Snake
Oil
I get the sneaking suspicion
that advertisers have come
to the conclusion that we
already own everything we
need and, apparently, a majority
of the things we want as
well. What other explanation
can there be for the sheer
number of infomercials and
advertisements that first
attempt to desperately convince
us of what we’re lacking
before trying to sell us
some inane solution?
To wit: the infomercial
for something called the “Pasta
Express” which promises
a “quick and easy” way
to make pasta.
That’s right, pasta.
A food so simple that even
as a young man in college
with culinary expertise that
consisted solely of Cheese
Whiz nachos, I was able to
make two complete varieties
(macaroni and cheese and
Raman noodles). I mean, there
are only three steps total:
boil water, add pasta, drain.
Are people seriously fretting
over the time they lost in
the black hole that is pasta
preparation? Are they regretting
the opportunities they missed
because of the minutes spent
standing over a pot of cavatelli – the
time they could have spent
with their children, the
books they could have read,
the PhD they could have earned?
Of course not. But in an
industry where the fundamental
principle is to “define
a need, then fulfill it,” apparently
once you run out of actual
needs you just start making
them up.
Look - how many times in
your life have you stood
over a warm griddle sobbing
about the difficulty of flipping
a pancake with a spatula?
If you’re like me the
answer would be, um, never.
And yet the Perfect Pancake
offers to free our society
from the burdens of unflippable
flapjacks. The commercial
shows well-intentioned cooks
in the midst of epileptic
seizures struggling with
a spatula. They twist and
contort but no matter what
they do the griddle cake
disintegrates into a useless
pile of pancake carnage.
Breakfast is irreparably
ruined.
Or what about the incessant
barrage of emails offering
not just to increase the
size of my manhood but also,
um, the amount of “manliness” it
produces? Outside of a small
segment of the population
for whom “job performance” is
measured by the “money
shot” is this really
a concern playing out in
bedrooms across the country?
Call me naive, but I have
trouble imagining a scenario
where my lover actually says “Mmm,
that was great, BUT....”
It’s all insane. Honestly
if the day does arrive that
I find myself stressing over
the amount of time I devote
to making pasta, the trouble
I have flipping pancakes
and, um, well, you know,
then clearly I have much
larger issues. If my life
has actually become so pedestrian
that I’m seeking out
solutions to my most trivial
concerns then perhaps it’s
time to consider how amazingly
fortunate I am and maybe
consdier giving a little
bit back to society.
Now if you’ll excuse
me, I need to run off and
brush my teeth again – got
to stay one step ahead of
the gingivitis, you know.
This
Essay © 2006 Lee Totten
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