Death, it's as certain as taxes. There is no avoiding it. Part of nature. There is a whole "deathcare" industry out there. I know someone who is part of it, and he has assured me that you can't cheat death. So has my family doctor and he has suggested many ways to not hasten its arrival.
He suggested not smoking, eating less red meat (I nearly slapped him after that one), and activity to get my heart rate up and cause me to sweat. Looking at my credit card bills didn't count, however. But the short version was, you can't cheat death.
That was until I saw a superb little ad from the Jung von Matt/Alster agency that convinced me to get rich and buy the right car so I can cheat death just as this fellow did in the ad. All I need is a Mercedes-Benz E-Class and I can pull bonehead moves like looking away from the road at high speed, having a brief conversation with bald, mysterious men, and then I too can be saved by Brake Assist from Mercedes-Benz.
Now, what makes the ad so good isn't just the acting of "Death", who has a nasty, little laugh and a wry, knowing smile on his face and merely says "Sorry"--implying the driver didn't really stand a chance of cheating death. It's the response of the scruffy, mid-level German manager in the black and sinister E-Class who replies with his own "sorry"--that really translates to "Kiss my Teutonic tush, Death! Me and my Mercedes beat you this time!"