Sure, it seems as if close examination of TV commercials from the 1970s reveals blatant sexuality erupting in the most inappropriate contexts. I try to tell myself no, it's just my dirty mind. Here, for instance, is a perfectly wholesome ad for kid's clothes. It does not sexualize prepubescents, doesn't depict them as objects of desire, and certainly features no fetishistic closeups of underage butts:
And Twinkie The Kid, no, he's not really an ambulatory penis. He's just a plump, cream-filled ramrod with an uncircumcised hat, and there's no way the image 20 seconds into this spot looks like it was shot by Jim and Artie Mitchell:
But then...this. This is a Freudian nightmare. This is emasculation as wholesome family fun. This is The Ice Storm: The Home Game. This is what would happen if Erica Jong designed an ad campaign for a product devised by Edward Albee. This is Scenes From A Marriage with an inexplicably peppy soundtrack. This is a descent into marital hell.
Seriously, what the hell were they thinking?
