I have always been a world-class sleeper. I have never had a problem falling asleep, only with waking up. The rest of the Stonies know this well, and it used to be a game for them to see how much punishment I can endure before my mind can be jarred from the iron-grip of slumber. Activities used to try and wake me have ranged from, violently shaking me, hurling pillows, hurling books, or even the dreaded, “heavy metal alarm clock.”
For those of you who are not hip to this maneuver, it is when an asshole (usually Stoney) places a guitar next to the head of the sleeping victim. The next step includes wailing on the strings until the guitar wielder’s fingers bleed, or the victim wakes up in a severe state of panic and bewilderment.
These were always fruitless endeavors for the Stonies, because nothing short of a sonic boom could wake me up; a sonic boom, or a precision punch to the surgical scar on my foot by Stoney. Due to this inherent super power for sleep, I have been forced to acquire many alarm clocks over the years. Currently, I have three alarm clocks in my room, along with the use of my phone’s alarm clock function.
However, I found myself in a peculiar situation the other night; I, Roughty, was having trouble sleeping. I know the reason for this, (my 6 hour nap in the middle of the day) yet still, my mind and body were delving into uncharted territory. So I used this time to catch up on the multitude of infomercials TV had to offer.
I am a well-seasoned veteran of the infomercial market. We all know those nights when you strike out with all ladies at the bar, or you have no friends, and you must return home in disgrace with only your TV and enticing offers to comfort you. I feel I would be remiss if I did not outline some of the more classic TV offers that have been filling useless airtime in recent memory.
The “Get rich quick websites”.
These infomercials cash in on your love of two deadly sins, your gluttony for sloth. Are you a lazy bastard? Excellent! Go to this website, and you can begin working out of your home. Watchers are regaled with instant success stories of users who are now making upward of $500,000 a year. Or, for the more prudent capitalists, you can make roughly $2,000 to $5,000 a month, all from the comfort of your home. (Insert token Dank hermit joke here).
These infomercials are flawed by their vagueness though. What soul-selling activities must I conspire on with the insidious looking pitch-man? The insomniacs are never given a hint of what must be done to achieve their maximum earning potential. Seemingly, all you must do is visit whatever site is being glorified, and soon you will be lining the walls of your urine/beer/bong water soaked apartment with cash.
Enzyte male enhancement.
We have all seen “Smiling Bob”, the grinning fool who prances around to an ear-piercing whistle of a theme song. “What is Bob smiling about?”, the narrator queries. Well, Bob has a raging boner. The joy is not limited to Bob, his wife has an equally disturbing grin on her face which can be construed as either pleasure or fear.
Bob also lives in a town with men who are riddled with metaphors for their ineptitude. These poor souls are burdened with anything from limp garden hoses to sagging cocktail wieners. Only this visual stimulus can alert viewers to the severe problems faced by men who aren’t glowing like Bob. To make matters worse, all the women of this community are hypnotized by Bob’s beaming self-confidence, furthering the sexual drought their husbands are mired in.
Regretfully, the vagueness of “male enhancement” may have trouble connecting with the knuckle-dragging constituency. Those of lower brain functions may be left to wonder what is being enhanced. Tongue-in-cheek jokes usually soar over the heads of these people, and aren’t they the ones we should be helping the most? Get with it, Enzyte.
Beds.
Now, when you are talking about the bed infomercial racket, you are talking about two powerhouses; the “Sleep Number Bed”, and the “TempurPedic Bed”. Each has a distinct marketing strategy. But each strategy is predicated on the fact that you can’t sleep; therefore you need a better bed. Genius.
The spokesperson for the “Sleep Number Bed” is Lindsay Wagner. You readers may remember her as, “The Bionic Woman.” What were the ad execs thinking here? Why the fuck would the Bionic Woman need a comfortable bed? She’s bionic for crying out loud; just implant a sleep program in her, or whatever you scientists do.
Okay, allowing that oversight, the Sleep Number Bed still falls short in the ad game. The people watching these late night infomercials are mostly lazy, lonely people. What use will they have for a bed with two different comfort zones? Seriously, I don’t really give a fuck how comfortable Teddy Ruxpin, or my imaginary friends are next to me. The Sleep Number Bed may be a quality product, but I will never know because I am so outraged by their ludicrous ad campaign that I will never give it a try.
Here’s the heavy hitter. NASA created this bed, thus, astronauts slept on it. Hey, I always wanted to be an astronaut! Sign me up. However, TempurPedic’s advertising genius does not end there.
This bed is now known for its famous, “wine glass test”. Apparently, the rocket scientists at NASA tired of tracking galaxies and black holes, and turned their fervor toward the domestic problem of alcohol-related bed accidents. And by God, they came through for us. Now we can let the kids jump on our bed, or get busy with our significant others without worrying about the precariously resting booze at the foot of the bed. The sheer brilliance of this new technology hits home when the beer or wine you just set on your bed, has spilled everywhere as you jump on your shitty mattress in celebration of this breakthrough.
Not to be left as a one-two punch of ad brilliance, the TempurPedic also stands by its ability to get rid of, “morning stiffness”. Wow, now they’ve done it. I am really curious how those scientists will get rid of my morning stiffness, it seems like such a…oh wait, you mean BACK stiffness? Ohhhh, ok. I was about to say, that seems to be in glaring contrast to the Enzyte infomercial that was previously aired. So, no back stiffness, huh? That’s just as good I guess.
Hair restoration.
I will keep this brief, because as a man, this is not a laughing matter. I will undoubtedly lose my hair, and so will most of the rest of you. However, there’s a societal issue that needs to be addressed.
According to these infomercials, bald people are not allowed to swim. Now, I haven’t attained all the particulars, but in my limited research, I have found that bald men cannot swim in public pools in the continental US, or in the Pacific Ocean. This would explain the frightening exuberance with which men who have undergone hair restoration show, as they splash into the pool for the first time with their new head of hair. Bald men’s civil rights are in jeopardy people, write your Congressmen.
The granddaddy, “Girls Gone Wild”.
During each session of infomercial viewing, it is impossible not to find the never ending loop of, “Girls Gone Wild” infomercials on, “Comedy Central” or “Spike TV”. Seeing as the core constituency of infomercial viewers is lonely, single men, this is quite a cruel trick.
Sorry, you didn’t get that girl you were eyeing all night? Well, with a nominal fee of $19.95, you can watch all the girls you want, and they’ve gone WILD! Plus, they will throw in the, “Spring Break Edition” for free, because your weak ass will need a new tape on another lonely night very soon.
It’s no secret why the guy who created these videos is worth a bagillion dollars, exploiting lonely men is easy. The secret is, how does this mouth-breathing non-savage get all these young girls to disrobe and go wild? Well, have comfort fellow savages, he has used up all his good luck and will be living an agonizing life in Hell.
Well, this bores me. I think I will pop an Enzyte, find out how I can start earning $5,000 a month from my computer, lay in my TempurPedic bed with my new head of hair, all while watching the antics of wild girls on Spring Break. What will you do with your afternoon?
Stoney Wage Slave 
