Tag Archives: marketing

Products no one needs.

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My only question is why anyone makes these things in the first place.

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I prefer my clams in chowder with heavy cream thank you very much.

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Oh, hell no. I can only drink if the BeeGees are playing?

Trust me, if the BeeGees are playing…. I’ll need more not less.

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I’m sorry, but they don’t. Less really is more.

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While this is rather cute? It’s also a great way to take out an eye. Weaponized mallows are over the top, even for me.

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No. Aside from the fact the packaging seems to be marketed for 6 year old girls…

I refuse to wear a perfume named Juicy Bunny on sheer principle.

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Products no one needs.

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While I’m all for pampering and spoiling our pets..

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No.

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Just, no.

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Bowzer’s manicure should not look better than mine… and look, even the dog hates it.

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I want to know who looked at their cat’s ass one afternoon and thought, ” Hey, that will make a great coloring book”.

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Mr. Whiskers is not amused.

And lastly, proof positive more isn’t always good… it’s just more.

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Hell, I think I’m slipping into diabetic coma just looking at that.

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Products I think I have to buy.

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For blog fodder research purposes if nothing else.

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I’m guessing they meant to say bad mood, but either way …. a screaming goat seems like the perfect companion to ride out the rest of this abominable year.

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A book of delightful goat facts? Perfect.

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Screaming goat placement is everything.

And hey, when you already have a flying poop drone…. a screaming goat doesn’t even raise eyebrows.

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The other product I might have to buy?

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A carbonated bubbling face mask?

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Show of hands…. how many people want to see that selfie?

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Grocery store chuckles.

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It never fails to amaze me how many ridiculous products I can find in the grocery store.

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Multi colored popcorn farts? No thank you. Wait… they’re covered in white chocolate?

On second thought. How bad can a rainbow unicorn toot be?

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This abominable bag of quinoa was on the check out aisle with all the other reasonable unhealthy snacks. Don’t they know how good that radioactive orange Cheetoh dust is? Geesh, no one in their right mind craves quinoa.

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Tolerant organic. What exactly does that mean? Is that little fellow going to bludgeon me with his noodle if I don’t compliment his Birkenstocks?

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I’m sorry, but when I walk down the baking aisle… filled with cakes and brownies and numerous other drool worthy desserts? Protein balls are not high on my list.

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Finally, I need two things explained.

1. What happened to the separation of church and grocery store?

And

2. If you’re going to quote scripture about baking bread, don’t use it to sell a box of cereal. That’s just false advertising.

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Because sometimes a product review can have too much information..

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Like the one I saw for this questionable product.

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Have you noticed this trend… spraying before you go? It seems like Poo- Pourri type products are everywhere these days. But the following review went above and beyond.

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A cold, damp night… spicy chili and Westworld. You have to love a reviewer who sets the mood.

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Montezuma’s Revenge Meter? Nice.

Crab walking visual? Helpful.

Chili and eggs plotting a colon coup?

The plot thickens… so to speak.

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And just like that, the old tag line has now taken on a completely different meaning.

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Uh oh.

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Products no one needs but you know someone will buy.

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This first one is sure to be a favorite on Valentines Day.

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Because nothing says I love you like petrified beef.

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Good God, do these things still even exist?

Please, for the love of all that’s holy… no.

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For when you really want to throw down like Hamlet.

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This.

This is really what’s wrong with America. We’re too damn lazy to sit up.

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Pfft. I call foul.

Everyone knows Alfred Von Wigglebottom wouldn’t be caught dead on anything less than Danish Modern.

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You know I have to share these things.

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I do. Even though I’m sure you’d rather I didn’t.

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Yes, this exists. Though I think they’re wrong about the Olympic event.

And if you’re thinking…. that’s great River, but I don’t really care for cereal?

I’ve got your back.

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Pooping Champion Gummies.

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And tea.

You’re welcome.

But if that’s not enough to get you excited about this oh so helpful product? Visit their website and check out the fabulous club you can join.

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Now tell me you don’t want to be a card carrying member of that!

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Because some things are best left unexplored.

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Facebook ads. They’re never ending and annoying and I pay them very little mind.

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Yes, I like Hint water… but don’t need to see daily videos.

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And yes, those are some sweet shades I could easily see myself rocking next summer, but they don’t need to join the other 15 pairs I never wear in my junk drawer.

While I realize these ads are targeted to me specifically based on algorithms of my search history, every once in a while they surprise me.

As this one did the other day:

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Not being in possession of a pair, I assure you I have never actively searched for ball wash.

Trust me on this.

Of course since it popped up, I had to click. For research/ blog fodder purposes only you understand.

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Don’t be whack, GIVE A SACK.

There’s an ad slogan designed to burrow deep into your frontal cortex.

And while I admit I chortled over this, I’m not chortling now. Because you know what happens when you click on a Facebook ball wash product ad?

This:

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And this:

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I am now being inundated with less than helpful product placement.

Man meat.

What have I done!

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Cosmo-what?

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#2 in the series of ‘I’m definitely not young and single anymore’. Otherwise known as Cosmopolitan magazine highlights.

Or lowlights, you decide.

Gentlemen?

You’ve been warned.

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First up, a strawberry vagina.

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Magical?

Yeah, I must be doing something wrong. And because there are probably other women like me?

Products.

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Am I surprised they are named Honey Pot and Fur?

At this point, I am not.

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This explains a lot about the current generation. I enjoyed moving out of my parents house, but maybe that was just me.

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What brownie abomination is this?

No. Just…. no.

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Wow. And I thought breaking up via text was bad….

Finally there was this:

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Strategically placed mirror aside…. FaceTiming your gynecologist? I’m beginning to relish the fact I’m not in my twenties anymore.

P.S. … don’t be surprised when that cat starts having nightmares.

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