Super Bowl

VFoC Podcast — The Commercials

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Since the debut of “The Van Full of Candy Show” (LIVE Wednesday nights at 8 pm on BlogTalkRadio.com), we’ve continually gotten one comparison over and over again. People are making the natural and very realistic comparison between our new live podcast or “livecast” show and the single most watched program in the history of program watching, “The Super Bowl”. And when you think about it, it makes more sense than any thought that’s ever been pondered by human philosophers.

Both involve strapping, manly gentlemen at the peak of their game, doing what science God accidentally evolved them on this big scary world to do. Over there, it’s something as trivial as running around after an oblong sporting utensil, while in this neck of the woods it’s the much more important business of discussing the merits of pork and celophane based foreplay and plugging upcoming shows.

But the biggest parallel between “The Van Full of Candy Show” and the Super Bowl is often said that the best part of both is the commercials. I find that to be hurtful and insulting and almost universally true. So we’ve decided to scoop out our beloved radio commercial parodies from our DEEP archive of two whole episodes and share them as easily digestible audio chunks that you ears can lazily chew to their drum’s delight… Or something…

Check out our radio commercial parodies below, all sorted by episode. You’ll also be able to find the new ones as they are produced on the “Podcasts” page, under the show player widget-ma-bob-thingy… It’s all very technical and complicated. How about you just sit back, relax and take a soothing listen to radio commercials so authentic, you’ll wonder when the hell we’re going to get back and play more rock blocks… After all, it’s Two-fer Tuesday SOMEWHERE…

 Our parody radio commercials from previous episodes of
“The Van Full of Candy Show”

Van Full of Candy's End of the World Year Predictions

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It hardly seems worth making predictions this year. As everyone is surely aware, this year isn’t going to be as long as they have been in the past. You can blame the stupid Mayans and their dumb calendar for that bunk. So with those ten fewer days at the end of not only this year, but the end of the very existence of this planet and all of those things that we have come to believe immortal and timeless, we will never truly know for sure if some of our at yet unrealized predictions might have come true in that final week and a half of the year that we’re being cheated out of.

It’s not the end of the world that upsets me, it’s not getting the proper chance to be proven right that REALLY bugs me.

But we did it last year with what could only be called “startling” accuracy, so we’re legally bound to participate this year as well. And just remember, as the planet is swallowing you whole, if for a second as your very being is being erased from forever, you think that we called one of these wrong, just know: fuck you, it WOULD have been right if planetary implosion hadn’t prematurely cut 2012 short.

Now, what do we see in our magical balls, hmmm?

  • President Barack Obama will narrowly win re-election in November, edging out the Republican ticket of Romney/Santorum and powerhouse Independent entry Trump/Seacrest.
  • Tim Tebow will reveal to the world that his mother experienced immaculate conception on March 16th (3:16) and will die for our sins by being nailed to a goal post after he wins next year’s Super Bowl.
  • The iPhone 6 will be majestically bestowed upon the multitudes as Steve Jobs descends from an actual iCloud straight from iHeaven.
  • Irrefutable evidence of a secret Iranian nuclear program will finally be revealed by US intelligence agencies. Iranian leader Mahmoud Ahmadinejad will try to fight back tears as his big surprise present for America’s birthday will be ruined. We’ll try to apologize and act surprised anyway when Iran does eventually deliver their present, but we’ll still feel like jerks.
  • Upon further inspection of the cruise ship that crashed in Italy, DNA findings show that the captain is the great grandson of the other incompetent ship captain that sank the Titanic and is coincidentally related to Isaac, the bartender on The Love Boat.
  • A team who’s predominant uniform color is blue, will win the NCAA Mens Basketball Championship.
  • Google and Facebook have a one night stand after an awards ceremony, get pregnant, and have a really ugly baby who is motivated by being an underachiever.
  • The world will end on December 21st when a fleet of giant star cruisers descends upon the planet, crewed by a highly advanced race of dinosaurs who have to destroy us to ensure that the time stream doesn’t unravel like a cheap sweater. We won’t quite understand the whole space time continuum explanation, but our confusion will be mercifully short lived.
  • Both the Green Bay Packers and New Orleans Saints will not make it to the Super Bowl.
  • The North American Beaver will continue to carefully guard the secret of the meaning of life, waiting patiently until the day that someone finally thinks to ask it.

And so it is, every one of 2012’s filthy little secrets laid bare for all to see. Fat lot of good it’ll do us when the Dinonauts arrive, but enjoy it while you can, ’cause they’re not gonna make a lick of sense and they’re not gonna give a shit when we don’t get it.

Dinosaur astronauts are kinda dicks.

TV Review: “Mr. Sunshine” / Groupon

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I had intended on reviewing Matthew Perry’s latest cancelled television program this morning and took a surprising left turn. Come with me on a journey through the career wasteland of an actor who got really lucky one time, and freshly shorn vaginas that hate the environment.
The smirk of a son of a bitch who knows exactly how lucky he is.
The smirk of a son of a bitch who knows exactly how lucky he is.

Let us begin with the debut of “Mr. Sunshine”, a show that you’d better hate now while you’ve still got the chance. From the writers who heard about “Becker” and saw almost half an episode of “Parks and Recreations”, we get “Mr. Sunshine”, featuring Matthew Perry playing Matthew Perry as a vaguely defined San Diego sports arena muckity muck. Finally answering the age-old question “Why don’t I care about who orders all of the peanuts in a place like that?”

The main problem with “Mr. Sunshine”, aside from it being shown to anyone not responsible for making sure that those involved never got another job in the entertainment industry ever again, is it’s half-hearted attempt at “edge”. It feels like all of the interns working on “Community” rose up and decided that they could make their own, edgier show if they could just raise enough money to rent a “Friends” star for an afternoon.

There is absolutely nothing special about “Mr. Sunshine”, except for how precisely it has all of the pieces of a successfully failed show: the uppity lead who will spend a half a season learning a lesson and then never changing again, the functionally retarded buffoon man-child who can say all of the writers most pointless non-sequitors, and the Allison Janney as Jane Lynch playing Alec Baldwin.

Halfway through this waste of everyone’s time, I was actually worried about how I would formulate a review of a show as bland and predictable as a beige whoopee cushion, but then I was treated to a pleasant surprise in the form of one of Groupon’s new commercials.

I’m not going to bore you with all the details, but the punchline was “I got a super great deal on a pussy waxing!”

Perhaps I SHOULD elaborate.

It's like a raped tropical rain forrest, in her pants.
It's like a raped tropical rain forrest, in her pants.

I, like most people who own a television, saw the debut of Groupon’s new ad campaign during the Super Foot, Bowl Match Contest last Sunday. Now, the name of the game in Super Bowl advertising is “Zow!”. That is an actual industry term and is in no way me simply belittling the proud men and women whose job it is to try to trick us into purchasing shit we don’t need. The Super Bowl is, for lack of a more exactly fitting term, the Super Bowl of advertising. A thirty-second commercial spot during the game costs anywhere between 14 and 700 quatrillion Dollar Bucks. That’s big time money, and it is so much because for that four-hour block every single person, living or dead, is tuned into the game and just sitting on shit piles of money that they need to be told what to do with. It’s a true science fact. So the way you make your mark on an audience of that size is by doing something either very clever, or very stupid, and since we are in a very real clever drought, stupid usually rules the day.

So it turns out that there was a group of people who told viewers that they should have been offended by Groupon’s new “Suck it, World” ad campaign. And while I thought that openly mocking the plight of a mostly peaceable people, was certainly an interesting choice by the people at a website for coupons to flight simulator classes and restaurants that people don’t go to, I didn’t really think much else about that specific message because I don’t generally put a lot of curry in my mouth. But this ad, oddly enough, did get my attention.

So the basic set up is the same, a sort of mock public service announcement with your standard insincere run down of something that we should all really care about if only we could get 50-90% off of our not caring. Elizabeth Hurley in a bath robe pretends to educate us about the Brazilian rain forest being stripped bare of trees, like so many labia follicles being torn from mother Earth’s tenderest of flesh. But that’s okay, because she got a voucher for a discounted cunt deforestation of her own, so YAY!

Now, it’s really no secret that America doesn’t give a shit about the rest of the world, but is it really necessary to rub the planet’s collective nose in your freshly de-pubed twats of uncaring? And why are so many people pretending to be offended by being reminded that they don’t care. We knew you didn’t care about Tibet or the rain forest before this commercial, so what you’re really upset about is someone pointing out the fact that you don’t care. You see, as long as everyone doesn’t care equally we’re all right, but the second someone reminds you of something horrible and mocks you for not caring about it, it suddenly becomes the only thing in the world that you’ve ever wanted anything done about. For a second, until everyone forgets and we can all go back to comfortably not caring again.

So cut it out commercials. Stop making people feel bad that they don’t feel bad. People don’t watch horrible new Matthew Perry television shows to be told they don’t care enough about once proud, respected institutions that have since become pathetic, pitiable charity cases!

TV Review: "Mr. Sunshine" / Groupon

Posted on

I had intended on reviewing Matthew Perry’s latest cancelled television program this morning and took a surprising left turn. Come with me on a journey through the career wasteland of an actor who got really lucky one time, and freshly shorn vaginas that hate the environment.
The smirk of a son of a bitch who knows exactly how lucky he is.
The smirk of a son of a bitch who knows exactly how lucky he is.

Let us begin with the debut of “Mr. Sunshine”, a show that you’d better hate now while you’ve still got the chance. From the writers who heard about “Becker” and saw almost half an episode of “Parks and Recreations”, we get “Mr. Sunshine”, featuring Matthew Perry playing Matthew Perry as a vaguely defined San Diego sports arena muckity muck. Finally answering the age-old question “Why don’t I care about who orders all of the peanuts in a place like that?”

The main problem with “Mr. Sunshine”, aside from it being shown to anyone not responsible for making sure that those involved never got another job in the entertainment industry ever again, is it’s half-hearted attempt at “edge”. It feels like all of the interns working on “Community” rose up and decided that they could make their own, edgier show if they could just raise enough money to rent a “Friends” star for an afternoon.

There is absolutely nothing special about “Mr. Sunshine”, except for how precisely it has all of the pieces of a successfully failed show: the uppity lead who will spend a half a season learning a lesson and then never changing again, the functionally retarded buffoon man-child who can say all of the writers most pointless non-sequitors, and the Allison Janney as Jane Lynch playing Alec Baldwin.

Halfway through this waste of everyone’s time, I was actually worried about how I would formulate a review of a show as bland and predictable as a beige whoopee cushion, but then I was treated to a pleasant surprise in the form of one of Groupon’s new commercials.

I’m not going to bore you with all the details, but the punchline was “I got a super great deal on a pussy waxing!”

Perhaps I SHOULD elaborate.

It's like a raped tropical rain forrest, in her pants.
It's like a raped tropical rain forrest, in her pants.

I, like most people who own a television, saw the debut of Groupon’s new ad campaign during the Super Foot, Bowl Match Contest last Sunday. Now, the name of the game in Super Bowl advertising is “Zow!”. That is an actual industry term and is in no way me simply belittling the proud men and women whose job it is to try to trick us into purchasing shit we don’t need. The Super Bowl is, for lack of a more exactly fitting term, the Super Bowl of advertising. A thirty-second commercial spot during the game costs anywhere between 14 and 700 quatrillion Dollar Bucks. That’s big time money, and it is so much because for that four-hour block every single person, living or dead, is tuned into the game and just sitting on shit piles of money that they need to be told what to do with. It’s a true science fact. So the way you make your mark on an audience of that size is by doing something either very clever, or very stupid, and since we are in a very real clever drought, stupid usually rules the day.

So it turns out that there was a group of people who told viewers that they should have been offended by Groupon’s new “Suck it, World” ad campaign. And while I thought that openly mocking the plight of a mostly peaceable people, was certainly an interesting choice by the people at a website for coupons to flight simulator classes and restaurants that people don’t go to, I didn’t really think much else about that specific message because I don’t generally put a lot of curry in my mouth. But this ad, oddly enough, did get my attention.

So the basic set up is the same, a sort of mock public service announcement with your standard insincere run down of something that we should all really care about if only we could get 50-90% off of our not caring. Elizabeth Hurley in a bath robe pretends to educate us about the Brazilian rain forest being stripped bare of trees, like so many labia follicles being torn from mother Earth’s tenderest of flesh. But that’s okay, because she got a voucher for a discounted cunt deforestation of her own, so YAY!

Now, it’s really no secret that America doesn’t give a shit about the rest of the world, but is it really necessary to rub the planet’s collective nose in your freshly de-pubed twats of uncaring? And why are so many people pretending to be offended by being reminded that they don’t care. We knew you didn’t care about Tibet or the rain forest before this commercial, so what you’re really upset about is someone pointing out the fact that you don’t care. You see, as long as everyone doesn’t care equally we’re all right, but the second someone reminds you of something horrible and mocks you for not caring about it, it suddenly becomes the only thing in the world that you’ve ever wanted anything done about. For a second, until everyone forgets and we can all go back to comfortably not caring again.

So cut it out commercials. Stop making people feel bad that they don’t feel bad. People don’t watch horrible new Matthew Perry television shows to be told they don’t care enough about once proud, respected institutions that have since become pathetic, pitiable charity cases!

Super Bowl Halftime Show : The Gipper

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Ya'll Thought I Was Dead? Oh Hells No!!

The 45th Super Bowl airing this Sunday between the Pittsburgh Steelers and the Green Bay Packers will be one of the most historic of all time. This Super Bowl will have the 40th President of the United States for their halftime show. What’s this, you ask? How can Ronald Reagan be the entertainment for the halftime show? Well it’s simple. First, FOX TV is the devil, and second he isn’t really dead. Just like 2-Pac, Biggie and Elvis, Ronald Wilson Reagan lives on a secluded five-star island sometimes referred to as Conspiracy Island. Unfortunately for the former President, he doesn’t know exactly where he is at any given time because of his ongoing bout with Alzheimer’s; he seems to believe that he is always inside a Sizzler restaurant and frequently mumbles about their world famous salad bar.

I'm On A Boat

The Alzheimer’s will make for an interesting show come Super Bowl Sunday, because Reagan is going to be in a number of highly choreographed dance numbers with The Black Eyed Peas, Usher, and the former guitarist for Guns & Roses, Slash. The spry 100 year old seems to be in great spirits and is visibly excited about his performances. During the Black Eyed Peas’ song “Boom Boom Pow”, Mr. Reagan and his team of dancers will recreate the assassination attempt on the President by John Hinckley, Jr. with former President George Bush, Sr. playing the part of Hinckley.

Kicking off the game, Christina Aguilera and the former President will perform a duet of the National Anthem. Christina did mention in an interview with E! that “… the only thing I’m a little nervous about is when he starts yelling ‘I love pumpkins’ over

This Was One Nasty Casting Couch

and over throughout the song, but other than that, things should go pretty smoothly.” Ronald is going to have a Guitar Hero battle with Slash and then transition straight into a dance-off with Usher with many costume changes throughout. This should be one of the most exciting halftime shows in Super Bowl history, maybe only taking a backseat to actually getting to see Janet Jackson’s teet.

So sit back, relax and enjoy the rollercoaster ride of Lazarus-of-Bethany proportions that only FOX can provide, and have a drink every time you hear our former President of the United States say “Win one for the Gipper”, or whisper “Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiizzzzler”.