I Can't Be a Narcissist Because I Have No Flaws

Certain injustices are not meant to be suffered by man. For nearly three and a half decades, auto-sales kingpin Bob Rohrman has been using the airwaves to weasel his way into our homes.Rohrman’s baleful car-dealing machine has swallowed cities ranging from Chicago to Fort Wayne Indiana. Bob has a salt-and-pepper mustache, partially covering a smile, which I assume if ever seen, would turn people into stone. My vendetta against Robert Rohrman is not rooted in anything he has done to me personally, and I have no fact sheet about wrongdoings in his life. I base my entire hatred and distrust of the man purely on the reasoning that I think he is full of shit and has a secret agenda to screw over every single one of his customers. I believe he gets a certain satisfaction out of doing this, and I know this because of the feeling I get when I see his face on the TV—the mixed feeling of anxiety and embarrassment that I would imagine you would get right before a colonoscopy. His commercials are tacky, reprehensible and totally unacceptable. I find it impossible to suffer this injustice.

On the Bob Rohrman Auto Group website, one of Bob’s hired grunts wrote an “about us” section. In said section, Bob claims that he started his auto group “on the single proposition that the customer is the most important person at the dealership.” Bullshit. Bob Rohrman cares about his customers about as much as I care about Vera Wang’s new dress line, which I don’t.

Bob’s biography says that he started in a small-time, run-down used car dealership in Lafayette Indiana. But, like most tyrants, Bob’s hunger for power led him to take over a nearby dealership, subsequently leading to his acquisition of dealership after dealership, spreading his auto empire like a plague. After selling his soul to Toyota, Bob made the big-time, and was able to open many more dealerships. Because of this, he was able to afford more and more television spots, which brings me to the crux of my anger.

Some companies add a quick jingle or slogan at the end of their commercials to increase product recall. Usually I don’t mind this—I can handle having the meow mix jingle in my head during class, and I can even tolerate “yo quiero Taco Bell” when I see a Chihuahua, but Bob Rohrman’s commercial is a horse of a different color. A loud, violent, red-eyed horse of a terribly disgusting color.

It starts out innocently enough. I would be coloring in a picture of Donald Duck, or maybe assembling a Lego imperial starship, when the commercial would come on. Bob would flap his jowls about whatever new piece of shit car they started selling, and if he was feeling particularly deceitful, he would throw in a quick bit of propaganda about customer satisfaction. It was about this point, when the commercial was coming to an end, where I started to have a problem. Bob is replaced by a blank screen with the Chicago skyline drawn in the background. Then, an animation of a lion comes on the screen, driving one of Bob’s cars. At first I think, oh neat, a lion. I like lions; they are the kings of the jungle. But this thought is interrupted by the sound of this coward lion screaming “there’s only one, Bob ROOORHMAN” which can only be described as a deafening roar of pain. Upon hearing the stupid pun, my first instinct is to take the colored pencil I was just using on Donald Duck’s bill, and use it to rupture my own eardrums. Realizing that this is a poor idea, I decide instead to try to erase the commercial from my memory, as a form of self-preservation. But Bob had other ideas. Bob wanted to run his commercials during every show that I watched. He was there at four o’clock after school when I would watch Pokémon, he was there at seven when I would watch Friends with my family, and I’ll be dammed if he wasn’t there on Saturday mornings during Scooby-doo.

As I got older, Bob’s commercials got more annoying. I was over cartoons, and on to channels that had a bigger adult demographic, and Bob was there too, and in greater numbers.Bob reached a new low a few years ago, when his advertising Reich came up with a new sound byte for him. The new commercials would have a similar start, showing Bob standing in front of one of his cars. He would open his beak and squawk about one car or another, but then, just when I thought he had reached the bottom of his grab-bag of bullshit, he pulled out the whopper of a line “you owe it to yourself,” insinuating that his cars would be a treat, and that since you work so hard that you deserve to treat yourself to one of his cars, like he’s selling Toyota soft-serve. First of all, we don’t owe anything to ourselves. This idea only furthers the widespread epidemic of American greed ( plagerized from an earlier post) . And second, Bob Rorhman doesn’t give a Christmas shit how hard you work. All he cares about is grabbing the check out of your hands and stuffing it into his fat little pockets. That’s just the kind of person he is.

Ok, so I don’t actually know what Bob is like personally, but I would imagine him to be that guy that goes to parties and tells jokes that aren’t funny, and then everyone stands there uncomfortably because they don’t know how to react, and they want him to leave so they can go back to their conversation, but he keeps standing their smiling, blinded by his own undue sense of accomplishment. Again, that’s just my opinion. Of course, I would be willing to lay down the sword against Bob if he were willing to cut the crap out of his commercials. It would save him money too, because without the bullshit his commercials would probably only be about five or six seconds long.

For those who have not heard of Bob’s auto empire or seen his commercials, don’t think you are safe. Bob’s bend-the-customer-over business strategy and screw-you philosophy will lead him to your neighborhood soon. He might even buy the house next to yours, and I have it on good authority that he doesn’t trim his hedges.

Given the content of this one, I'd like everyone to suspend their disbelief and just ignore the fact that this is hypocritical. So i guess in this case I am making fun of myself a bit too.

Let me just start by asking a question. If the answer is yes, just nod your head. I know, I won’t be able to see it but we’ll go by the honor rule. If you are in high school or college, everyone you know has a Facebook. You should all be nodding. If you are a young adult in your twenties, most of the people you know have a Facebook. Still should be nodding. If you are forty or over and you have a Facebook you are an unwelcomed creep and should never have made a Facebook in the first place because you are way too old. You probably aren’t even reading this if you are over forty but hey, on the off chance you navigated to this site by mistake or your kid left this page up I’ll say this anyway: If you are over forty and have a Facebook you must delete it immediately because it is a young man’s game. Old people on Facebook are fucking weird. And speaking of weird, what is with that little hand icon that’s next to everything. You know the one you can click to say you like something. That is creepy as hell. Your friend’s second cousin updates her status saying she’s listening to Nickleback, and here you come creeping along: I like that. Click. How is she supposed to respond to that. Oh, this guy I met one time and can hardly fucking remember likes that I am listening to Nickleback. Wonderful. I just think that’s creepy. At least put forth the energy to send her a message saying you like it. How lazy are we as a people when we show our appreciation through the click of a mouse.

On a much sadder and more rhetorical note, what has happened to facebook? When facebook started, it was just your picture and the wall. It was so simple, and useful too. You could see the other person’s picture and send them a friendly greeting or message, and they would get back to you. It was new and exciting and everyone was happy. Then, the facebook creators discovered that they liked money. In fact, they liked money so much, that they sold out to advertisers, and programmers who make facebook applications, or anyone else who wanted to stick their dirty finger in the facebook pie ( In this metaphor, facebook is a sweet desert. Probably pumpkin but it doesn’t really matter). The bumper sticker was the end result of the additions. This stupid, misguided attempt at user individuality stained facebook with millions upon millions of idiotic cultural pieces of flair that people put up on their page to express themselves. They were almost always tacky and made me feel like I was in a constant state of hearing the punch-line of an awful joke.

And fuck farmville.

As bad as bumper stickers are, the worst, the absolute worst thing that ruined facebook, has been the increasing popularity of facebook statuses. It used to be that the status option was limited to a few choices—all having to do with location. Either you were at school, work, the library, a party or some other location. Its only point was to tell people where you were at any given moment. Kind of creepy, but at least it was simple. That’s my buzz word folks: simplicity. Today, people use status for information that nobody should care about. For example, I don’t need to know that your feet hurt today after wearing heels last night. I don’t care. I’ll never care. Also, I don’t want to read about how in love these guys are with their girlfriends. That sappy love stuff should not be posted online. They’re probably just happy that someone found it reasonable to date them. It’s disgusting, I hate you and your girlfriend, I hope she dumps you and fucks Tom from Myspace.