I don’t ordinarily permit myself to write about advertisements solely because they anger me. But there are several campaigns running on the tube lately that just plain piss me off, and since this is only a private web page, I don’t have any real responsibilities here. I’m only doing this for my health.

Coors Light “Beer Man”

Mass-produced beer, especially sold in stadiums, is a drug-delivery system. It serves two purposes: profit and drunkenness. If this were a moral critique, I could suggest that in the present social context, where sports-crowd violence appears to be a rising trend, the Coors Light ads are irresponsible. But to be frank, I’m really just offended by how stupid they are.

The ads attempt to mythologize stadium beer vendors by giving them heroic personalities and placing them in heroic confrontations with one another, the elements, etc. What’s offensive about this is not just the dopey premise, it’s the cheap execution of the dopey premise.

The “beer men” in the ads are unremarkable beasts, neither ugly nor beautiful, neither protocommunist malcontents nor flag-waving capitalist stooges, neither savage nor suave. These ordinary schmoes are then connected to a pipeline of dramaturgical folderol.

The single-vendor ads are no less obnoxious. In one, the vendor proclaims his beer-vendor oath to serve customers until every last one is sozzled (okay, okay, “quenched”). But a leggy supermodel arrives and beckons him, “Hey, beer man! You ready to go?” And off he goes. (Incidentally, recent ads have made a fetish of this character and placed him in numerous situations. He is Everyman’s fantasy of Everyman, at least so far as advertising agencies conceive him: Everyman with a Fabulous Babe He Could Never, In Reality, Afford. I find this particular brand of escapist silliness disturbing; see below.)

The beer vendor acts in ways no mortal can, and the reason is simple: The Power of Beer.

AC-Delco

The AC-Delco campaign probably appears innocent, merely annoying. The scenario in each ad is an ill-timed automobile failure, ascribed to the use of generic parts instead of the presumably superior quality AC-Delco parts. Subtext, however, is everything.

In one ad, a doofus in a sporty convertible careens down a curvy highway with a curvy female companion (who is, significantly, far better looking than he is). Trouble looms in the form of a hayseed driving a truck full of pigs and spreading their olfactory consequences. Quick shot of doofus cringing at the smell, then glancing frightfully at his passenger babe. Manly basal ganglia take over. MUST PASS STINKY TRUCK! MUST RESPOND TO THREAT TO MANHOOD! MUST PRESERVE RIGHT OF CONQUER OVER WOMAN! UGH! UGH! So doofus cuts into the passing lane and jams the gas pedal down -- but instead of zipping along and reaffirming his masculinity and mastery over all things feminine (the road, the woman, the sows, nature) his convertible sputters. Demon spark knock!

Flashback of doofus in the auto parts store. Mild-mannered, friendly, clean clerk advises AC-Delco plugs that his customers swear by; doofus responds, smirking, “What’s the difference? I’ll take some of these from this bin.”

In the second ad, a dork (very similar to the doofus) plays a phone message from his woman (quick shot of her photo -- she’s again much prettier than he is) telling him he can meet her at the airport at 8 “to talk; otherwise, we’re through!” Ah yes, the familiar female assault by ultimatum. We know what an invitation to “talk” means, but it’s the lesser of evils, because, of course, MUST PRESERVE RIGHT OF CONQUER OVER WOMAN!

The dork jumps into his jeep to rush out to meet her, turns the key - but there’s no juice. Flashback of dork in the auto parts store, where a mild-mannered, friendly, clean clerk advises AC-Delco batteries that his customers swear by. Dork responds, smirking, “But all batteries are the same, aren’t they? I’ll take the generic equivalent.”

Cut back to the dork on a hilltop (apparently he was off-roading, which is always the quickest way to any airport), yelling his woman’s name futilely at the plane flying overhead. MANHOOD VANQUISHED! DAMNABLE MECHANICAL BIRD! UGH! UGH!

Still seems innocent? The ad attacks men through images of manhood. Strip away their cocksure smugness and disable their only means of asserting themselves -- their testosterone-replacing cars -- and you’re left with goofy looking morons. In essence, men can only be assured of some modicum of stature when they maintain their tight grip of control over things. When manly control is lost, all things female, all things naturally at the command of men, are lost as well.

Now that I vent my spleen, I notice that what offends in both these campaigns is their depiction of male behavior and especially fantasy life. They operate on the presumption of a norm (or operate to maintain or reaffirm a norm) of masculinity as the simple and brainless pursuit of ready-made icons of manhood. To be a man, in view of these ads, is to acquire power (beer power, automotive power, and consequently sexual power) and use it to acquire desirable things (women, inebriation). Geez, when I think in those terms, it’s no wonder I’m offended.