The 7 Most Terrifying Rejected TV Ads

Speculative ads are commercials which, like mogwai, are momentarily delightful but never intended for general release. Some specs are prepared by ad firms to convince clients their new life insurance mascot should be a woman slathering peanut butter on her knees. Others were forged by the gods to punish humanity for discovering fire. Most, however, are attempts by directors to showcase their talent. All of them are wildly unsafe for most workplaces, because they don't have to please the eleven people at the Parents Television Council bravely taking offense for the rest of us.

Put on your waders and lock down your psychosexual neuroses -- we're about to get weird with seven such sexy specs. I'll be reviewing each ad's quality, effectiveness, and eroticism, and in this court only the last one counts for anything. The name's Sex. JUDGE Sex.

Brian Bolland / Rebellion
I WILL PUT THE LAW INSIDE YOU

Yep, she's a keeper

Since your office probably frowns on both sex and laughter, I'll walk you through it. A bride and groom consummate their marriage in a chintzy hotel. Their nasty sex might be legal in God's eyes, but that doesn't make it right. They break the marital barrier on fornication. The world hasn't seen a bride this dirty since the cops unearthed that pit behind Skunky Joe's cabin.

Now, I'm not the kind of man to tell people how they should spend their wedding night, but that's because they're usually too startled when I step out of the bathroom. I will say this, though--it's your wedding night; look her in the eye while you use her like a dirty slut.

And then things get weird:

He ejaculates Skittles--by my count, five bags of them, and she takes them like a champ.

That's true love, is what that is.

It's the perfect commercial; it has absolutely nothing to do with the product. Every element is in place, from the groom's wobble-lipped stud talk to the spurts of Skittles cascading over that wonderfully filthy woman.

Surprisingly low. Laughing at the dweeb and the bride who doesn't realize she married one, we're too removed from our fellow human beings to fantasize about sex with a beautiful woman. Is this--is this what it feels like to be a Republican senator, Lord? Because I would have thought the laughter more maniacal.

If you think about it, the Skittles are too reminiscent of kidney stones for eroticism unless you're one of the freakier Roman emperors, which is to say: not weird enough to arouse the average Cracked reader.

Absolutely, and that's why you'll never see it on TV. Not even condom ads show people in the act of sexery, and they're trying to keep you from getting HIV, or worse, pregnant. Sex is to commercials what a nuclear bomb is to warfare: You're allowed to wave it around, but try using it to get your way and suddenly everyone gets all think of the children. Ha! We're living in the end times.

Sony/Tri-Star
I'm thinking of the children being all that they could be

Pornography was offended by the commercialism

A couple enjoys a sprightly bit of kitchen sex--or, if you will, a kitschy bit of Sprite sex. For you see, that's no ordinary soda-bottle-sized phallus in her mouth.

Her lust transforms him into the avatar of refreshment. He has become Sprite, the conqueror of thirst. This ad radically redefines the slogan, "I like the Sprite in you."

At the moment of climax the bottle spews with the potency of a large horse or an exhausted Kevin Federline.

But oh, what a reception it gets! I haven't seen so freshly sexed an expression since Alison Brie in the Community season finale. Or Alison Brie in every photoshoot she's ever done. Or Alison Brie in this erotic thriller I wrote for her, Dangerous Heat 3: Boiling Point.

NBC loves you
What would it take to make you not sexy, Alison Brie?

Man, the first third of this article is devoted entirely to women catching a load. Directors have gotten lazy. That said, this happens a lot to men with Lemon-Lime Syndrome, so four stars or oral sex of comparable value. I'm offering you the option since assigning stars to people in Germany is apt to end badly.

Pretty high. You might not like Sprite because it tastes like Sprite, nor blowjobs because that's how the Devil gets into your urethra, but who doesn't love kitchen sex? Besides all those men attacked by the Kitchen Rapist, I mean.

Vera Kratochvil
We shall never forget their names, nor stop reminding them it happened

Absolutely not. Sprite doesn't want you to associate ejaculate with its toilet foam taste. Semen is only used as flavoring in the foreign cultures it's okay to bomb, unless you're in dire circumstances like starvation or not wanting to drive to the store.

It sold the sex so hard there was no room left for the product. In the previous ad, candy was treated like seed, but in this one waves of ejaculate are converted into soda. You can't drive backwards on the highway to Sexytown, folks.

Max Isaacson
You know something tastes bad when Germans won't swallow it during sex

What ... what does this have to do with technology? Or humanity?

It's a little bit TubGirl, a little bit Goatse, and if you don't know what those are, you're either too young to remember dial-up or too Third World to have had internet access longer than six months. Either way, treasure your innocence, sweet, angel-eyed dove! You're about to experience both scoops in a crass commercialism sundae -- and for a Zune, no less. That's the MP3 player psychiatrists buy when they want to teach autistic kids how to laugh.

So nothing too weird. Some metallic-tinted paint splashing on canvas, uh huh...

Cut to: Franklin Pollock, Jackson's lesser-known brother. Horror is his medium, and the human soul his canvas.

Are you ready to scroll down? Are you sure? Because there are no backsies on scar tissue.

If your eyes haven't blinded themselves, an extended montage follows of this bear's process for ruining the human heart. If I had to choose between watching this ad and licking a burn victim, I'd pick listening to a cat sing "Lady in Red" backwards.

That face you're making, guy? That's how you make us all feel.

Hold up. We just found the Anti-Life Equation. Who hates mankind enough to put this much work and talent into ruining our sex lives? Naturally I would assume Hitler, but Hitler didn't waste anyone's time attending art school.

Anyone who tells you they understand Fellini is either a liar or Italian

If I wanted to see a mash of garish colors and off-putting nudity, I'd have sex with Lady Gaga. This ad shatters Rule 34. I can feel the blind spider eggs it laid in my mind hatching. No one who gazes upon its darkness can ever experience arousal again, except for those women who find themselves sprouting thorny erections while their feet turn into crow's talons and their belly buttons recite The Book of Restless Dead backwards.

Your question is meaningless. The Horror With a Thousand Heads passes through this world, devouring children's hearts to spare them the horrors yet to come. You will be ground to meat-pulp, and your lucre shall rot for a thousand times a thousand eons, its meaning lost upon the scurrying, mad cockroaches as they whisper chirring songs to Azathoth. All existence is ashes, and the Bloated One its High Priest.

Dominique Signoret
The Burning Wheel rolls backward through time, sucking all that ever was into its many-tentacled maw. But at least it will erase The Jersey Shore

Lorem ipsum ovo lactum

Cadbury invited this upon themselves when they sloganized their creme eggs: "Release the goo." The internet saw their skeet joke and raised them one orgy, which, considering these are milk chocolate chicken fetuses, is nine kinds of illegal. But four of those kinds make it even more thrilling.

No surprises here. The eggs dryhump one another for a few minutes, and then...

Squick!

Because why should any less than half this list be a bukkake party?

This is easily the most realistic recreation of the egg sex parties I've attended, but where are the tears afterward? The jealous fights about paying too much attention to that jumbo brown egg? Once again, Hollywood glamorizes polyamorous sucro-ovocopulation without thinking of the impressionable goddamn children. If I wanted my kids to see this kind of filth, I'd show them Veggie Tales. Haw! A zucchini lying down with a tomato in defiance of the Bible. Dat's rich.

I was gingerly picking bits of shattered monitor out of my lap after trying to jump in on this sweet action, but the audio kept playing, so now I'm grinding them in deeper. It hurts, but anything to get closer to that hot little number entering at 0:14, ready to go and begging for deep--Woah! Oh God. That egg is a dude. Now it's not erotic at all.

But it is still cute and funny, and the least disturbing of the ads we're going to see here today. Use this time to recover, relax, and escape to Brockway's column while you still can.

Like penicillin on Sunday morning. This is exactly the sexification that a fertility rite like Easter needs. Do you have any idea how hard it is to penetrate an egg? Almost as hard as explaining to your doctor why your manhood has salmonellosis. Yeah, it would sell, because the more unattainable a thing is the more mankind desires it, which is why I shall one day seduce you, The Moon!

Plus chocolate is almost as easy a sale as booze -- *gasp!* There's some now!