Dames and Dandies
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Commercials, They're Grrrrreat!
~ by serious world humourist, Harry B. Sanderford
I was watching the tube recently and when I watch TV I like to watch the hell out of it, the remote is key to my viewing pleasure. I don't watch commercials as a rule. This is ordinarily my prompt to move along so it is mildly ironic when my interest is caught by one of those deals where the whole point of the show is to count down a list of TV's most memorable commercials. It's really only pompous indulgence on my part because I'm only hanging on to verify my prediction that the old commercial where Mean Joe Green scores some Coke from a kid and then tosses him his filthy sweat-soaked jersey will win out. It does of course and I revel in my astute ability to predict cliched predictability. For my money though, the best commercial of all time is that one with Mr. Whipple sitting on the crapper noisily grinding out some grundlers and since he has nothing to read he's left with just his thoughts and the camera moves to the little thought bubble over his head where a gore muzzled Tony the Tiger is plop-plopping Alka Seltzers into a glass of water with the freshly mauled carcass of Captain Crunch visibly oozing entrails dotted with pink hearts, yellow moons, orange stars and green clovers in the background. Not sure just what they were selling there.
(c) Harry B Sanderford . . . 2009
Harry B Sanderford doesn't like talking about himself in the third-person, so I'll speak up right mightily here for a writer of not pomp but always circumstance. You can take a glance or chance reading what this guy puts out and you'll never gamble up empty. He's thaaaaat good. Why, he even collaborates with some of the finest dames the Harbinger*33 has aboard ... that's Ms Sugar, Madame Z for Zelda AND Gypzee and humbly, but with hoopla, enjoyably, inspiringly and wittily with me. Some great stuff of his stuff can be found for all of posterity in his prolific posterous postings @ http://harrybsanderford.posterous.com/
To me, aboard the Harbinger*33, Harry is a sound sounding-board and a friend to no end. His words ring out whether in his well writ wit or his cheer just because a fellow sailing mate happens to be roamin' about the decks, ponderin' the position of the stars. Why, I bet Pamila Payne gets rich indeed from the urging of his encouraging to accept money for her Bella Vista sensation scene.
Topsail thanks to you Harry pal . . . with always a wish that Mean Joe Green gets the just rewards he shares and the Steel Curtain predictably rises again (no cliche). Honoured we all are that your jaunty talents are aboard Harbinger*33, sailing to its publishing journey of manifesting destinies.
~ Laughter ever after, with FairWinds, Favourable Seas
~ Absolutely*Kate and readers to remember your voice all the more