Let me tell you something. Read this carefully. I'm going to write calmly for a very specific reason. These guys actually still think that loud, obnoxious shouting ads help them sell cars. Here's what they did: they searched the entire globe, conducted genetic screening, accessed ancient vaults of long-dead civilizations, dug up alien databases, pored over ancient prophecies and consulted the stars.
All to find the Chosen One.
The Chosen One: the man with the single most annoying voice ever to move air via stereo speaker. A voice so insanely annoying, so absurdly nerve-grating, so ridiculously obnoxious, that the seams of the fabric that separates Earth and Hell itself bulge under the strain when it roars through your speakers. I can only define the misery it can inspire as torture akin to the Human Centipede, but where the guy at the front is force-fed Metamucil and laxative brownies topped with scotch bonnet peppers and broccoli. This man sounds as though he were a mad scientist's defining experiment, in which he grew a monster in a horrible vat from the DNA of the Super Smash Bros. announcer, Pinkie Pie and Billy Mays.
And Kia of Augusta found this "Chosen One." Oh yes. And by God, they put him in their commercials. And they set his epic, brain-numbing, suicide-inspiring crow against a backdrop of needlessly coked out hype music that has been reused in every annoying car advertisement since 1988. The music alone is enough to instantly send the Dalai Lama into a panic attack. But add to this music the Voice of Legend, and it becomes infinitely more uncomfortable and sinister. It is Paula Deen's hungry smile watching you as you undress. It is the stuff of Nazis and ISIS. It is the kind of cruelty only Donald Trump's barber could conjure.
Together, Kia of Augusta, along with their agent of chaos, The Chosen One, time and time again bludgeon their way into our otherwise enjoyable commutes like an evil Koolaid Man; they wriggle their way into your happy, musical quiet place like a wretched worm that explodes into an audible EDM acid trip. They shove their ridiculous propaganda straight down your little ear holes and into your cowering soul, leaving you feeling violated and shivering in the lonesome, cold dark well that was once your heart. And you ask yourself, "WHY?!? I don't even need to buy a car..." I can just see the staff of Kia of Augusta now, lifting praises up to whatever sadistic devils they worship, cackling in mad delight as blood drips from their fangs.
Well, let me tell you this, my friend: after four years of living in this area, I solemnly declare that I will rip off my own arm and choke myself to death with my own cold death grip before I will ever, EVER, buy a Kia from Kia of Augusta. Further, I swear by my firstborn's favorite stuffed animal, as Freedom's Eagle as my witness, by Grabthar's Hammer, I will never ever buy a Kia, period, and I'll tell you why. Because they apparently think I am dumb enough to get psyched about a car because some google-eyed idiot is hammer-fisting our undeserving earballs with a voice that would make the Dragonborn weep. FUS RO FML!!!
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