By Jim Knipfel

How hard could it be, do you suppose, to write a snappy 30-second radio spot to plug a new medicine, a rehab clinic or a high tech cancer treatment center? Something that would not only capture your attention, but would be informative and comforting at the same time?

Well, listening to the medical commercials that inundate 1010 WINS, it seems like it must be pretty fucking hard. Over the past few months, Morgan and I have both been hearing medical ads that are astonishing, horrifying, and just plain ill-conceived. And they seem to be getting worse over time. Not just the snake oil ads (the ones with disclaimers admitting that the drug in question is of no use whatsoever), but serious ads for serious, well-established facilities. I’m sure you’ve heard them, too.

In an ad encouraging senior citizens to get their flu shots, an elderly man and woman  debate the value of the vaccine. She tells him that she never gets the flu. He says he didn’t either—until his young grandson brought it home. Whoa, he never wants to be that sick again, he says. Then he tells her how many thousands die of the flu every year—clearly hinting that she’ll die, too, if she doesn’t get the shot.

“But is it safe?” the old woman asks, echoing Laurence Olivier in Marathon Man.

“It’s safer than getting the flu,” the man replies.

But that doesn’t really answer the question, does it? Being in a car accidents is usually safer than getting run over by a subway train, too—but that’s not saying much, is it?

(And let’s not even consider that whole conniving “blame the grandkids” subtext. I bet holiday gatherings around that house are loads of fun.)

Some sort of fevered reasoning—or maybe just a lack of careful copyediting—went into the rehab clinic ad that promises to help you kick heroin, methadone, oxycontin, morphine or any other opiate in just a day or two. I’ve done my research into these places and they’re a dangerous scam—but that’s not the point. The point is their ads, which close with the line: “Because sometimes getting clean is even harder than living clean.”

Is that what they really meant to say? If so, what’s the message there—that living a clean and sober life is even more horrible and nightmarish  than the gut-wrenching miseries you

 need to go through to reach that point? And if that’s the case, why would you even bother?

Hands down, though, the cancer commercials are the worst. Morgan’s favorite is the ad for a new hospital wing specializing in brain cancer treatment. The final line in that one is:

“Because no one should have to fight a brain tumor alone.”

Damn straight!

“Are there actually people out there doing that?” Morgan asked. “And what are they using, awls?” Or perhaps there are people who, right this very minute, are trying to treat their brain tumors at home using a variety of common household products.

Probably not, though.

In a spot promoting Northshore LIJ’s various cutting edge healthcare offerings, a father and daughter are in a hospital, having just learned that mommy has had a stroke.

“Is mommy going to be okay?” the child asks.

The father assures her that she is. Then the kid shoots back, her voice dark and accusing, “How do you know?”

In another Northshore ad, a woman tells her mother that her husband has been diagnosed with cancer. The mother asks if her son-in-law’s going to be okay and the wife assures her that he is. Again, the mother snipes, ”How do you know?”

Who would say that at such a time? What kind of monsters are these? Seconds after you learn that your husband or wife is dying, this fucking little brat or rotten old bitty start accusing you of not doing enough? Every time I hear that ad I expect the father or the wife to start screaming “Shut up! Just shut up!”

You have to wonder who wrote these things, and why. There’s clearly anger and resentment lurking in the darkness.

Those spots, however, still pale when compared with my all-time favorite hateful medical ad. To date, anyway.

In still another ad for a cancer treatment center, an old woman explains how, after being diagnosed with cancer, she began planning her own funeral. For months it went on, she tells us. She bought a burial plot and a casket, and arranged for her sister to sing “Amazing Grace” at the memorial service.

Then she got better, thanks to the treatment she received.

My god—can you imagine what an insufferable, self-pitying buzzkill this woman must’ve been for all those months? “Oh! Oh! I’m dying! Let me choose a tombstone today! And tonight I’ll read you all the possible epitaphs I’ve composed…Oh! But now I feel so weak…I’m dying you know...”

Shut up! Shut up!

Christ almighty. I bet her family can’t wait for her to kick, if only to stop all that whining.

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? You’d think these places would want to try and make the people they’ve saved seem just a smidgen less despicable. People who, I dunno, deserve a longer life.

Then again, maybe they’re just trying, in their own misguided way, to illustrate the tragic effects a brain tumor can have on your life and personality. Or maybe it’s just a step toward the next generation of medical ads—when they begin focusing on all the terrible things that might happen to you if you check into some other hospital.

Then there’s that new Ricola ad campaign, where if you give a Ricola cough drop to the “mystery cougher,” you can win a cool million. Don’t even get me started on that one.