Dear Ms. Esurance,
I have seen your many Esurance commercials, which run ad nauseam on television, and while you seem like a very capable and talented spy, I feel that you are failing to wrap your head around the concept of espionage, so I thought I would take the time to offer you some friendly advice. I don’t claim to be an expert on spying, but I am a fan of all of the Bourne and James Bond movies, plus I read Mad Magazine‘s Spy vs. Spy comic religiously, so I do feel like I have some insight to offer you.
My biggest problem with your work stems from your constant hawking of the Esurance brand of automobile insurance. When I first saw your commercials, I assumed that being an insurance agent was your cover. Like Noah Bennet working at Primatech Paper, I assumed that you pretended to be an insurance agent so that you could carry out your missions without being under intense scrutiny from your enemies.
However, watching your television ads, you seem to spend most of your time pitching insurance. Even when you are battling evil scientists or giant monsters, you are still going on and on about Esurance’s “Quote. Buy. Print.” philosophy. This seems to be a counterintuitive approach to espionage. For one, discussing insurance while battling your foes only serves to blow your cover. The whole point of having a cover is to offer you anonymity – it’s the same reason you don that ridiculous pink wig when you are taking out your targets, to provide some distance between your flamboyant spying persona and your cover as a mild-mannered brunette insurance salesman. By informing your enemies that you are an insurance salesman, you are making it easy for them to track you down at your day job and assassinate you.
Perhaps this is actually a bizarre strategy on your part to distract your enemies so that you can gain an advantage over them. After all, if your target is sitting there thinking, “Why the hell is this crazy bitch talking to me about affordable automobile insurance while I am shooting at her?” that confusion may provide you with the few precious seconds you need to lunge at your mark and knock him out of commission.
I’d like to give you the benefit of the doubt here, but it’s difficult. Besides, even if I was willing to believe that rambling on about insurance was some sort of defense tactic, it still seems like you are taking an unnecessary risk. After all, you are constantly doing battle with giant robots in cowboy hats and art museum-dwelling ninjas. The last thing you want is for these scary villains to be able to strike at you while you are maintaining your cover as an Esurance salesperson.
Also, it’s probably not a wise idea to have given Esurance’s website access to your home’s security cameras, your calls to headquarters and your secret diary. Again, this severely limits your ability to operate under the radar. Granted, all that can really be gained by this leaked information is more insight into your undying love for the insurance company you work for, but still, it’s sloppy spy work nonetheless.
One thing I will give you credit for is never revealing who it is that you really work for, which leads me to again wonder if all of this isn’t some sort of clever distraction. Perhaps by drawing so much attention to your cover as an insurance salesman, you are keeping people from wondering what your real mission is. By being so vocal about your devotion to this company, you may even be able to trick the average person into believing that your primary objective is to sell insurance policies.
I, of course, know better than to fall for that ruse though. Like I said, I’ve seen all of the spy movies, so I am not easily fooled. My guess is that you are trying to gathering intel on a powerful businessman, perhaps even a high-ranking member of the Esurance Corporation. Once you have the intel you need, you will await orders from your handler, who will send you on to your next mission. Perhaps a few months from now, we will see you on television professing your love for aluminum siding or Funions.
So, if this is all part of a larger scheme that my non-spy-brain is unable to comprehend, then I apologize for bothering you with this letter. I know you are a busy woman who fills her time with baseball games, snow globe battles and an overflowing pile of insurance paperwork, so the last thing I want to do is waste your time. It’s just not everyday that you come across an attractive, ass-kicking female spy who is able to operate a submarine and slam dunk a basketball, so I just want to make sure you are taking all of the necessary steps to protect yourself.
I wish you the best in all of your future endeavors. And, if I ever buy another car and am in the market for a no-hassle insurance company, I might just give you a call – provided, of course, that you aren’t too busy incapacitating henchman with a surfboard to talk shop.
P.S. When is ABC going to give you your own TV show? After all, your show couldn’t be any worse than that sitcom about Geico Cavemen.
Random Thought of the Week:
In a strange plot twist this week, Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson’s marriage was dissolved in the Marvel Comics Universe. The couple struck a deal with Mephisto that resulted in their marriage and memories of being together being erased from everyone’s memory. Something tells me Eddie Murphy and Tracey Edmonds would love to make a similar deal with Mephisto right about now.
Joel Murphy is the creator of HoboTrashcan, which is probably why he has his own column. He loves pugs, hates Jimmy Fallon and has an irrational fear of robots. You can contact him at email@example.com.