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    « Let's Rethink the Holiday Party | Main | The Man Code. Decoded. »
    Thursday
    25Oct2007

    Intervention: Charlie the Tuna, the TRIX rabbit and the Pillsbury Doughboy

    I just got off the the phone with Dr. Phil and his people. I have no people so frankly it was a tad awkward.  We've put our collective heads together and decided that a Prime Time Special should be devoted the at-risk Spokescreatures.  #1 on the list is the Danny Bonaduce of the animated spokescreatures --  Charlie the Tuna. 

    This is a fish who can talk and pull off the Buddy Holly glasses and beret look.  Given all these talents, his greatest wish was to be caught, minced and stuffed into a tiny can.  Much like the spawning Salmon who die immediately after the honeymoon, Charlie has a death wish.  He dreams up innovative ways to catch the attention of the ever watchful Star Kist company -- proof that he's a tuna with good taste.  Sadly, he is spurned by the company because they are looking for fish that taste good. 

    His pain can be felt in the ultimate rejection.  A fish hook with a handwritten (and obviously, waterproof) note: "Sorry, Charlie."  In Charlie's demented mind, he thinks it's an honor to end up in the sandwich of a  construction worker on break.  According to the BakerMuse Bureau of Dubious Statistics Charlie has escaped death in over 80 commercials. Our #2 intervention is the obsessive/compulsive Trix Rabbit.  He's like Wile E. Coyote with ADD.  His sole purpose in life was to get his paws on a box of Trix Cereal.  Just when he got close, a kid would say, "Silly rabbit, Trix are for kids."   Apparently, Rabbits have a jones for artificially fruit flavored puffed corn and rejection.

    The #3 intervention is that pasty confection of dubious sexuality -- the Pillsbury Doughboy.  Only Snuggle the Bear instills more fear in me.  He's so cloying cute, I need insulin shots after watching the commercial.   Like Charlie the Tuna, he has a death wish.  But his is even more heinous.  He wants you to stuff his doughy pals into a blazing hot 350-degree oven while he cavorts and giggles.  I'm surprised a rogue Crescent Roll hasn't fragged his butt. Cute? Maybe.  Sociopath? Definitely.

    Dr. Phil, his people and I are ready to help. 

     

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