That’s it. I’ve had it.
The Washington State Lottery has finally pushed me beyond the limits of my endurance.
The high-pitched wailing, the egregious overacting and the bad, bad music and lyrics are annoying enough. Yet now, I’m sitting here in front of the tube, and an ersatz vocal group called the Match 4s are gyrating with a grizzly bear. The bear is either (1) homicidally enraged or (2) auditioning to be the fifth member. And I thought the other Match 4 lottery ads were irritating.
Maybe you’ve seen this series of ads, starring the Match 4s. The Match 4s seem to be:
•A boy band.
•A doo-wop group.
•Or the barbershop quartet of my nightmares.
All I know is that they are on my TV far too often, especially during Seattle Mariners games, and they are giving me a giant, throbbing headache.
I have been trying to remain calm – you know, Zen – about these ads. After all, annoying ads are everywhere. No sense getting all stroked-out over them. At least the Match 4s are attempting to be funny. I’m pretty sure.
But these ads have been concocted by a Washington state agency; they are paid for with our tax money. Well, not exactly our tax money, but with our lottery proceeds, which are like a voluntary tax (and thanks for contributing, by the way).
Besides, let me explain to you how obnoxious these ads are, especially on the 85th viewing. The Match 4s are supposedly a four-part harmony group, and invariably the ads begin with the high tenor screeching at a pitch that causes my dog to yelp and hide behind the couch.
Even lamer are the words they are singing. I just heard one that begins with the line “Skate at a minor-league hockey rink,” and then attempts to rhyme that with, “Educate your palate at a winery clink.”
Well, they had to rhyme rink with something.
Then they just kind of dance around and gyrate and generally ham it up. More on their hamming it up later, but first we must deal with the issue of the music. They sing several different songs. One is called “Four Little Numbers,” and another one is called “Winning in the Rain,” and another is called, I guess, “Winery Clink.” All of them are sing-songy and way too perky and they all seep into your brain and lodge there like a cloying smell.
The members of the Match 4s are, by the way, Keith, Jamie, Doug and Kerry. How do I know this? I just looked them up on the state lottery Web site. Go there, and you will learn that Jamie’s “lyrical lucidity is second to none” and that if he “gets sassy, the other boys are there to keep him in check.”
My favorite profile is of Doug. His mini-bio says, and I quote: “… another famous singer wrote a song about him: This is what it sounds like, when Doug’s cry.”
That’s bizarre on several levels, but I prefer to object to it mostly on grammatical grounds.
I discovered something even more alarming on the Match 4s’ Web site. They also do a hip-hop number called “Check That Bling.” Now, overlooking the fact that they whirl and spin and make all manner of gangsta hand gestures – and the fact that one of them is dressed like a cowboy – the real problem once again resides in the rhymes, excuse me, da rhymes:
•“Dress up my boys in weatherproof fleece, might even practice some catch and release.”
•“I don’t care if these boots look funny, they take me all the way to the top of Mount Money.”
•“I outfit my dogs in creased khakis, from La Push to the Nooksack-ies.”
All I can say is: That ad where they gyrate with a grizzly bear? Not so bad.
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