Another Day, another Valentine doll

Dear Teleflora,

 

DWD here. I watched your Superbowl commercial. You win!

 

Bold move to bypass comedy in pushing floral arrangements, but it worked. A voyeuristic insight to a model getting ready for a date? Hot. The way her trapezius and latissimus dorsi muscles snaked around her scapulae? Hot hot! But the marketing maestros added a final touch, lifting your ad above all others using silky skin to pique interest.

 

Education.

 

Coming straight from such a beautifully reliable source, her face is all the credentialing she needs. One can’t refute her wisdom.

 

“Guys, Valentine’s Day is simple.” Pan camera to the floral arrangement behind her. Sultry half-smile. Bedroom eyes. “Give, and you shall receive.”

 

There! The final word in understanding the female psyche! Brought to you by Teleflora! For years I attempted appealing to female intelligence. Empathy for the complex interplay of hormones and self-image and societal roles they must maneuver. Their desire for emotional connection and commitment.

All fruitless. Such a fool. I get it now, though. Women are flower floozies. Bachelor button bimbos, hyacinth hookers.*

 

Oh, how my life would be different had I known.

 

I once discussed the failure of greeting card and jewelry companies in helping males with relationships. In attempts to facilitate a man’s primal desires, they fall flat. Take a look. 

Averts Make the Heart Grow Fungus

 

No failure from Teleflora! Light the way, O Great Ones! Together, guys will get more receiving. You can undermine decades of feminist progress. We'll both rake in our well-earned rewards.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

 

DWD

 

*I thought up several other monikers consistent with Teleflora’s groundbreaking research, but they aren’t family friendly.

Adverts make the heart grow fungus

I've been lucky this Valentine's season. Not in the way humans hope to, but in finding ideas for carrying Derick William Dalton's blog for him, the bum.

In this case, it's a letter he wrote which I found in C:\Desktop\Letters\Angry\To manipulative corporate sycophantic s***heads. It's not a mushy one to his wife, obviously. Those are under C:Desktop\Letters\Seductive\My Bitsy Pookums Snoogy Woogy Wips.

Yes, I puked also.

The letter in question today is filled with the angst of a man crushed between the pressures of being romantic and the lack of time and creativity to do so. Then having his inadequacies repeatedly tossed in his face by popular culture.

The poor sap. He writes:


Dear Kay Jewelers and Hallmark Greetings,

I write to express my opinion regarding your advertising campaigns and products. I'm not concerned with cards contributing to rainforest destruction by lack of pre- or post-consumer recycling. I could care less if you purchase your uncut diamonds from militant tyrant regimes in Africa.

I'm disturbed by the misanthropic view of males which you project, and subsequent attempts to capitalize on perceived inadequacies.

"To My Valentine..." open card, "words can't express my love for you."

Really. Then why did you write those? To practice your calligraphy?

"To my dearest love..." open card again, this time with trepidation, "I wish you a sudden rush of whatever brain chemicals make you experience lust."

At least this one had real information, but you are insulting men blatantly instead of covertly. Are you suggesting Valentine's Day is really about men giving themselves a gift by bribing their partners? Okay, maybe to some guys, but be subtle! If that works, it's because the guy already accomplished the necessary seduction. Do you see the fine, blurry line between bribery and payment for services rendered?

To the jeweler, relationships exist for a different end. Judging by your advertisements, you gained a comprehension of women by watching fiances fawn over rocks while you were supposed to be polishing ancient crushed coal - no firsthand experience. The excitement is the man, the moment, not the sparkly ice. Sure, some guys wish they could skip the romantic dates, commitment, learning of first names, and get right to the sex. They have alcohol, and it's much cheaper than diamonds. Women see your commercials, obviously aimed at insecure single guys, and are repulsed. Not just at the guys exhibited, but their girlfriends who become neurotically ecstatic when on one knee he offers a bit of jewelry. Real men want to give you a wedgie and a swirly, real women want to change the channel.

Continue to remake romance in your own image. Associate your products with happiness and ecstasy. The world needs more hollow products to fill our emotional voids.

Leave me the hell alone,

Derick William Dalton


A chill pill. Double dose. Or a day off, that's what DWD needs. Personally, I'm grateful male turtles are the alcohol and no-commitment types, sans alcohol. So much less complicated.

I could go for something chocolate, though.