Every time I see an insidious new form of advertising invading daily life, I think, “That’s bad. No placement could top that.” I thought that more than six years ago when I went to the bathroom at a good Thai restaurant in downtown Chicago and found myself confronted by a giant poster on the back of the stall door touting what I think was an unmentionable woman’s product (you see, I’ve tried to forget). In the men’s room, my English visitor found an ad for Men’s Health magazine. Then and there I thought, “Surely no one in advertising can get lower, er, more creative than this.”

With so much “information overload,” as they call it, overwhelming potential customers, advertisers are openly desperate to get noticed. It’s not enough that every bus and taxi is a motorized billboard; the next obvious step was to come up with vehicles whose sole purpose was to serve as mobile advertisements. I have no doubt that some organizations that tout their environmental and conservation responsibility and awareness use these “moving billboards” use these gas-guzzling carbon spewers in the hope that someone will see and remember them.

So, when I saw the little screens attached to the escalators at the San Antonio International Airport, I should not have been surprised. Yet I was. My first thought was, “Is there anything surface left to which advertising clutter can’t be attached?” Bathroom stalls, the tops of escalators, human skin — what next? Ads strapped onto dogs walking in the park?

Later, the real absurdity of it occurred to me. First, almost everyone in an airport is in a hurry. Nearly everyone who’s not an employee is a passenger trying to get to a flight on time. The only people with time to spare are those whose flights are delayed, and they are usually stuck at the gate. People leaving the airport usually want to pick up their checked baggage as quickly as possible and meet their parties or get to their transportation. So who is going to stop, stand at the head of an escalator, and assimilate a commercial that is probably irrelevant to their needs? We don’t even watch commercials on TV at home, where we’re not in a rush to be somewhere else. Why would we stare at an escalator when the more logical choice is to get on it — and move away from the ad? I suppose some people passing by might stop for a moment, perhaps for the novelty, but I doubt anyone is going to watch anything less compelling than a scene from a hit movie, TV show, or video, and then only for a few seconds.

In my imagination, however, I can picture how the agency sold this concept to the client: “Thousands of people pass through airports every day! That’s XX million a year! And they’re a captive audience because they have to be at the airport — they can’t help but see your message!” The client, a desperate marketing person under pressure to generate leads and sales, succumbs to the presentation because the chances are good that print, television, radio, and other traditional media are declining in effectiveness, and anything that offers access to millions of potential impressions could be worth a shot.

At this point, I thought escalator commercials would fill my quota of bizarre placements for at least a few months. I was wrong. Thursday night I stopped at Walgreens, where, splayed over the security scanners at the entrance/exit, are cardboard sandwich boards touting a teeth-whitening product. Aha! What better way to get attention than with a five-foot ad for an impulse purchase product, an ad that assails customers both on the way in and on the way out — two points in time at which I can be made to feel shame over my aging, yellowing teeth.

But the evening was still young. Next, I went to the grocery store, where the floor tiles sport ads. If you drop your shopping list or bend down to check on your small child, you’ll see a colorful reminder of which brand of baked beans is best. These ads don’t bother me, perhaps they are an opportunity to walk all over advertising.

I was absorbed in looking for something in particular when I heard a voice. Obviously, a voice in a store isn’t unusual; customers talk on their mobile phones; customers and employees chat with one another; and announcements are made over the public address system (“Will the owner of a blue Ford SUV move the vehicle from the fire lane?”). This voice, however, was different. It was small, it was tinny, and it was talking at me. I turned around, and there it was — a tiny screen with a woman promoting the benefits of a brand found in that aisle.

I don’t know what advertisers will do next to top themselves. I don’t want to know, but I’m sure to find out. I can say this, though; the insides of my eyelids are not for sale, and that’s what I prefer to look at when you try too hard to get my attention.

And thank goodness for earplugs.

“I want it all . . . now.” This darling quote is from a commercial for a video game. A sleazy-looking young man postures in front of endangered cat skins and brags about his “ladies” while fondling them and then going on to mention how he’s “all hot” — all in a very odd, very girlish voice. Captions of “unlimited mansions,” “unlimited cars,” “unlimited money,” etc., roll by. “I want it all . . . now. Right, Eugene?” he says to an equally sleazy-looking young man with a mindless babe hanging off him. Eugene answers in the affirmative in an equally weird, equally girlish voice.

And this game so charmingly advertised is deemed “appropriate” for “10 years old and up.” Apparently, as long as there’s no violence, greed and utter lack of scruples are okay for young children.

So if you’ve got a 10-year-old who’s “all hot” to the ladies and who “wants it all now,” legal or not, moral or not, ethical or not, and if you want to feed his worst impulses, then you’ll want to get this game for him. But don’t be surprised if, in five years, you get a late-night call about bail money.

Or in 20 years he wins his first election.

There’s an organization for children that collects Christmas gifts for their charges. The organization provides the name, age, and gender of each child as a paper tree ornament; participants select their ornaments and buy two gifts for each child — one practical (hat, glove) and one fun (toy). There’s no official spending limit, but participants are supposed to use common sense so one child doesn’t receive something extravagant like a Game Boy in front of children who may have received stuffed animals, trucks, and dolls.

The person managing this program showed me a toy that, to me, could not be more appalling (and which she in good conscience chose not to send along with the rest). It was a doll named “Dana” from the “Bratzpack.” “Bratz” comes in all ethnicities, but interestingly they all look exactly alike (clearly cast from the same mold); only the hair, eyes, skin tone, and makeup tints change to indicate ethnicity. So far, “Dana” sounds no worse than a cheap doll. But there’s more.

“Dana” is, in fact, a cheap whore. Her makeup is the first clue, but it’s the outfit that seals the deal. The halter top and platform shoes are just the beginning; they merely top off a skirt so mini that, were “Dana” anatomically correct (they do have navels), would reveal pubic hair. On the back of the box, her quote is: “Hey! My name is Dana! My friends call me ‘Sugar Shoes’ because when I step out I do it sweet!” Clearly, she’s dressed to “step out.”

Yes, “Dana” is decked out exactly like the working girls in certain districts, who lean into stopped cars to negotiate rates with the drivers.

This “doll,” which had been donated for a 5-year-old, is recommended for 6-year-olds and up. I imagine that’s based solely on parts small enough to swallow, not on appropriateness.

If you gave this trash to my (theoretical) 6-year-old, you’d never see her or me again.

While we were discussing the utter inappropriateness of “Dana,” a third person came along who said “Bratz” dolls are hot (in the sales sense) and that some are programmed to talk — including to talk back to their mothers. “And mothers actually buy these things for their kids,” she concluded.

I visited the “Bratz” Web site (I’ll spare you the link) and noticed that there are even “Bratz” babies — which look exactly like the other dolls, just with shorter torsos and legs.

So people are buying their small children dolls that overtly represent urban prostitutes and sleazy second-rate rock stars and that are rude and smart-mouthed to boot? Who are these parents? Can we provide them with the latest in free and effective birth control before they breed again?

And who are the greedy bastards who developed and proposed marketing this garbage? What discussions went on during those meetings? “No, wait, the skirt’s not short enough . . .” “The girls on the corner of X and Y do the black outline lipstick . . .” “That’s it! The perfect slut for my little Ashley to cuddle with. We’ll be rich!”

Not being a parent and not having friends with children nearby, I have no idea what kids are playing with these days, other than the obvious — computer games. My 44-year-old mind is in a time warp, where Barbies were the raciest toys we had, which we tortured by tearing off their heads and limbs, or by pushing them face down into the dirt. We had dolls that looked like babies or toddlers and that talked, cried, and even wet their diapers. I had one that was about my height, but she still looked like a child. We had Matchbox cars. We had trucks and model trains. We played tag, freeze tag, and redlight/greenlight. We slept with stuffed animals. The most realistic movie we’d ever seen was Charlotte’s Web, which made us cry (but not give up ham or pork). When I see things like the “Bratz,” I wonder how much the world has changed and why, whether it’s for the better, and how much has passed me by.

What happened to giving wide-eyed innocent 5- or 6-year-old girls sweet, soft, comforting dolls like Raggedy Ann and Andy or little stuffed animals?

As for “Dana,” I felt relieved that she was encased in plastic. Given her makeup, dress, and demeanor, who knows where that ridiculous mouth has been?

Afterthought: I looked up the correct spelling of Game Boy and clicked on a site where the first ad was for a “Bratz” Game Boy game. The world is officially over the top and beyond all hope.