Of hamsters and men

Animals can be quite effective when used in advertisements for human products. Think Spuds Makenzie, the Budweiser frogs, maybe even the cute puppy in the toilet paper commercials.

But a couple of current commercials leave me wondering what the ad agencies, and the corporate execs who approved the ads were thinking.

Quiznos advertises its $3, $4 and $5 sandwiches using animated, to use the word loosely, cats. Singing, again using the word very loosely, cats.

The jingle uses the tune to "Three Blind Mice," an the voice is, I suppose, trying to sound like a cat would sound if a cat could sing, only the sound reminds me of blackboard produced screeches.

This is one of those commercial that makes me grab for the remote so I can hit the mute button. Perhaps the company hopes we'll be so annoyed and put off by the commercial's lack of production value that we'll run down to our nearest store, buy a sandwich, and help the company to make enough profit to produce better commercials.

Less annoying but just as puzzling to me has been the whole Kia Soul hamster series. One of the early commercials showed a bunch of giant rodents in cages on downtown streets. Good image. Commuters are like hamsters running on plain-jane wheels. I can buy that.

Then other hamsters, which look for all the world to me like giant rats drive by in a Soul, making the other rodents jealous. I admit that the Soul is kind of cute, but I'm used to the concept that the car will some how pull me out of the humdrum world I live and work in. Here they're saying, Hey, you're still a rodent, but you can drive around in a prettier cage.

Now, the commercials show the rats, er, rodents, I mean, hamsters in hip-hop dress chanting, "Oh, you can go wit dis, or you can go wit dat," while showing other rats, er, hamsters driving a box or a washing machine or some other square conveyance. The Soul, by virtue of its name and sloped roof, is cooler than all the box wagons out there, making you hipper than rodents who drive box wagons. Except you're still a rodent.

The thing about box wagons -- Elements, Scions, Cubes --is that they already appeal to people who like a vehicle that's out of the ordinary, so they really don't fit into the rodent on wheel mold, and really, who wants to think of himself or herself as a giant rodent?

We don't want to be hip rodents; we want to be hip.

Around here, lot's of people seem to be buying Souls, so maybe I'm wrong. Maybe the campaign's memorable enough to drive buyers to dealerships, and they buy the autos to be hip, to show they're not part of the rat race.

Or maybe the cars are just inexpensive.

Those who go down to the sea in ships

Those who go down to sea in ships ... have seen the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep. For he spoke and raised up a stormy wind ... Ps. 107

I'm a big fan of the Horatio Hornblower and Jack Aubrey books. (The Aubrey books are the ones the movie "Master and Commander" are based on.)

They describe life in the British navy during the late 18th century into the 19th. I'm fascinated by the accounts of shipboard life, especially how the ships handled at sea.

When we owned a small sailboat, I used to wonder what it would be like to own a larger vessel and sail it on open waters. The few times I was caught in a small storm were frightening and thrilling.

So I looked forward to taking our first cruise, some 10 years ago now. We'd be on a big ship on the ocean, and I thought we'd experience a bit of seafaring life.

Of course, being on a cruise liner has nothing at all to do with reality. I know that now. On the first cruise, we barely felt any movement other than the vibrations of the engines. On our second cruise, we did encounter a bit of stormy weather and rode a launch in seas with four foot or so waves.

But this last cruise, this was an adventure.

A tropical depression formed in the Gulf just before we left and strengthened into a named storm, Alex, by the time we put to sea. Eventually Alex would become a hurricane. This caused us to experience the sea in a whole new way.

There's nothing quite like looking out your cabin window, which is about 40 foot above the water and seeing the result of the boat encountering a wave and tossing water as high or higher than your window.

And sitting in the dining room, on deck 8, another 40 feet or so up, and seeing huge swells and whitecaps out the window makes you wonder just how big the waves really are. Our captain told us when the waves were running 6 feet. These were easily 20 foot.

The Psalmist says those who go down to the sea, "reeled and staggered like a drunken man." Obviously he'd either experienced it first hand or knew someone who had. We passengers did exactly that. Though cruise ship are gigantic vessels with stabilizers built in to minimize the motion and keep passengers happy, this was a trip to develop sea legs with.

I even experienced a bit of the problem of regaining land legs our first night home. Rising in the middle of the night, I had difficulty orienting myself and felt like the house was swaying.

But the real thrill was to stand on deck and hear the roar of the winds. To sit on the taffrail and watch as the wind and wave motion made my tea cup slide on the table and forced me to chase my chair down to stack it so it wouldn't blow away. To climb up and down stairs while they moved in directions I didn't.

This time, I experienced a small bit of the life of a seaman and have a greater appreciation for those tars whose stories I've read and for those who first dared to strike out on the waters without a sure knowledge of where they would end up.

And although I experienced some small thrill, I also learned I don't have the gumption those explorers did. I'm quite sure I wouldn't care to be on rougher seas in smaller craft.

I still would like to try sailing a larger boat, perhaps in coastal waters when the weather's not so bad, but beyond that, I think I'll leave that much adventure to the real explorers.