What I find incredibly annoying is all of the television commercials featuring pitchmen (I prefer the term “con artist”) for products and services that are totally exaggerated or that don’t even exist at all. Take, for instance, the fellow who wants to buy your house and then talks poor unsuspecting homeowners into selling their house for pennies on the dollar.
Then there is the insurance salesman with a Southern drawl, who tries to sell life insurance for only $9.95 a month. “I have diabetes, what’s my price?” “Your praus is only non-naughty-fov a month. “I’m 80 years old, what is my price” Your praus is only non-naughty-fov a month too.” Yeah, right, if you’re lucky, non-naughty-fov a month might get you a clay jar to hold your ashes… and what the heck is a fov?
Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies. Tell me lies, tell me lies, tell me lies, oh no-no, you can’t disguise, you can’t disguise, no, you can’t disguise. Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies. (“Little Lies” – Fleetwood Mac – 1987)
Another con artist was car dealer H.J. Caruso who, in the late 50s and early 60s, advertised bargain prices on used cars every Saturday morning. He had a habit of slapping his hand on the side and hood of his sturdy, used cars. The commercial was always broadcast live on Channel 13, so you could see what you would get. One morning, he slapped the hood of a late 50s Ford and the driver’s side fender fell off.
Then there was Cal Worthington, another Ford dealer, who always appeared at the dealership with his dog “Spot” at his side. His theme song was, “I’ll stand on my head til my ears are turning red to beat anyone else’s price, go see Cal, go see Cal, go see Cal.” Never did see him stand on his head or his ears turn red. Johnny Carson used to make fun of him by spoofing his commercials on The Tonight Show.
We’re lucky here on the mountain to have reputable business owners… at least I think we do. Let me know if you have any problems and I will come out and stand on my head til my ears are turning red. Only problem is I’m not sure how I’ll get my legs up high enough to stand on my head.
Obviously, that was a lie – did you really think I was gonna stand on my head?
Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies. Tell me lies, tell me lies, tell me lies, oh, no-no, you can’t disguise, you can’t disguise. No, you can’t disguise.
Keep it flyin’
Uncle Mott
0 Comments