by Jim Harris

Now that I’m semi-officially semi-retired (not that I actually ever did anything anyway), I’m watching a lot more TV. One thing that I find very annoying is the “real people, not actors” disclaimer that runs before many ads, mostly car commercials. Apparently, the visionaries on Madison Avenue finally got the message that today’s young consumers don’t want to be preached to by some “sage on a stage” announcer, and would rather be informed by the reactions of their own non-actor peers. Vox populi.

The car ad usually goes like this: There’s a guy with a clipboard. He’s not real, not an actor, but somewhere neutral, in-between. He ushers in a serendipitously diverse group of youngish people to a large hangar-like space. How he lured them in there in unclear, but judging by their cautious demeanor, they seem to know that they are being filmed.

The guy then asks them what features they would like to see in a new car. They reply, “rubber tires,” “zebra-skin seats,” “hands-free Snap Chat,” “glow-in-the-dark steering wheel,” and so on. To which the man replies, “Well, to get all of those features, you’d normally need seven cars.”

Then a giant curtain is pulled back to reveal seven full-sized cars stacked on top of each other. Yet another fine example of American workmanship using American-made cranes and forklifts and stuff. Counting overtime, it probably cost $40,000 to build the teetering tower of Toyotas and take it down again, and that’s not counting the clipboard guy and camera crew.

But I digress. Upon seeing this colossus of cars, all of the flabbergasted pilgrims yell “WOW” simultaneously, and several begin gently sobbing. Then the coup de gras. Clipboard man says, “But you can get all of these features in the 2018 Zorchfire!” Cut to the shiny new vehicle. Now it really gets crazy. One man starts hopping up and down, clapping like a wind-up monkey; another rips off his shirt and begins flamenco dancing; two others cry tears of joy, and a woman jumps into the new car and pretends to drive it, yelling, “Vroom vroom!” It’s like VE Day in Times Square. Who would not want to buy this car after seeing such a moving spectacle?

But hold on. Maybe a savvy shopper should dig a little deeper into the causation factors involved in this tableau. Remember, these are not actors; they’re real people. Real people who would probably be thrilled to be on TV. If they stood there like lumps, they’d be ushered out, and a new cast would be brought in. The more they freak out, the more likely they’ll make the cut.

Okay, look, I paid good money for my TV. I don’t want to see a lot of real people doing real things. I could walk out on Germantown Avenue and see that. I want actors. I want professionals with pleasant voices and nice hairdos and years of experience telling me stuff I need to know. I don’t need to “connect.” I don’t need to “interact.” I trust the “legacy” institutions and practitioners. It’s the “real people” who got us into the confusing mess we’re in today.

Ed. Note: For several years, Germantown resident Jim Harris was an award-winning satire columnist for the Local (the “Life So Far” column). But he retired after hitting the Power Ball Lottery for $100 million! (Sorry, folks; that last part is unfortunately “fake news,” but everything preceding it is almost 100 percent true.)