Advertistosterone

We all know that Advertising is something that has taken over our everyday lives. After a lot of tears and hugging it out, we've accepted this. From the moment we wake up in the morning, advertising - much like Steve's crotch - is thrust in our faces, regardless of - again, much like Steve's crotch - we want it to be or not. It's unavoidable and is now tolerated with mild indifference.

I've also come to terms with the fact that, no matter what, some ads just plain won't make sense. For instance, as a male, I'm genetically programmed to never be able to understand tampon ads. It will always be as if a Sphinx shit out a Rubics cube and fashioned it into advertising form. Even if an ad was just flashing text on a screen saying "Buy Tampons! You Need Them For Your Period!!" I would still have no idea what it was getting at, at be left staring dumbfounded at the screen, like I was trying to translate hieroglyphics after 27 shots of tequila.

But there is one series of ads out there at the moment that, no matter how long I sit and stare at on my way to work - much to the frustration of those in traffic behind me - I cannot figure out any semblance of logical reasoning for how it came to be.

Seriously, at what point did Solo decide it was an especially manly drink?

If you've seen the ads, you should have an idea of what I'm talking about, with billboards implying we should use the testosterone-fuelled power of Solo to "Wash down some feelings" (Because feelings are some kind of infliction that only those sissy girly-boys have, when they're not to busy tucking their penises between their legs and pretending they have a vagina). Why, of all drinks, should we turn to Solo for this? Well, you fool, because it is "The Drink of Man Kind". Obviously.

Now, not even getting into the fact that it's basically saying that women, with their feeble fallopian tubes, cannot handle the raw manly power of what their advertising department apparently believes to be concentrated cock in a can, this is still a premise that borders on retardation. Never in my life have I considered citrus in any of its forms, or any flavours derived from it, particularly masculine. Sure, put a couple of lemons together and they look like a pair of oversized, yellow testicles, but that's the only concession I'm willing to make.

I'm not incinuating that it's necessarily effeminate either, I'm just saying that drinking lemon-flavoured soft drink has never resulted in me feeling like I've been slapped in the face with a giant dick.

Imagine you're sitting in a room with John Wayne, Clint Eastwood and Bruce Willis. You're sitting there eating steak, ogling breasts and punching each other in the face, just for shits and giggles. What do you suggest as the most refreshing way to wash down such an exercise in masculinity? "Here, guys, have a Solo. If you think you can handle it."...Fuck that. While, I admit, that sentence would required an incredible amount of balls to say without a hint of irony, it would still leave only one question, over which happens quicker - Your penis abandons your body and makes a break for the window, or the three of them force feed you your own ass cheeks?

So, sorry, Solo, but we all know you're overcompensating for something. Your own name deceives you, letting us all in on the fact that, at the end of the day, you're left alone, crying lemony, gender-neutral tears. So stop acting like such a dick, we're onto you.


Next time - have any of you actually seen Dr Pepper's medical licence?