A Bitter Pill

I’m watching the playoff games, something I don’t usually do, but the Yankees were beaten so badly and so quickly that I had a whole bunch of unused rooting points.

I decided to use the rest of them against the Dodgers. KaChing!  

Apparently I still have a bunch left. 

I’m hoping that the Guardians ability to win on the road, while being sadly inept at home, carries the day. Probably not.

But, if the World Series pits Cleveland, a city I like,

and Milwaukee, home to Bob Uecker

I’m good with either. Not Tampa though. Screw them. 

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The reason I’m writing is...

I keep getting shown a commercial for Caplyta. 

In it a wealthy white woman apparently suffers from depression. I can relate to that. Well, half of that description anyway.

They show her sitting in her sun room, doing group yoga in the park with other wealthy depressed women, and hanging out on what appears to be a private beach with her husband, kids, and of course, their golden retriever.

As it turns out she is only able to be happy because of the drug. OK. The mind is complex, I can't speak to hers. So, fine. Glad she’s happy now. 

What’s pissing me off is the commercial uses “This Little Light of Mine” to sell the product.

A little background. Shortened from Wikipedia…

"This Little Light of Mine" is an American gospel song that originated in the 1920s, when it was first sung in Christian churches and penitentiaries…

The gospel song became popular among African American Christians, and it was later adapted by Zilphia Horton, amongst many other activists, in connection with the civil rights movement.”

They’re using a classic civil rights song to help sell anti-depression medication to wealthy white women. Wow. Just wow.

So now when I hear it I no longer think of Martin Luther King. Now I think of the overwhelming struggle of someone getting the wrong kind of milk in their latte. 

That’s just offensive. What’s next… "Strange Fruit" to sell tangelos?

Look, I don’t do the performative anti-cultural appropriation schtick. 

Well, to be fair, I also don’t love the Atlanta Braves tomahawk chop but that’s more of a, I don’t like stadium sized crowds raising and lowering their arms and doing death chants, kind of thing. I always get a “Triumph of the Will” vibe. 

But that could just be me.

This is America. The great melting pot. Appropriate away. You can call me a schmuck and I’m not going to bitch and say, “Hey! That’s my word!” 

You want to wear a giant hat made out of beaver fur in the middle of July? You should live and be well.

Dashiki at Thanksgiving?  Knock your self out. 

A dirndl when it’s not Octoberfest? Thanks for the view. 

This is not a person wearing a dirndl. The view is similar though. This is Front Row Amy. As El Duque mentioned, she sits behind home plate at Brewers games.  See the notebook in her hands? She manually scores the game. Charts every pitch.  I like her even more.  Why can’t the Yankees have fans like that?

All we get is…

I shouldn’t complain. At least she goes to the games, unlike her brother Hal.

But I digress…

I guess what bothers me about the commercial, aside from everything, is that someone, anyone, should have known the history of the song and pointed it out during the approval process. 

It just goes to our general dumbing down as a country.

I’m bumming myself out and now I’m depressed. If only there was something I could take…