Brandon’s theory of Relativity

Posted on 27. Aug, 2009 by admin in Brandon Faber

Shows you what kind of a sad society we live in when, after 18 months of delivering the world’s most astoundingly brilliant advertising column, the one that drew the most responses was written when I was as sick as Schabir Shaik. . . three days prior to his release all those glorious months ago, of course.

Suppose the fact that 3 Talk’s Noleen was the butt-end of the joke assisted somewhat . . . as did the fact that I shamelessly begged all my friends and the only woman (besides my mother) that loves me to leave some sort or a response – proving to the world that you do not need Facebook, Twitter, YouTube et al to make things happen.

Four written responses down the line I feel thoroughly vindicated.

Err. . .

No, really. I’m not convinced that social media is all it’s cracked up to be and will I, one of these fine days when the air is clear and the Vanish lady tolerable to watch, prove it’s the dog’s breakfast of marketing. . . along with a new twist on Newton’s law of universal gravitation and the true force behind Einstein’s Black Holes.

Frankly I think that Isaac and Albert were a few bytes short of a download when they hashed their so-called theories. That, and they never had the privilege of watching advertising that makes sailors celibate and politicians confess their sins to random strangers – fearing The Apocalypse is nigh.

In one highly offensive offering the (already mentioned) Pink lady of advertising misery waltzes in on a mother reading to her offspring. The family of three had just snuggled on the carpet (as one tends to do in these economic times) when, to their horror, they discover that nothing quite sucks like slumming it with Dino the dust mite and his three million friends.

“Surprised?” yells our intruder wearing a branded t-shirt and a look that says “I laugh in the face of Trellidor”. She then proceeds to attack the fearful family with a spray gun (under the guise of assistance) and then takes all the glory for the senseless massacre of Dino and his comrades. . .
Bloody colonialism, it never ends.

In another winning assault on our sanity, a proud manufacturer of toilet paper (and other paraphernalia) drags the very best clichés out of the cupboard by introducing a Golden Retriever puppy and a kid to our Prime Time viewing.

That puppy must be pretty gatvol by the way. Talk about typecast – poor bugger. I bet he just wants to grow up and get on with it – but no – a kid he shall remain, shoving things with his nose.

Anyway.

The tiny tot seeks high and low for the soft toy she usually smothers with love at sleeping time. Alas, little Johnny next door torched it in an alarming display of first-stage “schizophrenia”, so the puppy has to find a replacement in a hurry, otherwise our angel may never get a visit from the M-Net sandman.

As luck would have it he finds a suitable substitute Barney in the form of a super soft, cuddly white toilet roll. Mom’s precious darling happily snuggles up to the loo paper and jets off to dreamland on a cloud of mediocrity.

Now, if Einstein saw this nonsense he would have theorised that Black Holes have nothing to do with celestial mystery and more to do with commercial misery . . . and Sir Isaac Newton would have deduced that the attraction between two bodies of mass are conclusively proven by the back-to-back broadcast of undeniably kak advertisements.

It’s all relative, don’t you think?

Read more about the author: Brandon Faber