Shut up and take my money
March 19, 2016
We’ve all been there. It’s a moment of personal weakness. It’s 7:30 PM; you’re curled up under a nice blanket, holding your wonderful pillow pet, and enjoying a gripping episode of House of Cards when all of the sudden there’s a commercial break. Not the kind of commercial break that prompts you to make a quick run to the restroom, this is a commercial break that puts you on the edge of your seat and makes you have to restrain yourself before reaching for the telephone.
If you are 18 years old or have your parents permission you can become instantly enveloped in the lucrative marketing known as infomercials. From the sham wow to moon shoes all these products are immensely important to the culture of nineties kids. I myself had three subscriptions to zoo books and had enough moon sand to build a beach in my yard.
I first became susceptible to the mellifluous voices of the infomercial people when I saw March of the Penguins in theaters with my dad. Now i know, it’s not an infomercial, but it was that evening, at the age of seven, that I decided that whatever Morgan Freeman told me to buy, I would do it. When I got old enough to get a debit card for gas, I wanted to get a Visa card. Why? “Because more people go, with Visa.” That and I wanted to be one of those people that “could win a trip to the olympic games for life.”
After that fateful night, it wasn’t long before I became susceptible to anyone with a voice that moved like honey through the air. To this day, I tirelessly advocate for my parents to switch from State Farm to Progressive because of Flo. These items are designed to mesmerize and tantalize the senses luring whoever is sitting alone on their couch during the middle of the final episodes of Downton Abbey. Last night, for only six payments of nine ninety-five, I could have bought a wonderful shake weight. A shake weight, something that you can adjust while you’re using it.
I still play and saunter in my moon shoes, and read Zoobooks. They are definitely not worth the fifteen dollars a month, but they were marketed to a little kid with brown hair that seemed to enjoy them a lot. She was so happy reading those books, and i too wanted to be happy reading zoo books. Infomercials have never steered me wrong… except for the sauna pants.