V.I.Poo


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Lavender Superstar, Lemon Idol, Rosy Starlet and Fruity Pin-Up promise to “keep nasty smells under wraps”. Fear not vacant fembots, choose one to V.I.Poo like a V.I.P. That’s right, V.I.Poo. The commercial opens with an exterior widescreen view, cameras flash, the marque reads Magic Wanda. Cut to Wanda-

“Even Hollywood’s latest sweetheart needs to punish the porcelain occasionally, to avoid embarrassment I give every bathroom the V.I.Poo treatment. Spray generously before taking a seat and V.I.Poo forms a protective layer trapping the icky smells of your devils doughnuts. So, no red face in front of your boss, Hollywood’s hottest director. Even a VIP needs to V.I.Poo  ”

WTF? Punish the porcelain, devil’s doughnuts? Magic Wanda? Wanda?

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Clearly Wanda is not a modern woman, so why is her Hollywood bathroom unisex? Why is Hollywood’s hottest director portrayed as a greasy caricature of Harvey Weinstein? Are men entitled to punish the porcelain with impunity, mark their territory with odorous devil’s doughnuts to show who’s boss? Why starlet, pin-up scent designations? Is Wanda supposed to be a porn star? Film star? Barbie Doll? Did V.I.Poo miss the memo on #MeToo? Is this supposed to be funny? Relevant?

On the off chance Air Wick set out to create a viral revenue generating video they failed miserably. I’m being generous, V.I.Poo marketing strategy banks on antiquated stereotypes, the duty of women to politely fart, burp and poop in the shadow of a man’s world. Shame on any woman fool enough to tuck V.I.Poo in her handbag.

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Ancestry DNA


Ponder Ancestry DNA courtesy a new TV ad. Who knew 30 seconds of advertising could make me this grumpy. The clip opens with a man glancing over a tall fence at his new neighbor. They exchange awkward silence, the man fumbles with his phone, then forces a weak hello. New neighbor responds in kind with a distinct Irish accent. The man looks away – no welcome to the neighborhood, polite introduction or attempt at pleasantries – without another word he looks down at his phone. Seems unfriendly tongue tied man is viewing Ancestry DNA, results indicate he is part Irish. Inhospitable man evaporates, a voice over gushes praise for Ancestry DNA breaking barriers, bringing people together and proving we have more in common than we think. We see the man beaming animated chatter with Irish neighbor, Ancestry DNA saves the day.

Did I mention both men are white? Two white men who couldn’t look each other in the eye until DNA revealed a smidgen of shared ancestry. WTF! If this isn’t messed up I don’t know what is.

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Enough Gwyneth!


Oh Gwyneth Paltrow – why you so crazy? Did you look in the mirror one morning and see a dreadful actress? Was that the reality behind your decision to become a lifestyle and wellness guru? A thousand years from now will students eager to grasp intricacies of the downfall of western civilization line classrooms for lectures on Goop? Why Goop? You do know it means “sloppy or sticky semifluid matter, typically something unpleasant”. What were you smoking in 2008 when – “it is a nickname, like my name is G.P., so that is really where it came from. And I wanted it to be a word that means nothing and could mean anything” justified Goop as a lifestyle brand?

Gwyneth’s tepid celebrity might well have launched a successful lifestyle following based on responsible health, fitness, yoga, exercise, meditation (despite Goop branding ) without yanking the crazy chain, but Gwyneth is crazy and crazy loves company. Ad Age put 2016 Goop brand revenue somewhere between $15 and $20 million.

Ponder some Goop, a schizophrenic brand hawking everything from perfume and $400 blouses, to pricey skincare, cookbooks and home detox kits.

https://shop.goop.com/shop?utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=&utm_term=gwyneth%20paltrow%20goop&utm_content=&gclid=EAIaIQobChMI9e6XjOPM2AIVFpd-Ch0X6A8OEAAYASAAEgKuQfD_BwE

At first glance, just another high priced lifestyle site, right? Wrong! So wrong, and oh so crazy. Lets visit the “Implant O’Rama”, a “at-home coffee enema,” which claims to relieve people from “depression, confusion, general nervous tension, many allergy related symptoms and, most importantly, relief from severe pain,” – yours at Goop for $135.

https://www.livescience.com/61355-pseudoscience-goop-coffee-enema.html

Medically speaking, colonic detox is a really bad idea. Only crazy would peddle coffee up the ass as a cure for depression or chronic pain. Gwyneth isn’t bothered by truth or responsible lifestyle advice, Goop doesn’t just thrive, it banks on crazy. Goop lunacy urges women to steam their vaginas at a Korean spa in Santa Monica courtesy Mugworth V-Steam: “You sit on what is essentially a mini-throne, and a combination of infrared and mugwort steam cleanses your uterus, et al. It is an energetic release—not just a steam douche—that balances female hormone levels. If you’re in LA, you have to do it.” ( Goop lifestyle travel advice )

Goop crazy Gwyneth is hung up on vaginal wellness. Lifestyle guru Paltrow wants us to stuff jade eggs between our legs.

https://goop.com/wellness/sexual-health/better-sex-jade-eggs-for-your-yoni/?irgwc=1&utm_campaign=10079_OnlineTrackingLink&utm_source=impactradius&utm_medium=affiliate

Another really bad idea according to medical experts who point out the danger of bacterial infection and toxic shock syndrome. Crazy doesn’t care – on the promise of “help cultivate sexual energy, increase orgasm, balance the cycle, stimulate vaginal wall, prevent uterine prolapse, develop and clear chi pathways in the body, intensify feminine energy and invigorate our life force” – Goop sold out of jade vagina eggs at $65 USD. Crazy demands a peek at the link above – a hysterical Q&A debacle covering everything from Chinese concubines using jade eggs to stay perky for the Emperor, to “recharging” your egg in moonlight if it seems sluggish. WTF?

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Smarten up people – say enough Gwyneth by shaming coffee enemas, vaginal steaming and jade vagina eggs recharged in moonlight.

Life Coach


On the cusp of a new year, seasonal anomalies of obligatory resolution find me pondering “life coaches”. To be fair, life coaching has nothing and everything to do with seasonal aversion to empty personal promises. I’m all for personal reflection, but once a year because it’s expected is a tad tiresome. Proliferation of life coaching adds insult to injury. I personally know 3 people who peg their futures on successful life coaching endeavors. Each one a university graduate professing unique insight into the plight of millennials.

Words “life doesn’t come with a manual” form the thesis of this baby boomer’s approach to life. Seasonal resolutions however well intentioned or inane, always stemmed from personal reflection. Enter life coaching, a booming profession defined as –

“Life Coaching is a profession that is profoundly different from consulting, mentoring, advice, therapy, or counseling. The coaching process addresses specific personal projects, business successes, general conditions and transitions in the client’s personal life, relationships or profession by examining what is going on right now, discovering what your obstacles or challenges might be, and choosing a course of action to make your life be what you want it to be.”

Holy crap! If I know of three life coaches, how many more serve as millennial oracles? Am I alone in fearing for a generation of life coached dreamers whose seasonal resolutions stem from coached life plans rather than intrinsic motivation?

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18 Minutes


Today my world wears a badge embossed with “18 minutes”, a private honour reserved for individuals who share my profession. 18 minutes is the stuff of legend, an accomplishment of mythic proportion meaningless to all but a team of elite lunatics brave enough to prove it can be done.

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So why does 18 minutes have me beaming with pride? Last night with two teams of five servers we served 180 guests the main course of a plated dinner in 18 minutes. I’m talking flawless execution, no screw-ups or dead plates returned to the kitchen for “they ordered beef not salmon”. It was 18 minutes of perfection, feathers in the cap of our existence, testament to the power of professional satisfaction. If there were a catering Olympics, my team would be standing on a podium collecting a gold medal. 18 minutes is why I get out of bed in the morning.