I need to confess something:
I miss the Appliance Direct guy.
And David Maus.
I even miss seeing those disturbingly peppy dancers doing their cheesy choreography in front of the Fun Spot go-kart track.
I know these are commercials that usually make most of us scramble for the mute button. Or a hammer.
But at this point, I would take a hundred of David Maus' awkward, double-thumbs-up gestures over another ad telling me that Linda Stewart wants to tax the air I breathe or that Bob Brooks is a modern-day ayatollah.
Please, somebody, scream at me: "You paid too much!"
The TV isn't the only household appliance that has me scared nowadays. It's my telephone, too.
When it rings, I eye it the way Drew Barrymore did her phone in "Scream."
I just know that there's a stalker lurking on the other end. Last week it was Ann Romney ... followed by a female doctor telling me that Republicans wanted to regulate my uterus.
Oh, how I'd rejoice to hear again from that nice lady at Bright House who calls to tell me that the $160 I'm paying each month doesn't allow me to save nearly as much as if I'd agree to pay $200.
I long for the mundane.
Facebook isn't safe anymore either.
In the old days, I'd roll my eyes when people rushed to post pictures of their breakfast: a freshly poured glass of orange juice with a witty cutline like: "juice. yummy."
Now, OJ seems downright nostalgic compared with the woman bragging about how she stiffed her waitress out of a tip simply because the waitress was wearing an Obama button — and the customer wanted to teach her a lesson about wealth redistribution. (More depressing was the gleeful chorus of "likes" from those pleased about her sticking it to the minimum-wage worker who dared to have a different opinion.)
Cutesy-pie pictures of kids on a hayride prompt rants about Rick Scott trying to destroy their future.
I truly believe people are inherently good.
In fact, in my job, I am blessed to see countless acts of altruism and selflessness.
But something happens to this country every four years.
It's like a quadrennial full moon, turning normally sane people into frothing-at-the-mouth lunatics.