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Get a Wedgie!

Yes, that’s correct, I’m imploring you to go out and get a wedgie. I’m up late, I need to get to bed already; I have to work tomorrow (today), for chrissakes. But while half-watching a show about that chopper-idiot Jesse James, I heard this commercial soundtrack:

“Are you tired of chopping difficult vegetables? Give ‘em a WEDGIE!”

Eh?

I looked up, and proceeded to spend the next sixty seconds with my jaw on the coffee table, muttering “oh my god”, over and over again.

The “Wedgie” (which is actually spelled “Wedge” yet pronounced [on the commercial] “wedge-ee”—like the underwear event—the tragedy of this product commercial not only being the product itself, but yet-another example of the dumbing-down of America) is one of those miracle-you-just-gotta-have-this-mofo-or-you-will-die items, brought to you by some money grubbing scumbag with a warehouse in Perth Amboy full of these babies, fresh off a container ship from Taiwan.

This particular piece of shit is a set of blades encased in plastic, with a handle that you press down. The idea is that you place a tomato, or hard-boiled egg, or what-have-you, into the Vortex of Dicing, and press the plunger, and voila, wedges. Yay! Because, you know, let’s face it; it’s just so hard to manually slice a tomato into four pieces.

Now, this kind of kitchen apparatus/crap is not new to Americans, but whose idea was it to give it a name that recalls visions of underwear embarrassment from the third grade?

Hellooo…, crap merchants…, a wedgie is something to be avoided. Don’t name/pronounce your products after an act that makes cotton go up one’s butt crack. And don’t hire Mr. Voiceover to happily proclaim “give ‘em a wedgie!”