Even though you could call me just about any derogatory name in the book without causing me to blink an eye in offense, Ill fucking bite your lips off and shove em up your asshole if you ever call me a Barenaked Ladies fan. Come to think of it, I cant think of one person Ive ever met thats admitted to liking these 70s pop throwbacks, and yet they manage to sell albums faster than Crazy Ass can sell his cum to elderly gentlemen looking for young studs.
Despite my despising, I couldnt help but think of a particularly annoying tune by these Canadian fuckwads (which I wont even mention) when I was recently given one million dollars. Unfortunately, I did not get to simply pocket said moneys and get to partake in my lifetime goal of buying a pirate ship that I would use to plunder the smaller speedboats of rich assholes. No, my company gave me this money with one express purpose to get a commercial for our first major video game on the air.
Mind you, my previous television and film experience involved wearing a dress and lip synching Pac-Man Fever for short films put together by my friends in college. Regardless, I didnt back away from the project because if theres anything in life that I know, its this: with money and a phone, you can do anything.
Setting aside $950,000 to buy airtime for the commercial, I immediately set out to blow the other 50K. Since our game was based on Operation Desert Storm and the President currently has a huge boner to return to kick up the Iraqi shit his dad left behind, I figured the best approach for the commercial would be to make it like a CNN broadcast. The news reporter would open with, The U.S. has invaded Iraq. Then wed show footage from the game as if it were a war reel. Basically something to scare the hell out of any retard that doesnt know what video games look like nowadays.
My storyboard complete, I found a studio with a newsroom set (side note: I wound up at a major studio for one of Japans major networks, so I got to work with a bunch of cute little Japanese people that spoke little English and always had exotic treats for me to eat), I licensed actual war footage from CNN, booked my airtime on four cable networks, wrote a script, reserved space at a video and audio editing studio, and even did a casting call for a newscaster. It was really strange having a full day where all I did was have middle age men bring me 8x10 glossies and read lines to me. The blow jobs were fantastic, though.
Everything was going great. Then the phone calls started coming in. One network didnt want the commercial to look like CNN because they felt it would interfere with their branding. Another network demanded an intro so people would know the commercial was fake. I even had an executive from some channel call me and specifically lay out phrases and words that could not be used such as live and this just in. My own company even got involved, making me recut and reshoot over and over again.
Im no artist and Ive never really had a vision for things being in their purest form, but still, by the end of this whole process where my commercial had been recut 8 times I felt like society had held me back, that somehow the intent of my spot got left behind after being wrapped up in red tape. I didnt know there were still any rules on what you could air on TV. By the end of it, being the writer, director, and producer of a TV commercial felt hollow. In all honesty, I hate the commercial.
However, getting to see my work wedged between a Girls Gone Wild spot and a commercial for allergy medication was still pretty fucking cool. But in the end, Id have rather been able to keep the cash for myself.
