If you look at the label of most skin products, it will boast that it was developed by dermatologists. No shit? You're selling a complicated combination of chemicals designed to rub on the skin, and at one point you consulted a skin scientist? I'm worried you felt the need to bring that up. Was your first attempt at hand lotion something a janitor found in his bathtub after a cleaning supply fight?
From now on, save yourself some trouble and only tell us who made your product if it's not obvious, like if a school teacher(!) made your cold medicine or if actor Paul Newman made your salad dressing. When a lotion company advertises that it hired a dermatologist, that's like an airline advertising that it hired a real pilot. Duh, Lubriderm. I fucking went to sixth grade. If you really wanted to give your consumers useful information, you'd tell them how long your product takes to transform from lubricant into paste during masturbation. And even then, my response would be the same: Duh, Lubriderm. I fucking went to sixth grade.
From a Non-Insane Source!
A lot of products brag that they come from a specific source. For example, almost all orange juice excitedly claims to be from California or Florida. And while those states sound mouth-watering, they also happen to produce 95% of all our oranges. So hooray, your oranges came from one of the two places oranges come from. If you really want to impress me, find me some that you grew in Detroit.
Domino's Pizza has an entire ad campaign where they reveal to startled focus groups that their tomatoes come from tomato farms and their cheese comes from cows. Are we really that cynical that we thought evil pizza technicians were growing crops without sunshine and turning spiders into milk? Of course you bought your tomatoes from a tomato farmer, Domino's-- that's like the fucking whole point of that guy's life. And I assume it's cheaper to do it that way than to develop some kind of sinister cloned tomatoes in a moon lab. We're all glad you're not wizards, Domino's, but it's kind of a dick move to assume we were crazy enough to think you were to begin with.
Hey, Domino's, if you have to start an entire ad campaign to convince us that you use food in your food, maybe you should stop and think about how an entire consumer market was convinced that your sauce was made of pressed tampons and burned tires in the first place. Yes, I understand that with each of your pizzas we buy, we make it more and more clear that we know nothing about nutrition and flavor. Still, we know where tomatoes and milk come from. That's not the problem. The problem is that by the time these ingredients get to our front door they also have toenails and a condom in them.
Less Fat, Asterisk!
Sometimes instead of declaring itself to have no fat, a product might brag that it has less fat. For example, Reduced Fat Jif has 25% less fat than regular Jif. Great job. So does a 3/4 full jar of fat. If you look at the nutritional information on reduced fat peanut butter, it just says, "It's too late to care now, so scream the word 'doctor.' Your dumb ass is about to have a heart attack."
Replacing 25% of your fat intake with maltodextrin is about as health conscious as finding a prostitute with a fake leg. Hilariously, if you look at a jar of regular Jif, its selling point is "Yes, Still 18 Ounces!" which really loses its impact when it's on a shelf with 30 other brands of 18 ounce peanut butter jars and right above and below it are different sized jars of Jif. The word "nothing!" would actually make this retarded peanut butter's point in 9 fewer letters.
Some products don't even make it clear what they have less fat than. A York Peppermint Patty claims "As Always... 70% Less Fat!" Cool! I'll cancel my situps! But after searching the bag for actual context, I found that their 70% less fat is 70% less fat than "the average of the leading chocolate candy brands*." No fucking shit, York Peppermint Patty. I kind of figured toothpaste had fewer calories than nougat.
Still curious, I searched for the other end of that asterisk and saw, "*3 grams of fat per 41 gram serving vs. 11 grams of fat in the average of the leading chocolate candy brands." I'm not a mathematician, but those leading candy brands are more than 25% pure fat. Do you want a medal for defeating that? If those figures described a man, nutritionists would categorize him as "obese," and he'd be so easy to defeat that you'd have to give a discount to the billionaires hunting him. Oh, were the stakes not made clear to you, York Peppermint Patty? This hunt started five minutes ago and the dogs can smell your refreshing mint sensation from 14 miles away.
I suggest you run.
For more words you didn't realize are screwing you, check out 9 Words That Don't Mean What You Think or read DOB's look at 6 Words That Need to Be Banned From the English Language.