ABC News has a story on their evening broadcast tonight about how the first of the Baby Boomers (Kathleen Casey-Kirschling, born 12:00:01 AM on 1/1/46) has applied for Social Security benefits. There were the usual comparisons between the post-war generation's saving habits versus those of their parents (the Boomers are better at it, probably because nobody who lived through WWII expected humanity to avoid annihilating itself) and the ominous theorizing about the deleterious effects of 76 million people draining the nation's SS trust fund. Casey-Kirschling herself was interviewed - in front of her new boat - and attempted to adopt a somber tone when discussing her children's futures, just before she sailed out to international waters to enjoy some choice Peruvian blow.
I can't speak for anyone else of my generation, but my retirement saving strategy was implemented with the assumption that Social Security wouldn't be around when I finally called it quits (at age 87, by current economic indicators). Obviously, certain other family considerations have caused us to recalculate some things, but so far we're looking okay.
But ABC misses the point (or - more likely - selectively ignores it). The primary negative ramification of our rapidly aging population isn't the future depletion of our nation's retirement coffers, but the present-day horror of TV advertising. Thanks to this, I now know how to medicate myself against physiological horrors both real (hypertension) and imagined (restless leg syndrome). The phenomenon is so pervasive I now have to pause my DVR for 10 minutes at the beginning of Adult Swim (on the Cartoon Network, of all places) so as to avoid the Cyclopean horror of "Bob" from those Enzyte commercials.
And then there's this:
Jesus christ on a pogo stick. The sight of doughy 50-somethings "jamming" at some mythical roadhouse miraculously bereft of blue collar alcoholics and speed-addled bikers before roaring off to give their undoubtedly weary wives a right good rogering is one of the worst things I've ever seen, and I review Brett Ratner movies.
Part of me finds it endlessly amusing that the generation that once rallied to "Hope I die before I get old" is now desperately trying to stave off its advancing decrepitude. And I say this as someone whose own age cohort will someday have to answer for Vanilla Ice and the Star Wars prequels. But the other part desperately wants to watch Sunday NFL games and the MLB playoffs without being constantly reminded of the grim specter of death.
Or impotence. Whatever.
I like our local progressive station ads lineup: cialis/viagra, weight loss medication, and hair regrowth remedies. Obviously us liberals are flabby, floppy, and bald.
The right-wing nutjob station gets mattress, flowers, and efax ads.
Rich
You do realize you’re talking about your parents, both of whom were born in 1946?
You do realize you’re talking about your parents, both of whom were born in 1946?
Where would us wise-ass bloggers be without sweeping generalizations?
There’s a line in the song in that commercial that goes, “There’s no way that I’m a guy who would stray/because she’s my heart’s desire.”
Assholes.
Always put down the guys who LIKE to stray.
Did you like the Adult Swim ad with the Playdough snake that was eating candy corn & excreting Tootsie Rolls ? It was a remarkably good simulation !!
There’s so much that’s just off about that commercial—aside from the obvious, I mean. Like the way they keep flashing to the token black guys with those Cleavon Little grins? And how they all kinda “Go, Voltron Force!” outta there en masse at the end?
It’s like we’ve gotten a glimpse into the pathetic, yet sordid, meetings of United Accountants, Gardeners, And Wifeswappers Local #217.