Aside from the obvious Pastafarian upside, here's the spot:
The bepirated teller of this sad, catchy tale explains that he had his ID stolen. Said misfortune has somehow caused him to forgo his chosen vocation in order to take up waiting tables at some Long-John's-Lobster-esque joint. However, the decrepit crooner relates, if he had gone to FreeCreditReport.com (and apparently enrolled in the Triple Advantage version of the program which runs $15/mo), he would've "seen it coming like an atom bomb."
The pirate job, while snazzy, doesn't relate to ID theft. Is this an extra job? Why? If you shred your important documents, have a reasonable firewall, and aren't pissing your information all over the goddamned internets, ID theft is relatively rare. Hell, LifeLock is only $10/mo and that stops a life hack cold. This commercial doesn't make sense!
Round 2:
Here we have the same, unfortunate schlep, this time he has married his "dream girl," but did not know her credit was bad before going through with the nuptials. He then states that if he had gone to the aforementioned website and apparently pulled divining rods out of his ass (because you check your credit there, not someone else's), he would have seen that she had bad credit, kicked the woman with whom he has chosen to spend his life's skanky ass to the curb, and now be living in some masturbatory fantasy world where a single-income guy who can't afford to buy a house with the aid of his wife's income could somehow afford not only a house, but a dog as well, if that interest rate was just a couple points lower. Poor son of a bitch is now doublefucked, as you can see his accursed pirate hat in the foreground. This commercial doesn't make any fucking sense either!
So why all the goddamning and fucking? I listen to television all day - mostly Headline News. One of these two commercials appears repeatedly during the day on most stations (Time Warner buy, no doubt) to the point not just where it's not just "stuck in my head," but I dream these songs and hear them vividly playing upon waking. And my daughter sings them.
"Well, Ricky, you're just giving in to the what the advertisers want you to do," you say.
No shit. I love you all, but in my viral-induced misery, I sneeze on you. Share my hell.
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