Last night, I briefly weighed the consequence of shelling out $300 for a new television that I would need after hurling a rock through my current screen, simply to end a Dr. Scholl’s commercial.

Oh, you know which one I’m talking about. It’s the morons sitting poolside proclaiming that they have solved their foot problems, and are now “gellin’.”

How ridiculous is this? The first time I saw this commercial, I believe it was during the Super Bowl, I couldn’t believe Dr. Scholl’s would waste two million dollars on airing this piece of feces, let alone approve the script.

People sat around laughing at this ad, using words like “delightful” to describe it. I felt like I was in The Twilight Zone, and everyone but me had a damn twisted pig nose.

Four months and three million viewings later, I’d doubt anyone in their right mind still find this commercial delightful. Hell, I’d bet that even the criminally insane aren’t entertained by these fools.

It’s as if the ad executives sat around, and said, “How many words can you think of that rhyme with ‘gellin’.’”

“Hey Ellen, you gellin’?”
“I’m gellin’ like a felon. You gellin’?”
“I’m gellin’ like Magellan.”
“Cool. You want some melon?”

Argh!!! I’m dying to change the channel, but the cheap ass batteries I bought three years ago take this most inopportune to go on strike. And so I consider hurling the remote through the screen. But then I deliberate on cleaning my ears with an ice pick. But that will lead to surgery, and I’ll probably have to read closed captioning for the rest of my life and that’s no good, because it’s never 100% accurate, and so I sit back, arms folded, defiantly trying to ignore the shitfest that is this commercial.

“Hey guy’s. I’m gellinggggggg,” the outsider without need for orthopedic inserts says, over-enunciating the “g.”

“Nah, man. You ain’t gellin’.”

And then the others have a laugh at his expense.

And then I wonder if all Dr. Scholl’s users are elitist. Did I miss the meeting where it was deemed cool to wear orthopedic inserts? Me, I’d laugh at these fuckers if I ever saw those blue squishy things being pulled out of some shoes.

I just want to find the advertising company who wrote this little bastard and wring their little necks for ruining thirty seconds of my life.

Because you know the next installment will play something like:

A MAN is at a yard sale with some itemized crap on a table. Another man, CUSTOMER, approaches tentatively.

Man: Hey Man, you gellin’?
Customer: Yeah, I’m gellin’. What you sellin’?”
Man: Nothing. My wife is making me do this. I’m just kvellin’.
Customer: Ah. You’re rebellin’. I’m tellin’.
Man: Actually, have you seen my kid lately? He was around here, somewhere.
Customer: Maybe he fell down a well…in.
Man: ENOUGH!
Customer: Man, no need to be yellin’.

MAN starts throwing junk at the CUSTOMER, including a bottle of cheapo cologne, which spills all over his shirt.

Customer (sniffing shirt): Now, I’m smellin’.
Man: Well at least you’re still gellin’.

MAN and CUSTOMER turn to the camera an wink as we cut to the radioactive blue Dr. Scholl’s Gel Insole.

Well, actually, it’s a little longer than thirty seconds, isn’t it? Because I’m writing this entry giving them free publicity, not to mention the hour and a half it took to excise the commercial from repeating over and over inside my head.

Hardly, time well spent people.

READ THESE JOURNALS Uncle Bob SaraH

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