The AdHole

I’ll admit to being a bit of a grammar Nazi. It’s not that I insist that all body copy be written according to the MLA or Chicago Manual of Style; I just believe in knowing the rules before breaking them for the sake of stylish advertising. And one thing you don’t see a lot of in ad copy is the troublesome semicolon. I would say this is generally a good thing. Why prolong a phrase with such an odd looking glyph when you can use a dash or, if your feeling especially jaunty, split the phrase in two with a period?

Still, the semicolon does serve a useful place in non-ad writing. Yet it’s use has been steadily on the decline. Why? Well, let’s let Paul Collins of Slate explain the mystery with his recent piece “Has Modern Life Killed the Semicolon?” Apparently, Edgar Allan Poe hated the semicolon, feeling he had been gypped out of disemboweling a full colon.

I can already sense the collective boredom of 10,000 art directors.

Whatever.

Fox

In honor of our great country’s Declaration of Independence nearly two and one-third centuries ago, I offer the following words from John Adams. Written to his wife Abigail the night of July 2, 1776, Adams tells his wife of the Continental Congress’s decision that day to separate the Colonies from Mother England. (He even mentions fireworks (illuminations) – how very prescient.) Two days later, the Congress would ratify the words of that Declaration, written by Thomas Jefferson with help from his friend Adams.

The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epocha in the history of America. I am apt to believe it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forevermore.

You will think me transported with enthusiasm, but I am not. I am well aware of the toil and blood and treasure that it will cost us to maintain this Declaration and support and defend these states. Yet, through all the gloom, I can see the rays of ravishing light and glory. I can see that the end is more than worth all the means. And that posterity will triumph in that day’s transaction, even although we should rue it, which I trust in God we shall not…

It may be the will of Heaven that America will suffer calamities still more wasting, and distress yet more dreadful. If this is to be the case, it will have this good effect at least. It will inspire us with many virtues which we have not, and correct many errors, follies and vices which threaten to disturb, dishonor and destroy us. The furnace of affliction produces refinement, in States as well as individuals…But I must submit all my hopes and fears to an overruling Providence, in which, unfashionable as the faith may be, I firmly believe.

Happy Fourth!

Fox

This deserves as much play as possible.

Via Yonder Ponder who got it via Ask a Copywriter.

DANCE!

Later,

Fox

I should’ve been an account exec. Or a media buyer. Or an account planner. I’ve never known anyone of these persuasions who has remained unemployed for very long. Even if they weren’t very good. It’s true. The good ones (and I will readily admit that I have worked with many good account folks) seem to hop around at will. Even the sad sacks who couldn’t write a brief, analyze a DMA or control a focus group of zombies never seem to have much of an issue, either. Just flash a resume with good accounts on it and you’re good to go. Need proof of your contribution to said accounts’ successes? Heck no! You don’t need no stinkin’ portfolio. You worked on the account. It didn’t go bankrupt. How bad could you be?

Creatives, of course, don’t get this luxury. I know many creatives who are quite brilliant at what they do, yet can’t seem to catch a break. Why? Their books are, shall we say, good. Not make-Alex-Bogusky-rage-with-jealousy-and-brain-Andrew-Keller-with-a-titanium-lion great. Just books full of solid work produced for a bunch of non-visionary clients. Probably at middle-of-the-road agencies you may not have heard of in cities in flyover country that aren’t Chicago or Minneapolis.

So these guys continue to look. Maybe they catch a break because they know a guy who knows a gal who knows another dude and they get on with a decent shop. But probably not. The probably end up at another no-rep place toiling away at sell sheets and arguing over why reflex blue went out of style in 1989.

And that’s just sad. Because a book really tells you so little about someone’s ability. It doesn’t tell you how well they interpret a brief. Or if they can help develop strategy. Or if they’re comfortable on set. Or in the edit suite. Or directing voice talent. Or selling ideas to the client. Or if the ads in their book are the only decent ideas they ever had.

And their book certainly won’t tell you if they’re easy to work with. Maybe every partner they’ve ever had has requested a team divorce. Maybe he hits on every intern (I’ve known this guy, haven’t you?). Maybe he steals ideas. Or trots out the same concepts for every client. Maybe he’s just a tool.

I’ve been on every side of this equation. I’ve hired folks based on their books that didn’t pan out. I’ve hired folks in spite of their books because I saw something in their own selves that was worth the gamble – and it paid off. I’ve also gotten a job (way, way back in the day) in spite of having a lackluster book, and am now banging my head against slamming agency doors because my book is pretty good but not laced with One Show award winners.

So maybe the next time you skim someone’s book, you should view it a broader context. Find out about their current agency – is it known for great work or phoning it in? If you see hints of greatness unrealized or evidence of good concepts squelched by client edicts, ask for the stories behind the ads.

Ads aren’t created in vacuums. So, when someone’s livelihood is on the line, don’t judge them that way. After all, we aren’t consumers. We’re fellow ad slingers.

Later,

Fox

This is one of those things that goes without saying, yet bears repeating. Often. Daily even. Sometimes ad nauseam in a three-minute span during a meeting with fill-in-the-blank:

Never show anything you don’t want to see produced.

I don’t know why agencies feel inclined to show clients three concepts. I don’t know why teams feel compelled to show their CDs three ideas. It could be the rule of three, or perhaps we’re all fixated on providing, yes, value to our employers. One or two ideas just aren’t enough. But three? Now someone’s getting their money’s worth.

Except, of course, that that third idea is often a clinker. And, more disheartening, it’s often a clinker on purpose.

I really hope this isn’t a shock to anyone. If it is, and you’ve been in the biz more than thirty seconds, please exit stage right.

The theory behind presenting a clinker of a concept – or straw dog as it’s commonly known – is to make the other ideas seem that much better, thereby guaranteeing the one of the ideas you really like will get chosen.

And yet we never learn, do we? This never works. It just doesn’t. The client always picks the straw dog because it’s the safest. The CD always picks the straw dog so he can steal one of your other ideas as his own. It’s just the way the world works, Pepe. Cope.

I’ve actually worked with a couple of agencies that only show one concept to a client. If the client buys it, great! If not, the agency comes back later with another idea. Sure, the client may eventually exhaust the agency so much that they reach for the straw dog, but at least the agency didn’t show it to them as a viable option from the get-go. (Side note: Is the past tense of “get-go” “got-gone”? Discuss.)

So please, if you, my junior writer, only have one or two great ideas to show me at the 11 a.m. status meeting, then just show me those two. It’s better that I yell at you for being brilliant-yet-lazy than for being a hack.

Later,

Fox

On Wednesday, June 18, 2008, the Hollywood Chamber of Commerce once again failed to bestow a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame to one of the industry’s most beloved and venerable actors – Cheeta the Chimpanzee.

Cheeta starred alongside Olympic champion Johnny Weissmuller in the Tarzan movies of the 30s and 40s. Today, he lives the life of a handsome simian of leisure at the C.H.E.E.T.A. Primate Sanctuary in lovely Palm Springs, CA, painting impressionistic art and enjoying Diet Coke. I should end up so lucky.

Cheeta is also, according to the Guinness Book of World Records, the oldest living non-human primate in the world, having recently celebrated what is believed to be his 76th birthday.

Cheeta’s nomination for a star has gone before the Chamber seven times. And seven times the mighty CtC has been denied while others, like the Village People, Howie Mandel and Vince McMahon, get lauded as entertainment geniuses meritorious of marble-based sidewalk enshrinement. This year, Tinkerbell got the nod over Cheeta. Gee, wonder if having a Disney store along the Walk of Fame and a Tinkerbell movie coming out this fall had anything to do with that. Sigh. These people and woodland nymphs aren’t worthy enough to fling Cheeta’s poo.

If you agree – and this really is a bipartisan issue if there ever was one – please sign the petition at GoCheeta.com and help keep hope alive for 2009.

Later,

Fox

Note: This post originally appeared about ten minutes earlier at 12 Point Type.

From the Dusseldorf, Germany, office of BBDO comes this campaign for Braun nose hair trimmers.

I think it’s brilliant, unlike the four people over at Ads of the World who ranked it a collective 5.5 out of 10. But what do they know? They’re probably not even in the target market. Which, sadly, I am. Thanks for the pastiness and inconvenient body hair, dad.

Later,

Fox

Note: This post was originally written for 12 Point Type

At last, the reign of confusion is over. Thank you, Diddy. Thank you.

I now return you to your (hopefully) more productive lives.

Later,

Fox

I rarely, as in once a year, read Bob Garfield’s column in AdAge. I avoid it for a couple of reasons. First, I find that – like the billions of you out there that refuse to read The AdHole – reading other folks’ thoughts on advertising gets a bit tiresome. Second, and more of an issue, I tend to think he’s a bit of a twit.

Case in point: Bob’s May 26 column about the new Random Acts of Cheetos campaign from Goodby, Silverstein & Partners.

Now, I’ll admit that the new campaign isn’t the best to ever come out of Goodby. But it’s not horrific, either. And at least it doesn’t scream at you like so many other chips/candy bars/soda/energy drinks/politicians.

Here’s a sample:

Okay, it’s no “Aaron Burr” from the “Got Milk?” campaign, but come on. Do you think any of these statements of Bob’s make much sense:

“It’s cynical and disgusting.”
“…there is another word for Random Acts of Cheetos: vandalism.”
“Can you see how this is all destined to lead to litigation? Or worse? Can you see how ethically bankrupt it is — Frito-Lay in the role of Ken Lay?”

Ken Lay? What? I don’t even get that connection. Wait. Because now Frito-Lay is ethically bankrupt like the disgraced and convicted former Enron CEO? Oh. Okay. Long way to go for a joke, Bob. And I know the long way around a joke. I write radio spots.

But my real question is this: Is this really the worst piece of advertising Bob can find against which to rail? Does he really believe people are going to watch this ad and then go commit horrid acts of corn puff-based hooliganism? Well, okay, some will. That happens. But if people can sell backyard wrestling videos with little fear of legal reprisal, I doubt Frito-Lay’s lawyers are too concerned.

And ethically bankrupt? Please. I don’t particularly fear the day when I have to explain to my now four-month-old son why he shouldn’t smash Cheetos in his sister’s MacBook (well, at least not from an ad-based standpoint). I do wonder how I’ll explain Victoria’s Secret ads or Abercrombie’s tweener porn or the 2020 version of OMFG.

A little corn chip tomfoolery I can handle.

Blatant Acts of Lecherous Commerce aimed at my kiddos’ eyeballs, not so much.

Later,

Fox

This is not an example of shamelessly trolling for search engine traffic. I actually am excited that David Cook won American Idol over David “Someone Please Taser My Dad” Archuleta. Why? Two reasons.

First, Cook is from Blue Springs, Missouri. Once and possibly still known as Tree City, USA, for reasons I’ve never known, Blue Springs is also my hometown. More or less. Technically, Independence is my hometown, but I lived in an odd little part that was in the Blue Springs school district. Aren’t you glad to know that? Anyway, Cook went to the same elementary school as many of my best friends growing up. Granted, he went there 10 years later. Which means he was probably a fifth grader there when my buddy and I tested some mods to said friend’s Mustang 5.0.

Man, I’m feeling old.

Anyway, it’s always nice to see someone from your hometown make it big, assuming “make it big” doesn’t equate to “being Lindsay Lohan’s toe jam scrubber.” But maybe your standards differ from my own.

Second, I’m glad David Cook won because he seemed genuinely grateful for the opportunity. I get tired of hearing 18-year-olds talking about how being on Idol is their lifelong dream. As if they’ve been hustling the coffee house or bar circuit since they were 12 and are now seeing the fruits of their labors. Good for them if they’re talented enough to be an Idol finalist. Just don’t try to tell me the many hours spent with your private vocal coach count as having paid your dues.

David Cook paid his dues. He was a bartender in Tulsa when this saga began. Tulsa. Oklahoma. I’ve been to Tulsa on business on more than one occasion. It’s a nice enough town, but not exactly a hotbed of rock-n-roll action. Unless I missed that section of town.

More important than having paid his dues is what he learned in the process. (And, by the looks of things, what he learned at home.) To be thankful for an opportunity when it comes your way. To make the most of that opportunity. To be appreciative when that opportunity pans out. And to enjoy every moment of it because you don’t know when it’s going to end.

I supposed David Cook could just be a good actor great at feigning humility. But I choose to believe otherwise. I choose to believe that a good guy one. Here’s to hoping he stays that way.

Later,

Fox