My husband hates TV commercials and other forms of advertising. There’s nothing odd about that. Most of us do.
One thing he objects to is sexism that targets men. If he sees a commercial that presents a man having trouble caring for a child or cleaning the kitchen, then a woman swoops in to solve all his problems, his head explodes. “That makes men look incompetent. That’s sexist!” he says. “You taught me that!” (Well, that’s true. I guess I did. So many commercials, even in these more enlightened days, depict women with disgusting, flimsy garbage bags and the hefty-hefty-hunk providing non-stinky bags as he ripples his pecs. But I digress.)
One of the ads that he has particular trouble with is the one where little angels—cherubs, really—manufacture toilet paper. “They’re dead babies,” he insists, “and they’re making ass-wipe. It’s bad enough putting dead babies to work, but this is demeaning.” That’s a hard argument to argue with. (It’s no use telling him that it’s a metaphor for softness. He only believes in metaphors when he creates them. But I digress again.)
Another one of his least favorites is the Pepto Bismol commercial where they sing about assorted gastrointestinal ailments. “Turn the sound down!” he yells if I have the remote. The idea is for me to mute it before they get to “diarrhea.” Somehow, singing about that bothers him more than the other ailments. (I’m troubled by the fact that they touch their hips when they say the word. I tend not to shoot from the hip, so to speak. But I digress some more.)
He also objects to billboards or restaurant signs that, for example, show a pig offering plates of pork to people. “That’s horrible!” he says. “They’re encouraging people to eat one of their own kind.” He’s right about that, I have to admit. It’s kind of creepy.
Where we seriously part ways is over one certain cereal commercial. It shows cereal squares frolicking, so I’d describe them as anthropomorphized. The cereal bits chase each other and then one eats another one. To Dan, it’s almost as bad as a B-grade horror movie. “I hate this commercial. They’re eating each other!” he cries. “That’s cannibalism!”
“It’s cereal,” I say. “At least pigs are sentient beings. Cereal isn’t.”
“It’s cannibalism, anyway. They’re being portrayed as sentient,” he says. “They walk and talk and play on slides.”
“But it’s just cereal!” I reply. That never ends the argument though, and it doesn’t prevent having the same conversation every time that ad comes on. I just have to wait until another ad comes on and hope it doesn’t trigger another one of his outbursts.
(Some would say that pigs aren’t sentient, but I’m willing to agree with Dan on that. They’re very intelligent. In my worldview (which, of course, is the correct one), most animals are sentient. They have thoughts and emotions, and not all their behaviors are instinctual. You’ll never convince me that a cat isn’t a sentient being. I’ve known ones that can engage in complex behavior like playing fetch or snubbing us. Crows are sentient; they can learn. Elephants are definitely sentient; they can grieve. I don’t know about fish and insects, though. I haven’t decided about them. But I digress yet again.)
But cereal isn’t even alive, much less capable of movement, thoughts, and emotions. It’s inert, not capable of higher functioning. Or any functioning at all, really.
We see these atrocities everywhere. Even some of the streaming services I pay for have ads these days. We don’t want to pay extra for the no-ads variety. They cost enough as is. But the cost to me is hearing Dan shout at the TV, complain about sexism, and argue with me about supposedly sentient cereal. It’s part of what I pay for.
But I Digress . . . 