Sleight-of-Brand

Curious advertisers ask –  “Is it possible to draw attention to your product by starting a conversation about something else entirely?”

The rest of us, who have been marinating in a marketing stew for most of our lives, answer “Where have you been living?”

Much advertising is based on this.

Until yesterday, I would have argued that this technique took hold sometime in the last 80 years or so, pushed forward by the creation of radio and television – two mediums that offer great advantages and even greater rewards to liars and deceivers.

But I was proven wrong while scouting about aimlessly on the Internet, when I stumbled across the odd marketing approach of a window shade merchant in Yonkers, NY around the turn of the 20th century.

The American Carpet and Upholstery Journal described it this way in 1902:

William Welsh, dealer in window shades, matting, oil cloth and linoleum, 5 North Broadway, Yonkers, N.Y., is a rather daring and novel advertiser. He makes use of a 6-inch space, in a good position, in the Yonkers Statesman, and always fills it with a semi-facetious matter, which is no doubt looked for and read by the subscribers of that enterprising daily.

While this style of advertising is generally considered bad, as Mr. Welsh conducts it, the effect is undoubtedly good.

Screen Shot 2015-05-31 at 10.05.45 AM

Welsh goes at his customers again and again from various odd angles, trying to get their attention with a barrage of words. Today’s advertisers use swimsuit models for the same purpose, but that wasn’t permitted in the Yonkers Statesman of 1902. Regardless of the chosen topic, he always brings it home to the real point – WINDOW SHADES.

Cold Chunks

Politically speaking, we have been lambasted, garroted, buncoed, gold-bricked, solar-plexed, sandbagged, knocked out, our picture turned to the wall, and otherwise treated with brotherly love and now we feel that we are not as other men – and to show our distinction we will have to wear a badge, but not one bought with the people’s money. It happened this way: Last fall, when the political bosses were fishing for suckers the bait looked tempting, and we swallowed the hook and were landed. Now, there would be no kick coming from lus if the bosses had not shoved whole chunks of cold political harmony down the back of our neck, remarking at the same time, “Peace be with thee, brother.” We are under the impression, from the chill it gave us, that it was not a “peace” of cold political harmony that went down our back, but the whole lump. Now the reaction is great, and our political temperature is 106 under the collar. There are sudden changes in some other things besides the weather, but no so with our WINDOW SHADES. They are always the same – A No. 1.

WM. WELSH, 5 North Broadway, Yonkers

Even when the talk is small and light, the payoff is as usual.

Surprising!

We met a friend of ours, this morning, who did not ask us if we liked this kind of weather, or if it was wet enough to suit us, or when we thought it would clear up, or even remark that we are having a wet spell. Now, this must seem surprising to you, but it is a fact; there are a few people in the world who think that some other people know when there is a wet spell without being reminded of it every few minutes in the day.

Now, we wish to say, right here, that we know when we are having a wet spell, and we also know when we have enough. The next time we have a dry spell we shall mind our own affairs and peg away at our WINDOW SHADES.

We have a large stock of Oil Cloths, Linoleums, Mattings, White Beds and Bedding:

 WM. WELSH, 5 N. Broadway, Yonkers

We forgot to say that the man who didn’t speak to us about the weather was deaf and dumb.

Like re-hearing a well-loved joke, you already know the punch line, but the fun is all in getting there.

Recall a character from your life who only wanted to talk about one thing.

A Song After the Binge

Header photo via NASA Ice / James Yungel

The hits just keep coming in the climate change parade. Most recently a new NASA study predicted that an Antarctic ice shelf the size of Scotland could collapse by 2020.

Favorite quote from the Washington Post story:

“What might happen is that for a few years, we will have the detachment of big icebergs from this remaining ice shelf, and then at one point, one very very warm summer, when you have lots of melting of the surface, the whole thing will just give way, and will shatter into thousands of smaller icebergs,” says the Jet Propulsion Laboratory’s Ala Khazendar, lead author of the new study.

My understanding:  While the ice shelf is already in the water and its collapse alone won’t appreciably lift global water levels, it will open up the way for melting land-based glaciers to flow more easily into the sea.

That’s not good.

The ice shelf in question is called Larsen B, which immediately reminded me of this song about the unpleasant after-effects of an unfortunate and ill-advised binge.

We’re melting the Larsen B
with every added degree.
As tall icebergs fall into the foam.
Liquefy snow.
The glaciers let go.
Well, the ice shelf broke up
Submerging my home.

I hope that our fins evolve
As quick as the ice dissolve.
Antarctica wants to flow
over my home!
Soaking the loam.
That is the point of this poem, yeah yeah.
When the ice shelf broke up,
submerging my home.

Like ice cubes to a drunk
we’re hypnotized by each chunk
a prize, Scotland-sized, floating away.
Sea levels rise
You can predict the demise.
The ice shelf broke up
Submerging my home.

Add some lyrics or describe a night drinking with your grandfather.

The Rig Apple

This alarmingly intimate sales letter arrived the other day from Wally, of Wally’s Intimida,   home of the Sherpa – the world’s biggest SUV.

My Dear Dream Customer,

I’m grateful for your business even though you’ve never bought anything from me!

Why?

Because I had a dream that you did!  And I believe in dreams because all salesmen are crazy optimists.  And that same crazy optimism  has me feeling very “up” about the car biz right now!

It’s no secret that all the world’s giant tech and communications companies are looking for the Next  Big Thing  – that “must have it” device or app or piece of software.

Well, it’s starting to look like the Next Big Thing is a Big Old Thing – the automobile!  Because one of Apple’s bigwigs said the other day that his company views the car as an ‘ultimate mobile device’.  

Small thinkers took that to mean Apple is going to develop a bunch of gizmos to go in the dashboard, but I immediately saw it as something bigger.

Yes!  iHere iComes the iRide!

In my dream, we were standing together in a vast parking lot.  I wore an iWatch, but the iRide wore you!

When you strapped yourself into it, the iRide had already guessed where you were going because it checked the time of day against its extensive records of everywhere you’d ever gone before.

You were headed to work, but when you got to work, you didn’t have to get out to work because the iRide  already had all the trappings of your office built into it!

And yes, it was a massive vehicle.  A Very Familiar and Famously Massive Vehicle.

I’m not saying I know for sure that the Apple designers are building their automotive masterpiece on the Intimida Sherpa platform, but I will say this – if I knew they were doing it, I wouldn’t be able to say!

Unless it was just a dream.  Draw your own conclusions.

One thing is surely for sure – if Apple built a car,  you would not be able to afford it.  Which is why there’s no better time to buy a new Sherpa from Wally’s Intimida.  Because a primal version of The Next Big Thing might only be within reach as The Right Now Big Thing!

Yes, you could own one tomorrow.  Think about it, but not too much.  Dreams come true for those who act!

The Sherpa – it’s a mighty big, mighty sleek, sophisticated, smart, intuitive, trendy, iconic, game-changing car!

Thanks for being in my dream!

Wally

I do think Wally’s desperation shows through here.  All the retail excitement these days is around electronic contraptions, and those enormous SUV’s like the Sherpa are no longer riding a sales bump from cheaper gas.  Long gone are the days when customers looked to the introduction of a new automotive model year with the same level of anticipation the bring to the unveiling of the latest iPhone.  

But it’s nice to have a dream. 

 When have you rushed to buy a newly introduced product?

The Pips Trip

Today is the birthday of Gladys Knight, a soulful singer whose name instantly conjures three more words – “… and the Pips.”

That may be a tough notion for any diva to accept, but if Wikipedia is to be believed, at one point in her early career the entire band carried the nickname of her Uncle,  James Woods.

And yes, that means she was just another Pip.

History could have led anywhere from there.  At least it didn’t turn into “The Pips – featuring Gladys Knight.”

Knight was born in Atlanta in 1944, and gave her home state perhaps the finest pop music theme song of all fifty contenders with this classic.

It sounds odd to say it this way, but the song was created with a different title – “Midnight Plane to Houston.”   Writer Jim Weatherly allowed the change to suit a singer who was actually named Houston – Cissy, Whitney’s mother.   Cissy Houston recorded it as “Midnight Train To Georgia” on her debut album as she tried to de-Pipify herself after singing backup for characters like Elvis and Aretha Franklin.

Why is it that hopping a late plane to Houston sounds excruciating, while catching an overnight train to Georgia is romantic?

One can only imagine what it was like to sing that song over and over and over and over and over again as it became a worldwide hit.  I hope somewhere along the way, Gladys Knight felt a powerful sense of affirmation. After all, having a trio of choreographed “yes men” sing your exact words moments after you say them to thousands of adoring fans is the very thing that leads many corporate CEO’s to strive for that corner office.

What would your backup group be called?

Zero to Sixty

Back when I was 12 years old I spent an unusual amount of time reading about cars that I was too young to drive.    At the end of every article in Motor Trend, there was a list of specifications that gave the raw statistics regarding the wheelbase, the overall length, the width, the curb weight and the acceleration.

How long did it take the 1967 Mercury Cougar to go from 0 to 60?  I don’t remember, because I didn’t care.

Speed was the least important detail to me – a kid who loved cars as design objects more than conveyances.  I was much more interested in the roofline, what the grill looked like and the style of the door handles  than with anything that had to do with engines.

Drag racing made no sense to me – how could you properly admire the shape of an automobile when you couldn’t see it through a cloud of burning rubber?

I think it’s fair to say I’ve never had much appreciation for the whiplash takeoff no matter how it happens.  Which is why I can’t explain  my admiration for this video from SpaceX – a crewman’s-point-of-view look at the latest test of a mission abort system that jettisons the capsule (astronauts included) at well over three hundred miles per hour, going from zero to 100 in a few short seconds.

This is exactly how I’d like to experience liftoff – by not being there. Odd that the very risk of sitting on top of a rocket is mitigated by sitting on top of even more rockets that are designed to rush you away from the first set of rockets if necessary.

And while the powerful liftoff happens predictably at zero, the neck-snapping launch abort comes out of sequence – when you’re, by definition, not quite ready.

At, say, two.

15, 14, 13, 12
into the mystery we’ll delve
14, 13, 12, 11
rockets blasting into heaven
13, 12, 11, 10
computers count and tell us when
12, 11, 10, 9
every nuance must align
11, 10, 9, 8
could abort, it’s not too late
10, 9, 8, 7
way back when, it was eleven
9, 8, 7,6
if one valve misfires or sticks
8, 7, 6, 5
we may not get out alive
7, 6, 5, 4
waiting for the engine’s roar
6, 5, 4, 3
gonna pull some extra g
5, 4, 3, 2
OOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooaguhababammmmmmaagoooo!
4, 3, 2, 1
tower cleared and launch undone.
3, 2, 1, 0.
welcome back, already, hero.

When have you changed plans at the last minute?

Ferns and Cockroaches

We are ALL Dr. Babooner

Dear Dr. Babooner,

My ex-husband was such a snot, he brought everybody down with his relentless negativity. He always assumed the worst and constantly complained that human beings were “messing everything up”. He couldn’t hold a job and didn’t care that our family was running out of money because he was convinced it was only a matter of time before we’d annihilate ourselves as a species.

His crabby doomsaying drove away all my friends and the neighbors would close their windows and draw the shades whenever he went outside. He’d sit on the deck smoking a big fat cigar, flicking ashes into my carefully planted flower beds while he mocked me for the work I put into the landscaping.

“Geraniums are unsustainable,” he said. “Evolution and radioactive mutation will destroy almost all living things. After the big one blows, all that will be left is ferns and giant cockroaches.”

Fortunately, I saw the light and ditched him last winter. Now everything he hated is still here but he’s gone.

He moved out of state and I haven’t heard a thing from him since the divorce. The odd thing is, I can’t keep geraniums alive in that spot by the deck anymore. I plant and water them but they wither and die. And ferns are coming up instead! The neighbors still steer clear of the house and every now and then I hear a strange rustling sound inside the walls.

Either he put some kind of hex on me, or left the house full of bad vibes, or the apocalypse has already occurred an I just don’t know it. And remembering what he said about ferns and cockroaches, I’m terrified whenever I have to fetch something from under the kitchen sink!

Dr. Babooner, can a place be haunted by someone who is still alive?

With Utmost Concern,
Totally Freaked

I told Totally that the only place her ex is capable of haunting is the inside of her head. His apocalyptic visions got lodged in there and simply need to be driven out. My recommendation is to watch Dr. Strangelove a few times and learn to love ferns – they’re really quite beautiful. Although he was wrong about so many things, he’s probably right that ferns will outlast humans on this planet, just as they did the dinosaurs. Think of the ferns as respected elders and plant the geraniums somewhere else this year.

But that’s just one opinion. What do YOU think, Dr. Babooner?

The “Safe Fun” Paradox

Header image by Manuel QC via Creative Commons 

Today’s post comes from obsessive risk management enthusiast Bathtub Safety Officer Rafferty.

At ease civillians!

But as you take your ease on this Memorial Day, you MUST remember to stay alert to all safety risks that come with holiday fun.  

Personally, I’m against holidays for this very reason!  The very word “holiday” carries an expectation that the day will include some kind of unique, ecstatic experience.

This is exactly the sort of thing that can get you in trouble, safety-wise.  That’s why I’m much more comfortable with days “on”  rather than days “off”.

Boring?  Sure!  So?

The soul-killing drudgery of day-to-day work is great for depleting energy that might otherwise send you spinning off into activities that are questionable and possibly dangerous.

Firecrackers, speed boats, canoes, frisbees,  ATV’s, softballs, bats, fishing hooks, volleyball nets and water skis are just a few of the expected summer holiday accessories that I find alarming.

Beyond that, I question all the assumptions made around the holiday tradition of “grilling”.

The idea that a man who only cooks two meals a year will suddenly be able to prepare massive quantities of thoroughly cooked food over an open flame strikes me as questionable.

That he will be able to handle all that meat safely and cook it properly while drinking a succession of beers is, in a word, preposterous!

Beer and flames do not go together.  Ever!

I don’t know what Memorial Day plans you have made, but  staying on dry land, properly belted, with ample head protection, and eating in state-inspected establishments using properly maintained and not-too-sharp utensils sounds like great fun to me!

Safely & Securely,
B.S.O.R.

What are YOUR holiday plans?

Back Seat Games Set To Move Forward

Today’s post comes from marketing whiz Spin Williams, who is always in residence at The Meeting That Never Ends.

Wow!

I’m just back from a 9 day car trip through Iowa, Wisconsin, Missouri, Arkansas, Tennessee and Illinois, and boy, is my butt tired!

There are some big states on that list, and it takes a lot of sitting to get through them. Good thing meetings are my business, because my hindquarters were already road-ready before I left!

Along the way, I had lots of time to think about the coming transportation revolution, when autonomous cars will do most or all of the driving for us. Different states will write different laws to govern this, but my guess is that in most places our job as the “driver” will have some very basic elements:

  • Don’t be drunk
  • Don’t be asleep

Mostly, summer road trips of the future will expand the boredom of the back seat to the entire car, since your only real job will be to sit and watch the scenery go by.

Are there marketing opportunities there? You bet!

When we kicked this around at The Meeting That Never Ends, everybody agreed that backseat car games are due for a renaissance.

In the self-driving car future, everybody will be able to give all their attention to classics like 20 Questions, I Spy, and License Plate Poker.

But once the “driver” is able to swivel her seat and face the backseat passengers as the car picks its own way through road construction around Wisconsin Dells, we predict there will be a whole slew of new games the group can play, including card games and board games.

All we have to do is figure out what the breakaway hit will be in the realm of Whole Family Backseat Car Games, design it, own it, and then wait for technology to catch up.

Any ideas?  

Billionaire Donors Wanted

Today’s post comes from Congressman Loomis Beechly, representing Minnesota’s 9th District – all the water surface area in the state.

Greetings, Constituents, but especially the rich ones!

I’m writing today to tell all billionaires whose fabulous homes border my district (lake shore property is expensive!)  that I am available and willing to talk with them privately about any issue they feel is important enough to possibly merit a sizable contribution .

I’m not saying that I will change my position to entice  mega-donors, but on many of the topics that matter most to the super-rich, I’m still formulating my opinions.   I’d love to hear more about what influential people have to say , and as the Supreme Court has already reminded us,  money is speech!  So speak to me, already!  I can’t wait to hear your voices mingling with the rustling of your cash as you rush forward to press more of it into my hands!

Although actual contributions will only happen if we already agree on the major policies of the day. I am a highly principled public servant and a man of the people.  But like most human beings I feel more agreeable around vast sums of money.

And for my less-well-off constituents, a side note.  Don’t be overly concerned that I am groveling before and buttering up these super-rich donors.

Yes, just like you, I like piles of money.  I like them in the same way anglers love big, fat walleye.  I’m always hopeful that I’ll land one, but I’m not going to let my lust for reeling one in  drag me into the lake.  

And if you’re concerned that I’ve said too much and now the ultra-rich will know that I only see them as fish – bless you for caring but worry not!

Mega-donors don’t read fundraising letters.
Mini-donors don’t read fundraising letters.
Truly, nobody reads fundraising letters.

Everyone has stopped by the 301st word, which is this one.

At any rate, the sort of supporter I’m seeking has already handed this off to a minion, who (hopefully!) has used the information on the masthead to schedule a private conversation.  Because the super-rich don’t contribute to political campaigns based on the sort of words that just anyone can hear. They base their support on the private things I say that can’t be traced, quoted or repeated!

And what are those things?  Political blah-blah-blah, and probably nothing you would find too memorable.  Honestly, even I can’t recall.  But I assure you that if I ever compared someone a big, fat Walleye, I would consider that a total compliment!

Your Completely Honest Congressman,
Loomis Beechly

When money talks, do you listen?

Similar Simians Self-Select

Here’s how influential baboons can be – they have digital natives questioning the value of social media.

A recent study of baboon behavior found that baboons like to hang out with their own personality types.  Those identified as bold tended to hang out with like-minded baboons, while the meek ones prefer the company of their own sort.

As a result,  groups remain socially isolated and new information tends to stay within the group that discovered it.

Sound familiar?

No, not to me either.  No one in my circle cares much for animal studies.  Even if the creatures aren’t harmed, we tend to agree that they have a right to privacy.

But Trail Baboon poet laureate Schuyler Tyler Wyler, who, frankly, is not one of us, found the report inspiring.  So he penned the following few lines of deathless verse:

Those bold baboons are reckless beasts
They’re wild and fast and free.
So when I want to socialize,
they’re not my cup of tea.

I much prefer the timid ones.
Baboons who are demure.
If thoughtful and considerate,
I’ll hang with them for sure.

And when we convene a confab
to trade news and give reports,
we will screen for type and temperament
to weed out the wrong sorts.

So that when we all are gathered
we’ll stay focused, we’ll be tame.
All our thoughts and inspirations
will be pretty much the same.

Where do you get new ideas?