American Suicide Pact Counsel… of America

So I’ve spent my morning cleaning the bathroom and kitchen floors, doing dishes and laundry, unpacking a bit, baking homemade bread, helping old women across the street, and being a generally good and productive person. I decide to take a few minutes–just a few minutes–to watch something on TV. I’m laughing along to some comedian and thinking life is pretty damn good when the shrill violins of horror movie doom start to screech in the background. But do I hear them? Oh no. I’m too busy being oblivious to my terrible fate like every other douchebag who ever scampered scantily-clad toward their own destruction. And before I know it, tragedy strikes. I hear the first piano chords, and before I can register what horror is about to ensue and reach for the remote to change the channel, Sarah McLachlan starts wailing “Angel” at me over footage of every horrible thing humanity has ever done to a dog or cat.

SARAH McLACHLAN: “Hi, I’m Sarah McLachlan, and I enjoy destroying your hope for the future and making you cry…”

It’s too late. The dog with third-degree burns on its side reduces me to a quivering, pathetic mass on the floor. The kitty getting heartworm medication brings on the snot and tears. The one-eyed puppy makes my brain explode.

What the hell did I do to deserve this emotional torture ASPCA?! I AM A GOOD PERSON. FUCK YOU, SARAH McLACHLAN! YOU WILL BE AMONG THE FIRST TO DIE IN THE REVOLUTION.

If you need me, I’ll be drinking alone and crying in my closet.

One response to “American Suicide Pact Counsel… of America

  1. My son hates those ads too. When a message is that heart-wrenching, people would rather avoid it than do something, and I think that’s the point when an ad campaign fails. Or points out how easily manipulated we potato- crunching couch monkeys are.