The footage above is from the "Democratic People's Republic of Korea" (most often known as North Korea) reacting to the death of their Dear Leader, Kim Jong-ill.
Well, he's not ill any more (rim-shot). he he.
Anyway - I'm impressed with their FOCUS. I can tell you this, if govt. thugs pointed an AK-47 at me and ordered that I begin mourning, I wouldn't make it a second past the, "What for?!"
But that's Communism for ya - it makes ya'learn how to adapt! Notice the dude at 0:59 - you can't get better acting than that! And the chick at 2:47??
Yeah, it's an old ad - we're tracking 1970s. But it's sooo worthy.
Can you imagine what the marketing guy for Abbott Labs (it was always a Guy back then) said to the agency?
"No no no! It's in the eyes, man! Tell your artist it's in the EYES!"
So the account executive packs up the Comp, goes back to the office, sits down with the Art Director, pours a glass of bourbon...
But this time the Creative Director steps in. With three bottles of Pepsi and three little pills... "You guys need to spend a little more time with the client's vibe."
"Don't worry. This is the SHORT ACTING stuff. You'll be home by 8. Promise."
And wouldn'cha know it - this time, they got the eyes RIGHT!
The screenshot above is for the Glade® Sense & Spray® device.
So. I push the dismembered woman in the uterus and the room smells...nice?
Women are gorgeous - and the Coke bottle proves their commercial allure. But without breasts...or a head for that mater, they're kinda creepy.
Oh well.
Watch the spot below. I wonder why she doesn't travel outside of a 5' radius of the scent. I wonder. My sister one day informed me that "Girls don't fart."
Well, watch the commercial. Did you notice the car flip and roll? NOPE! That's because the EDITOR knew precisely when to cut to the next scene!
"What is a Trabant?" asks the un-gearheaded among us.
It is possibly the only car I would donate plasma to buy. For one, that's all it's worth. For two, to the people who own them, that's like...normal currency to them.
Oh - click here to find out why TIME Magazine listed the Trabant as "The Car that gave Communism a Bad Name."
The above graphic is a screen-cap for Retar...dex. It's a dental product designed to RETARD bad breath.
Go ahead, laugh at the retar...er, moronic name. But you didn't come here for stupid humor. You came for the pithy, insightful and elevated.
So, look at the graphic below. It's the company's own admission that they have a brainless brand name. But, check out their 'excuse' -
"However it was developed by a Professor of Dentistry and his team to actively retard...Because their expertise was dentistry, not marketing, they didn't consider..."
Ohhh. Right. The creator is just a Professor of Dentistry! Well now that they say that, all is forgiven. After all, Dentists tend to be a little - you know - retar... well, slow on the uptake, if you know what I'm sayin'.
I just hope there wasn't any Chemistry required in the formulation of RetardEd...er RetardEx. "Geez! How was I supposed to know that adding diesel fuel made it flammable! I'm just a DENTIST!"
Wait! If we have any comments on the name, we're asked to "...pass to our marketing department, contact us here." (insert email and facebook® icon).
So the Professor hired a whole department of marketing people afterwards and the name still sucks?!?
Scratch "HR Executive" off the Dentist's qualifications, too.
Geez. How retarded.
Oh. And to the Executives at RetardEx. Anyone who's told you that "Any press is good press!" has never heard of Hitler. And, if they've never heard of Hitler, they're stupid.
The ad above was provided by a sadvertising reader - it's a pull-off promo from a soft drink cup marketed by Taco Johns.
Just in the nick of time, too.
See, I'd been slouched on the curb tracing words of despair on the concrete with an empty bottle of Sailor Jerry. My utter lack of faith in the promise of Marketing Goodness had finally spent itself in an unholy Saturday afternoon drunk.
"Wee goddaa yoosh our forshes for GOOD!" I cried (so they tell me). "Frr'GOOD! Nnnoot...nnot... nott EBIL..frrGOOD!"
Just as I started to fall backward under Morpheus' mocking blow, a child - a precious, innocent child presented the above to me. "Don't give up hope Mr. Sadvertising. I give to you a sign!"
There, blocking out the damning rays of sun, was the child's sweet visage and the above scanned coupon. "Read. It is good."
See...here's the deal - buy a load of high caloric sugary sludge from Taco Johns and you can get HEALTHY LIVING TIPS! YES!! HEALTHY. LIVING. TIPS!
"Ha. Ha." you say, smirking at the obvious irony (most people here are NPR listeners, so irony is like daily bread to them).
NO! This isn't a myopic mistake of a Regional Assistant Field Marketing Assistant. It's the work of a Brilliant Mind and utter leadership to take control of the masses and bring them to the Promised Land.
See, the fatties who splurge on the Combo Meals don't read past the offer. They're too focused on the promise of more food. So when they TXT the code, in expectance of a free Mega-whatever, Ka-POW! They're hit with the surprise attack of truth!
Real...healthy...living...tips!
(slurp - nom nom nom nom) "Ok lookit. Here comes our offer! I bet it's a double combo upgrade! Ok! Here it is! It says, Go for a walk in the park and ...eat an apple..?!."
(slurp - crunch, crunch) "What's'n apple momma?"
FX: Cue sunlight splits the Taco Johns roof, cue Handel's Messiah, pink-cheeked (but muscular) Cherubs descend and a vision of the fatties in their slim, trim form jogging atop a tree lined bicycle trail plays).
GOTCHA! And this time, FOR GOOD!
Ha. I knew we had it in us. All this time, I just knew that - when united for a cause, just like in WW2 - we masters of propaganda could use our power to the beneficence of everyone. We can do it!
And Thank You Pepsi, Taco Johns, for taking the lead in providing Healthy Living Tips with every meal. You sly devils you... :)
Hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to write I go... (whistles, a little lift in my step). Zippidty doo dah!
But, I will state this - having a big blue tail with a yellow and green logo REALLY DOES improve the luck of the search party!
(insert helicopter fx)
"Uh...Angel 10 to rescue center, this sector is clear...uh...there it is! We have the crash site! Look at that glorious big ole'blue tail and logo...it's our lucky day!"
I think it's pretty cool when airlines do that. You know, paint their birds in high-vis colors. But even better when they flat out let you know why.
No lost-in-the-Mountain cannibalism when you auger into the glacier with Uzbek Airways. No way.
You cast your luck with them? They cast their luck back'at cha.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
The ad above is in the new Esquire.
Yeah, yeah - the buzz is all over; it's a Racist Ad.
But, imagine a world where we can have this kind of zaniness and no one cries "Racist!" at all. Why? Because no one would look at the ad and have the thought occur.
It's a guy, throwing a head. For Nivea. That's it. The creative stands or falls on its merit.
(sigh)
PS - the creative is stupid. I had a roomie in college that never shaved, never bathed and lived to sit on the toilet at the same time each day. HE was un-civilized. A bottle of Nivea ANYTHING would have wilted in his presence and he would have regarded the soft, reeking plastic container as a snack.
The graphic above is "The Situation" wearing what is presumably Abercrombie & Fitch clothing.
Of course you've heard how A&F publicly asked MTV God "The Situation" to stop wearing their clothing because (cough cough) he and his cohorts were hurting their brand.
I'm scratching myself. And thinking, "What the...?!"
The Advertising/Marketing/PR job market looks like a WW1 battle field these days - craters mark the demise of so many agencies, shell-shocked graphic designers wander wide-eyed looking for free coffee and wi-fi while former Agency Execs mumble mindlessly in trenches, calling out media campaigns that only exist on paper...
And yet - the Brand Boobs at A&F come up with an idea that is guaranteed to alienate at least HALF of their market AND keep a trash icon alive for another eighteen months!
"Yo. McDees. Yeah. I got this ad campaign. You ready? Here it is...
No.
Fat.
Chicks.
2D barcodes scan for BMIs and anything less than a 24? Ged'ouda'herrrrrre!"
The ad above was ripped out of this month's Reader's Digest. It's for "MidNight" brand sleep aids. But you only get that later as part of just some super-awesome copywriting!
See...the ad compels you first because you think it's a sex aid ad. And everyone reads sex aid ads. Right?
I mean - there you are, immersed in the story about how a 12 year old 3-legged golden retriever saved the lives of a small Arkansas town, flip the page and go, "Great! This reminds me - I need some more sex aids and these fine people have a coupon!" only to get half way down the ad and realize it's really for SLEEP aids!
But see, the switch doesn't make you feel deceived, because it's so darned clever!
See - SHE "needs it" in the middle of the night. But HE "needs it" now! But see, here's the genius - it's NOT sex they need but...yeah! You're catching on...they need SLEEP!
Fooled ya! Ha ha - LMAO! See?!
I remember back in Advertising School Studies (ASS) we learned right away - two things that never fail to increase the effectiveness of your client's brand, sales and bottom-line. #1, sex. #2, uh...can't remember. I think it starts with a "P" though.
Shhh, though, 'k? That course was a 500 level and we had to promise not to let the secret out or else anyone would be able to make ads. See?! Kind of like how the brain surgeon doesn't tell you where he cuts? Or the police don't tell you how decide who gets a ticket and who gets a warning?
Anyway, I'm glad Reader's Digest held to their standards and made sure the couple was married. See the wedding rings? Whew! For a second there, I was thinkin', "What if the kids see this?!" but thank gawd, they're married. Good call, Creative Director! (note to self: if you're going to sell sex, use safe sex).
Great ad. I'm gonna fold this sucker up and tuck it in my wallet. You know, for when it's 3am and I need a good idea.
PS - Another genius point - did you notice how the girl and client (oops, there I go with the ad-talk. I mean, man) are looking at us, the reader? As if we just entered their world? And they engage us eye-to-eye in meaningful dialog?
I think he really loves her. I mean - again, notice the rings.
The photo above is my hand. Holding a bottle of Windex®.
Not just any bottle of Windex® but Limited Edition Windex. What's "Limited" about this Windex?
The label. And what's so special about the label? It has stylized sunglasses on it.
Think about this - by this weird work of nothingness, Windex has made a startling admission: they've created the perfect product. Nothing to improve. No contests. No 'decorator bottles.' No 'easy applicators.' No 'travel size.' No nuthin'.
Not even a different COLOR LIQUID.
Nuthin' but a stinkin' label change.
In other words, Windex is the perfect brand. There's nothing to improve, schlep, razzle-dazzle or discount other than...a headline.
If you hear that angelic hum coming from the horizon, far off, in the direction of the hallowed halls of Windex, Inc., know that the Marketing Department has been officially fired.
The photo above came from a Sadvertising reader. It's of her friend's daughter's birthday cake. Ok, it's not really a cake but one of those ice-cream things sold by Dairy Queen.
You know, you've got to hand it to DQ - they sure do step up to the plate and try. Kind of like parents, who enroll their kid in every conceivable sport program - you know, for his self-esteem and all - only to slump in defeat when they finally realize, "Damn. We gave birth to a band kid."
But that's life. And business. When the franchisor sees the lucrative custom-cake segment going to all those little old ladies and grocery stores that have edible-ink cake printers...
"We can do that, too!"
And so here you go. Little Cindy's Barbic cake! In typical franchisor-minded, politically-correct fashion, too! Why, Barbic is part Eskimo, African-American, Asian, Norwegian, Scottish...and even German Rottweiler! And Persian Cat!
And down-on-her-luck Showgirl!
Can you imagine the party? A flutter of little party girls giggling and talking, readying for presents and treats... mom unveils the cake...then the stunned silence and prickly psychic static generated by the wordless wondering, "What the hell is that?!"
And little Jenny starts to cry.
Then Lauren.
Then Betsy says she has to go to the bathroom.
And Cindy...sweet little Cindy on her beautiful day asks, "Mommy? What did you do?" Cindy points at what Mommy now will forever refer to as The Thing...
"It's..." (mom inhales) "...$25 down the tube."
Cindy joins the wailing.
Meanwhile, far away, at a Dairy Queen, an hourly employee with no art training doesn't understand why he's suddenly consumed with guilt.
And Dairy Queen corporate issues a memo, "We've just licensed Justin Bieber's face for party cakes! Hurray!"
I just received the ad above from a sadvertising reader.
He's a fashionista - of course, he found the Marvel Comics-inspired color scheme compelling. But me...I'm always drawn into the deep strategy. Cuz I'm a thinking-kind-of-guy. You know - I'm the one comparing labels in the condiment aisle, "Maybe its time to try Hunts Catsup over Heinz. What could possibly go wrong?"
Anyway.
The headline, "In our family, we're all together on the wonderful..."
So. There was a family meeting on the issue of how to heat the home?! "Shut UP, Roger! It's Danny's turn, now! (ah-hem) Danny - your thoughts on going to Flameless Electric Home Heating?"
"Make Roger gimme my army men back!"
"Fine! I try to teach democracy to this family and what do I get?! You think I work this hard to put up with all of your...?!"
Ha ha. Just kiddin'. This was back in the days when families said Please, Thank You and Ma'am & Sir. I bet the meeting went brilliantly and afterwards, mom made Jeno's pizza and everyone got a whole bottle of Coke®. For real.
But I bet the kid on the far right ended up in Fashion Design in New York City. Or San Francisco.
(Forty years later)
"Hal, do you think it was the Flameless Electric Home Heating that...you know, made Gary..."
"Either that or those damn drapes that your mother bought us."
The scan above is for Secret® deodorant. It'd been sitting on my desk for a month or two. Today, I gave up hope of fully understanding the Creative behind it.
What I've been able to grasp, however is this: Secret® deodorant is tying its product to a higher-minded concept of eliminating "mean." The copy under the scratched-in headline is simple: "Be nice behind someone's back." A Facebook page has been set up to handle the Viral - "facebook.com/meanstinks"
Yes. "Mean" stinks. So does vandalism. So does having to use small-town truck stop restrooms.
Anyway. Here's the scenario - Kara B sits down to pee, looks up at the scratched metal and thinks, "Awwww. That was sooo SWEET!" Later, Kara B is sitting with a few other girls at the Truck Stop and she says, "Alright, which one of you wrote me the message in Stall 4? Trixie? Delight? Desiree? That was sooo SWEET!"
Desiree sheepishly raises her hand, the girls giggle, a big black Kenworth hisses to a halt and our angelic vandal gives a wink before trotting out the door to the parking lot. For a Secret meeting...OH! I GET IT NOW!
SECRET® is for GIRLS WHO HAVE SECRETS!! (slaps forehead).
The scan above is from a poster found at a "SportClips" hair-cut franchise. It advertises a promotion where - well, there's a contest and the winner gets $10K.
"What would you do with $10,000?"
Well, clearly, SportClips believes its customers would do the smart thing and buy ten grand worth of chicken wings. Well, duh! Who wouldn't?!?
"HEY'BABE! I JUS'WON TEN THOUUUUSSAN DOLLURS! WE'RE RICH! GES'SUM HOT WINGS!"
Geez. Everyone knows SportClips customers are Beer Bongers. Eff the hotwings (those are for the fat girls at Regis).
The ad above was sent in by a Sadvertising reader who saw the ad above and just had to exclaim, "WHOA! Slow down there, hombres! You're movin' too fast!"
But, maybe that's because this particular group of Dentist's "Brand" is all about neck-bending acceleration! Kind of like when we were kids on the school bus. Time ticking, waiting for the train to pass, then the caboose finally goes by, the bus driver drops the clutch and in a giant yellow lurch, all the kids snap their necks.
Poor Dentists. Clearly, they'll need a chiropractor.
Or a photographer that doesn't have a rocket sled in the studio.
Don't ask "Why...?" Some things are just better off a mystery.
But, I will bet you, as they say around here, "Dollars to donuts" that there isn't a single child in the known universe who's begging dad to, "Please, please, please read The Lonely Troll! Read the Lonely Troll!"
This combination of title and illustration drips ennui like mayonnaise sandwiches left to ferment in a hot trunk.
However, considering that criticism should never be tendered without a solution, please accept the following:
Update: note to the sadvertising reader who just emailed, "Why yes. I AM bored today. Like a lonely troll."
Update: geez. Am I supposed to be funny ALL the time?!
The photo above is from a Sadvertising reader. He was cleaning out the garage and found this old suitcase.
The brand name is "Amelia Earhart."
This from the same people that brought you Titanic Cruise Lines, Jim Jones' Party Punch and the Windows™ Vista® powered pacemaker.
Marketing guy: "Let's name it Amelia Earhart! It'll stand for adventure, independence, spontaneity! A perfect travel brand!"
Pragmatic guy: "Amelia died, lost somewhere in the Pacific on one of those adventurous, independent..."
Marketing guy: "Niche market! We'll target people who secretly hate their..."
Thank you Sadvertising reader.
To said Sadvertising reader's wife - if your husband ever offers you a dream trip so you can, "spend some time alone, re-energize and find yourself," he's going to be in Vegas for a long, long time.
The scan above was sent to me - it's a poster from an Eastern movie and quite possibly the greatest movie poster, ever.
Why can't American flix have such awesomeness? Black clad villains with tomahawks tucked into their belts! A mustached hero who's unashamed to use the toilet! Bullets flying! Mountainous...hair! Geez. Right away, the expectations are set - we KNOW what this movie is all about. No mere "serving suggestion," this flick is about bad guys, gunplay, going to the bathroom and glorious HER!
While shopping at Target® the other day, a cardboard point-of-sale unit fairly caught my eye and went, "AAAACK!"
For a second, I thought, "Oh great. The Oompah Loompas caught the Branding bug." But then, the truth hurt - Giada De Laurentis merely caught a bad case of Macrocephaly - you know, the disease that suddenly makes your head the size of your forearm?
Weird. Of course, there's the option that Giada stood over the intern's shoulder shouting, "Bigger! Bigger! Make my head BIGGER!"
Go ahead - click on the photo and enlarge it.
Poor girl. But one day, she'll make an awesome Macy's parade float.
This was just sent in from a sadvertising reader - the screenshot above is from Toxic Waste candy, a favored deviance of nine year old boys.
The screenshot below is from Wallet Pop, demonstrating the definition of the word IRONY. See - they just got busted for having LEAD in their candy. Talk about TOXIC WASTE.
I can see the VP of Marketing, standing before the lawyers explaining how "No, no, no, you've got it all wrong! See, we're building a BRAND, see? We're just bein'real, see?!"
And where do you think this stuff is made? Three Mile Island? Chernobyl? Hiroshima? Naw. The suits chickened out and went with the low bid from Pakistan.
In the meantime, I'm dusting off my idea for lead Legos®. Nothing says 'quality' like metal, ya know? And I think they should be scented sour apple and cherry. You know - just to smell good. For the kids.
The photo above was sent in by a Sadvertising reader. His daughter brought it home.
Being of French descent, he found it amusing. Married to a Latino, he found it disturbing. As an American, however, he was outraged that a Salon (of all places!) would be so bold as to work to wiping out one of our Nation's founding nationalities.
He's up in arms about this - "Hitler tried it with machine guns, now Studio 35 is trying it with flammable liquid! Can't we just GET ALONG?!"
I told him to leave it be - everyone knows the best way to get rid of Poles is to throw Pierogi's on a busy highway.
And he, of course, was calmed a bit after realizing Poles can't read anyway.
According to the Department of Homeland Security, the beloved, trusted Terror Colors are being retired this April. This attempt must surely go down in history as one of the strangest ad campaigns in American history.
The principle was solid-enough: assure citizens, illiterate or not, of their risk of random death/injury by a color chart. "Today's a red day, kids. No kisses until I see kevlar on mommy's little bunchkins!"
Now, the chart was a sincere attempt to inform but it lost any credibility when NO ONE saw a GREEN DAY. Sweet Jimminy - did anyone ever see BLUE?! Geez, I don't think we ever left Orange! Maybe you were like me, staring wistfully at the color chart while TSA went through your stuff, dreaming of those carefree GREEN days as a kid, running through the meadow with your best friend Chip and his dog Shep...
But, I guess with the passing of this silly system, I truly mourn the ability to bid on the job on the first place. Maybe I'm crying sour grapes because they didn't like MY idea.
Gawd, I wish it were merely some ill-conceived ad or marketing gizmo. But it isn't. It's 2:25 of incomprehensible ramble. Kind of like listening to a small-town drunk rave about Plato's Republic between burps.
If anyone can make sense out of this blown fire hydrant of gobbledegook, they should write on their driver's license, "Donate my brain to Science."
(sigh)
Every time a copywriter tortures words, baby kittens cry. And not just any baby kittens - the really, really cute ones with rainbow hearts that heal sick orphans and fart pixie dust.
It's cool to get a new client that makes toys (Yay!). It's another when that client turns out to be one of them-there sweatshop counterfeiters who don't even care!
Numma #1: My Little Pony made $1.2 for Hasbro last year!
Numma #2: He he he. Not THIS year! He he he! Call the Dollar Stores, we've got ten containers on a ship headin' for L.A!
"MommeeeEEE! I want Love Shine DemonDonkey! With the Spectral UniHorn!"
Geez. With all the unemployment in the USA right now, you'd figure SOMEONE would answer a want ad: Wanted - copywriter to make sure our product names don't suck or frighten.
The ad above was ripped out of a December issue of...dangit! I can't remember! Probably, I was so stunned by altruism and righteous authority of the Kellogg Company.
Kinda like when Gramps bought me that bottle of Crown Royal® for my fifth birthday. "Top shelf, kid. All the way!" And you know what? He was right. The hangovers just disappeared. Poof! Plus, I had a cool purple bag to barf in.
So, to all good parents out there, wrastlin' with that Moral Dilemma in Aisle 4, the choice is simple - plump the little gobblers with Pop Tarts™ and pat yourself on the back.
"Kids, this year, the Johnson's are BAKED, not fried!"
But, you know what happens when you try to serve Health Food - they'll be back to Toaster Strudel... they always come back (cue creepy organ music), they a l w a y s come back (mwaha ha ha ha ha!).
Happy 2011! Another year, another chance to be redeemed of all the lessons from the Holy past. This year, let it be the lesson of Hubris. Or, as one of my Mentors calls it, "The Bullsh*t that fools itself."
Anyway, I thought the ad above might be a good one to kick off 2011's Sadvertising season. It's circa 1973.
Geez. I tried to palm off my first-gen iPod shuffle onto my 9yr old and she shuddered in revulsion as if I were dangling a dead lab mouse by the tail.
But I have to respect the copy - "It also has mixing controls that let you mix two sound sources - for instance, your life story, narrated by you against background music."
Gawd. How crushing would THAT be, eh? Maybe a couple shots of Old Granddad and I'd start thinking my life story would warrant background music. But wow - what a mental picture! Ha. I'm thinking Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries.
Anyway, good-year to everyone and as always, Be Careful with the Copy. And watch this space - I've got a box of great stuff to post (thanks to ya'll).
NOTE: Geez. The Sadvertising Police have spoken; my grammatical error has been captured and killed.
