Don’t bet on late-night infomercials

They say watching television in bed can negatively impactMark Gores the
quality of sleep you get. I don’t know who “they” are, but last Sunday I
realized that their reports were accurate.

After a long, tiring day of watching football, I got into bed to
catch SportsCenter for the third time that day, showing all the highlights of
the games I watched earlier in the day.

I turned the sleep timer on and the volume down to a level just
barely audible. My eyelids grew heavy, and just moments before I entered dream
land, I was jump-started by a bearded peddler screaming at me, “Hi, Billy Mays
here with Mighty Putty!”

I was confused at first when I was coming out of my daze. Many
questions raced through my mind all at once. Did I accidentally roll over the
remote and turn the volume all the way up? Did Billy Mays break into my house
for a one-on-one sales pitch? Did they really give Billy Mays another product
that was invented 30 years ago (Epoxy Putty) with a new name and packaging to
scream about? And when are they going to find a cure for that poor bearded
man’s inability to control the volume of his voice?

Now that I was wide awake, I decided to watch the rest of Billy’s spiel,
and I was taken back to my college days, where I oftentimes found myself
watching television when infomercials were the only option. They were always
good for a late-night laugh in between cramming sessions. Not so much a “ha ha”
laugh, but more of a “hmm, that is so sad that people actually buy this crap”
kind of laugh.

I was reminded of that guy dressed as some combination of the
Riddler and Waldo with question marks all over his suit and Waldo-esque
glasses. He was selling a book about getting rich from secrets the government
doesn’t want you to know. I determined that the book had only one secret in it
– the secret that there are people out there that will just hand over their
money if you dress like a lunatic and yell for a half hour and promise to knock
four easy payments down to three easy payments for the crap you’re selling if
they order in the next 10 minutes.

I actually got suckered into buying a knife one night. It was a
knife for people who saw pipes and then immediately have the urge to slice some
bread and tomatoes for a tomato sandwich. I didn’t buy it because I do a lot of
pipe sawing, though. I bought it because I bet my roommate that Billy Mays
would say, “But that’s not all” one more time and offer a set of steak knives
or something before the end of the infomercial, and it never happened.

I will admit that although I rarely crave a tomato sandwich
immediately after working on my pipe sawing, there’s a certain comfort level I
have just knowing that I can whip one up whenever I want. But a wager is still
the only instance in which someone should buy any of the crap from the late-night
peddlers.

I know there are some people out there who have the Mays fever and
will buy anything he sells, and I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. I’ve heard the
argument before about how his stuff really works, and the reason he’s so good
at screaming – I mean selling – is because he really uses and believes in his
product. Oh really? Then why, while I’m relaxing and enjoying my tomato
sandwich after a hard day of pipe sawing with a knife Billy sold to me that
will supposedly never get dull, is Billy Mays on my television screaming about
the Samurai Shark knife sharpener?

If you think you have a legitimate answer to that question, then
have I got a deal for you! You may have seen the latest energy drink craze
where they now put oxygen in cans for a quick pick-me-up. Well, I have decided
to put Billy Mays’ voice in tall, skinny cans to take over the energy-drink
market. If you act now, I will knock one payment off your order and double the
amount of cans.

But that’s not all!

Call right now and you’ll receive a limited-edition bearded Billy
Mays voice can, free! Complete with real Billy Mays beard trimmings affixed to
the can with Mighty Putty. A $200 value free, because you’ll buy anything.

Mark Gores, a 26-year-old
realtor, lives in Prior Lake with his wife, Emily. To comment on this
column, call the editor at (952) 345-6378 or e-mail markgores@yahoo.com [1] or
editor@plamerican.com.