God the Bounty Hunter

In Baltimore, we do small business big. Like, biblically big:

I was barely able to get a picture off before this guy ascended into heaven (or turned down Lexington Street), leaving me with nothing but questions. Can't blame him for wanting to affiliate his company with a blue-chip name, I guess.

It gets better. They have access to a video camera, editing equipment and local cable ad buys:






Safe to say the Man Upstairs has put Judgment Day on His calendar. In ink.

Other acts of vehicular adslaughter: Rage Rover; Your Busses Are Belong to Us.
And the ad gospel according to J-hizzy: Spiritual Water; ShamWow for the Soul.

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Low-Hanging Fruit Files: New Wave Rooster Rolls, Shills Soviet Bloc Meat(ish) Product

Submitted for your approval:

My Estonian's a little rusty, so you'll have to give me a pass: I'm not sure if they're advertising a poultryesque product or narrating a rooster's acid flashback.

At first, I thought this had to be a hoax, maybe some kind of viral video for PETA. A quick check of Snopes (I alternate my Firefox home page between Snopes and Google depending on how much I distrust the world on any given day) came up empty.

The only way they could possibly make meat any less appealing would be to drag it behind a bus through a manure patch. In their defense, standards back then slipped a bit under the cold, hard hammer of Communism. When you're rationing toilet paper, I suppose you're less preoccupied by what goes in.

M.M.McDermott, ACD/The Other White Meat

Previously in the Low-Hanging Fruit Files: Commercial sucks the joy out of a job in video gaming.
Half-passingly-kinda-related to PETA: Local lawyer sees gold showers in them thar hills.
Foreign ads are weird: Man-Dog mends broken hearts with chips.

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