Like reaching down in the back of the cab, only to find out that the hot chick that's been hitting on you all night in the bar has a dick, I find my regular morning interlude with NFL Network equally as abruptly interrupted by these freaking Fathead commercials. Even more so now that they've got the raspy voiced and delicious Alex Flanagan hosting the show.
(Down "little alba", not now, we're concentrating on a rant!)
Who the fuck is buying these Fatheads, and why in the name of all that is holy hasn't that company gone tits-up by now? Last I checked, it'll cost you $100 for the cheesey team helmet edition, or $120 if you want to get your favorite player. I mean, does the American sports fan REALLY have that much disposable income, to be ordering these over-priced, over-sized ColorForms on steriods for their kids? Or perish the thought, are grown men buying these things for themselves?
Dude, it's bad enough you had to buy the triple-XL Roethlisberger jersey to fit over your 40-year old beer gut, but is that chain-smoking, polyester wearing, fatass of a wife of yours REALLY letting you put up a FatHead in your double-wide?
My guess is that the company was started by Uselessberger and his extra-terrestrial friend Torry Holt, as their the only two pitchmen I see for the product 20 or 30 times every SportsCenter. And if they don't own the company, who was the Marketing-school drop out to choose these two to be the face of the product? If there was any backbone to truth in advertising laws, these things should be named DickHeads!
If I had my way, I'd go all Colonel Kurtz and search the villages across this nation, chopping off the vaccinated arms of anyone who owned a Fatass! Better yet, throat-tie them all to a bamboo cage and drop Chef's fathead in their laps as I casually walk by. That would be GREAT!
Man, I hate these things enough that in 10 years or so, I won't care if the Presidential candidates smoked a little grass, or got hummers from overweight interns as much as I'll have a burning desire to know if they've ever purchased or possessed a fathead. That my friend, is going to cost somebody the Whitehouse. Mark my words.
I live for the day that this company goes the way of the Pet Rock and the Flowbee, and I don't have to see Big Has-Ben or Torry Big-Lame Holt's mug in my TV screen every morning, at least 10 times and hour, while I'm getting ready for work.
And if they aren't going out of business, might I suggest the female sportscaster line, and put in my reserve order for one of the first Alex Flanagan's that roll off the Taiwanese assembly line? Heck, make it a double and send a Suzy Kobler over to my friend Captain Caveman.
Oh yeah, and Alex my dear, I've got a life-sized purple fathead waiting for you when you arrive!