Facebook continues to astound in the ad department.
I wrote a few weeks ago about ugly, unlicensed baseball shirts, and with Spring Training about to begin, Facebook has even more to show me.
Honestly, I don’t hate this. A Chicago Cubs bowling shirt! Would I wear it, though? Oh, absolutely not. It looks like it fell out of a wormhole from the closet of a middle-aged man, circa 1959. I can look at it and know exactly how the fabric feels.
But at least Facebook knew which Chicago team I liked. This, on the other hand…
As I would tell the House Un-American Activities Committee if subpoenaed, I am not now nor have ever been a fan of the Chicago White Sox. I politely applauded their victory in the 2005 World Series, but beyond that? I like them as an historical matter. The mid-80s jerseys have a cool look to them. But I am definitely not buying a White Sox jersey.
Fortunately, Facebook has some other clothing options on offer…
The Doctor Who Hawaiian shirt, with the Van Gogh stylings? Again, like the Cubs bowling shirt, it’s nice. Not something I would ever wear, but it’s nice.
The Microsoft Excel Hawaiian shirt, on the other hand…
Look. Yes, I’m the person in Diamond’s Marketing-Communications department who gets the Excel projects, because I’m good with Excel and I can do a lot with it. I got one Monday evening and turned it around in less than an hour. But there is no way I would ever wear an Excel Hawaiian shirt.
What can men do against such reckless hate? These will not be entering my closet.
Finally, Facebook has strange ideas about my spiritual beliefs…
On the left, I’m not a Catholic. On the right, I don’t even own a Bible. These ads for books are wholly misdirected at me.
And, to top it off…
Yeah, I’m not in the market for a seminary, either.
Good job, Facebook. A bunch of wasted ads.
Not for you. You got paid.
Not for me. I got to snark.
But for the advertisers. They spent their money, and you served them to someone who isn’t going to buy what they’re selling. They wasted their money, and you let them do it.
Slow clap, like Orson Welles.
Clap. Clap. Clap.