For instance, the Starburst Fruit Chews commercial with two guys, real "Jay and Silent Bob" types, working in a factory where there are apparently open barrels of impossibly caustic chemicals standing around; one of these two drops his Starburst into the vat, tries to grab it out with his left arm, comes away with said arm completely missing as though dissolved, tries WITH THE OTHER ARM, stands there armless, while the other starts to reach in for it. The stupid it burns. What should we think is IN Starburst?
Then there's those bizarre fruit flavored candies that horribly mutate the children who eat them, deforming their heads into giant fruit shapes, while the poor victims grin vapidly as their now-vegetable brains are only good for encouraging their as-yet-unmutated friends to take the challenge, to become the fruit monstrosities themselves.
And the horror of what Honeycomb cereal does ... originally, it was addictive, and withdrawal caused, per the commercials, a sort of hideous mutation into something not much different from a Gremlin, but more vicious. Lately, though, they seem to have reduced the levels of the mutagen, so now all it does is distort the jaw and mouth of the regular user so that they open perhaps twice the diameter of the usual cereal bowl. Presumably this allows them to unhinge and engulf the oversized cereal like a snake engulfing a chicken.
It appears that even the adult commercials for foods have been corrupted.
Tonight, I paid attention to a commercial that I usually just ignored. In an upscale restaurant, a woman is whispering fiercely at the man sitting across from her. He is avidly cutting up and eating a steak with A1 sauce on it, though our glimpse of the sauce is only intermittent. Far more interesting is her whispered demand that he explain himself, that she doesn't even KNOW him, that he will regret this, and finally a demand that he stop eating and listen to her. He finishes and wipes his lips, then leaves the table... and her husband comes back from the phone, "The babysitter says everything is fine. Did you eat my steak?"
WHAT WAS SHE DOING JUST WHISPERING?
I can assure you that after a single bite, Penny would have stuck a fork into the back of his hand, and begun shouting for the manager. I certainly wouldn't have tolerated it, and would have demanded that the manager do something about it.
A-1 sauce or not, that so transgresses the bounds of public courtesy that it's just ... GAH!
OK, I've vented.