Peyton Manning is a funny guy. Just look at his work for Mastercard. Of course, those ads had great writing — something Oreo should have allotted more budget for than, say, developing a fully-functional Oreo mascot costume for one 2-second shot.

Not only did Oreo clearly blow its budget by hiring both Peyton AND Eli Manning, it managed to quash every last drop of their natural charisma with vacant pseudo-hilarity that winks at the audience so often you'd think you're watching a Sarah Palin speech. The only thing worse would be if they hired Donald Trump as a spokesperson. Which they did. Go figure.

For years, Microsoft has been trying to capture some of the marketing magic Apple has been lording over them. Apparently the comic stylings of Justin Long are too much for them. So they do what any desperately out-of-touch corporate behemoth would do. They randomly latch onto something that's already popular.

Problem is, Family Guy hasn't been funny since season two. Not only that, but the techno-jargon hard-sell they shoe-horn into one of the show's running "jokes" is so thinly veiled even Stewie has to admit it's lame. And then he makes a Twitter quip that sounds like Jay Leno wrote it. Congratulations, Microsoft, you finally made something
worse than Windows 7.

From the very first second, this spot is a non-stop tour-de-crap that revels obliviously in its own sappy schmaltz. The slice-of-life story is so nauseatingly sweet it could put a diabetic into an immediate coma. And they'd be lucky, since he'd be too busy twitching on the floor to hear the announcer's disingenuous sales pitch about how this insurance company has values. You know, because they say so.

And then, just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, in comes the jingle. Why is it even there? It's about as catchy as a smoke alarm and exists only to restate their hollow tagline. With its smarmy vocals and juvenile melody, it manages to achieve the impossible - it somehow makes this radio spot even worse.

The worst part about this ad is that they tried. They tried to be clever. They tried to be funny. They tried so hard they probably soiled their pants in the process. Then they scooped it out and called it a commercial.

From the fake host's hardy-har-har name (Therm — the energy wise guy!) to the random injection of an anthropomorphized water heater, this spot is clearly trying to achieve the "so bad it's good" pass. Only their tongue isn't in their cheek, it's not even in their mouth, and all they end up with is a spot that's so irritating you'd rather burn newborn puppies to heat your house than call Questar for help.

Oh Snickers, say it ain't so. Remember that commercial you did where the guy painted "Chefs" in the endzone instead of "Chiefs"? That was funny, and was relevant to your brand.

This? This is an embarrassment. Victoreat? Feedfence? Patrick Chewing? We get it: you combined two old words to make one wacky new word. And you did it with all the linguistic finesse of an over-medicated tween. Clever is only good if it's relevant. And clever. You, Sir Snacksalot, are neither. See? Any idiot can write for Snickers.

Basil Hayden is a good – no, great – bourbon. That's what makes this ad so painful. Take the half-brained headline, for instance. It's trying to sound like a battle cry, but all it sounds like is the mind-flatulence of an inbred duck. At best, it's a tacit approval of the pompous jackassery observed all too often in bars – muscle-bound douchebags preening and flexing for overly-tan girls wearing more eye shadow than underwear.

At worst, it's a theatrical non-statement that does more to confuse the reader than if they had said nothing at all. Have some self-respect, Basil. You're a whiskey, not some vodka with an umlaut in your name and a flower on the bottle.

Every so often a campaign comes along that refuses to quit, blindly marching along to its corpse of a formula long past the point where a jury of its peers would sentence it to an electrified lethal injection hanging.

This is such a campaign. At first you think they're just going to desperately enthuse dubious product benefits in the questionable context of bland clips of NFL coaches being interviewed. ("Hey coach, what do you think of this vented wide-mouth can?!") Then suddenly there's a spot with Bigfoot as the punch line. Why don't you just go bald and start smashing watermelons with a giant mallet? Listen, Coors, just because you run a campaign for a really long time doesn't make it Bud Light's "Real Men of Genius," genius.

Yahoo! has succeeded despite itself. With just one discolored, unfortunately–cropped stock photo, this ad delivers on its promise to help you "learn how to lose weight." Yeah, it's easy, as long as you have a picture of some unsettlingly purple meat flaps on hand.

Forget the rest of the ad, with its 1st–grade gradients and flaccid copy; all you can look at are those gently–moistened cuts of slowly rotting flesh-sails, daring you to even think of eating again. It's like the Atkins diet had a car accident with a Georgia O'Keefe painting. Horrible.

Like a top ten list of clichéd advertising blunders, this ad is scraping the bottom of the barrel with a bulldozer. There's the idiotic, punny headline that appears to be auditioning to be a Fox reality show title. Then there's the incomprehensible type-face treatment, the off-center copy placement, and the logo that looks like it was designed by the Microsoft paper clip.

Even more infuriating is the fact that the lame, mid–90s slang word 'dis' is repeated not once, but three separate times! Some numbnuts actually thought they were the first to notice that the word 'disability' is made up of 'dis' and 'ability,' when in reality, they were probably the last.

Your first inclination may be to give this ad a pass because of its obvious budgetary constraints, but don't you do it! Yes, the lighting is amateur, the direction is hackneyed, and the acting isn't fit for a children's puppet show. But even if you threw the entire GDP of China at this concept, it would still get gonged.

At the core of this kaleidoscope of crap is the clumsily illustrated mixed–metaphor of "a strong beer." That's what they say, but what they show is not a strong beer, but a heavy beer. One so heavy a pube–chinned fat man would lift it for exercise.

But all its flaws pale in comparison to the real tragedy. The beer is good. Really good. And this is how they choose to represent it. Shame on you, Wasatch/Squatters, you're better than this. At least your beer is.

Really, Red Robin? Department of Deliciousness? That's the best you could come up with? What is this, a Fruit Rollup commercial? And by the way, saying that you taste–test your food with robots isn't exactly the most reassuring message coming from a restaurant.

Okay, so it's just a joke, but it's not funny. Just like the former morning–drive radio DJ mugging maniacally over what looks like a trumped–up Whopper. And the lame mannequin–based physical comedy. And the stale, recycled stewardess–caricature. It's like a Russian nesting doll of awfulness — there's no end!

Alright, who exactly is this ad targeting? Is there a large percentage of the population whose first reaction to seeing a downed power line is to wrestle it like a boa constrictor? Look, safety is one thing, but this ad seems to be catering to an entirely new level of stupidity. Consequentially, it is, itself, massively stupid.

Then there's the random miniature lineman sitting in his bucket. Is he supposed to be some sort of pint–sized Smokey the Bear reincarnation? No, turns out he's the star of their TV campaign, where he similarly pops out of the ether to lecture us about power–related non–issues. In this ad he's just another distraction from the poorly written copy and failed art direction. Good job?