Insurance Devil

Hate From State Farm

By COLIN FOR: 65,000〡PUBLISHED: May 12th, 2025

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Imagine, if you will, a man. A neighborly man. A man with every characteristic of a man. From just about every angle you look at him, he is real. He appears. He speaks. He walks. He dresses. His smile is real and so is his face. His hair is neat. His teeth are white. He wears a red polo and khaki pants. If you walked by this man on the street, you wouldn't think much of him. A man who blends in quite well.

Kevin Miles was a man like any other, except for one crucial flaw. Kevin Miles would do absolutely anything to become a star. The devil himself could not have created such a perfectly corruptible man—a man with nothing to give and everything to take.

His acting career had been unimpressive, appearing on television shows your senile grandma gets trapped in when she can't figure out how to change the channel. He slept in his car in Los Angeles. He went from gig to gig, trying to get whatever work he could. He waited and waited for his chance to come. After some years, he would finally get his chance: Jake from State Farm.

Kevin was sacrificed to give birth to Jake from State Farm. He stood before the monster of fame and fortune as it cracked the lid off his skull like an ice-cold beer to drink away the man who once was. All of Kevin was to be drained … To make room for this new man. Every memory, every photo, every past and future was erased for Kevin Miles. A baby picture of Kevin was no longer that. It was now a picture of baby Jake. Any future family and future life would not wear the last name Miles and instead wear "from State Farm."

All that remained of Kevin was his body, but behind those eyes sat a new man, a demon, ready to slip out into the world.

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And for what? To make commercials with Drake, Chris Paul, and Patrick Mahomes? Certainly, the financial incentive was monumental to the once-struggling actor. But to throw your freedoms, your life, your entire being to the wayside to do commercials with Chris Paul? I mean, what on earth, man?

Jake from State Farm is the final form of a decades-long insurance advertising evolution, a precisely manufactured one-of-a-kind mascot public figure.

Jake from State Farm is no longer a guy on our television set. He walks among us in the free world.

Those insurance mascots that preceded him could only watch in horror as Jake crawled out of the television to wreak havoc on the real world. With a sly grin, soulless eyes, a red polo, and those dumbass khakis, he had arrived. A grown man born out of insurance television.

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It began with animals. The Aflac duck. The Geico gecko. They captured consumer interest because this duck quacks a slogan. This gecko, no matter how small, somehow manages, against all odds, to sell insurance. It's a simple deception.

The insurance consumer, every living person in America, looks at the insurance animal and thinks, "How fun. A lizard (or duck) wants me to buy insurance." Completely harmless, right? Non-threatening. A clever play by the insurance corporations, indeed.

But how many talking lizards do you know? How about ducks? Animals are cute, but we don't need cute; we're selling insurance here, not Girl Scout cookies.

Like any shtick, the animal character got tired. The insurance world needed a new mascot. A more human mascot.

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An animated military man who drives around in a convertible with Shaquille O'Neal (a short man, a stocky man) became the next evolution. A military helmet. An impressive mustache. How fun! The advertising monster was now disguised as some animated, almost-human freak. His great big mustache: a dead poodle on his lip.

The General told the people that, with a great low rate you can get online, go to the General and save some time! Brilliant. Shaquille O'Neal was there… And it rhymed… Who would be the wiser? Surely not us.

But the General wasn't quite working. He was silently offed in a little backroom in the consumer's mind. Nothing about a military shortstack was convincing or relatable enough to the average consumer.

The insurance monster had to transform yet again. It peeled off that animated skin—the General's skin—to reveal its new human skin.

Mayhem, Flo, Jaime, and Doug were the heads of this new Hydra. They were people, mascot people, born in commercials. Not real people. Human faces on your TV.

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Among them, the most innocent and stupid is Doug, who spends his days with the Emu, The Limu Emu. Liberty Mutual… What a brilliant name for an insurance company. Only in America can liberty be achieved by purchasing insurance.

This Doug guy on my television—with a bird that is clearly his superior—trying to get me to laugh up my insurance dollars. Who the hell do you think you are, Doug? That's the best these geniuses at Liberty Mutual can think of? A man and bird comedy duo? Am I some kind of fool to you?

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Flo and Jaime came next. Quirky, unusual automatons that behaved like people but stuck to the script. Bundle. Bundle. Bundle. Save money when you bundle. Bundle home and auto. Bundle motorcycle and auto. Bundle boat and auto. Bundle your cock and testicles. Bundle everything.

This was their mission. Trust us, in our all-white angelic attire and humorous quips that convey humanity's likability. We will take care of you.

They grew familiar to us. They were everywhere on every screen. The corporate media monster was one step short of its final evolution. What was left to come was the worst of all.

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He's sitting courtside at an NBA game, dapping up Travis Scott, appearing on Jimmy Fallon to surprise guests, shaking hands and posing for pictures with Caitlin Clark at the WNBA draft.

This woman, at the shining moment of her professional sporting career, forced to spend it with a corporate clownboy. Everywhere a man could be, advertising could too.

Jake isn't abrasive in the public consciousness. He's the friendly neighbor. The schtick cannot tire because he does not seem to bother people in any way. He's just a guy, you know? And you can't get rid of a guy you know. You will always know a guy you know.

By manufacturing such a friendly persona to accompany a well-groomed man, the viewer has no reason to hold any ill will towards Jake. He truly is a good neighbor. He doesn't leave dog poop on your lawn. He doesn't linger in your driveway and bother you with senseless conversation. He doesn't keep you up at night with noise. He has cool, famous friends. He is so likeable and wholesome.

Out of thin air, there he was, perfectly groomed with a smile so perfectly white, ready to be your friend. Who put this man before us? And should we trust him? To blindly trust a man, you must be some kind of moron.

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This deception is the great accomplishment of State Farm and the great failure of the viewer. He is an insurance salesman without the "man." He is merely the body of a man with the mind and soul of a corporation. And a corporation will never be your friend.

Especially not an insurance corporation that cancels fire insurance in wildfire areas, uses language loopholes to hike rates, and shovels hundreds of millions of dollars upwards to boost the profits of its parent company.

So, why would you look kindly on the shadow man who wears the face of such a corporation? Because he smiles at you? Because he hangs out with Chris Paul? Because he wears those dumbass pants?

This man they've created is vacant, no matter how hard they try. State Farm ripped the soul out of a man and replaced it with a marketing department. The best effort they could put forth was khakis and a pop culture personality. Corporate marketing isn't known for having its finger on the pulse anyway, but all this guy does on social media is make pathetic relatable content for some braindead mainstream consumer that marketing believes exists.

"I love football."

"I made pizza for binge-watching the new episode of the trending television show."

"I love my khakis."

"How freaking awesome are khakis?"

"Stepping out in my khakis!"

"Khakis are versatile fr." Fuck you, man. Just shut up.

In Jake, this great advertising trickery is realized. A hollow mascot stands before a greedy insurance empire. To look at Jake favorably is to fall victim to his manufactured personality.

To many, Jake is a man being paid to do a job, and there is not much more to it. If you think this, you are too stupid to help. Jake from State Farm is not a man. He is a never-before-seen "almost-man." A corporation wearing the skin of a man. And that man is certainly not your friend, and most certainly not a good neighbor.

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