You Give Love A Bad Name

(Bon Jovi, 1986)

I've had it, had it, had it. Using sexuality in commercials is certainly not a new idea. But when Dairy Queen enters into the sex game . . . I mean, come on. If you haven't seen it, here's the synopsis: A chocolate dipped waffle cone and and the familiar DQ curlicue dollop of ice cream are in a doctor's office. The doctor tells the couple there's no reason they can't have a healthy child. The waffle cone (the man) says, "You mean, I'm not . . .", to which the doctor replies, "No, you're not lactose intolerant." The waffle cone and the ice cream look at each other longingly and then bolt for the door. Apparently they can't wait to consummate their union. And then there's the ice cream (don't recall which brand - not a very effective ad, eh?) that's caught in the bedroom of an oh-so-innocent wife by the shocked and appalled husband. She's all like, "What can I do? It's ICE CREAM?" Exactly what message are these churners of yummy ice cream hoping to send? That eating this ice cream will be sexually satisfying? I'm all for a nice double dipped chocolate cone, but I can't say that I'd trade it for the old fashioned, say, romp in the hay. Wait. No, ok. I'm still in for the real thing. But check back with me in ten years.

Ron was looking at an ad for tires in some weekly circular over the weekend. There was a picture of a bikini-clad nymph thrown in between the radials and all-weather tires. Ron's now got his eye on some nice studded snow tires, but I'm guessing he'll change his mind when I tell him the girl's not part of the deal. A couple of years ago another tire company had these couples dancing cheek-to-cheek (both top and bottom) in wet clothes. I would bet money that the next time we're in Goodyear, Ron will try and put the moves on me. The whole Pavlovian thing.

Here's my deal: Let tires be tires. Let ice cream be ice cream. And let sex be sex. All in favor?