Wednesday, December 25, 2002

Phrases that Resound, continued: Back

Phrases that Resound, continued:

Back in the late 80s in LA I watched a lot of syndicated TV on stations that carried what we might describe as ‘second tier’ commercials. Local ethnic groceries, amazing advances in the domestic sciences, auto insurance, trade schools, and the occasional oddball ad.  There was one that ran quite often that still plays over in my mind, and the recollection of it returns me too often to that time and place…

Was it “Secure Horizons?” Or something with a name that just strove to be that comforting and reassuring?  A pre-paid funeral plan, the final and most thoughtful gift you can give to a loved one (or embittered moneygrubbing survivor, it’s a matter of semantics).  It was a long commercial, maybe a full mintute, with testimonials and dramatizations, somber rooms full of dark shelves full of leather-bound books, over which key data were superimposed in canary yellow… thorough and carefully crafted, this commercial nonetheless succeeded in cheapening and trivializing the ultimate passage, that unimaginable transition between the here and now and the great beyond, that ineffable lapse of the vital spark…

In this commercial, one somewhat oily-looking fellow is earnestly testifying as to the high quality and value of the vendor’s ghastly service.  His mom or somebody died and all he had to do, it seems, was show up at the ossuary, confirm her identity, and pick up the cremains.  He smiles, nodding a little stiffly, looking 1/4 left, emoting blandly “It was a great relief.” So often now, when I experience relief, it’s his voice I hear announcing it, confirming its greatness.  I just wish he sounded a little more enthusiastic.

At another point, the narrator demonstrates how easy it is to sign up with this organization, by picking up a telephone and dialing the number flashing at the bottom of the screen.  A split screen wipes in from the right and a cheerful blonde hotty operator in a dirndl and wearing a headset - I may have confused some of these details but the basic picture is accurate - the operator speaks into the empty air of the studio as if she were answering the announcer’s questions and concerns.  He asks if she can send him literature and she cheerfully responds, “Certainly, sir!” To this day, I hear her carefree chirp of an answer, especially when someone says “Certainly” to me, and even more often when I say it to someone else.  It sounded like a Stepford wife had gotten a job hawking burial plans.  And snorting a lot of caffeine.  Assuming that works on a Stepford wife.  But it was a stunning blend of creepy and chipper.  Maybe you could call her “cripper.” But that might send the wrong impression. 

But anyway the point is that this dumb commercial still provides two critical tracks in my mental soundtrack for life.  So let’s hear it: what bizarre shred of commercial culture keeps coming back to you?