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Broward's Best (Worst) Local Commercials

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The cult of Ticktin.

I'm not sure what it is about this commercial that makes it so awkward. Is it the eerie silence? The fact that it was filmed in one of Dexter's abandoned kill rooms? The way those poor lawyers are lined up like a children's choir? And why, as the camera pans from right to left, does everyone's face go from morning news anchor to Tommy Lee Jones realizing he just poured expired milk into his cereal? What have those people on the left seen?

These questions will likely remain unanswered. But one thing is for sure: I want that man on my side if I ever go to court.

Auto-tune the sadness. You can't make something good just by auto-tuning it (looking at you, T-Pain), especially a flea market. Flea markets aren't supposed to be jolly places where you buy pink boots and cake. Flea markets are where you go to buy used socks and bongs shaped like Mickey Mouse.

But, I guess that stuff doesn't auto-tune too well.

The surrealist's fair. This commercial for the South Florida Fair is a lot like the rides you'll find at the South Florida Fair. It's disorienting and was probably supervised by a stoned dude named Crunch.

I don't even know how to break this one down. It's like a Dalí painting. Are those dead Boy Scouts that pop into frame at 0:04?

And just what the hell did those ladies at 0:25 do to win those awards? (I'm assuming the one in the middle won a Hoda Kotb look alike contest).

I don't know what this crap is all about, but you can bet your funnel cakes that I'll be at that fair next year.

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Ryan Pfeffer is Miami New Times’ music editor. After earning a BS in editing, writing, and media from Florida State University, Ryan joined the New Times staff in November 2013 as a web editor, where he coined the phrase "pee-tweet" (to retweet someone while urinating). Born and raised in Fort Lauderdale, he’s now neck-deep in bass and booty in the 305.
Contact: Ryan Pfeffer

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