[ Consider this your commercial break between Lost-splosions. ]
I mean... Okay. There's just... My brain is atrophying slightly. (...This kind of thing is actually on TV?!...)
Right now, here's what I've got. There are accent problems:
1) Bourbon is a kind of whiskey that comes exclusively from Kentucky; why, oh why, is there an Australian man hawking it?
2) The Girlfriend is a stuttering foreigner, with a just-past-basic grasp of the English language—the implication being, of course, that The Girlfriend uses her mouth primarily for activities other than communication.
&, all right, a slightly more collected effort: Perhaps the most interesting/objectionable aspect of this commercial is that The Girlfriend "doesn't care" about the whereabouts of her boyfriend, the fidelity of her boyfriend, the affection of her boyfriend... Really, she could give more or less of a fuck (which is, I imagine, entirely what she deals in). Ultimately, according to Jim Beam, the ideal girlfriend is essentially a blow-up doll with a pulse. Of course, there are about a billion ways in which this commercial deepens sexist trenches across the board—but, for me, this is the most disturbing part: that anything might be recognized as "funny" or "so true," in which a man's ideal of a female partner is little more than a special-edition Fleshlight.