For Bored People and Company Executives

I just saw a commercial for the new Gatorade flavor. It started with a basketball in the middle of an open concrete basketball court. Rain was coming down. Suddenly birthed from the basketball was a very large black man. He stretched and guzzled down the new Gatorade flavor. Granted the new birth symbolism equating to the new flavor was overtly obvious, the name of the flavor was what caught me by surprise. The new flavor was "Rain." What the hell it that.

Rain is not a flavor. Rain is something you hide from, something that prevents yard work. Rain is children playing, sleeping late, and renewed cleanliness. It's not something that invokes feelings of thirst quenching joy. I don't look forward to tall glass of rain water after I work out. It provoked a feeling, as I am sure the commercial wanted, but I don't know if they hit the mark with that one.

More and more you are starting to see what I call hippie names for products. Old Spice has body wash and deodorant entitled Pacific Surge, Mountain Rain, Cool Blast. You get candles in the scent of fresh linen, cotton, clean air. Laundry detergent boasting fresh spring, late fall, cold of winter. I just don't understand what's going on. Isn't enough we have to have everything smell like we rolled around in Mother Earth, but now we have to drink her to?

What happened to the favorites? Orange, Grape, or the ever special Lemonlime, now that's a flavor for sports drinks.You know exactly what you are getting when you twist the top and pound down half the bottle as the sweat drains from you face. It replenishes you like the morning shower after a night of drinking. What about kool aid. When the answer to the question of "what flavor do you want," was easily answered and understood when you replied "Red." Now red can mean...Fruit Punch, Passion Fruit, Strawberry, raspberry, Strawberry-Banana, Sun, Fire, Hell's Broth, and whatever the ivy league marketing intern can think of to equate the "newness" of what you drink. I miss the simplicity.

I was in Walmart the other day getting some shampoo. Standing in the middle of the isle overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of choices, I start to get frustrated. Damaged Hair, Curly hair, No Hair, Fragile Hair, Damaged and Fragile Hair, Curly but yet damaged and fragile hair...there were just too many choices. I lash out at the inanimate object by saying through gritted teeth, "What happened to just focusing on cleaning hair, where is the Clean hair Shampoo." About to give up and just pick the most manly looking bottle, the lady next to me hands me a bottle. I glance at the description and smile as it states...For Clean Hair." I knew that was the stuff for me. Now I just have to find the For Non Sweaty/Stinking underarms, and the For Clean Teeth and No Cavities, and For Clean Skin soap. These containers are not usually decorated with bright colors leading to a colorfully stocked medicine cabinets. But, the drabness of the bottles saves money and keeps the Metrosexual accusations at a minimum.

I don't need advertisements to allure me with catchy names and flashing wrappings. I need honesty, directness, and truth. This will lead to product loyalty, and once your hooked, like crack, there's now turning back. So Johnson and Johnson and Proctor and Gamble, when your executives have nothing better to do than reading the nobody public's blogs, take this to your next power meeting.