There’s a certain spot on the male anatomy that is an unavoidable target for all small children, sitcom writers in need of a cheap laugh, and Steven Seagal’s brand of martial arts fu. It’s just *out there*, ready to be sucker punched when the man least expects it, causing him to curl up into a wimpering ball for the next two to three hours. And it’s just NOT COOL to begin an attack with this sort of low blow, no matter what.
I speak, of course, of a man’s commercial endorsements (“So that’s what the kids are calling it these days!”). These are fragile, tender, sacred pacts with infallible companies, and I cherish my endorsements as I would each and every one of you, had I kidnapped you and brainwashed you over a period of months until you sincerely believed you were my child, even though you are sixteen years older than I.
My arch-nemesis thinks it’s fine and dandy to strike out at this vulnerability — which, as we’ve established, is NOT COOL — but I’ll let her have this free shot. Yes, I’m endorsed out of the wazoo. SOE? Syp Online Enterprises. World of Warcraft? One subtle signal from me, and the devs will happily pull the plugs on the servers for “emergency downtime”. I roll in the accumulated wealth of Scott Jennings, Bill Roper and Kanye West, who are all autonomous creations designed by me to go forth into the world and spread havoc.
Does this hurt my integrity, that I am tackier than a NASCAR car with ads tattooed all willy-nilly across my forehead? Am I threatened by one jealous blogger who undoubtedly is intimately familiar with each and every culinary variety that Banquet frozen dinners provides? A blogger who obviously regrets naming her blog starting with a “W” instead of a “B” so it ends up on the bottom of everyone’s blogroll?
Nay. For I have commercial endorsements of steel, and my will to live on and make a tidy profit is strong.
Join Team Syp, and together we will rule the blogoverse as father and cybernetic killing machine!