A jingle for the changing times

My latest column in the Newburyport Daily News...

Ad jingles and slogans have always been a fascinating phenomenon to me. Not as fascinating as Jon & Kate's divorce or what caused Michael Jackson's death, but fascinating all the same. Let's face it, for those of us over 35, who can forget Life cereal's Mikey or Mr. Whipple's "Please don't squeeze the Charmin"? They are like old friends who hold the key to some of our cultural history.

We grew up with choosy mothers who only chose Jif and wouldn't be caught dead with ring around the collar. We knew how many licks it took to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop; that if it wasn't butter, it was Chiffon; that Calgon could take us away, and that we could be a model — or just look like one.

The reason I even bring this subject up is because my husband started singing the Armour hot dog song recently. Yup, can't point to Kazakhstan on a map, but knew every word of this classic ditty. Our daughters were horrified: "... fat kids, skinny kids, kids who climb on rocks; tough kids, sissy kids, even kids with chicken pox love hot dogs, Armour hot dogs, the dogs kids love to bite!"

Can you imagine, actually using the words "fat" and "sissy" in the same sentence as "kids"? Today's generation finds it appalling, politically incorrect and in dreadful poor taste. We just thought it made sense. I mean there really were fat kids and sissy kids. It seemed fairly straightforward to our uniformed collective mentality. (Doesn't that sound like a political party? The UCM — it has a frightful legitimacy actually, but I digress.)

The food commercials of yesterday revealed a time when few people worried about saturated fat or carbohydrates and virtually no one — save a stray hippie smoking a hemp pipe in the back of a VW bus — knew what gluten-free even meant.

The '70s was a time when McDonald's actually drew attention to the ingredients in its Big Macs with its "Two All-Beef Patties" song and Wendy's had an octogenarian asking "Where's the Beef?" And no one was overly concerned about the sugar balls being promoted while they listened to Frankenberry and Count Chocula argue over who was scarier (the Count had my vote). I also sort of miss the crudeness of the Alka Seltzer commercials when they encouraged people to stuff themselves silly: "Mama, mia! That was one spicy meatball!" There were actually about 10 of them on the plate, but no matter, the plopping and fizzing would set you straight.

And then there were the ads that would send today's women's rights activists right into orbit. "Coffee, tea or a flick of my Bic?" This one is wrong on so many levels that it seems like it should be recreated as a "Saturday Night Live" skit starring Gloria Steinem in a French maid's outfit. Comedian Jeff Foxworthy could give her head a big sniff and announce, "Gee, your hair smells terrific!" The skit could close with her asking, "Who wears short shorts?" after which she burns the hair off her legs with Nair. Come on, you have to admit that would be humorous, if Gloria would agree not to press charges.

All of these ads give us a very interesting look at a very different time; they are a piece of our history, as absurd as they might be. I mean, who would soak their hands in dish-washing liquid or clap if they believe in peanut butter? Better yet, who buys an ice cream cake named "Fudgie the Whale" or "Dumpy the Pumpkin"? We did, of course.

And today's ad jingles will seem just as nonsensical to our kids when they are like us — sort of older-ish. My kids already have several cemented into their brains for life, including those for Stanley Steemer, Bernie & Phyl's, Subway's "Five Dollar Foot Long" and my personal favorite: "F-R-E-E that spells free, credit report dot com, baby!"

So there you have it, Morris the Cat has been replaced with a Geico-peddling gecko hawking car insurance products.

Just another sign of the times. Shop on.