All I really have to say is "I love the tender crisp bacon cheddar ranch." The fact that I've never had one is completely irrelevant; what matters is I've seen Hootie proclaim its glory about 800 times. It also certainly doesn't hurt that Brooke Burke is telling me to "come and get it" from a tree swing at the end of the ad. For God's sake people, the breasts ... they grow on trees!
For you unfortunate souls who have never seen the 30 seconds to two minutes of bliss that is the most recent Burger King commercial, allow me to enlighten you.
The advertisement features Darius Rucker from the band Hootie and the Blowfish sporting a purple cowboy outfit and singing some crazy tune about the King's latest sandwich. It is the most fantastic sellout in recent memory. The fake smile presented in these ads is only rivaled by those of George Forman plugging the "lean, mean fat reducing grilling machine," if that gives you an idea of what we're dealing with. What I greatly respect, however, is how Darius isn't even trying to hide the fact that he is selling out.
"Purple cowboy outfit and fake guitar? Sweet! Have any chaps? No? Alrighty, I guess this will have to do."
The first few times I saw the ad, which is aired at least twice per commercial break on ESPN and Comedy Central, I was slightly saddened at the sight of another washed-up celebrity appearing in some ultra-cheesy commercial.
I've never been a huge Hootie fan, but "Cracked Rear View" sold 13 million albums its first year of release. That's right, 13 million in year one, and around 16 million total, making it one of the dozen or so best-selling albums of all time.
Those are some impressive numbers, and so on first review, seeing the group's front man in such a dire position is somewhat depressing. But that's the first impression, and lucky for me I've had about a thousand since then. After the first few painful viewings, the absolute ridiculousness of the ad and its catchy lyrics, "there's tumbleweeds of bacon, and cheddar paves the streets..." leave you pining for more -- sometimes you find yourself watching TV just for the commercial breaks.
Okay, I've never gone that far, but it has been close, dangerously close. I've now gotten all of my praise for that commercial out of my system, and I promise my friends and roommates I will no longer call for total silence and turn the TV to full blast every time it airs.
On a similar note, I recently saw an ad for "Spring Break Shark Attack," and I couldn't help but wonder if that film would have a crushing impact on the beach economies of America the same way "Jaws" did when it premiered. I decided to crunch some numbers, taking into account how many people saw "Jaws," the financial impact of "Jaws" and the ratings for "Shark Attack." After adjusting for inflation, the final tally was 17 cents, Canadian.
I promise I don't usually watch as much TV as this column would indicate. Right now it is NCAA tournament time, which requires sports fans to delay their lives in favor of watching their brackets systematically obliterated. As if I really needed another distraction from productivity, along comes the greatest month in sports in the middle of the semester -- great.
It's been several years in the making, but I just realized, no matter how many times you cycle through the same handful of Web sites in a 10-minute period, they don't really change. I can liken this to what I have dubbed the "refrigerator effect." No matter how many times I open that door, unless I've made my way to the store, there's the same half-gallon of OJ and pack of vanilla pudding. It's a tough lesson to repeatedly learn.
I have to say I'm very excited about the beginning of spring, or, as my friend Kevin calls it, "the season where breasts and legs come back out to play." It is the time when March Madness gives way to opening day and, most recently, endless talk of steroids. With all the commotion surrounding Jose Canseco's tell-all book "Juiced," I think we all need to step back and remember this is a guy who once let a fly ball bounce off of his head and over the outfield wall for a homerun.
I wonder about all those people who act surprised that baseball players have been taking steroids and popping human growth hormones like Mike and Ikes for the past decade or so. I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty sure the human head is not supposed to grow exponentially when you are over the age of 25.
Well, it's been fun. Feel free to e-mail me questions or comments. Seriously, this is my first column and I'm already out of ideas, spam me at will.
Eric can be reached at ast@cavalierdaily.com.
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