You Are Dumb, which is not a blog, posts new columns every weekday, except for most Tuesdays and the occasional fuckbotch. It is also a Twitter feed, @youaredumb, with content in a similar vein but much shorter. For a take on what a blog by me would be like, check out OLDNERD.
Memo to Pfizer: NICE FUCKING TRY.
Oh, you thought you could hide it. You thought you could carefully defuse all the implications and subtext. But you failed. And the Viva Viagra ad is officially the gayest thing on television right now.
I mean, we're talking REALLY gay. Not gay as in effeminate, or gay as in stupid, or gay as in happy and jolly. Gay as in implying that these men love having sex with each other.
Which I'm entirely fine with, unlike Pfizer. Because the amount of careful crafting they do to provide plausible deniability for all the men in the ad is astonishing, especially given that they only have thirty seconds.
In case you haven't seen it, the ad features half a dozen men who have all come together in either an abandoned or at the very least run-down desert roadhouse. We are led to believe that the only reason they're doing this is to exercise their musical muse, but come on. An abandoned roadhouse, with nobody around for miles? Sounds pretty on the down low to me.
Anyway, the musicians are singing Viva Los Vegas. But it's a very different version than Elvis belted out back in the day. Allow me, through the magic of HTML, to provide you with a side by side comparison. ACTUAL LYRICS TIME!
You see what they did there. While the original lyrics certainly promised heterosexual action, they weren't wholesome enough. No, every last one of these guys takes Viagra for the sole purpose of having normative, heterosexual intercourse with their long-term, monogamous partners, probably spouses, who are patiently waiting for them while they go to the roadhouse with the guys and make up boisterous filk about how much they love ERECT PENISES.
It's that last bit, by the way, which makes it really, really gay. Just so you know.
And Pfizer knows it too. Six guys singing about their stiff dicks is what you might call a very strong homosexual image, and is precisely the kind of thing that will get your funeral canceled in Texas. A homosexual image that strong isn't going to be swayed by vague claims of "honeys" back home. Rock Hudson dated starlets, after all.
That's why Pfizer went the extra inch and made damn sure that after their soulful paeanis, they make sure to end with a shot of all the guys going out to the parking lot, holding their instruments. No, their ACTUAL instruments. Fully clothed, each going their separate ways, with only the faintest trace of longing in their eyes.
Well, it didn't work. It's like two guys who leave a whole row of seats between them when they go to the movies together. They may make it through Transformers without touching, but when they rush to the bathroom afterwards, it's not because they were holding in the effects of a 48 ounce soda.
In their defense, it's got to be tough for Pfizer. I mean, they've developed a pill specifically for the purpose of facilitating non-reproductive fucking. And because people like non-reproductive fucking, it's not a difficult sell. But in an age when at least three different companies have to warn you about the dreaded four-hour-and-one-minute boner, maintaining market share requires advertising. Advertising that must, thanks to the fucked-up American society, deny the vast quantity of non-reproductive fucking that Viagra's being used for.
Which is how we end up with sunsets, footballs being thrown through tire swings, and six men who clearly want nothing more than to wear nothing but Elvis wigs and thank each other very much. But instead they drive home to their wives and/or long-term committed girlfriends. No wonder they have trouble getting it up.