Infomercials and a Penis Pump Approved by Medicare

For me, Infomercials are a love/hate relationship. Often they sneak up on me when I’m rocked back in a barcalounger in some sort of late night trance, one hand on my crotch, the other on a tepid beer. Seventeen minutes will pass by until I snap out of my hypnosis and think, “What the fuck am I watching?”

I’ve seen Chuck Norris pump his carrot-hued mullet up and down the TotalGym so many times that I think I’ve actually gained muscle definition. I’ve sat through so many Real Estate infomercials that I could open a school tomorrow, scamming insomniacs across the country into buying no-money-down investment strategy programs. On the technical side, I now have the knowledge to fully automate a kitchen with salad shooters, blenders, mixers, slicers, dicers, rotisseries, penny chopping knives, fat melting grills, and loaf launching bread makers. By pushing fifteen buttons I could put Mario Batalli out of a job.

Sometimes though, the infomercials offer some good, campy fun and I have to give credit where it’s due. Watching testimonials from male septuagenarians cured of erectile dysfunction by some ancient herbal remedy from Malaysia or some new fangled device ranks up there among the best. And that’s precisely why I didn’t change the channel when an infomercial for Pos-T-Vac came on the TV.

The Pos-T-Vac is touted as a non-surgical, non-medicinal treatment for erectile dysfunction. In fact, they have created a product that treats ED through a process of vacuum therapy. Okay, as the fact behind that statement sinks in, I’ll cut to the chase. The truth is, the Pos-T-Vac is a penis pump. That mid-life crisis novelty product of the eighties has finally made a comeback through clever re-marketing as a therapeutic tool for sagging, wrinkled, and flaccid phalluses.

Basically, you stick your wang in a clear plastic tube and by way of suction, blood starts flowing to your man parts. Think of it like a cock kick-starter. Or better yet, a dick-starter. I just copywrited that, so I better not see any Dick-Starters on the market this coming year. Seriously, I’ll hunt you down and beat you to death with with a cock-shaped mallet. Anyway, back to the point. Once your man-meat is full with blood and hard enough to dent steel, you put a ring around the base of your penis so the blood doesn’t slip out like air leaking from a deflating balloon. What comes next is up to the customer, whether it be chasing granny fanny in a power scooter or simply staring in amazement at the paradoxically virile monument standing proud between your legs.

What’s possibly most perplexing about this penis pump is that it’s covered by Medicare. Through research I found that hearing aids, most prescription drugs, and eye examinations, however, are not covered. So it doesn’t matter that the old man driving in front of me can’t see and can’t hear and is probably suffering from some other untreated malady, as long as he has the equivalent of a Reebok Pump for his dong, all is good. I find this to be a mix-up in priorities. But seeing what the Congressional record is on extracurricular boning activities, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.

Don’t get me wrong though, I think if people had more sex we’d be a happier nation. I’m just not sure that we’re prepared for the backlash of vacuum therapy. What backlash? The one where grey-haired men across the country begin volunteering to take over domestic responsibilities, saying to their wives with a wry grin and a twinkle in their eye, “Honey, I think it’s time we upgraded to a Dyson, don’t ya think? You know that they never lose suction.”

Airborne Lawsuit – Dietary Supplements for Dummies

Well it turns out that PT Barnum was right, a sucker is born every minute. That “miracle cold buster” Airborne has finally been proven a fraud and taken to task with a class action lawsuit that has resulted in a $23.3M settlement. Turns out you can’t make those kind of claims without accurate and extensive clinical data. (Unfortunately that also means I must remove the title of world’s greatest lover from my resume, though I will be citing any and all anecdotal evidence to my favor. Er, if I ever get any. Not to say that I don’t “get any”. I do. Seriously.)

Anyway, back to the point. I can’t say that this news regarding Airborne comes as a surprise. From the first moment I saw this product I have been extremely skeptical that a cure for the common cold had been found. Especially since the product is, as the box so enthusiastically states, “Created by a school teacher!” Now call me a cynic, but somehow I don’t find this pedigree trustworthy. Creator Victoria Knight-McDowell is, in fact, a second grade teacher. No, not a biochemistry professor, nor doctor slash lecturer. Now I’m sure that between finger paintings and teaching the fundamentals of cursive writing there is lots of time for innovative thinking, but I find it difficult to believe that she was able to create a cure for something that has stumped pharmaceutical scientists and viral disease transmission experts.

Now in case anyone does not know, an education in, well, education, does not exactly qualify someone to create a drug or “dietary supplement” (aka: bullshit drug) as it is referred to on the box. This should be a red flag to the scrutinizing eye. Those credentials make it obvious that Airborne is no more likely to prevent you from catching a cold than that packet Spanish Fly next to the cash register at your local 7-11 is likely to make your dick hard.

But in the defense of Spanish Fly, at least it doesn’t claim success in clinical trials. See, Spanish Fly accepts its role as a goofy placebo. Airborne instead made an effort to appear legit through clinical testing. This is great in theory, but unfortunately someone didn’t tell Mrs. Knight-McDowell’s R&D team that clinical trials require an actual clinic and real scientists. Not two underpaid flunkies in a back room.

I can see the trial team now. Two guys, slamming back fizzing cups of Airborne like Alka-Seltzer after a heavy night of drinking, then running in and out of a 10 degree meat locker with nothing on but a wife-beater saying to each other, “You feel sick yet?” “Um, no. You?” “I don’t think so.” “Are we done?” “Yeah, sure. I bet we can still make happy hour O’Reilly’s.” “Cool, lets jam.”

With an ingredient list that reads like a multivitamin, Airborne should have been obvious as a scam. And guess what? Airborne was determined to be, basically, a highly overpriced multivitamin. There’s even 1,667% of your daily allowance of Vitamin C in there. It’s amazing how many people still believe in Vitamin C is a cold blocker, even though this belief was debunked by scientists a few years ago. Airborne claims that it “busts colds”, when in reality it’s as effective as practicing safe sex with a condom on your head. Now save that image, because buying Airborne will make you look just as stupid.

Unfortunately, this does not change the fact that Airborne is on track to bring in around $1 Billion in revenue this year. Perhaps that is the largest source of inspiration for this rant. I am awestruck by the audacity of dietary supplement companies’ claims and their innate ability to take advantage of gullible consumers, always on the search for miracle cures. Believe me, if a real miracle cure for our ailments came out, it sure as hell wouldn’t be over-the-counter. And they’d be displaying the data openly and enthusiastically.

I guess my other source of inspiration is my jealousy over the copious amounts of money made by Airborne. That said, I am officially making my foray into the miracle “dietary supplement” category with my new product, the Magic Bullet ™. I am very proud of this new item and I am confident that you’ll love it too. In my opinion, why take multiple pills when you can get every miracle you ever wanted in just one easy to swallow tablet. During clinical trials performed by my 7th grade science-lab partners Barry and Terry Liebowitz, both straight A students I might add, the Magic Bullet ™ has proven to remove stubborn belly fat, reduce wrinkles and other signs of aging, make your dick bigger, make your tits bigger (don’t worry it’s a smart pill, it’ll know which you want), help increase your intelligence, and of course, prevent the common cold. The main ingredient is found in the root of a rare Chinese plant called Ha Ha Ga Cha and the chemical extract, which we synthesize into the Magic Bullet ™, is called inyerfukindreemzadextrine.

And if you believe that, then operators are standing by.

Mucinex commercials make me want to buy…Pepto.

Nostril HobbitsPicture this: You’ve just sat down down to a lovely meal of pork tenderloin covered in a fabulous mango chutney. Pop goes the cork on a bottle of Pinot Gris and you fill your glass a third of the way, swirl, and sip. Perfection. Then you grab the remote and turn on the TV. It’s 20/20 and you feel like a very informed citizen as you prepare to learn about Chinese oppression in Tibet. After the first segment, the commercials roll in. Then there, on the screen, is a giant, gelatinous blob of green. No, you have not sneezed on your television set. You notice the blob is wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt stretched to the limits. He is watching TV in a little circular living room. Then the camera zooms out and shows someone blowing their nose and you realize the blob is a snot goblin that is living inside your nostril, and his name is Mr. Mucus. You then proceed to wiggle around a particularly gooey chunk of the mango chutney on your tongue with a nauseous sensation growing in your belly and spit it out in your napkin.

What the crap?! Is this really necessary? Do we really have to personify illnesses now in order to sell drugs? And I thought the rapidly read drug side-effect list – which sounds like it was developed for an SNL sketch – was bad.

This Musinex booger boy is just part of a disturbing trend though. First it was Digger, the “dermatophyte” who told you he lived beneath your nails and who after introducing himself proceeded to spin into a whirling dervish and burying himself into your flesh. Now don’t you want some Lamisil – now that you know you have a colony of creepy little creatures partying underneath your nails? Honestly, what’s next. Are we going to be looking forward to the following commercial characters one day?!

Preperation H – Meet Harry Hanger and the rest of his red-headed family of ornery hemorrhoids.

Pro-activ – Say hello to Poppy Whitehead, the curmudgeonly blind zit that lives under the skin of your pockmarked chin.

Exlax – Introduces Pluggy, the quirky five-pound colon blocking turd.

I’m sure a marketing team could come up with scores more. I just don’t want to hear it. This shit gives me nightmares, like when I watched a Discovery Channel special on exotic parasites and learned a fish could swim into your penis and live there if you go wee wee in the Amazon (now that’s what I call cock blocking). I have enough trouble worrying about contracting some disease crapping on a public toilet. I don’t need to imagine illnesses as little creatures getting ready to invade my body. Besides, for me on a advertising level their ads aren’t working. You make me nauseous and I’m not going to be looking for the Mucinex. “Pass the Pepto, please!”