The JoeBlogs Top 10: Three Infomercials
Ah, I used to write a lot about infomercials. Slap Chop. Hawaii Chair. The WaxVac. So many others. I miss those days, but I haven’t really seen one that has inspired me in a while. I’m still hoping. Anyway, as a bonus for you wonderful JoeBlogs readers, here are three of my favorite infoco breakdowns.
Original pub year: 2009.
As everyone here certainly knows, I love infomercials. It’s a sickness, I know, but I’m turning 42 this week, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m probably not changing much from here on in. And I love infomercials. I have spent way too many hours in my life sitting in a recliner and watching people sell:
The miraculous Pasta Pot that has little holes on top so that you can drain the boiling hot water without ever taking the pasta out of the pot. Amazing! It goes without saying that I bought one. It’s great. The only drawback is that the top really doesn’t stay on all that well so your chances of scalding yourself while trying to pour out the water is roughly 1 in 2. Current use: Planter.
The revolutionary wok-like pan device that allows you to cook food in steam. Make pasta dishes in a snap! Steam the greenest vegetables ever! It goes without saying that I bought one. It’s great. The only drawback is that it would be indistinguishable from the wok we already had except that it’s so much more cheaply made. Current use: Space eater in pantry.
The Magic Bullet. Tiny blender allows you to make awesome smoothies, delicious cheesecake, and the famous six-second scrambled eggs! It goes without saying that I wanted one. Sadly, my family never let me buy one.
The Infinity Razor. It’s a razor that comes with a lifetime guarantee, meaning you will never need to replace it. Ever. It will stay sharp forever. And, my favorite part of the deal: If you buy one, they give you one free, because, um, I don’t know why if one is supposed to last for a lifetime. I guess if you lose it? Even I wasn’t dumb enough to want one/two of these.
The magical-white stuff that makes scratches on your car disappear forever. Do you have a scratch on your car? Of course you do. Well, put this white goop on the scratch, buff it with this incredibly flimsy shammy-type device that rotates the soft pad at speeds up to one revolution per minute — seriously, this thing moves around about as fast as those little kiddie plastic toy windmills* — and, voila, the scratch is completely gone, your car is just like new, only not so much. It goes without saying I bought one. Current use: Lost in garage.
*I never understood why toy windmills were supposed to be fun. Hey, look, I can make this spin around! I mean, how many minutes of entertainment can even the smallest kid get out of that? It’s like that party favor that you blow, and the little paper unwinds and you hear that kazoo sound …
But, after being set straight by friends Holly and M.A. I now have a new favorite infomercial. I appreciate that I’m a bit late to the party … but let me be the millionth person to say it: That Snuggie Blanket has to be the most amazing commercial I’ve ever seen on television.
I know you have seen this thing over and over, but here’s the idea: The Snuggie is a blanket with sleeves. I’m not saying that as some vague description — that’s the slogan. Snuggie: The Blanket With Sleeves.
Now, at first glance, you may think: Hmm, a blanket with sleeves. Sounds like, I don’t know, a SWEATSHIRT. Or a SWEATER. Or a FLEECE PULLOVER. But the magic of the Snuggie is not in the innovation. It’s in the way they sell it.
Scene 1: Woman sitting on a couch in thin white sweater of some kind. She appears to be cold based on the way that she’s shivering while crossing her arms. The narrator offers a quite reasonable couplet:
You want to keep warm when you’re feeling chilled
But you don’t want to raise your heating bill.
The raising of the heating bill is symbolized by a cartoon arrow with dollar signs on it going up in the air and the sound of a cash register bell going off. Our story has begun. Tension has been set in motion. This early scene is shot in stark black and white like it’s “Double Indemnity.”
Scene 2: Woman lays down on couch, and she’s trying so hard to cover herself in a threadbare blanket, but she can’t. The blanket simply will not cooperate. The narrator jumps in: “Blankets are OK, but they can slip and slide.”
I love the concession — Blankets are OK. They want to make it clear: This is not an attempt to put blanket people out of business.
Scene 3: Woman TRIES to reach for the phone. But the blanket will not allow her to get it immediately. It takes at least 0.8 seconds for her to get the phone.
The narrator says: “And when you need to reach for something, your hands are trapped inside.”
This has to be the single greatest moment in television history, this moment when an actress attempts to demonstrate how difficult it is to reach for a telephone when your hands are trapped inside a blanket. She makes O.J. trying on the glove look like nothing. She tries desperately to reach for the phone, she so honestly tries, but she can’t quite get it right away.
Then she has the most priceless look in the world, this look that says: “Oh, wow, haven’t we all been here, trying to get that doggone phone when we’re wrapped in a blanket, oh, if they can put a man on the moon and find a cure for polio, why, oh why can’t they find a way to free my hands from a blanket!”
Scene 4: Everything bursts in full color! It’s like “The Wizard of Oz!” And the narrator says: “Now, there’s the Snuggie. The blanket that has sleeves!”
The woman demonstrates by putting on this red robe-type thing the same way that you put on a hospital gown. Narrator: “The Snuggie keeps you totally warm, and gives you the freedom to use your hands.“
And it’s true! Our actress demonstrates how easy it is to reach for the phone while wearing the Snuggie (it’s easy). And she has this wonderful smile on her face, one that says: ”Yes! American technology!” It seems a tad bit unfortunate that she’s using a cordless phone, but I’m guessing people with 1989 cordless phones are the target audience.
Follow-up scenes: Man in Snuggie who looks like Friar Tuck sits in a recliner and shows conclusively that the Snuggie does not constrict remote-control freedom of movement … Older woman in Snuggie reads a book (but you say: Isn’t it too dark there to read a book? Just wait! We have something for that!) … Fairly young man wearing Snuggie works on his computer while the narrator says, ”Use your laptop without being cold!” … Friar Tuck is back, this time he’s hungry and wants to have a bowl of popcorn, and he CAN, because the Snuggie has sleeves.
Product Close-up of Snuggie: A hand goes lightly over the top while narrator tells us about the Snuggie’s softness.
Older woman is back. She’s knitting with the Snuggie, which seems an odd thing to do since I thought the whole point of the Snuggie is that actual clothes and blankets and scarves, I assume, have become obsolete. … Original woman is back now, and she’s reading a book to a young girl who looks absolutely nothing like her but is apparently supposed to be her daughter. The daughter wears a Snuggie too.
A new slogan, ”Wrapped in Warmth!“ appears on the screen.
The Snuggie has endless slogans.
There are some amazing follow-ups — a man and a woman stand next to each other, both wearing Snuggies, looking like they’re in some kind of monastery; a woman proves she could hold a baby OR a dog while wearing her Snuggie; there’s a campfire scene right out of “The Blair Witch Project With Snuggies;” a young woman sits in her college dorm room wearing a Snuggie, apparently content to live a dateless life on campus, and so on.
And then, believe it or not, there are two scenes that top all the rest:
First scene: This is of the whole family — the guy with the laptop, the woman who was trapped in the blanket at the start, their daughter who looks nothing like either one — all of them at a ballgame, surrounded by people dressed in normal clothes. There they are, the three of them, in the middle of it all, wearing these preposterous Snuggies, looking like they’re in some sort of frightening fleece cult. It’s no wonder the people around them try desperately to watch the game and ignore the dangerous Snuggie Family. It’s like a Coen brothers movie.
Second scene: The narrator says: ”Similar products sell for up to 60 dollars.“ I appreciate that every infomercial must have the “similar products” line. But in this case, well, first — similar products? Really? There have been previous unsuccessful attempts to sell blankets with sleeves? And second — these failed entrepreneurs decided that $60 was about the right price point? The narrator then offers the Snuggie for the amazing price of $14.95, which really is an amazing price.
The commercial then reiterates the many features of the Snuggie:
It has sleeves, you can use your remote
It will keep you warm
It has sleeves
And then comes the “If you act now” bonus — if you act now, you can get a compact, press-and-open book-light, apparently so Grandma in her Snuggie can read the third Twilight* book without raising her electricity bill.** That’s a $15 value, absolutely free.
*Wow, a Twilight reference. This really WAS a long time ago.
**I often wonder how they decide which cheap contraption gets to be the main item and which one has to be the lousy bonus prize. Like, couldn’t this have been a whole commercial about the ”press-and-open book-light,“ and as a bonus you get the blanket with sleeves? I’m sure they have market analysts who study that.
For people like me who love infomercials, this is Beethoven’s 5th Symphony, this is “The Contest,” this is “The Starry Night,” this is the best there has ever been — utterly worthless product based on entirely absurd premise sold by actors who are apparently from outer space. It’s a masterpiece. And I should add that my 7-year-old daughter, Elizabeth, just came in and watched the infomercial and said, “I want a Snuggie.” I’m beaming. Like father, like daughter.
You Don’t Have to Be Lonely
Original pub year: 2013.
OK, so I’ve been avoiding this for too long. It just seemed too obvious, I guess. But if you want to embrace life, really embrace it, you should pause every now and again and acknowledge true genius when you see it.
This is now the greatest television commercial I have ever seen.
That is the commercial for the Farmer’s Only dating site, and it’s so brilliant — so utterly dazzling — that, like a great novel, I’m constantly finding something new and unexpectedly luminous in it.
What I think makes the Farmer’s Only commercial even better than legends of the past like the Snuggie or Hawaii Chair is that it hits an extraordinary high point, then somehow hits another higher point, then hits yet another even higher point and then finally, when you believe that the volume is all the way to 10 and there’s no place left to go, goes one higher.
Our story begins with three utterly unappealing people who apparently are supposed to be farmers, though, realistically, they seem to have escaped from the 1978 set of “Hee Haw.” One wears suspenders and looks about 55. I shall call him Horatio. A second wears a green cap, boots, has a potbelly going over his jeans and stands near a dog. He shall be, for our purposes, Cinna. A third, the smart one, apparently, wears a red cap and seems wistful in a Gomer Pyle sort of way. Let us call him Gomer.
It’s a bold move starting a commercial seemingly aimed at farmers by casting three actors who look like the awful and insulting cliché image of farmers that might be dreamed up by somebody who has never been outside of Los Angeles. But the genius has only begun.
The "farmers" are, of course, standing in front of a barn. Our tale begins with Horatio, who is telling a story.
Horatio: So I’m reelin’ her in, and that fish was that big.
Horatio holds out his hands so they are approximately 22 inches apart.
Cinna: No, it was only that big.
Cinna holds out his hands a mere 12 or so inches apart. The camera pans to the resting dog.
Gomer (as he looks at his cell phone): I gotta find myself a nice country girl already.
Horatio leans over to look at this magical device of Gomer’s. Cinna points at it suspiciously.
Cinna: On that thing?
Gomer: Yep. Farmersonly.com.
The camera cuts to a shot of Gomer holding the phone. On it is a young woman in shorts who is looking at us but also, apparently, fishing. Anyway, she is holding some sort of fishing rod.
Horatio: Wow, she sure is pretty.
Cinna: And she likes to fish, too!
The camera cuts to the dog, who also seems to want to see the girl, but cannot get anyone’s attention.
Gomer: Boys, I’ve found myself a date. Gotta go.
At this point -- we are now halfway into the commercial -- and we have already achieved a pretty high level of excellence. Let’s say you’re the target of Farmers Only. Let’s say you’re a country woman who doesn’t particularly care for the city, who likes the simple American life, and would like to meet a nice guy with similar interests and pastimes and passions. There are many millions of people like this, lonely people who, through no fault of their own, keep running into dead ends when it comes to meeting people. Here’s a dating site that might fit their lives, a dating site with no pretensions — it’s called Farmers Only, for crying out loud. This really could be the place.
OK: Could there be a bigger nightmare on earth than putting your profile on the dating site and having THESE THREE GUYS poring over it?
But, the commercial has barely warmed up. Gomer has exited. And we’re left with Horatio and Cinna in a familiar scene, back in front of the barn.
Horatio: I’m tellin’ ya, that fish was this big.
Again, he puts his hands 22 inches apart. The camera cuts to Cinna, who seems changed, somehow.
Cinna (holding a new contraption called a computer): “What’s the name of that dating site again?”
Yes, you know women everywhere are thrilled THIS GUY figured out how to use a computer. But now the commercial explodes. There’s the rosebud scene in “Citizen Kane.” There’s the final scene in “The Sixth Sense.” There’s the final angel’s appearance in “A Christmas Carol,” and the scene where Boo Radley comes to the rescue in “To Kill a Mockingbird.” There’s that extraordinary moment in the Bible when Moses asks in a roundabout way for the name of God, and from the burning bush God says to Moses, “I am who I am.”
Cinna asks, “What’s the name of that dating site again?” And ... well ... three astonishing words.
The ... dog ... speaks.
I have come to realize that I have spent much of my life in search of an answer. But I never truly knew the question. Now, as I close in on my 47th birthday, I finally know what I seek.
The question is: “Why does that dog speak on the Farmer’s Only commercial?”
Why? What combination of genius and madness and inspiration and drunkenness compelled the makers to have the dog speak? What was that pitch meeting like? What were they going for? How did they find a speaking dog?
I am no closer to an answer now than perhaps I will ever be. And if the commercial ended here, it would be magnificent, utterly magnificent, but no, it pushes forward, because as Horatio and Cinna look down at the dog and then at each other in amazement — apparently their dog had never had something interesting enough to say before — a lovely little song begins.
You don’t have to be lonely. At Farmers Only dot com.
OK, wait a minute, that song is, what, 11 words long (assuming “Farmers Only dot com” is four words). That’s not many words. So how could they have so totally whiffed on one of the 11 words? Shouldn’t it be: “You don’t have to be lonely WITH Farmers Only dot com?” Isn’t that the point — that with Farmers Only out there, you don't have to be lonely? But that’s not what it says. It says, “At.” Why would somebody be lonely AT Farmers Only? Is this a worrisome possibility? And if it is, should they really be advertising it in the commercial?
And so, finally, with that song, we think we’re at the peak of Olympus. Country folk have conquered their fears of loneliness and technology. Gomer has found love. The dog has spoken. The song has been sung. Where can we go from here? What is left to be said?
And then, like only the greatest art, there is one more level.
The slogan appears as the commercial ends.
“CITY FOLKS JUST DON’T GET IT!”
It’s almost the perfect commercial. There’s only one way I could even imagine it being better. And that is if the final words had been, “Les citadins ne comprennent tout simplement pas.”
That’s my best effort (thanks to brilliant reader Mr. Furious’ help) for “City folks just don’t get it” in French.
The Atomic Beam
Pub year: 2016.
Yes, it has been at least a couple of years since I have written about an infoco (an infomercial, for those of you who have forgotten). Those of you who have been here since the start know that used to be, more or less, a full-time job.
Lately, though, it just seems like infomercials have lost their fun, have become played out. Infomercials now feel like so many other things in America, with no appreciable difference between parody and reality. Have you seen the faux infomercial called “The Neck Basket?” It’s supposed to be a spoof — with the subjects wearing silly baskets around their necks so they can easily reach what they need — but it’s frankly a much more reasonable product than many actual ones. It’s not particularly funny, because it’s TRYING to be funny.
Point is, the whole infoco thing just seemed pretty well spent.
And then my pal M.A. sent me a link to the Atomic Beam commercial. And I’m in love again. This is unquestionably the best infoco in years. It makes me so very happy.
The Atomic Beam is a flashlight that apparently is brighter than other flashlights. That seems to be the whole description. This is a good infoco product — you might remember that the key to a good infoco is that it aggressively tries to sell something that nobody asked for and nobody really needs. A blanket with sleeves. An ear reinforcer for heavy earrings. Etc.
Yes, I suppose there are people who could use flashlights with more light, you know, night hunters, Watergate thieves, police trying to find fugitives, the people of Gotham City. But I also suspect that they have found bright enough flashlights on the market.
So you have the mostly worthless product. Check. What you need next is a big opening.
Scene 1: Atomic bomb goes off.
Announcer: "The atomic bomb is one of the most powerful forces on earth."
Announcer: The Atomic Beam is one of the most powerful flashlights on earth.
I’m sorry, what?
If the thing stopped right here — we are, at this point, only seven seconds in — we would already have one of the greatest infocos in the history of mankind. Let's stop for just a moment to marvel at the comparison between one of earth's most destructive weapons and a flashlight. My guess is that these people were in a boardroom somewhere trying to come up with a name for their super-snazzy new flashlight. The Smashlight! The Shaq-O-Lantern! The Cosmic Fireball! None of it clicked.
And finally one of the geniuses says: "The Atomic Beam." And everyone loves it, because it sounds like atomic bomb, and who doesn’t like an atomic bomb, you know, except for the hundreds of thousands of people it has killed and the rest of the world that has been held hostage by its powers ever since? Yes! Let’s call it The Atomic Beam!
But then there’s a problem: Will people get the connection? Like some might just think, “Oh, Atomic Beam, it must be a bright flashlight or something,” and not directly associate it with one of the deadliest devices invented by man.
“Sure, they SOUND alike,” the meeting leader said, “But I think the comparison might go over some people's heads." Others nodded and fell into a silent think. What could be done to make sure everyone understood that this flashlight was kind of like the atomic bomb that was dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki?
Then one said: “Do you think we can get some atomic bomb testing footage?”
Someone else said: “Yes, I know a guy!”
And everyone was happy until the meeting leader shook his head: “OK, but you know what? Even if we show the footage, I'm still not sure people will get the connection. I think we need a slogan comparing the two. Any thoughts?”
And a young ad person, just out of Arizona State University, bravely stood up.
“Well,” he said, his voice shaking a little bit, “um, you know how the atomic bomb is one of the most powerful forces on earth?”
“Yes, yes, what’s your point?” the leader asked.
“Well, can’t we say that the Atomic Beam is one of the most powerful flashlights on earth?”
And the room fell completely silent with awe. And the leader smiled at his young protégé and offered him a scotch on the rocks.
Yes, even if it ended here it would be genius ... but it doesn't. No, the Atomic Beam commercial is only beginning, which is why it is destined to be a classic.
Scene 2: Meet Hunter Ellis: FMR Fighter Pilot.
OK, this is a small thing, but why don’t they spell out “Former?” I assume that’s what FMR stands for, but really “Former” is only three letters longer than FMR, and if you don’t capitalize them all, it really takes up about the same amount of space. I suppose FMR looks like it means something cooler than “former.”
Hunter Ellis, you probably know from his appearances on “Survivor” and many other shows, is an actual former fighter pilot, someone who according to his Wikipedia page had 433 carrier landings, which is awesome. There is no question that his general fighter pilot coolness gives this commercial a sort of gravitas that would be lacking if it were, say, the Slap Chop guy or the guy who goes out floating in a boat with a screen door at the bottom. Ellis is a badass.
“This,” he says, as he shines the flashlight in our eyes, “is Atomic Beam USA.”
OK, wait, sorry, Atomic Beam is not the flashlight’s full name? It’s Atomic Beam USA? This is incredible. It’s like finding out what the middle initial of David S. Pumpkins stands for. Tell us more, Hunter Ellis, about Atomic Beam USA.
“The ultra-bright, tough-grade flashlight that features tactical technology that is used by Special U.S. Forces.”
In the background, we see someone in the U.S. Special Forces using a very bright flashlight that is definitely NOT the Atomic Beam USA.
Now, before going on, I will admit that I am very curious about what “tactical technology” is embedded in Atomic Beam USA. The commercial does not say. I’m guessing it is: “Light.”
Scene 3: How bright is the Atomic Beam USA, Hunter?
“This flashlight,” Hunter says, pulling out what I assume is a regulation flashlight, “has a feeble 125 Lux output.” Ha! Embarrassing! Talk about a lack of Lux. He demonstrates its feebleness by flashing a dim light on what appears to be a gun-range target in the shape of a human being.
“The Atomic Beam USA has up to 5,000 Lux,” Hunter adds. Now we're talking. This time, the flashlight clearly illuminates a gun range target in the shape of a human being. “That’s 40 times more!”
OK, wait, a couple of questions. What does “up to 5,000 Lux mean?” Up to? Is this an adjustable flashlight? Do some flashlights have 5,000 Lux while others don’t? Do I need to get a Lux Capacitor to measure the amount of Lux I’m getting from my Atomic Beam USA? Also, just curious, why would I need 5,000 Lux if, say, I wasn’t at a shooting range in the middle of the night?
We’ll get back to that one. First, let’s find out how strong this flashlight is!
Scene 4: Indestructible!
Every good infoco will show you how tough/powerful/sharp a product is by putting it through an absurd test that makes no sense whatsoever. We will cut beer cans with this knife! We will wash this car 200 times! We will have an elephant step on our product!
But I must admit, the Atomic Beam USA people took this all to a whole new level.
“It’s tough enough," Hunter tells us, "to withstand this 36-ton firetruck.”
They show a firetruck (we will trust that it is 36 tons) running over the flashlight, and both appear to come through just fine. Yes, we concede the point: That’s one tough flash ... oh, wait a minute, they’re not done.
“We’re going to drop it hundreds of feet from this helicopter!” Hunter says. “It hits the tarmac and it’s still working! That’s what I call a tough flashlight!”
OK, definitely, that is a tough flashlight. I mean, running it over with a firetruck AND dropping it from a helicopter, seriously, that, oh, wait, there’s more?
“Heavy downpours! Mud puddles!” Hunter tells us, and he shows the Atomic Beam USA in a giant mud puddle but, amazingly, it’s still on. In a mud puddle! This thing is crazy — firetrucks, long drops, mud, I mean .. wait, what are you doing now?
You’re FRYING the flashlight?
“Even extreme temperatures like boiling hot oil,” Hunter says, as they, yes, boil the Atomic Beam USA in hot oil. Seriously? When will that come in handy? But OK, I think we get it, Atomic Beam USA is a crispy and tough flashlight ...
“Being frozen solid in a block of ice,” Hunter says, “is no match ...”
Come on now. Really? A block of ice? What is this, a David Blaine act? I mean let’s slowly back away from the flashlight ... oh, no, there’s more?
“I can smash it with all my strength,” Hunter says, and he proceeds to bash the flashlight with a sledgehammer. At some point a while ago, this began to feel uncomfortable, like a Mr. Bill skit or something. Leave the flashlight alone, Hunter.
By the way: Have you ever in your entire life BROKEN a regulation flashlight?
Scene 5: Why do I need this indestructible, super-bright flashlight? Because you DO NOT WANT TO DIE!
“Its strobe feature makes it a powerful self-defense tool,” Hunter tells us.
Yes, obviously strobes are life-saving … and they’re fun at parties! But back to self-defense, OK, how are strobes life-saving again? Well, they show you. Let's just say you are shopping late at night in a very dark parking lot, like this poor lady on the screen, and someone wearing a dark hoodie rushes over to take your purse. This could happen! What would you do then? Well, all you would need to do then is pull out the Atomic Beam USA and turn on the strobe and, voila, the attacker is “disoriented.”
Now, you might ask: How exactly am I supposed to get out a flashlight and turn on the strobe light in the millisecond that it takes for this guy to snag my purse? Answer: This lady in the commercial did it. You can too!
You don’t always need a strobe, either. In the next scene, a woman walking in the parking lot shines her flashlight at the guy sans strobe, and he backs off. Well, sure he does. He's like, “Hey, that lady’s got a bright flashlight.”
Scene 6: Hunter, quick question, can you rely on Atomic Beam USA?
“As a former fighter pilot,” Hunter says, as he rides along in a boat at night, “I can depend on Atomic Beam USA.” He then shows that you can see the light at night on the boat.
“You can see it for miles on land, sea or air,” he says.
Air? I'm sorry: Air? Realizing that Hunter is a FMR fighter pilot, what role does a flashlight have in the air? Is this if your landing lights malfunction? Would you use it to signal other planes and prevent mid-air collisions?
Scene 7: I’m convinced by the product, but how good a deal is this?
Hunter: “You could spend over one hundred dollars ... or the Atomic Beam USA can be yours for just $19.99.”
Well, yeah, that's one heck of a deal, you know, compared to the imaginary flashlight that people will spend more than $100 on. And there’s a lifetime guarantee — a good opportunity to show the flashlight being fried again (this time with actual fries) and hit with a sledgehammer once more. I’m pretty sure Atomic Beam USA has a lawsuit.
But then Atomic Beam USA takes the savings to another level. You know how a lot of these products offer a second WaxVac or SlapChop, and all you have to do is pay additional shipping and handling? Well, the Atomic Beat goes one better.
“Order now, and you can double it, get a second Atomic Beam USA. Just pay a separate fee. We'll even ship them to you for free.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on there Mr. FMR Fighter Pilot. You kind of glossed over it, but it sure sounded like you said you can get a second Atomic Beam USA for a “separate fee.” That seems to mean, correct me if I'm wrong, that for another $19.99 you can get another Atomic Beam USA. It kind of sounds like you’re saying, “You are allowed to buy more than one.”
That feels a bit flimsy as an offer, but, hey, he’s a FMR Fighter Pilot, so …
Scene 7: Patriotism!
Hunter makes one point clear: The Atomic Beam USA is America. It is the American military. It is the American hunter. It is the American self-defense against hoodies. You’ve got the Eagle, you’ve got the flag, you’ve got the Liberty Bell, you’ve got Dolly Parton and you’ve got Atomic Beam USA.
“The critical components inside the Atomic Beam,” he says, “are made right here in the USA."
Wow. That’s great. Then to prove it, a graphic appears that says: “LED components made in USA.” And you can trust the graphic because it is red, white and blue.
No wonder they call it the Atomic Beam USA and ... hold on. Why does it say “critical components inside” are made right here in the USA? That seems to suggest that non-critical components inside and all the stuff on the outside are NOT made in the USA. Are you telling me that you have a FMR fighter pilot selling a flashlight called Atomic Beam USA that is partly or mostly made somewhere else?
Ah, what difference does it make? Show the atomic bomb again.