A Vision of John Mayer and the Worst Commercial Ever

Strap yourself in; I'm about to tell you about a dream I had a couple nights ago! On a boredom level of one-to-coma, studies have shown only reading an article about the launch of a tactical nuke in Modern Warfare 2 or about the best fastball hitters MLB has to offer are more brutal than hearing about someone else's dream. Since I've already covered the nuke and the fastballs, let's complete the trifecta. Tell you what. To make it more interesting, I'll compose the events of the dream in script format.

INT. RECORD STORE - SAN DIEGO, CA - TIME OF DAY UNKNOWN

A thriving record store in San Diego (think High Fidelity with palm trees). A popular trendy band plays overhead. I dunno...let's say Animal Collective. Strong scent of ganj. This crowd enjoys puffing the purp.

John Mayer browses the store's musical selection with everyone else. Luke seems to be the only patron aware who this man is. It's John Mayer, people! I mean, his newest album kind of blows, but still, he's a celebrity! And he's kind of fixed his ugly guitar solo face over the last few years. Sort of.

Luke decides he must somehow impress John Mayer and earn his friendship.

It is suddenly apparent that John Mayer is compiling several mix CDs at the front desk. We went from the musician browsing the music selection in one second to burning discs of his own the next (dreams are horrible with segways).

Luke must have one of these CDs.

Mayer launches Track 1 on a newly completed cd.

Luke
(in an absurd hippie voice)
Great tuuuuune, mannnnnn!


John Mayer
(stares, confused, for a short while)
Yup.

Luke has thoroughly embarrassed himself in front of an arguably not terrible bluesy-pop musician. He's not even stoned, so where did that hippie voice come from? Regardless, it's time for redemption.

I Shall Return just happens to be one of Luke's favorite Gov't Mule songs (what are the odds??) He starts singing the words to the tune, pretty loudly, and not very well. Also, he's playing air guitar. In an effort to earn the friendship of John Mayer. 

Details are suddenly getting hazy. The view of the record store fades to black.


At 6:30 am, a half hour before my alarm would go off, I awoke from this really stupid dream. I rose from my bed, stumbling and moaning like a zombie, into the living room and turned on ESPN. Commercials. Oh look, Michael Phelps is swimming. That's fitting.

Wait. What is going on?

THE WORST COMMERCIAL EVER

• Nice suit, guy at the 0:07 mark. Maybe THIS sale will reconcile your failed marriage!
• 0:11 - Whoa! Nice acting by you two! You're definitely not looking at a green screen.
• I know Subway needs to compete against the burger crowd, but they've gone too far with their national endorsement of Michael Phelps' dairy cow abuse.
• I've had enough of Jared. "See you there?" See you where? Vancouver? Is Jared competing in the Winter Olympics? Does Vancouver even HAVE Subway franchises? If not, Jared can't go there. He'll starve.
  
• Michael Phelps can swim through concrete if he eats his Subway like a good little stoner. Try it for yourself, kids! Instead of doing that underwater somersault thing to turn around, swim through the freaking wall!
• I'm not a fanatical Olympics follower, but isn't swimming a summer sport? And isn't Vancouver hosting the Winter Olympics? Can someone please explain to me why Michael Phelps is in a Subway ad, swimming through a cornfield on his way to Vancouver? 

This concludes my summary of the most confusing morning ever.