The other night, I was watching Breaking Bad when this commercial for Nationwide Insurance came on television.

“Wait a minute,” I thought to myself. “Wouldn’t it make more sense for the woman who’s skulking around replacing all the stuff the burglars stole to just go ahead and thwart the burglary itself?”

I’m not privy to the company’s business model, but it seems like Nationwide is taking a needlessly complicated approach to disaster mitigation.

Consider the costs associated with Nationwide’s “Let’s Just Let Everything Get Stolen and Then Replace It” Plan:

1.) Nationwide would need exact replicas of every household item it insures and probably (we’ll discuss this more in a moment) multiple copies.

2.) Each home insured by Nationwide would need to be staffed by a sexy lady ninja. Like many industries struggling to find skilled workers, I suspect Nationwide would be drawing from a fairly small talent pool.

On its own, the scarcity of sexy lady ninjas would drive up the median salary, but also remember that they’ll be required to work third shift and probably quite a bit of overtime, especially during the holidays. With salary and benefits, you’re probably looking at an investment north of $100,000 a year per ninja.

3.) The American thief is nothing if not cunning. The modern burglar quickly recognizes and adapts to changing scenarios. Once they realize they can steal the valuables from a house and all the sexy lady ninja will do is lock up after them, I suspect they’ll start robbing the same houses over and over again. That’s where the multiple copies come in, but you’re also going to have to invest in continuing education programs for the ninjas as the burglars alter their approach.

A four day conference in a mid-sized convention center, plus airfare and hotels? That’ll cost millions more!

Instead, Nationwide’s competitors can offer lower premiums with a simpler but equally effective approach.

For instance, State Farm could hire a couple dudes and give them State Farm t-shirts. One guy would be issued a guitar. The other would get a gallon jug of mustard. All of their instructions would be printed on a 3×5 card:

– If anyone wearing a bandanna or Zorro-style mask shows up, strike him in the head with the guitar or in the chest with the jug of mustard.

– DO NOT HIT: Anyone who answers to the name Thom or Phyllis. They own the house.

– Whichever dude does not deploy his weapon is to call out, “Nice hit, Biff!” Biff is to drag the burglars to the curb, pushing them down and then yelling, “And stay outta Riverdale!” The same procedure should be followed regardless of whether anyone’s name is Biff or the name of the town is actually Riverdale.

Boom! It’s a simple job. Your talent pool opens up substantially, placing downward pressure on salaries. Heck, I’d hang out in some suburban house at night for about ten bucks if I knew there was a chance I’d get to hurl a jug of mustard at some unprepared, young street tough.

Plus, you wouldn’t need to keep replacing vases. And the only continuing education that’d be necessary is to let Biff know if Thom and Phyllis’ son, Topeka, enters some sort of awkward bandanna-phase in high school.

Listen, Nationwide Insurance, America is already spending most of its Sunday preparing itself emotionally for the waning saga of the most exciting thing ever to happen in Albuquerque. We simply do not have the stamina to address your sloppy advertising.