Posted by Curtis Westman on October 15, 2010
I’m a fourteen-year-old boy. I’m complex and quiet, and often, nobody knows what I’m thinking. I spend most of the day sitting alone in my room with my quill pen at the ready, expounding endlessly on the ontological paradoxes that form my generation’s philosophical milieu. I’ve written three academic papers that focus, in essence, on revolutionizing Parmenides’ classical interpretation of the nature of self and the existential disasters awaiting me in university, each published in well-respected journals. I’m a bit of a prodigy, and I hope to have the bulk of my life’s work completed by my twenty-fifth birthday, just like my hero, the influential Romantic poet John Keats.
Just kidding, I don’t care about any of that shit. I just want girls.
That’s why Axe advertisements speak to me. I’ve learned a lot from those ads. Over the years, I’ve grown up watching them and, you know, they’re really funny, when you think hard about it.
At first I didn’t really get the idea. In fact, the first time I saw an Axe commercial, I hated it. There’s a bit of a mystique to those ads, some hidden patterns and double-entendres that you can only really understand after seeing them a few times. But then, perhaps, you’re watching Keys to the VIP, a commercial break interrupts and, after one of your buddies makes a blonde joke, the nuances strike you just right and everything just falls into place. Ohhh, that one’s about sex!
And they’re so varied, too. Every new commercial ensures that the writers will one day have their place among the most prolific canonical humourists. For example, one Axe advertisement might be about attracting girls in a supermarket, but another one might be about attracting girls in a mall and still another might be about girls you’ve already attracted and how to keep them from discovering the cogs and circuitry hidden in your brain that make you a robotic duplicate of every other teenaged male in North America.
And the product line! Body wash, shampoo and body spray — all of them smell alike. It really makes covering up that I haven’t showered in five days easy. Some mornings, I roll out of bed and into a vat of all three mixed together, and you know what? On those days, even my female teachers look at me differently.
That’s why, when Axe released this year’s campaign called “The Fixers,” I was really on board. That tagline, “Scrub away the skank with Snake Peel [body wash]” has to be the cleverest thing I’ve ever read. It’s so true, too. At least, I think it is. I’m only fourteen, and casual sex, drinking heavily, and a lifetime of bitter shame and regret are a few years away. Anyway, my point is…uh…Axe rules!
Huh? What? Mutual respect and admiration? No, what’s that?
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