This blog is SICK folks.
I’m serious. I’ve been hacking up my entire immune system in small chunks the past few days and I understand that EG has caught a bug as well. Not sure how we managed to transmit anything to each other from our cyber perches 3,000 miles apart, but this is a sci-fi loving site and I’m sure someone out there has a good theory about that.
Anyway, I’m going back to my dismal blanket cave to doze off in a TheraFlu haze while working my way blearily through “American Gods” or watching the remaining meager strips of flesh that hang off the bones of my pilfired Tivo “Now Playing” list.
Speaking of disgusting, unnecessary imagery. Let me leave you with this.
Every once in a while one of the big two comic companies makes a long-term deal with an advertiser and we, the comic reader, is inundated with the same imagery over and over again in every single issue that that company puts out every month.
Of course, if that image is of Hostesses delightful “Fruit Pie the Magician,” then that’s a winning piece of nostalgia that lasts a lifetime for the 30-something fan like myself.
But, then again, that was long ago; a gilded age of comic ads where Sea Monkey’s frolicked and Big League Chew promised children everywhere all of the glories of a serious tobacco habit minus the lip cancer!
Not now. Now we have to deal with DC Comics and the Faustian bargain they made with those once-beloved manufacturers of mouth-watering meat missiles – Ballpark Franks. Look at this ad and tell me that the folks at Ballpark (a subsidiary of Sara Lee) aren’t daring us to avoid their product at all costs…
What exactly is happening here? I mean, seriously?!? Is this image supposed to be at all appetizing? Does the hunger center of your brain light up like a Christmas tree when you think of a muscular, hairy arm bursting from your abdomen and force feeding you a hot dog which will presumably become digested with stomach acid only to reform into a new, equally muscled lifeform within you that will once again emerge from your midsection in search of yet another hot dog, thus repeating a vicious, creepy cycle until your body eventually succumbs to a nitrate overdose?
I’m not sure what the conspiracy is or why they’ve done this. But I know for a fact that these people aren’t trying to sell me a hotdog. Something far more insidious is at work here.
Of course, it is possible that the Ballpark Franks people have hired the same genius ad firm that created these impossibly unappetizing ads from Quizno’s a couple years back where deformed mutant hamsters tried to frighten you into eating overpriced sub sandwiches…
Yeah, I don’t get it. My only plea is that DC Comics buys out whatever remains of Ballpark’s ad contract and gets this horror show off the pages of my comics forthwith!
Okay, now I’ve managed to make myself even sicker and perhaps you too. I’m going to go back to my coma and try not to look at the back of the latest issue of “Booster Gold” anymore.
Thanks for ruining one of the best comics of the week Ballpark Frank!