Doncha Wanna Do Good?

In my post-breakfast trek from my room back to the sink to clean off the plate that formerly hosted my peanut-butter-and-granola toast, I passed by a small blue pamphlet lying discarded on the floor. It's one of my roommate's textbook accompaniments, and I personally think it's an affront to the purchaser of the textbook.

I haven't looked inside of the pamphlet, because it's still in its shrink wrap, but it comes with some sort of math or science textbook that is exceedingly thick and costly. Its title (and basically the only thing on the cover at all) is "Doncha Wanna Do Good?" Inside, I think, it contains a bunch of tips, tricks, and shortcuts to do the math or science problems more quickly. but here are my problems with it:

1. Tone
If there's anything I hate, it's when advertising attempts to take on the tone of your friend. Like those commercials where they try so hard to create a natural conversation where one person does nothing but endorse a single product with unwavering resolve.

A: Hey Bob, how's it goin'?
B: Great, ever since I started drinking Triphoxyline brand dietary supplement!
A: What's Triphoxyline brand dietary supplement?
B: Glad you asked! I don't know how Triphoxyline brand dietary supplement works, but it's got 14 antioxidants, 23 grams of protein, and a great taste!
A: [chuckling, reaching for B's glass of Tri-] Hey, let me try some!
B: [also chuckling, pulling the glass to his chest] Get your own! It's available at most grocers, in the soup aisle. Also at drugstores.

So anyway, come on. You're a textbook. You're not supposed to sound like a friend with a hangover trying to convince me to come to a study group. ("No, Tom, I think I'll watch Lost tonight instead of studying." "C'mon, man, doncha wanna do good?" "Oh, good point. Forget the Others.") And, not that I generally care, but it's "well". Please don't dumb yourself down when you talk to me.

2. Presupposition
My second objection is the presupposition in the title question. It implies that if I do not purchase this overpriced accompaniment, I do not want to do "good". (Perhaps if I don't buy it, I want to do well.) Furthermore, it implicates that I am not actually capable of doing good without the supplement. Frankly, J. Wiley and Sons, I think I am capable of doing good, thank you, and I would argue that you, as publishers, are likely far less equipped to do good in this class than I am. So yes, I wanna do good, which is why I'll read the textbook and study my notes and do good on my own, despite your unfair implicature. Jerks.

3. Proliferation
Now let's suppose that the information contained in "Doncha Wanna Do Good?" actually would significantly increase my chances of doing good in this class. I've already shelled out over $100 for your textbook. You couldn't put this Holy Grail of information into the textbook? If it's really the key to doing good, why should I even get the textbook? I could save like $80 right there.

4. Pamphlets
I am inherently distrustful of pamphlets.

So, in summary, J. Wiley and Sons, I don't like you.