WHO WANTS A NEW CLIENT?!?! Anyone???

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.

How do you catch a fat kid?

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!

That's...gotta...hurt.

The photo above is for the AB Exerciser Ball™.

The 9" version.

Look at the photo.  I mean really look at the photo.

Maybe you're like me and you're thinking, "Gee.  The Exersizer Ball™ is probably a pain in the..."

Naw.  That's too easy.

But I will state this.  Once used per the photo, the Exersizer Ball is truly yours.  Used as directed, who's going to want to borrow it?

Ewwww.  

Don't worry. They'll find us. I just know it!

The billboard above is for Uzbekistan Airways.

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.

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.

No gratitude for their Situation

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!"   

Today, A&F awoke to a 9% dump in stock prices.

Zombie sex

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.

These guys don't miss a beat!

Windex is a great brand.

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.

Perfection has occurred.

Gawd bless the Chemists.

OMG! IT'LL BE SOOOOO CUTE!

"And for when the baby comes home, I'm gonna wear THESE BLUE ONES!  Yay!"

This is what you get for letting dirty old men direct the photo shoot.  

"Hey Vanessa.  Stuff a couple shirts up your dress, k?"

"Ok!"

"Greeaat..."

In the meantime, the Candies Foundation continues their tireless quest to inform, educate and elevate young girls to be the BEST they can be!

And if the best you can be is be beautiful?  Save the world and get breedin'! 

It's all in the execution.

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!"