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| "And if you act now, you'll get twice the amount of shouting for your grouting FREE! That's two times the number of decibels per ear than you'll find in stores!" |
I was having the morning java and checking email messages when a sound in the background caught my attention.
It was an infomercial ad with a loud, gravelly-familiar voice that I knew Simply. Could. Not. Be.
Billy Mays?! But Mr. Mays has passed, leaving a void in the all-important Product Demonstration and Shouting niche market.
Sure, an Australian guy had tried for a while to sell us super-mops and shammies and made us aware of the deep, infiltrating inadequacy and safety issues of our dirty car headlight covers. But that guy didn't really know us, did he? He didn't really understand that we are unmotivated to remove pet stains on our carpet for a low price of $19.95 and even doubling our order if we act now, when the benefits are told to us in a bright Aussie accent.
No, we need a good old-fashioned American Man to shout at us with all the zeal of that uncle who dines on meat for breakfast, lunch, dinner and dessert. One who hugs all the kids in the family just a BIT too hard causing the occasional rib fracture, but only because it's done with love.
So when I looked up from my email, I was unsure what I would see. Had Billy Mays been cryogenically sealed in a vacuum-protected food preservation device that makes tomatoes and other produce last twice as long, just pay shipping and handling, and now he had returned to us?
Why no! This was a new Purveyor of Products. A fresh new face in As Seen On TV treasures!
Marc Gill is his name, he tells us, and while his head may be shinier than that of his predecessor, his style is eerily similar. Yes, Marc has come to save us from the Australians, from the ShamWow scandals, from not having tile grout that glows as brightly as Tom Cruise's teeth.
I realized then how great our loss had been. It had been at least a year since I had been shouted at regarding pipe drains and dirty sinks and whites that could be so much whiter. I had not been informed at great volumes how my clothes could all fit into a Ziploc sandwich bag to save more space.
But now, we have Marc Gill to fill the empty spaces that only jolly ear-bleeding vocal projection can soothe.
I sunk back into my chair, a sense of renewed peace washing over me, and looked at my coffee mug. Why, this mug wasn't travel-safe and impact resistant, able to take the force of a two-ton car running over it or a herd of water buffalo...
