Dear Big Pharma,
We would like to start by saying that we appreciate the effort you have expended to improve the lives of humanity. We acknowledge the fantastic contributions you have made to the health of people world-wide. We wish you continued success as you seek to conquer the diseases that endanger us.
But we need to talk. You see, every time we turn around we are seeing "male performance" ads, and frankly, we're sick of them. Setting aside the rather uncomfortable subject, these ads are just plain stupid. Sitting in matching bathtubs while watching the sunset? A NASCAR car flying around a race track? Getting frisky while doing the laundry?
And if the ads weren't bad enough, the accompanying warnings are making us nauseous. We're had it up to here with commercials warning us about blurry vision, dangerous increases in blood pressure, and the need to ask our doctor if we're healthy enough for sex. Like, what's he going to say? "No, Trevor, you better just make do with gardening?"
But the topper, the one that makes us want to run screaming into the street, is the instruction that we should call the aforementioned doctor if our, ahem, condition lasts for more than four hours. Here's a hint, Big Pharma. We ain't callin' no doctor to report that "the moment has been right" for half the night. Aside from the fact we'd die from embarrassment before we'd die from the diagnosis, we're scared to death of what the doctor might actually do to relieve our problem. How the hell do you fix it? Pics of Margaret Thatcher? Ice packs? Chain saws?
So stop it already. What's wrong with advertising a nice skin cream or something? We're tired of squirming in our seats every time we see a bathtub.
The Entire Frigging Planet