Got a recipe for Lizard stew?

I generally don't hate. Much. Oh the occasional bad driver, a few politicians, a couple of brands of beer, some teachers from my long forgotten past, the Kardashians, rap "music"...wait, where was I? Ah yes, me not hating. But all of the aforementioned dislikes have never compelled me to actually buy a t-shirt stating my displeasure with this or that. Er, almost forgot the "Anyone But Hillary" shirt during the last election. May have to dust that one off again in 4 more years. But I recently went online, and designed my own, custom made, one-of-a-kind protest to the most annoying little creature that has ever graced our lives: the Geico gecko.

I can't put it into words, but when I hear that little British accent telling me how to save 15% or more on my car insurance, I want to bash my skull in with two bricks. Nothing against British accents, it's just this one. Oh at first, the ads were clever, and for a time, he was cute. Then cute became passe, passe became redundant, redundant became annoying, and annoying morphed into seething hatred, a deep loathing of this vile little creature. Why? I am utterly sick to death of hearing that voice.

Enough already! Radio spots, television ads, in newspapers, on banners stretched across the tollways, and yes, even in the skies. During the summer, airplanes fly overhead at sporting events with the bug eyed image in tow. The little stack of money was dumb, the caveman got old fast, and even the Rod Serling impersonator has been shown the door. At least a few of those were funny. But this stupid gecko? Someone please save me. Isn't there a law on how long an ad campaign can run? With all of the increasing government oversight running our lives, can't someone put a stop to this insanity?

Ok, I feel better now. Rage subsiding, breathing returning to normal, Hulk impulse passing...okay, it's gone. I have been thinking about how to protest against this affront to our sensibilities when I found myself in the car this morning on the way to work. I passed under the twisted evil grin and the penetrating eyes of the offending reptile at the Tollway oasis. Within a minute, the all too familiar British accent came wafting over WGN radio. I changed to WXRT. Within 30 seconds they went to a commercial. Do I even have to tell you what the first spot was? Can you start to feel my pain just a little?