Have you had the pleasure of viewing the new Jägermeister television ad?
No? Allow me to set the scene for you.
The setting is some unknown snowy landscape; the wind howls as we spot the signature Jäger deer in the distance. A dude who may or may not be a Juggalo, or perhaps the lost member of Kiss trudges through the snow and enters a mysterious castle.
He walks down a creaky dark hallway, the walls lined with pictures of men committing manly acts. Boxing. Holding guns. Sporting sweet mustaches. Not smiling.
A very serious narrator spouts a dramatic diatribe about how one cannot choose to come here, but must earn the right by doing Man Stuff; and in doing this Man Stuff, men form bonds. Harder, stronger bonds.
We reach our destination at the end of the hallway and enter a dimly lit man-cave replete with wood paneling; there's that deer head again, this time mounted on the wall. A group of tough-looking dudes are huddled around a large round table sculpted from ice in what looks to be one big hyper-masculine circle jerk. The camera pans to each and we see a montage of how he's earned his place at the table. The tribal-tatted rockstar. The race car driver. The surfer. (Our mysterious Juggalo turns out to be, in fact, a rodeo clown.)
They toast to their rugged manliness and pound frigid shots of the syrupy brown liquor, slamming their glasses on the icy table.
Then the tagline: "Jägermeister: A Stronger Bond."
Jägermeister is often the shot of choice for my lady friends and me when we get together to pregame before a night of raising hell; I don't find there to be anything more masculine about it than say, Smirnoff Ice. ("You just got ICED!")
However, in my experience a night of drinking usually results in missing time, peeing behind Dumpsters and waking up with the taste of bad choices in one's mouth -- and I suppose those are all bonding experiences in their own right, in the sense that your friends will have funny stories to
blackmail you with tell later.
At any rate, I feel they could've gotten a little more creative with the slogan to better express the testosterone-fueled bonding experiences that the Jäger marketing team imagines are being formed in frat houses all across America.
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How about "Jägermeister: Not For Pussies"? Or maybe, "Jägermeister: It Puts Hair On Your Balls."
Perhaps they could even join forces with Dr Pepper Ten to create the Manliest Man Drink That Ever Was. Maybe even a Jäger-infused sports drink for only the toughest athletes. "Jäger-Ade: Because Steroids Are Fucking Illegal."
I guess my lack of a Y chromosome means I should stick to appletinis.