These new ads for bleach are raw as hell and I’m honestly not ready to live and die in this world. I’m not strong enough. I’m soft and afraid and my bloodline is weak; I know this. Rome has lost its breed of noble bloods, and I’m the most lost out of anybody. Have you seen this? Are you prepared to meet God?
Nora Dunn – who survived SNL’s ’85 season and has nothing left to prove – strides down a grocery store aisle wearing a cardigan made of your ancestors’ bones and says, “Lots of marketing going on in this aisle.” It sounds like a compliment.
And wolf looks like a sheep if he wears a wool coat. Nora Dunn is not here to be your friend.
“Fancy labels, slick designs…this one’s got flowers on it. It’s pretty.” We are all Anne Hathaway smiling like a goddamn rube right before Meryl Streep tells us she picked out our shapeless turquoise sweater for us. Pretty isn’t good, you weaklings. Nora Dunn has seen some shit, and she’s here to save our live, not spare our feelings.
“When the stomach flu ravages my home, am I supposed to believe that an Ocean Breeze is going to wash it away?” You credulous, soft-titted children. You will not last the autumn; you lack even the vigor necessary to die in winter. What have you been cleaning your home with? Gossamer and optimism? You white-necked naif. You do not even deserve to have hands to clean with. Nora Dunn’s home has been ravaged by stomach flu. Ravaged. Black, poisonous, drippy stuff shooting out both ends. It got everywhere. Everywhere. And where were you, Ocean Breeze? Fucking nowhere to be found is where. She used BLEACH.
“I know what clean smells like,” Nora Dunn says. “Bleach.” Clean smells like bleach; bleach is what clean is. If A, then B. A always, therefore B always. A and B are indistinguishable. If you have clean, you have bleach. If you have no bleach, nothing is clean. Do you see now? She’s seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like drops of dog piss in a bleach puddle.
“The same bleach that knocks down dysentery.” WAIT, WHAT? NORA DUNN, IS IT 1700 WHERE YOU ARE? ARE YOU LIVING ON A SHIP IN HIS MAJESTY’S NAVY? ALSO YOU ARE KIND OF MAKING IT SOUND LIKE BLEACH CURES DYSENTERY WHICH IS NOT EXACTLY TRUE? BLEACH IS LIKE A BLOWTORCH INASMUCH AS IT WILL GET RID OF DYSENTERY FOR SURE BUT IT’LL ALSO BURN YOUR EYES CLEAN OUT IF YOU ACCIDENTALLY SPILL IT.
“And cleans up crime scenes.” WAIT
“AND CLEANS UP CRIME SCENES” NORA DUNN ARE YOU ADVERTISING THE BENEFITS OF BLEACH TO SERIAL KILLERS
WHY WOULD YOU EVEN BRING THAT UP
MOST OF US ARE JUST LOOKING FOR SOME HOUSEHOLD DISINFECTANT NOT “WHAT CLEANS A BUCKET CONTAINING LITERALLY EVERY BODILY FLUID”
“If you want to spend three bucks on liquid doubt, be my guest.” Why is this commercial about ontology all of a sudden?? Nora Dunn, this commercial is for cleaning solvents and it’s 31 seconds long and you’re making me question my entire life!
“But if you want clean, get a cleaner with bleach in it.” JESUS. OKAY. I WILL BUY LITERALLY ANYTHING YOU TELL ME TO, THIS IS THE ONLY WOMAN WHO COULD HAVE MARRIED CURLY FROM CITY SLICKERS.
I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only bleach will remain.
Mallory is an Editor of The Toast.