When you come across a good thing, always drive it straight into the ground.

Okay, so everyone in the known universe—including a whole bunch of Internet pervos—is aware that I’ve confessed to having a bit of a thing (insert your own bitingly witty comment here [and then insert another one about my use of the term “insert” here]) for Erin Esurance, virtual Booth Babe for Esurance.com.

Well, that’s all over now; these days, I can’t even look her in the (ahem) eye.

Obviously, Esurance is highly aware of the effect their slinky spokescartoon has had on the testosterone-poisoned segment of the viewing populace. They’ve even gone so far as to post all of the Erin-related Esurance TV commercials, desktop wallpaper and even canyoubelieveit fan art on “her” Web site. You can bet they’ve been burning the midnight oil trying to figure out how to further exploit this resource.

Their tactic du jour? Pedo-phize her.

What can we do to keep people obsessed with our corporate mascot? Ooo oo, let’s raise the pitch of her voice half an octave! Give her the thighs of a seven year old, widening her already cavernous straddle even further!

Flatten out her skull a little, eliminating her high, intelligent forehead! Widen the space between her eyes to give her that underdeveloped, fresh-from-the-birth-canal look!

Erin is no longer the lithe, urbane insurance operative that first caught my eye. Instead, the demands of the marketplace have transformed her into a gawky, adolescent bubblehead wearing too much makeup. Throw in a backpack, and she’d look fully at home in the halls of just about any junior high school in the country.

Those demented krods at Esurance just had to take it a step too far. I can no longer enjoy even the slight demented thrill I used to get from these commercials. Now it leaves me feeling slimy and self-conscious, as though I’ve caught myself inadvertantly sneaking a look at a friend’s kid sister.

Britney Spears may grow into adulthood (well, physically, anyway) gaining pounds and wrinkles along with rug monkeys; Lindsey Lohan might tip over the edge of teenage-girl slimness into full-blown eating-disorder bag-of-antlerism; Hillary Duff may well—um—heck, what is Hillary Duff up to these days anyway?

But Erin can forever remain young, younger, entirely-too-young, pandering to baser and baser human impulses, so long as she serves her corporate masters’ evil purposes.

Oh, Erin, Erin, what have they done to you?