Have you ever flipped past magazine ads or watched commercials and thought to yourself, “Who in that advertising meeting thought this was a good idea?”
Meet “Clumpy” the talking clump of cat waste.
Is he a clump of poo? Is he solidified wee? Wait–don’t answer that. I don’t really want to know (I assume it’s a he or they surely would have put a little bow on top).
And why was it necessary to bring it him to life? Do we need a talking purple clump of kitty poo to sell a product? I’m sorry–that’s just effed up. I’m picturing a bunch of ad execs coming up with this pitch after their happy hour turned to happy night where they’d enjoyed a dinner and late night snack consisting solely of beer, bourbon and bong hits.
Because, really. He’s at the opera, people. Tell me this isn’t the work of some kind of mind-altering substance:
When his buddy, Crumbly, gets crushed by the chandelier, he merely pats him on the, um, crumbles and goes back to watching the opera. So not only is he a freaky purple clay poo clump, but he also has absolutely no conscience or empathy. He is a cold, callous clump of kitteh poo.
I mean, they could at least make him likable.
In another “adventure,” his buddy gets obliterated by an errant beach ball. Our good friend Clumpy adds insult to injury by uttering a smug, “Hmph!” and humming a happy tune as he goes back to sunning himself. So then there’s this whole new layer of nutty where he’s a purple clay clump of cat poo who’s trying to get a tan. Wha?
And you had to know the Monk in me would go to the gross factor card. Sure, I know he’s a cartoon, but the thought of a clump of kitteh poo hanging out at the beach or sitting in a theatre chair is just plain gross. I don’t want to imagine a clump of poo cavorting about in public. I don’t care if it is cheerful and purple.
I vote to give Clumpy the scoop. A giant, talking scoop that says “OM NOM NOM” as it devours Clumpy while Crumbly the underdog slips through the slats of the scoop, laughing demonically at Clumpy’s well-deserved demise. Karma’s a betch, Clumpy.
From Stephanie M Andrews:
Oooh, that Clumpy is a bastard.
Yeah, that’s some sick sh*t there… I’m pretty sure cat poo doesn’t need a tan!
And thanks for the Cheez Burger tip! Check out my baby Cosmo, she’s famous!
http://cheezburger.com/View/4104723456
From Wombat Central:
Yays! Cosmos Kitteh made the Cheezburger pages!
From Tara:
…I am so glad I haven’t seen these commercials. My ranting tirade would have been just as long as yours, doll. That’s a talking, galavanting, smug chunk o’ cat poop.
WTF?
From Wombat Central:
WTF, indeed, my friend.
From IfByYes:
I despair for humanity.
From Wombat Central:
Agreed.
From statia:
Seriously. I’ve been saying for years, that they’re getting a lot more lenient in giving out marketing degrees these days. Tanned.Poo. I think they call that petrified turd.
There needs to be a “What Were They Thinking” award.
From Wombat Central:
Either that or drug use has increased in the industry.
From You're Lucky I Don't Have a Gun...:
we don’t have any of these commercials here. and now i feel like i’m missing out on a huge cat shit genre.
You’re Lucky I Don’t Have a Gun… recently posted..This Just In…
From Wombat Central:
I wouldn’t really say you’re “missing” anything.