Sadvertising: Arby’s, My Mood, and Hate Eating

The Characters: Over-earnest every-guy wandering about Arby’s. And a bunch of extras.

Premise: Look at me, I’m that guy who sat in the back of the Rocks for Jocks class freshman year drooling on his polo shirt and getting inappropriate boners that he showed off to his friends.  Why don’t I tell you about this sandwich.  How many people does it take to make a sandwich?  I don’t know.  Maybe 3?  Or 4 or 5?  Fucked if I know, I just wander around an Arby’s behind the counter, dressed like the Brawny guy, pointing at people and giving them fake names.  And then that goddamn slogan…

The Pitch: Do you know how people are generally non-plussed by our sandwich-type menu at Arby’s? A great way to spice things up would be to create a great slogan…and then drive it into the fucking ground, like, center-of-the-earth-down, to the point that when you hear this once useful and shill-worthy slogan, you want to cut off your ears and send them to corporate in Van Gogh-ian protest. Best of all, let’s have a guy sing it, but really force him to sing high notes he can’t really handle. We’d like to ensure that people either mute, turn off or utterly annihilate their television.  Also, we’ll demonstrate how many human beings it takes to one fast food sandwich.  Good?  Good.

The Absurd: I don’t even need to mention the narrative, do I? It’s utterly incidental in this instance. What truly matters is that abysmal phrase: GOOD MOOD FOOD.  Arby’s has had a whole year to recognize the utter depravity of this slogan.  There are foods that make you feel good, and then there is fast food.  Fast food, by it’s very definition asks that your guilt becomes both mental and physical.  Not only do you hate yourself, but your body also hates you.  A lot.  To suggest that roast beef sandwich drowned in aus jus is going to put you in a good mood is a fallacy, friends.  A fallacy.  And the melody, sung at such a horrifying pitch.  Either get a new singer, transpose the melody down about three full steps, or GTFO.  Guy straining his voice to hit a note that even auto-tune can’t fully fix does not = ENERGY!  It equals an earworm that is unlike any other.  Maybe Van Gogh was right.  Let’s all cut off our ears and send them to corporate.  Who’s with me!!!  Guys?  Guys?  Hello?