Sell Me Your Product, Then Promptly Shut the Fuck Up

Long gone are the days of simple product and service advertisements that piqued your interest with words spoken by a confident, vocal talent or sung as an unforgettable jingle. Instead, you're immediately berated for being a bigot, scolded for your assumed white heritage as your accomplishments in life are castigated and your very existence reduced to that of a minuscule bacterium that contributes to the plague of society when all you wanted were a pair of Adidas.

Before social media, there were more than six degrees of separation from those who relinquished dignity to get attention, desperately trying to bring some semblance of purpose to their empty and meaningless lives. Today, attention is the dragon everyone is chasing and corporations are just as hooked, pushing agendas through guilt by insulting you as a customer before making the sale.

On any given day where I interact with a business, I am asked for a moment of my time to appreciate a position or plight that has absolutely nothing to do with our transaction, nor is anything I remotely care about.

Instead of addressing my craving for delicious chocolatey goodness, Hershey's would rather tell me how they value the strength of women while dangling some guy's balls in my face. Progressive Insurance endorses their commitment to diversity and inclusion as they plow me in the tailpipe harder each year despite my clean driving record. Hell, I can't even wash down these troubles with a glass of cheap whiskey without J&B telling me my grandpa likes to wear makeup and wander the streets at night looking for homeless guys to blow.

This constant pandering has become exhausting, especially after a long day of fighting with the IRS using TurboTax, a company proud to announce they offer tampons for men who may be bleeding for reasons other than a Schedule C.

Irony goes unnoticed as these organizations continue to bite the hand that feeds them. The NFL seems to think I own a white hood, constantly plastering "End Racism" all over football fields, helmets, and jerseys in the face of my long-standing commitment and support for players that are overwhelmingly not my race. Television shows and commercials can't resist the urge to shun me for hating women, even though I remain dedicated to perfecting the art of wining and dining them so that I can eventually put my penis inside of one.

Even if I manage to absolve myself of these atrocities, become the perfect woke minion, and cleanse my body of the delicious hate and bigotry I once enjoyed, it will never be enough. Gillette can't forgive me for being a biological man who grows facial hair, Listerine wants me to gargle and swish a big fat load of rainbow, and according to Dove, not even soap can wash away their firm belief that everyone is frighteningly ugly.

So, dear marketing executive, let's drop the message. Just stick to showing me the product, tell me why I should buy it, how yours is better than the other guys', then allow me to purchase it while you promptly shut the fuck up.