Adventures In Stupid Advertising: You've Lost That Loving Feeling?

So I was up watching some TV since the storm kept the computers off. When an "Ask your doctor about..." commercial came on. It was for some new drug with a name that sounded like a foxy dominatrix from some kinky Quentin Tarantino Blaxploitation revival film that fell through the cracks in the long list of films he's announced recently... but is never actually going to make. It had a V in it, I recall. V like Velveeta, with more sass and less shells and cheese. I think it had a Ventura quality as well, but again more sass and less Steve Martin wannabe with a silly pompadour. I'm not sure what the name was anymore, but it screamed V for very sore balls in the morning. Now, considering that the drug was for people with diabetic induced erectile dysfunction... maybe some brown sugar in furs is a good advertising move. Personally, if I were having some trouble getting it up, I don't think Grace Jones and a riding crop would be my particular cup of tea though. But hey, different strokes for different folks, right?

But let us (the opossums and I) put all that aside. It is not the name of this elusive drug that I found idiotically funny. It was the logo...

To the left of the platform shoe wearing V name... was a flame. A slow burning flame. Because when life's got you down... you really want a burning sensation?

Boob: No, no! It supposed to be romantic... to get you in the mood! It's supposed to evoke images of candlelight.

Me: The mood? Bah! I see that little flame and it evokes images of guys with cold sores wincing at the urinal. It's bad I tell you! Bad!

This is going up there with the time they showed that commercial for Nads hair removal cream and followed it up with a commercial for a skin irritant soother.

Peace.

PS: I had considered referring to the V drug as the Vrug... but that sounded dirty and I don't approve of dirty things...

PPS: Happy Rabbit on a Stick Day. Can you still get patriot baskets from Wall-mart? I was really disappointed to find the grenade eggs weren't live last time I went in there on this fine holiday that suffers from no sense of identity crisis whatsoever.

PPPS: Yes, I know Rabbit on a Stick Day is actually sunday, but A: I probably won't be on here to wish happiness then (or again for another month) and B: it most certainly is Rabbit on a Stick Day in my BIZZARRO time zone of doom!

PPPPS: Yes, I also know that PS's are for letters, not blog entries. I just don't care.