They Were a Proud, Noble, Creative People, Whose Women Would Run Once a Month Through Dewey Meadows Wearing Diaphanous Gowns

Have you ever wondered what it would be like if an alien civilization, say the Vulcans or the Centauri, centuries in the future, were studying American Civilization of the 20^th and 21^st centuries, but their primary records were our television commercials?

What would their impression of late 20^th century American culture be from viewing our commercials? They might conclude that we were a proud, noble, creative and artistic people, who loved freedom—but whose females ran through dewey meadows wearing diaphanous gowns once a month to celebrate something called StayFee disposable maxipads. Or they might conclude that every time we drank a soft-drink the custom was then to break into a spontaneous song and dance (“Wouldn’t-cha like ta be a Pepper, too?”) They’d probably also come away with the conclusion that unattractive people were not allowed to drink beer, and that if you did drink beer, a bevy of attractive young women would immediately show up and throw themselves at you because you were drinking beer. It’s a safe bet they’d conclude that old people were not allowed to drink beer. In fact, all elderly people were allowed to do was talk about life insurance and how they got their freedom back with their Mobility One power-chars from the Scooter Store (although aliens might wonder why, before driving their Power Chairs to the Grand Canyon the freedom-loving seniors drove around in circles, and, absent the actual schematics for a Mobility One Power Chair whether they even had enough power to drive them all the way to the Grand Canyon).

Nor, apparently, from our TV ads, did unattractive people ever feel the need to use deodorant; only young attractive couples ever got sweaty and smelly. "How did the rest of their population learn to control their body odor," our alien visitors might ask, "and why didn't they share that technology with all those attractive young couples?" Perhaps they'd conclude it was as punishment for being so young and attractive?

Most likely if all they had were our commercials and weren’t too attentive to detail, our alien cultural analysts would also conclude that we routinely loved to talk about such wide-ranging topics as male pattern baldness, irregularity and life insurance, over an intimate dinner with friends at the Olive Garden, on All-You-Can-Eat Pasta Night, while drinking Ernest and Julio Gallo wine. (But of course no unattractive or old people.)

If the aliens scanned old footage of our infomercials they’d probably conclude that one of our favorite pastimes was sitting in a studio audience watching fast-talking pitch-men sell Shamwows and Ginsu knives. “Who was Julienne,” they’d ask, "and why did they want to slice and dice her into thin little strips? Perhaps she was that pushy black lady who stalked supermarkets and home kitchens waving a bottle of Pine-Sol in peoples’ faces,” they might conclude. "Why did the police never arrest her for breaking and entering?" And they’d hafta wonder why talking oven mitts and tiny ship captains in tiny outboard motorboats cruising peoples’ toilet tanks didn’t freak anyone out. And if it were the Vulcans analyzing us from our TV commercials, I’m sure they be fascinated by how the actress Jamie Lee Curtis could get every single one of her friends (curiously all women-perhaps men weren't allowed to eat yogurt?) to try Activia yogurt.  Or how those other two attractive women (because unattractive women apparently weren’t allowed to drink beer or eat yogurt) drove all over the US and all they wanted to talk about was how everything in their lives could be compared to eating a container of yogurt. Would the Vulcans thereby conclude that Yoplait Yogurt was warp seven good? Perhaps if it were a couple of attractive young Vulcan female scientists conducting the study. (And do Vulcan women run through dewy meadows wearing diaphanous gowns once a month to celebrate disposable pads? Somehow, knowing the Vulcans and how they suppress their emotions, I think the answer would have to be no, although Centauri women just might.)

Our alien analysts could also of course be forgiven for surmising that animals ran our society (or at least our insurance companies and restaurants), since we apparently buy our car insurance from tiny British geckos and our tacos from bilingual Chihuahuas. As well for surmising we were all bad spellers as nobody could seem to spell relief correctly. “Why did they all think ‘relief’ is spelled ‘r-o-l-a-i-d-s’?” “And he told her it’s not butter. Why won’t she believe him?” And could we not tell that giant termites shouldn’t be delivering pizza, that it was just a ploy to invade our homes? What kind of experiment gone awry caused the termites to get that big, anyway?

That, I suggest, is the kind of confusion alien scientists might encounter in studying our modern culture mainly through our TV commercials. Heck, I live on this planet and I don’t understand our TV commercials. But I guess I kinda like ‘em, warped as they are. I'm just glad Nasa opted not to include any of our TV commercials in the Voyager I space probe. Although they did include a ninety minute selection of Earth's Greatest Hits. Does that include Country Music? What if aliens attempted to understand our culture through Country Music songs? But that's a topic for another blog, I think.

Live long and prosper.