Speaking of commercials, watch this Heineken one and tell me what's wrong with it:
Yeah, like you'd be able to hear the radio (which would be talk radio) over Regis and Kelly shouting at you from that crotch-level, touch-screen monitor. Right, and the cabbie wouldn't be on his bluetooth to Pakistan, or Armenia, or the Sudan, as he constantly stopped short and jerked the wheel back and forth as he clumsily and ineffectively weaved in and out of heavy traffic. Sure, like you wouldn't be so nauseous by that point that you'd have to stick your head out the window like a golden retriever.
Did you see how nice the radio in that thing was, too?! This magical Heineken cab doesn't even have one of those suicide-bomb-proof dividers that makes the ride even more vomit-inducing because you can't see in front of you, not to mention the fact that it crushes your knees every time he pumps the squeaky brakes. I'm just saying.
Overall, not a bad commercial, though.