Shopping from home should have been a revolution. Imagine, a world in which everything is at your fingertips. You can pick up your space phone and have moon nuggets instantly telegrammed to your bubble house in the clouds. Then you jetpack to Jupiter to have sex with an octopus lady. What an age we live in. This would have been 1967 or so.
Today we can shop online, shop on TV and shop in the air thanks to Skymall. And 95% of all the things we can buy are terribly, horribly useless. Shopping at home has evolved into a squalid pit of despair for people with more money than brains. As Seen on TV is synonymous with As Seen In a Dimwit’s House. Infomercials are made either for laughs or as a way to weed out people who can’t be trusted with credit.
Can you buy some useful stuff from your own home? Sure, I got myself a sweet pair of shoes last year that have a hidden compartment in the sole for, you know, stuff. But man, lots of home shopping is just straight up crap that not only lacks purpose, you should be ashamed just to have bought it.
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This is a ballsy 14 minute infomercial that is so pumped full of bullshit you may lose sight of the fact that this is dollar store stick-on rhinestones for your vagina that come with deodorant powder and flavored lip balm. For 14 minutes this commercial will try to convince you (you being a woman who has suffered brain trauma) that if you don’t stink and have shiny labia that your can never even hope to be as confident as these busty and somewhat underdressed infomercial ladies, nevermind that all the women in the commercial are kind of skanky, hot model types who probably are pretty confident in their ability to cause boners with or without a rhinestone hummingbird perched on the crack of their asses.
To further lure you in, the commercial lets you know the stickers are made with “Swarovski elements.” Just to clarify, Swarovski crystals are glass, cut pieces of glass. Swarovski elements are probably the little bits of glass leftover from cutting the bigger ones. There is nothing fancy about this and even if there was, the moment you glues them to your butt, they lost some luster.
The powder and the weird flavor stick have literally no purpose whatsoever in conjunction with the sparkly stones you’re meant to glue to your junk, but someone at the office probably felt that mailing out a package of stickers didn’t merit the terrible mark up so they bought stock in a Chinese beauty supply company and made it a package deal. If you can sit through the whole commercial congratulation, you may be the first person ever.
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Have you ever heard a woman ask you if her ass wasn’t fat enough? No woman has ever asked that. If she does ever ask that, you fake a seizure because that shit’s not just a trap, it’s a full on assault with you as the intended target. Despite this, the Booty Bop exists as a way for women to embiggen their heinies without being born Kardashians or opting for one of those back alley ass-fattenings that we hear about on the news.
To what end would a woman want a fatter ass? Well, let’s be honest, there’s some appeal to a robust booty, it’s the only reason you know who Jennifer Lopez is, but a fake ass? Who benefits from that? If you’re trying to impress anyone with a fake ass, they’re going to be sorely disappointed when they realize peel off your trousers and come face to face with the boney flapjack you call a butt.
Instant Arm Lift
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For a small but depressed percentage of Americans, having a waddling flap of arm flesh that jiggles below their arm like a limp sack of pudding nailed to a bridge in a storm is a serious problem. How is one to fix this problem? If you answered by working out and toning muscle tissue, ha ha ha! You are adorable. No, the answer is apparently the miracle known as Instant Arm Lift.
With no prior knowledge, what would you guess is the easiest and arguably most stupid way to eliminate a flappy underarm? If you guessed duct taping your flab to the back of your arm, you would be correct. This product is literally just tape. Tape that costs $20. Tape that holds arm flab out of the way.
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Men may not be aware of this, but it turns out boobs are just horrible. Terrible, horrible things. And sleeping with them is like sleeping with a honey badger. Danger lurks around every corner and you may not even survive until morning. Plus who knows what your boobs are up to, all flap jacking around left and right like Kevin Bacon in Footloose. Thankfully, to prevent and overcome this crap, the Kush was invented. It’s a plastic tube you jam in your cleavage. At this point you’re likely wondering what the next sentence is, but that’s pretty much it. The idea is that, once you go horizontal, boobs become beastly, ungainly monstrosities that will cause nipple wrinkles and maybe crush your lungs if you don’t spread the floppity buggers apart with what amounts to a padded toilet paper roll.
The Fridge Locker
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We live in a world full of assholes right now. Nowhere is this more apparent than in an office with a communal fridge. You go to work, you put your lunch that you made with care and an eye towards being both healthy and fulfilling in the fridge, noon rolls around and bam – some shitbird stole your goddamn lunch. It happens in offices all across the country; some unseemly dick face picks through other peoples’ food and takes whatever they like. These people are almost never caught and retribution is hard to come by. What’s a person to do? If informercials are to be believed, the answer is the Fridge Locker.
The idea is basically to lock your lunch in a tiny cage, preventing the sticky fingers of your coworkers getting to it. The reality is that this shit shack made from 10 cents worth of plastic couldn’t keep a toddler out as the bear in the commercial didn’t try to break the lock like everyone who gave this thing a one-star review on Amazon, but it’s nice to show off your terrible paranoia in such a visible way, rather than just setting up a webcam in the office to catch the dirt thief red handed.
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Here’s a problem, you like to golf but you have a wee, unreliable bladder. What to do? The Uro Club affords you the ability to head out onto the links and still pee whenever and wherever you like because it’s a hollow golf club you piss in. And then cart around with the rest of your clubs all day until you can find the time to dump it in a toilet and thoroughly clean it out, which probably requires a shower stall somewhere.
Now you may be thinking, if I have enough privacy to piss inside a golf club, can’t I just piss on the ground and if that is what you’re thinking, you are not the target market for this pointless, awful, pissy invention.
The Perfect Fit Button
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Say, has obesity got you down? Can’t do up your pants without shooting the button like a deadly projectile across the room? Need to be rolled through doorways? The Perfect Ft button is here to make you look so much less fat!
Just kidding, you’ll still be wearing pants you’re too fat for but now, through the miracle of a moveable button, you can ignore your factory installed button and move this temporary one closer to the edge of the material so you can still pretend your waist isn’t a mockery of your love of ham. As an added bonus, the button actually says “Perfect Fit Button” on it, so anyone who is observant enough will see your secret shame.
The Tiddy Bear
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One of the worst named products in As Seen on TV history, you can’t even figure out what this things does by looking at it and, combined with the name, will make you think this is legitimately just a bear that hugs boobs.
The real purpose of this product is to alleviate the modern scourge of tight seatbelt shoulder straps. You know how they slice you up like a guillotine, right? No? Well, imagine if that’s what happened. Putting this preposterous bear on your strap, instead of saying literally anything from a sock to a hand cloth to a towel, is the key to making driving your car something less than a nightmare.
Now that you know what it does, enjoy the informercial in which the bear constantly touches boobs.
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You will never see a worse product than this one advertised anywhere. Not Wal Mart, not Skymall, not even a back alley in Thailand. No one sells a worse piece of shit than this. The guy who invented this should have to wear a sign in public so that people can point and mock him for his crimes against good sense.
The comfort wipe is basically a reaching stick for ass wiping. You put toilet paper in one end and wipe your ass. I don’t even have enough room in this column to break down all the ways I don’t understand why this exists. Are you too fat to wipe your ass? Too insane? Is your poop highly acidic or in some way sentient and you fear it will consume you like the Venom symbiote from Spiderman if your hand gets too close? Do other people have issues reaching their own asses? Is ass wiping actually a difficult process for a group of people in the world that the rest of us don’t know about? Has no on heard of a bidet?
The informercial basically suggests one of the following scenarios for why you’d use this – you’re too enfeebled by age or illness to wipe yourself, you’re too fat, or you have a serious pathological aversion to poo fingers which, if you actually know how to wipe your ass, should never be an issue anyway. Never does the informercial explain how a plastic stick with a weak grip on a wad of paper makes this better. If you’re too fragile to wipe your ass manually, how can you hope to have the manual dexterity to get the job done properly with a stick? And assuming you need to go back for round two, won’t the stick now be covered in ass residue making the argument against not wanting to have contact with dirty paper now invalid?
I don’t even want to get into the logistics of how this fails a person who finds themselves too large to wipe traditionally. But if you think about it for a while, think about small sticks in large places, you may figure out the flaw here as well.