« This is the BEST ever... | Main | 24.5 hours and I'm here. »

Sprint Advertisements: Unusual and Cruel Punishment.

Does anyone else feel compelled to hurl obcenities at the TV, rip handfuls of hair out by the follicle and have their skin glow in a white hot rage everytime they suffer the indinigty of a Sprint ad? Not only are their advertisements as entertaining as the linoleum floor at the DMV, but I exert more energy blinking my eyes than that organic excuse for humanoid plywood that passes as the Sprint pitch-man.

I mean really, have you ever seen a such a large company pour so much money into such flaccid creativity? If only I could stretch my hand through the screen, pimp slap that black trench coat wearing con man and scream "CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?!"

Comments

I definately agree, the "Can you hear me now?" got old the first day he said it!

Ahhh…..yes. I suppose as long as people continue to sign up with Sprint we will have to endure these nightmarish commercials. Do you think it is possible that those ad execs have figured out if they create something so annoying, so dreadful that people like us will take notice to their product? If those same execs have any functioning brain waves they will kill the bit with the following commercial: Black trench coat guy walks out of a seedy strip club at four in the morning. In his inebriated state he forgot to call ahead for a cab. He reaches into in his pocket to retrieve his phone when all of the sudden a group of thugs surround him. They demand him to hand over all of his valuables. Black trench coat does not like this idea. In fact, he feels an overwhelmingly powerful need to defend his ten bucks and his free phone (with contract, of course). Black trench coat goes to throw the first punch when one of the thugs whips around kung-fu style and drop kicks him in the left ear. Black trench coat reaches up to his ear and feels the warm sensation that is his blood trickling out. Thug #2 then gives a swift kick to black trench coat’s right ear. The ten bones and cell phone are then confiscated by the black-belt thugs. Thug #3 crouches down to a now downed black trench coat. He grabs the bloody face with one hand and flips open the phone with the other then casually asks, “Can you hear me now? Good!” Yessssssssssssssssssssss!