As far as I'm concerned, infomercials and the devices they sell have gotten the bum's rap for too long. Long on form and lacking in function, the products they offer and the blatant consumerism for which they stand are far more than simple outlets for those with excess cash on-hand. The Foreman Grill, the Clapper and everything that's ever sprung from the mind of Ron Popeil symbolize all that's right in America today. For after all, when a society finally concerns itself with creating devices to juice a potato or shut off appliances from across a room, life can't be that bad.
While I could wax eloquent about the global significance of these products "as seen on TV," (for example, how the Veg-o-matic ended the Cold War) I don't want to stray too far from my point. That is, it's high time we start to appreciate how valuable infomercials and the wares they peddle are to our everyday lives.
Infomercials invented at-home shopping, after all. Before that pesky World Wide Web went and hyperinflated the economy from here to Siam, only those hordes of hair-dyed, teeth-bleached, smiley-faced spokespeople could offer you the convenience of buying goods to your heart's content from the warmth of your favorite recliner.
God bless those fake bastards. If not for them, where would we get our Garden Devils?
That innovative plant care device brings me to my second point. These damned things are incredibly useful. It's true! While the sales pitches are silly, the tools they sell aren't. Some can, in fact, change your life.
Take, for example, the famed George Foreman Grill. This thing is insane. This modestly priced, rather diminutive machine packs some serious cooking power. I still remember the day my suitemate sophomore year bought one. I had gone most of my first two years at Hopkins without any appliances and so was forced to rely on the dining halls' offerings. I thought (naively) that I wouldn't notice the different. That first night with the Foreman Grill proved me so very wrong. Being wrong never quite tasted so good before.
The grill does wonders for beef but I seem to recall it was especially magical with chicken breasts. Throw a little Mrs. Dash on the breasts before you cook 'em and life is suddenly tons better.
My one grip: what is up with that fat receptacle? You know what I'm talking about. The makers of this fine grilling tool took the time to conceive a cup which would collect all of the greasy spillings from the cooked meats. It is officially the grossest thing I've ever seen.
Well, second grossest. I once saw someone who actually poured the fat back on the meat while cooking it. I then proceeded to lose my lunch, quickly followed by breakfast and the previous night's dinner.
Someone just suggested to me that you might use the collected drippings to make a bar of soap. That's pretty friggin' gross too. Then again, I bet the bits of carbonized beef would make great exfoliates.
One thing even the Reds have to concede is that these infomercials not only provide access to useful products but hours of marvelously campy entertainment. My favorite example is one half-hour segment popularized late in the last decade that featured the "miraculous Sobukawa pillow." The most overly hyped Japanese import since Pachinko machines, the Sobukawa was touted as a cure for migraines, backaches, stomach aches, and snoring. Rumor had it the follow-up version would clear up acne and reduce gout.
But that wasn't the best part. You see, the fellow trying to convince America that they needed to buy this life-changing pillow was easily the most stereotypical Japanese man I've ever seen on television. Perhaps only those ridiculous ads for Benihana restaurant ("Come see fo' yo'self!") compare. He kept yelling something about buckwheat husks (whatever the hell those are) and tossing barbells on the pillow to prove their softness.
Attempting to display the high-tech innards of the pillow, he chopped one in half with a samurai sword. Honestly now, wouldn't a Ginsu knife have sufficed?
Almost as good: those absurd infomercials disguised as talk shows. Their names always have a grandiose ring to them. "Amazing Discoveries" and "The World's Greatest Inventions" are my favorites. That crazy British guy in the bow tie is my hero. Anyone who can take a power sander to a Ferrari has balls of steel, as far as I am concerned.
In those awkward hours after midnight on weekdays and on Saturday afternoons when nothing good was on the television, you could always count on those two wacky foreigners and their similarly caricatured friends for at least a few laughs.
It's hard for me to picture where we'd be without these cultural institutions. A few dollars richer, maybe. A few attics less cluttered, sure. But it's a small price to pay.
After all, what would I do without my Nordic Track?
Please note All comments are eligible for publication in The News-Letter.