nietzsche will eventually make an appearance, since he tends to stick his nose in everything), but rather, philosophical thinking—examining why things are the way they are. Sometimes the posts will lean more toward one side than the other—there might be a post that is no way philosophical, or one that has nothing to do with pop culture (I will try and limit the latter to prevent alienating the readership). There may even be appropriately-themed poetry. There is one thing, though, that you can expect in every post: hilarity.
Now that you’ve got the general idea, let’s jump right into things:
Commercials suck. Yeah, sure, occasionally you might run across one that’s funny and/or inventive, but for the most part they suck. And as far as TV viewing goes, I’ve only found one thing to be more annoying than commercials. (Surprisingly, it’s not bad reality programs.) That one thing is…
RIDICULOUSLY LOUD COMMERCIALS. You’ve heard these, right? (Not only the used-car commercials that shout at you like you’re some kind of immigrant who doesn’t know the language and thus require loudness for comprehension, though these are included.) The commercials that are just unnaturally and unnecessarily loud. I often find myself in this situation: I’m watching something dramatic, like a soap opera, and I have to turn the volume up because Horatio is on his deathbed and about to whisper something to Loretta—something along the lines of “Sorry I cheated on you with your grandma” or whatever. And right at the most dramatic moment, they cut to commercials and HOLY SHIT YOU HAVE TO TRY THESE PANCAKES! Instinctively my hands fly to cover my ears from the house-crumbling, ear-shattering decibels. Still, they tell me that I absolutely cannot miss the new, improved, cranberry pancakes. “CRANCAKES!” they scream, hoping that if they deafen me I’ll have nothing better to do than go try their new abomination. Meanwhile I’ve curled myself into the fetal position, slowly trying to rock away the pain in my skull, having forgotten entirely about Horatio’s infidelity.
Why does this happen? Even if I’m not listening to Horatio’s confessions, and the volume is at a normal level, commercials will come along that shout so loudly as to cause my pets—and myself—to crap the carpet in fear. Things weren’t always this way; commercials used to be peacefully boring. What happened?
I have a theory, explainable in two words: Billy Mays. Perhaps it was reaching the age of 50, the sudden rivalry with Vince from Sham-Wow (there’s going to be a pitch-off!), or something else entirely, but I think he finally snapped, and took full control of the commercial industry. Now, under his “guidance” all commercials will enjoy increased success by relentlessly shouting at home viewers! Well, you know what, Billy Mays? I have something to sell you, completely free of shipping: A brand new box of Shut The Hell Up!
But wait! There’s more! Call off these agonizing commercials within the next five minutes, or I’ll throw in not one, but two bitch-slaps absolutely free of charge! Act now!
