I'm watching the NBA playoffs. Every time that new Coors Light commercial comes on, the one where the woman is looking at the results of her pregnancy test and the man is reaching into the fridge, I'm consumed with rage. I mean, did they really need to invent a label that turns blue when the beer reaches the right temperature? Is it that hard to touch the bottle? Maybe it's marketed at people who have lost all feeling in their hands. Come to think of it, the sex partners of the people to whom it's being marketed might agree with that conclusion. Still, I'm left wondering what insult will next be added to this grievous injury. How about an erection detector? Put a special strip on the front of your partner's pants and watch it light up when his bat size has gone from souvenir collectible to Harmon Killebrew.