I may have mentioned this before, but I watch a LOT of television. I sit at a desk all day, with a computer screen in front of me and a TV tuned to a news channel (except for when the repeat of "The Daily Show" runs) so I can keep an eye on what's up in the world. As such, I get exposed to more than my share of commercials.

Ordinarily, I can tune them out. It takes a truly original or annoying ad to break through my cone of indifference. Recenly, there have been far more of the latter. Of course, that means that, on some level, the advertising is effective, since it and the product name associated with it have lodged in my brain. The problem, however, is that they've lodged in the part of my brain that concerns itself with smashing things with a ball peen hammer and setting them on fire.

Let's start off this little rant with one that makes me so mad I want to reach through the screen and throttle the director and writers.

Toyota has a commercial in which a beefy, paint-splattered dad approaches a minivan in which two urchins, one of whom is presumably his son, are sitting in captain's chairs, wearing headphones, playing cards and watching a flip-down movie screen. He tells the kids he's finished work on their tree house, and instead of scrambling out of the van to see the handiwork, they continue playing Go Fish and watching a movie while asking if it has the features displayed in the vehicle.

Remember back, my older readers (meaning: my age and beyond), to when your own dad or mom did something like this. If you'd reacted the way the snotty little brats do in the commercial, what would have happened? I can tell you that, in my own case, the, erm, physical consequences would have been something on the order of what Marine drill instructors used to be allowed to do to recruits, only I would have been grounded when it was over, not issued a rifle.

I want another version of this commercial shot, wherein the dad pulls from his pocket the Toyota "Parental Enforcement Module" and touches a button which causes hatches to open in the roof and engages powerful springs in the seats, catapulting the two wisecracking junior punks into the yard, where Toyota-built robots hand them rakes and shovels and supervise them as they spend several hours doing some serious yard work.

I know I'd buy it. Of course, I wouldn't have to, as my son will grow up to be a respectful, well-behaved child, just like I was.

Oh, wait.

I'm doomed.

Next on my list is a commercial that may not actually be on all over the country, but I'm betting most of you have seen it at least once. It's done by Carabba's Italian Restaurant, and it features two waiters discussing a family that has just arrived for dinner. They reveal that they know not just what the patrons like to eat, but personal details about them such as the fact that the father has his hair curled.

I don't know about you, but when I go into a restaurant, I like seeing a familiar waiter or waitress, and will frequently request a table in a section served by someone with whom I've had a good experience in the past. However, I don't expect those folks to have a dossier on me that extends any farther than perhaps knowing my favorite beer or my regular order. The idea that they might be devoting significant brain space to remembering details more personal than that is, well, a little creepy.

I think if my favorite waiter at my favorite Tex-Mex joint walked up to my table and asked me how my mole removal went, I'd have to start looking for a new place to get my cabrito.

The last commercial on this week's hit list is one I've only seen a few times, since I rarely watch the sort of shows on which Starburst candy is advertised, apparently. It shows a man doing various horrible things to get rid of his friends so they don't ask him to share his freshly opened pack of Starburst.

Kids, if a "candy" makes you alienate your friends and withdraw from society, it's not candy. It's heroin. Get help.

Got anything weird going on in your world? Drop me a line, anytime!