THE GUINNESS BEER ACROBAT SPEAKS
by Orson on Nov 14, 2007 12:32 PM EST
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PrintThis Guinness commercial has been haunting our dreams. Who are these little men? Why do they die every time we drink a Guinness? What goes on in their souls? And why are they wearing helmets? We get inside on of their brains in this piece below. No, we're not on cold medicine.)
I look so tough: the chin jutted forward, the helmet down. I don't even know why we wear helmets: there's the boom, the whoosh out of the cannons, and then the meaningless impact, chaos, and disintegration that is my life.
That may look like bravado. But it's only looks. You see bravery. I see a hollow man rocketing toward the only destiny he's ever known or ever will know: falling, gravity, and ultimately my demise in a mist of droplets of what used to be my soul.
I'd kill myself if I wasn't into being efficient. Life does the job for me anyway every day, one stinking cannon shot at a time. Doing it myself would be a waste of energy.
It's only when you think that's the problem. Look at me. I'm hurtling along through space, propelled by forces I don't fully understand, just close enough to see that others are being put through the same hell I rocket through every day. Wake. Eat. In the Tubes you go, the stinking, beer-reeky tubes that vomit you outward like so many spermatozoa spinning through a barren womb.
The worst part is watching the other guys go through it. You know it ain't fair for you to go through with it, but them? Why does someone else have to go, too? This could have been a one-man show, and then you'd only have to put up with your own suffering. Others didn't have to be involved, dragged into this shit sandwich and forced to be accomplices to this. Look at Simpson, Johnson, and McElroy up there. They're dying, and I have to watch. Who's the victim here?
I die a little each time they go into the drums. It's hell.
It's kind of beautiful, though. We all roll out each morning not knowing why, drinking our coffee and wondering when, if, and how it will end. We put on the suit. We put on the pads. We drop the visor, stand in the tubes, hit the drums and slide down the harpstrings. We look at each other with the need and dread of those caught in a situation we'll never understand and that we cannot escape.
But you know, every now and then, way up in the stratosphere, you get to kick the edge of it all, and see that maybe there's hope beyond this veil. Up there, there's light, and the glimmer of something beyond. I don't know what it is, but it feels like...hope. Meaning. Up there, something tells me that we couldn't just be meaningless particles evaporating in a cold, uncaring brew of a universe. We just can't. I know this for a fact. How?
I just feel it, man. Despite all the shit, I know I can't be doing this for no reason, only to be consumed. I just feel it. That's all I can say.
Gotta go. They're playing my number. And if I'm lucky, I'll kick the cymbal today.
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Again, Orson shows his brilliance… or at least I hope it is brilliance, because the alternative is not pretty.
by bubulldog on Nov 14, 2007 12:40 PM EST reply actions
I see no football in this post.
Must be channeling those other “football” fans across the pond.
They drink Guinness, right? Hell, I think they bathe in it.
by Rival on Nov 14, 2007 12:50 PM EST reply actions
I like that as a motto for life:
Live like your going to kick the cymbal today
by The Bull-Gator on Nov 14, 2007 12:52 PM EST reply actions
interesting to say the least…but i gotta say…i love the part where they bounce off the drums.
by gerry dorsey on Nov 14, 2007 12:56 PM EST reply actions
Yeah, I get that you are extremely intelligent and have a plethora, thanks thesaurus!, of interests and hobbies that don’t involve college football…
but from August until January, I don’t.
So, you know, make fun of Fulmer being fat or something and I will continue to click on your advertisements even though I have no interest in getting a campy Oregon Trail themed t-shirt.
The people who wears those “clever” t-shirts are making my coffee at Starbucks in the morning.
by Coop on Nov 14, 2007 12:59 PM EST reply actions
You mean I’ve been drinking little people all this time? Little people with existential angst?
by Biggus Rickus on Nov 14, 2007 1:04 PM EST reply actions
I thought the guys died upon impact? If that’s the case, how do they arise the next morning to do it again? Unless maybe we, too, are dead and just don’t realize it.
by PW on Nov 14, 2007 1:05 PM EST reply actions
It seems like they should have blue jerseys to go with those gold helmets and pants.
by RedDevilEA on Nov 14, 2007 1:05 PM EST reply actions
What’s it like in a tall boy of Steel Reserve? Or that Budweiser mixed with Clamato shit they only advertise in Spanish? La combinacion perfecta?!?
by Allahver Fist on Nov 14, 2007 1:14 PM EST reply actions
Haunting you? You’re obviously not drinking enough.
Drinking those little “acrobats” may be a bit peculiar, but no more so than seeing Rutger Hauer’s Guinness spot.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l1UTGU5zFyw
Either way, the Guinness scientists agree that both are “brilliant!”
by BDoc on Nov 14, 2007 1:16 PM EST reply actions
Is this haunting in the same way as the old Arnie Japanese beer commercials? Those gave me nightmares for weeks.
by The Bull-Gator on Nov 14, 2007 1:19 PM EST reply actions
A rare case of the beer being better than the advert.
They drink Guinness, right? Hell, I think they bathe in it.
My father caught spinal meningitis in the 50s in Glasgow and lost a kidney as a result. When they were trying to get him back to strength in the hospital, the doctor prescribed a pint of stout a day for the nutritional and caloric content. True.
by DC Trojan on Nov 14, 2007 1:25 PM EST reply actions
Meh…the “Brilliant!” commercials were alot better….
One thing on those previous Brilliant commercials – one of them had people tailgaiting drinking Guinness. Seriously? Has anyone ever been to a Guinness tailgate for American Football? I have been to alot of them, and never was Guiness there. It’s usually about drinking all day, which means volume, something not conducive to Guiness….but I digress…
by Brian O'Blivion on Nov 14, 2007 1:28 PM EST reply actions
Nutritional, DC?
Something tells me Dr. Spaceman would agree.
by Coop on Nov 14, 2007 1:29 PM EST reply actions
seeing Rutger HauerÂ’s Guinness spot.
Interestingly, they picked Rutger Hauer because he’s about 4.2% alcohol by volume, just like Guinness.
by DC Trojan on Nov 14, 2007 1:30 PM EST reply actions
I blame purple drank. Swindle must be Ghoulin’.
by Odell 51 on Nov 14, 2007 1:37 PM EST reply actions
“A person’s a person, no matter how small.”
Horton
by Unhappy Monkey on Nov 14, 2007 1:48 PM EST reply actions
Channeling Woody Allen, are we. Anyway, Nicky S didn’t have time for this Guinness sh*t. He doesn’t like to be reminded of his total offense being field goal kicking last week.
by MassDad on Nov 14, 2007 2:39 PM EST reply actions
I wonder what the Guiness beer acrobats think of the ones in Bodingtons.
by Out of Conference on Nov 14, 2007 3:32 PM EST reply actions
Well hell, if those are what reside in Guiness, a thick, overpriced foreign beer, I do not want to know what mythical creatures lurk in my Pabst Blue Ribbon, and if they were to be in a commercial, I think it would be hundreds of Jesco Whites tap dancing on top of a burning trailer….
by Mr Pelican Pants on Nov 14, 2007 4:38 PM EST reply actions
It’s the Blade Runner theory of beer marketing
by Alagator on Nov 14, 2007 5:03 PM EST reply actions
Coop doesn’t appreciate clever humor? Given the stereotypes of the Clemson fan base, I find this shocking.
by Chg on Nov 14, 2007 5:13 PM EST reply actions
I live in Dublin, near the James Street home brewery of Guinness; you can smell when a new brew is going, and I am now cursed to think it is the smell of the sweat of those little acrobats.
For the guy who mentioned doctors recommending drink: many Irish doctors still recommend a pint of Guinness for pregnant women every day [something I only found out when impregnating my wife and subsequently talking to Irish physicians]; and they wonder why the Irish start out a little brain-addled.
by Will on Nov 14, 2007 5:55 PM EST reply actions
It realy doesnt matter whats in the beer, they all clear out one way or another when Jose Cuervo and his buddy, Patron, show up, really late and usually uninvited, he likes to pick fights with the other drinks in the room and usually forces them out the way they came in, with alot more force and extreme prejudice
by Mr Pelican Pants on Nov 14, 2007 6:22 PM EST reply actions
But on the other hand, there were many times I wish them lil acrobats were , instead of being thrown against drums, were actually being thrown into a woodchipper or into a punji pit so that I would not have to deal with a hangover
by Mr Pelican Pants on Nov 14, 2007 6:43 PM EST reply actions
Wow. I had to read this one twice. I have no idea what it’s doing here, but it’s more like something I would be reading in a short story compilation by Harlan Ellison.
I can’t decide which is more chemically-induced in its conception, the ad itself or the write-up.
by B2 on Nov 15, 2007 12:18 AM EST reply actions
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