Pop culture obsessives writing for the pop culture obsessed.
Pop culture obsessives writing for the pop culture obsessed.

It's 3 p.m., so why not let a shirtless Brad Pitt sell you Pringles?

It’s 3 p.m.! Let The A.V. Club briefly make use of the waning hours of your productivity with some pop culture ephemera pulled from the depths of YouTube.


You know how it is: It’s summer, you’re young, shirtless, and driving around in a car apparently powered by the presence of flavored potato snack crisps. It’s 1989, you’re Brad Pitt, and you’ve got Pringles fever, baby.

Or maybe it’s just a coincidence. Sure, the car broke down at the exact moment that you and your bros ran out of those good discs of compressed potato bits. And it started running again when those Hot Babes came over with their tote bag filled with that smiling mustache chip man’s face. But who’s to say it wasn’t just luck? You’re Brad Pitt, friend, a lucky dude, and it’s all uphill from here. (Thelma And Louise. Legends Of The Fall. Ocean’s 11, baby!)

But wait, Brad: Did you just steal those Pringles from the Hot Babes who selflessly tried to help you? And are they now doomed to steal a new supply from the eerily identical car full of bros who just pulled up in your place? Is this entire hyper-edited commercial-scape some sort of grim metaphor for the cycle of taking that will haunt the rest of your professional life, a steadily declining return on investment that will see your youthful vitality and oddball energy—already co-opted here, years before you break big—translated ruthlessly into a simple commodity, which, like all such trade goods, exists only to be spent?

Whoa there, Brad. That’s some heavy stuff. No need to think about all that now, not when there’s a surfboard right here for you and your two friends to convert into a bizarre snack-based SOS. Close your eyes. Be shirtless, and young, forever. Have a Pringle. Once you pop, the fun won’t stop.

No matter how much you might want it to, in the end.