Box-Garden By Allen K. Lang - https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/73868/pg73868-images.html

 The ears of the man to my left at the bar were blocking off my view of the TV set. This annoyed me. The commercial was on, and I didn't want to miss any of it. Leaning forward, trying to get the man's head and ears out of my line of sight, I bumped against his shoulder. He turned, taking my accidental nudge to be an invitation to converse.

Advertising may be necessary," he hedged, pulling at the lobe of one of those magnificent ears of his. "Still, it doesn't take a choir of TV elves or a cantata sung by squeaky-voiced animals to remind me to launder my sox, or to point out that a beer would go good when I'm thirsty. Hell, I outgrew the advice of teddy-bears years ago." He sipped his beer, staring at my reflection in the bar mirror as though trying to decide whether I was worthy of his further confidence. He must have decided I had a sincere face, because he scooted up closer. "What's more," he said, "some of these commercials, like the one we just saw, frighten me terribly." Big-ears whispered this last like a murderer in Shakespeare.