Useless Buzzwords

At the age of four, I streamlined streamlining. Two years later, I developed a suite of best-in-class best practices with my best friend. By nine, I had all my ducks in a row.

I have survived three perfect storms.

But that's the 20,000 foot view. Let's drill down. You got the bandwidth?

I capture eyeballs. I push the envelope to the bleeding edge. I don't have "fulfillment issues".

I juice low-hanging fruit, drink the Kool-Aid, sell the sizzle and chuck the steak. What's on your plate?

I once leveraged an entire bucket of secret sauce.

I'd love to move forward; but I'm at my wits' end.

#UselessBuzzwords

Celebrex Will Fucking Kill You

Incendiary? Maybe a little. True? I'll let the ad speak for itself...



Did you happen to notice that the commercial, 1) was over two minutes long, 2) consisted almost solely of side effects, 3) used said side effects as pretty much the entire visual aesthetic, and 4) ended with the tagline: "Celebrex: Understand the risks, see the benefits."? Cause honestly, when you put that shit together, you've gotta wonder -- why bother making a commercial in the first place?! I think the daredevils with sore joints will come out of the woodwork on their own.

I also think 30 seconds is plenty of time to list all the ways Celebrex is going to end your life. Just list the side-effects in rapid succession like one of those "NOW! That's what I call 80's!" CD commercials; I don't need to be led around a creepy blue world of death. But the most troubling part has to be the tagline. What do they mean by "Understand the risks"? Do they mean, like, understand that they quite clearly outweigh the benefits? Because I get that. I get that internal bleeding is worse than sensitive knuckles.

Do yourself a favor. Take Advil or something. It (probably) won't kill you. And that that candy shell they coat the pills with is fucking delicious.

Basement Sex

You know who should really be teaching minors about sex? JCPenney.



Not a great commercial. But it would have made an excellent safe sex PSA. I imagined it saying something like, "Even if you don't get caught, you might get burned." And then some really depressing shit about how syphilis feels like a tiny dragon is living in your urethra. Instead, it resolved on a heartwarming tagline: "Every Day Matters." Which doesn't really have anything to do with 14-year-olds humping (but it's a whole lot safer than their old line "It's All Inside.") I'm counting triple entendre... at least.

My point is, the whole message is dubious. I don't remember JCPenney's clothes being particularly easy to get in and out of. Except for maybe those JNCO jeans, but that's 'cause you could fit your entire body in one of the pant legs. And the only similarity between having sex in your parent's basement and shopping at JCPenney -- so far as I can see -- is the fact that if you fuck on a musty couch for long enough, you're bound to get some pennies lodged between your ass cheeks. And then, theoretically, you could use your ass pennies to shop at JCPenney. Which is kind of nice, if you think about it. It sort of brings the whole campaign full circle.

5 Dolla Foot Loooong

I told myself I was going to stop patronizing (shopping at, not condescending) Subway (the restaurant, not the tunnel) a while back when they refused to honor one of THEIR OWN gift cards. After a few minutes of totally unnecessary bargaining, they sent me on my way, turkey sandwich in hand.

One should never have to negotiate for government cheese.

I hadn't been there in some time. Maybe a few weeks. The franchise owners at my local Subway must have noticed that I'd been boycotting their store. And they must have relayed this to the corporate office, cause they've been trying to win me back ever since with their new advertising campaign; a mind-numbing jingle that haunts my dreams.

Since the "5 dollar footlong" campaign launched I've eaten several Subway sandwiches. I don't see the trend ending either; they have this big sign out front that reduces me to Pavlov's dog whenever I walk by. Worst of all, I think they know that I'm powerless to inexpensive, lengthy food. I swear I spotted this sly little grin on the cashier's face last time he rang me up. Shifty bastard.

He definitely knows.

More Crappy

Pepsi has an illustrious history of nonsensical taglines. After the whole "You've got the right one baby, uh huh, uh huh" thing with Ray Charles didn't pan out, they introduced another slogan: Nothing Else Is A Pepsi. Then, a few years later, the tagline became: It's the Cola. So there you have it. Pepsi: Nothing else is itself, and, it's Cola, in case you forgot.

But this time, Pepsi's gone too far. If you thought "It's the Cola" was vague and stupid, you'll really enjoy their new slogan: More Happy. It's bad enough that Pepsi tastes like crap. But if I have to hear "More Happy" for the next several years I'm going More Kill Myself.

In a pathetic effort to lend credibility to the campaign, Russell Weiner, VP of cola marketing at PepsiCo, notes, "One of the nice things about the word ‘happy’ is it’s really multidimensional."

Multidimensional? Riiiiiight...

'Cause the word "happy" means so many things to so many people. You know, like joy, and stuff.

Oh, I got it! Joy! The Joy Of Pepsi... no... the Joy Of Cola! What? That was already a tagline? Fuck it, just go with "Yep" before someone else takes it.

Adventures On The Internets

Today I mistyped NFL.com and landed on NF.com, some sort of fifth-rate search engine that preys on football fans with shoddy motor skills.

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I wondered how NF would stand up to Google so I typed "fart" into the search bar. I couldn't think of anything better on the spot. Here's what NF.com came up with.

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The girl at the top gnawing on a shoelace notwithstanding, the search results weren't half bad. And while fart ringtones are enticing, I think we both know, I went straight for the fart machine.

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Nine bucks? For a machine that farts? An iPod cost like $300, and all that thing does is play music. Must be some sort of misprint. My mouse hovered over the "Buy Now" button, despite the stern CAUTION label on the package: You may die laughing. I had to capitalize on this bargain.

I closed my eyes and clicked. And then, just as I whipped out my credit card, I stopped, and slid it quietly back in my wallet. A simple typo brought me to NF.com, and then, entranced, I almost purchased a remote-controlled fart machine.

NF.com must be doing something right. Because that's never happened to me on Google.

Urinal Games

The act of pissing has lost its luster. There was a time in my life when peeing was like an adventure. I'd use the toilet for target practice, taking tiny steps backward as I whizzed away, trying desperately to increase my distance and accuracy. In the winter I'd giggle with delight as the warmth of my pee melted away the pristine snow. But at 24, I've seen it all. Now I just stand there.

About a year ago I pitched the idea of "urinal games" to some uppity NYC ad execs. Despite my enthusiasm, and painstakingly intricate presentation, they weren't impressed. As I stood in solemn silence before a bland, white urinal during a bathroom break, I mused, "maybe urinals will just never be fun?" But today, when I heard that bars in New Mexico were installing talking urinal cakes that spouted off about drunk driving when soaked with warm, alcohol-laden urine, my humble quest for urinaltainment was at long last renewed.

Imagine a world where every urinal was like ESPN Zone. There would be flashing lights, high-score boards, and fully-stocked bars to ensure that piss flowed indefinitely. Play for free, and piss on Osama bin Laden; or, pop in a quarter, and let the games begin! Honestly, if I'm just standing there mindlessly pissing, why not make a game out of it? Why not go in a clown's mouth, like that game at carnivals where you have to be the first one to pop the balloon? Why not shoot moving targets? Why does pissing have to be so dull? I predict the coming years will bare witness to a stunning evolution of the urinal. New Mexico has taken an important first step. And sure, we're getting there...


But we've got a long way to go.

Too Bad To Be True

A while back, I wrote about Mike Huckabee's shameless use of Chuck Norris in his campaign ad. I never thought anyone could out-stupid it. But I was wrong.

Somehow, as if he'd been practicing how to suck for years, Rudy Giuliani managed to make Mike Huckabee look like a guru. Which is not easy. It's right up there with trying to make Michael Jackson look like a human, or David Hasselhoff look sober.

Watch the video:



What follows is a chronological account of my inner monologue during this video:

1 Second: Hey, it's Mr. 9/11 Man!!
6 Seconds: Oh, you're having trouble finding time for Christmas shopping? Why don't you just embezzle campaign funds and hire a personal shopper? You know, kinda like how you used the NYPD to drive your mistress around when you were Mayor of New York.
15 Seconds: Sounds pretty good so fa--
16 Seconds: Strict constructionist judges!!? What the fuck! I don't recall asking Santa for any judges. Not even sane, practical ones.
18 Seconds: A FRUITCAKE!!?
20 Seconds: Thank God I wasn't the only one thinking that.
25 Seconds: You. Can't. Act. Stop it.
28 Seconds: Kill me.
30 Seconds: Well, on the bright side, at least he's not even buying this bullshit.

So... Huckabee's endorsed by Chuck Norris. Giuliani's got Santa in his camp. Oprah's touring the country with Obama. I wonder what's next? I'm guessing Romney's got something up his sleeve magical underwear.

Maybe he could use Payton Manning? He could use a few more commercials. Or, hey, what's Britney's deal these days? Maybe she could endorse Romney?

Wait. Is she married?

Maybe Romney could marry her! Purpose to her live during the Super Bowl!!

Wait. Is he married?

Sure, but no biggie, he's Mormon! He could get that Chris Crocker kid to scream "leave Romney alone" on YouTube, and have Britney make a music video about their Hollywood romance. Romney would be unstoppable. Well. Nearly unstoppable.


Now that would be unstoppable. All that's left is the campaign slogan. Anyone?

Badvertising

If there's any question as to whether or not advertising is a colossal scam, this should settle the score:

A £125,000 campaign to replace Scotland's Best Small Country In The World tag has been unveiled. And the exciting new catchphrase dreamed up by top advertising brains is... "Welcome to Scotland".

Welcome to Scotland? Can you even copyright that? If I was Scotland, I would be livid. Not because the tag is so simple. But because, even if you paid me a quarter million dollars, I'd be hard pressed to come up with a worse tagline. Trust me. I tried. In fact, the only slogan I came up with that even approaches the shittiness of "Welcome to Scotland" is "Scotland: It's a Country". And even that has a nice ring to it.

The point is this. Taglines are supposed to be ambiguous. If a tagline makes sense, it's not effective. Taglines should be the source of endless confusion, and cripple rational thought processes. They should paradoxically make absolutely no sense, and absolute sense, simultaneously.

Take Nike's slogan, "Just do it". It's brilliant. Nobody knows what it means. I don't even think Nike knows what it means. But I'll tell you what, I can definitely get down with doing it. Especially if Michael Jordan tells me to. Or, DeBeers. They say, "A Diamond Is Forever". Even if a diamond is forever (whatever that entails) won't whoever you give it to be dead by the time forever rolls around? Still, it's a tempting prospect... I'll take two. Then there's McDonald's tagline, "I'm lovin' it". I don't know what I'm supposed to be lovin' but I sincerely doubt it's the McChicken sandwiches or the chronic diarrhea.

Here's the kicker. For whatever reason, badvertising works. That's why I've developed the tagline to end all taglines. It works universally, for every product, everywhere. It's simple. It's perfect. It's three letters long.


Yep. It works like a charm.

The Second Worst Song Of All Time

Remember Tay Zonday? Yeah, me either. But someone did. And they decided it was a good idea to finance a sequel to his cult classic 'Chocolate Rain'. The new video is a three minute ode to why Zonday, who now goes by T.A.Y. to the Z, is a shining role model for creepy people the world over, and living proof that anyone can make it. Even if you look like a ventriloquist dummy.

If you can stomach it...


The video was pretty lame until about halfway though, at which point (to the astute observer) Zonday's virginity becomes painfully obvious when he awkwardly attempts to hand-feed cherries to a woman sitting on a couch. Then, out of the blue, a squirrel--which I'm pretty sure was an actual dead, stuffed squirrel--gets smothered in liquid chocolate.

It turns out, the whole charade was a commercial for the new Cherry Chocolate Dr. Pepper. I was a little ticked at first. But then I realized something. I live in a country where a terrible idea and a knack for being unfathomably devoid of talent will take you straight to the top. And I thought you had to marry Britney Spears. Maybe there's hope for me yet.

Better Never, Than Late

One of my biggest pet peeves is when I think of something brilliant that already exists. It happens to me all the time. Some would say, "maybe your ideas aren't that brilliant." Unlikely. Maybe too many things exist. My latest stroke of genius proves it.

Have you ever hated someone so much you wish you could shit on their face? Me too. That's why I invented George W. Bush toilette paper. I even had a tagline "Wipe away that stupid smirk." The only problem is, someone already invented it. Figures.