reviewed by Mr. Football

Sup twerps, Mr. Football here, and Elton John finally unchained me from my post in the dungeon, so I’m back on my V-Tech laptop chillin’ and writing reviews.

I hate period pieces, period. This pepsi commercial really sucks it to the maxx. Like, gimme some of that Go Daddy body paint hot yayas mamas.

I have a page haircut.

Rating: 30 seconds of hell

reviewed by Kim Jung ill ation

DOritos have very spicy flavor, and we’re partiers over here in the big NK, in the big easy new order, them by the crate from Mexico City. We can’t stop snacking. I to eat them hot N’ spicy in bed. After that, jump on in the club.

THis is one of my country favourite commercial. There are innumerable funny thing about commercial.

ILLATIONS:

(1) The Hollywood of USA is no longer creative because they remake Straw Dogs and are remake Suspiria. What happened to original creativity? All gone? More money? All gone?

(2) Pug bog have small smooosh face and therefore you think the dog will hit the glass and smoosh face more!

(3) The guy antagonizing the dog obviously is cyborg with his settings set on “vacuous nincompoop with poop on the inside.” Guy’ name is Poop Dude.

(4) Who let the dogs out?

Rating: 30 seconds of hell.

WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF.

reviewed by: 1900s Baseball News Reporter

EXTRA EXTRA, READ ALL ABOUT IT.
Baby O baby, this is a grand-slam steal of a deal. This baby is a burgaler, I tell you, free hamburgers are for the winning only, not for ball-players that go out there and play like sleeping babies. Only in my sweet-dreams of candy carts and dandy-candies.

Remember when Mr. Spalding was pulled in on his chariot by two albino stags slippy-zippy right after the calamitous Chicago White Stockings bench-clearin’ brawl in April 1903? Oh yes, surely was that a bench-clearer, yes folks, I tell you, I tell you the truth. I have seen DAMES PLAY BETTER BASEBALL than this.

And whatta dunce this fairy is to drive around in circles all day, whisperin’ dixie, looking like a big douche on a mid-summer’s eve.

How in the hell does this numbnutted, bird-brained, trickle-dick-half-dim-dick-wit, idiot imbecile boob-bomb mustard-gassin’ nimcompoop MEATBALL get grub for FREE? This is a calamity!

Well, the future of baseball is here and now — and this talky-picture portends the future of baseball — in the future, babies will enslave their daddies. This is a calamity, now, isn’t it? Babies have no rights. Babies are not allowed to vote. Babies are not allowed to go to war. Babies are not allowed to play baseball in the white leagues, nor the negro leagues, babies have to play baby ball in separate baby leagues, and they play for bubble gum, not clams. And we all know that with babies, that, well, there are no rules with babies and baby baseball, its’a an all-out CALAMITY.

This cloy moving talky-picture makes fills me with disgust: how can a baby cause an entire business to give free-chow to a child to every sleeping child, and how do they expect to stay in business — or expect to win the big pennant game‽ — with this shitty commercial, it beats me.

Bugs, cranks, cranklets, mother hubbards, yes, even cranklets, they play better ball than babies; babies make playing ball seem more like a crouching crappy cricket match at Cambridge — or even worse — rounders at Rimmy’s by the docks.

This restaurant team looks like a Dutch bed of tulips, and they ain’t even ironed their damn shirt.

What if every team starting throwing the game for gambling babies, now that wouldn’t be a straight game of baseball now, would it? That would be more like shooting fish in a pickle barrel. Imagine if every clubhouse gave seats to every bug, crank, and cranklet that stormed the joint during the pennant game? What if every subordinate baby enslaved their insubordinate Daddy? What if every baby had to fight in the trenches over there in Duetchland? What if babies were in that Zeppelin? What if all babies traveled not in MODEL-Ts, but in pin-striped purple hot air balloons? What if a baby slide into third base, deliberately spiked and picked’a fight whitta Ty Cobb, proceeded to fight’em, and won the skirmish?

Now that would be a calamity, wouldn’t it‽

Rating: 30 Seconds of HELL

Friends, greetings, , so thank me very much and you the owe me one, and this make me very happy. My english improve, you want 2 chat? I love Uto chat, but sometimes it’s hard work. I am very pleased say look at the photo above. Not commercial, just photo, just right!

I live. Blogging from New Chorlines hi new technology we create called ‘FYPE,’ which is far hiar than skyhype, because our system come with space, expanding the helmet, gaining strength shoes, Charles Barkley’s Great Funniest Basketball Pranks Volumes of 1 VHS tape coolers edition, laser-lights, hight-rope dancers, and mobile home phone. E.T. says phone home and we come in peace.

So it is story time. We cannot watch it now, so we must listen, and carefully send visuals from our story:

Man slingers to wait to find new dawn and and wants to eat some fresh flakes so he hope plane to North Korea. We watch his flakes and him eating and we North Korea government jails him, beats him, send him to prison to work’in onconcentration camp for rest of his life.

He make great worker.

by Street Dude

Street Dude is back, and he means business. The last few months, I was a 30 SEC Hell expatriate — where was I living‽ — I was over at the Huffington Post, of course, recieving a $10 lunch stipend for my 10 hours, writing about news that matters, like celebrity hook-ups, Lindsay Lohan wears mini-skirt to court, Charsheen #winning recipes, hot-pink-and-rainbow lamborgeini diablos cherros, John and Kate +8 sex tape (FYI, it was an orgy, with kids, ‘don’t ask don’t tell’), oh the horror. Yeah, Adrania Huffington, you’re a mastermind. All you need for a #winning strategy is look at hot trendz, glean keywords for pop-traffic, and make the ultimate list to drive traffic to your site:

Jennifer Lopez toothpaste booty-pop ✔

Prince William Pine-car derby  ✔

Justin Bieber skittles 3D commercial ✔

Sexy Kitties MTV wet-n-wild ✔

Kendraboobies in extremis (in reversible, sporty windbreaking suit) ✔

MR. FOOTBALL ✔

Brazilian Booty Workout home-tapes SD transfer ✔

Emporer Penguin “Honkin’ on Bobo” American Idol contestant text me (only at night) ✔

Hecuba nude pics ✔

Yes, it works. As CT alluded prior, 30 Seconds of Hell’s recent hot keywords have been “Gheorge Muresan” and “medical marijuana.” Maybe we should adopt the Huffington highway and cover ‘breaking news.’ Hell, our website layout is almost as atrocious as their ghastly, barf-me-with-a-spoon layout.

Jeez, I cannot believe C-SPAN used to cite HUFFPO. Even Greta Brawner would cite it. Please site 30secondsofhell.com, especially if you’re covering Mitch Mac-daddy McConnell or Newt Gingeralewitch.

Here is the evidence: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/

But the Street Dude digresses. What a desultory review this has become. We haven’t even touched on the flakes yet, therefore, this is part 1 of 2 of the “Good Ole Wholesome Flakes, Medical Marijuana, USA, Gheorge Muresan” mini-series.

Rating: 30 Seconds of TBD

by Mr. Football

Now just because my name is Mr. Football does not mean that the team did not call me Mr. Pizza during my Freshman year. I ATE SO MUCH PIZZA, I HAD TO GEAR UP FOR TRAINING CAMP. Coach said ate pizza and lots of it. What are you looking at? You gotta problemo, Paco? What chaco? U looking at me?

Football > your geek club

Anyway, these GoDaddy commercials are awesome. I mean, I often call my pizza lunch awesome and I usually awesome is the only adjective I use to describe anything life has to offer.

WAH WOOMBA. AY PAPPY, CHECK OUT THE JONGAS ON THE HOT MAMMA. Some serious tigs, y-ell-o, operating, please connect me to those awesome rack of congas. Seriously, I’m stoked. I GOT A FEELING THAT TONIGHT IS GOING TO BE A GOOD NIGHT.

Wowee. Some serious bazookas and daddy wants it and daddy needs it. WAH WOOMBA. AY AY, AY AY PAPPY, me bad a bad boy. Give me spankings — after practice, of course. AY AY hot bazooka momma come watch me practice and thereafter we can get jiggy in the hot tub and buy some freakin awesome domain names using only your JONGAS. HOT HOT, 911 WARNING: VERY HOT YA-YAS.

Rating: 30 seconds of awesome.

By Kim-Jung ill ation

The other night, I was awake — all alone in my castle — and I was looking through the North Korean archives. I tell the truth when I say there are many cool things in the North Korean archives, including gumball machines, pinball machines, and laser-tag. Back during the Korean war, my side won. After we won, the US Government was forced to keep their promise and hand over the prize, the big one. This very old videotape was handed to us.

This videotape is over 300 years old and captures the very first Thanksgiving dinner at the Plymouth Plantation, in Massachusetts. This is a very rare videotape on VHS. This videotape actually captures the very special dinner between the Indians and the white pilgrims. The event was very special because KFC catered the event and this is the reason why we have Thanksgiving every year.

The fun fact is that chicken was the feast at the first Thanksgiving dinner, but over time turkey became the staple dinner because Americans became  fatter and they wanted more food to eat.

It is rumored that the colonial was the master of ceremony, but most people forget that the colonial actually is the Greek god, the baby snake that feed Zeus all of his juicy juice and juicy fruit.

Rating: 30 Seconds of me hungee.

by kim-jun il-lation

Now we don’t allow corn syrup in my country, call forth malaise, for very much that the matter, but if we did, we would not play this commercial, because we don’t have a free-circuit media in the DPRK. My news is permitted, whilst news that addresses the actuality realities of the matters is not allowed; therefore, DPRK not much different than your country, the United States of America. North Korea does not have balloon baby news story, and lady who throw acid on her own face new story, but hey, we are just like you, except me not allowed to use internet, too unpredictable.

Fruit punch: never had the drink, but very much sound like one of those “just for kids” things. I don’t know what to do sometimes, so I try new things, much like other leaders of countries, we don’t allow micdonnald’s in my country, but DPRK does not care, because micdonnald’s just like hy-fruit-tose corn syrup: it make whey the options of 3 american size olypic swimming pools.

ILLATIONS:

I like how Amy Poehler star in the commercial, she is a good actress.

It is tough stuff to win a gold medal.

The next commercial I review is for “LA Lights.”

Rating: 30 Seconds of Hell.

Like, um, like, somebody call the dork police, and the fashion police, because this spot is so totally 30 seconds of dork-alert-5000.

This commercial is a recipe for a dork-disaster: 1) the commercial is driven by a kids’ bop rendition of the “Bly Gotta Feelin’ kick-start-party-song by the Black Eyed Peas. 2) the opening line of the song is, “Didn’t know, couldn’t see, what was around the corner for me. Let’s go!” 3) the kids bop vocalist is dressed in autotune, and this is a textbook example of a creative team shamelessly jumping on the ephemeral autotune bandwagon.

4) The commercial flagrantly targets caricatured demographics — only those who can afford a weber, of course — which, in this case, is the widowed, prim and proper, affluent grey panther; the wholesome African-American male who lives in the suburbs and is happy; the lonesome librarian who lives by herself and has fun by herself; and the jolly bearded gas station attendant (he’s the lil shocker). This blogger will omit the rest of the dorks, because I respect you, and because this dork-ball video-mash subsequently welters into an unsightly meatball — hot and ready to be charred on the ole’ web grill.

However, I do appreciate the female backing vocals, 0:26 in, when we hear a passionate, “Come on — yeah!”

Rating: 30 Seconds of hot-and-ready propane gasy hell

Lovesick of Television

Sometimes you need to take a break from television commercial reviews, simply because you are overwhelmed by how much you love to be sick by television.

In this instance, this Capri Sun©®™ commercial — great juice pouch, btw — speaks volumes. Some might describe Capri Sun as a nice juice pouch to sip from as you take a nice stroll beside the lakeside. I want to be on this beautiful beach, whilst sippin’ my Capri Sun©®™. I’ll tell you why: it is a Capri Sun island paradise, and that’s a fact. I want to be in this commercial: it states that the Capri Sun ©®™ fruit drink is 11% juice, which, by today’s 2010 standards, is the purrrfect amount of juice to fuel one throughout the day. Just like this Capri Sun ©®™ commercial states: there is only one, Capri Sun. Time to hit the beach! Big Waves to hit, y’all!

Rating: 30 Seconds of Heaven