I love the irony of the slogan "Shop like a billionaire" for the Temu.com portal, of all sources. Where you can get -- and I have gotten -- a perfectly nice black pullover for $5, a pair of leggings on clearance for $3.97. Not to mention a wide array of hair clips, kitchen scrubbers, Christmas lights, and novelty socks for sometimes less than $1. (Free shipping if your order totals $20! Amazing automated customer service!)
Could even the most aspirational Temu shopper fantasize that this is how a billionaire shops?
Years ago, I worked in the service of the advertising industry -- not as a critic or "Mad Men" agency drone, but in the boots-on-the-ground arena of grinding out TV commercials on set, whether in the relative comfort of a sound stage or on a distant location. I did that kind of work for nearly twenty years for one reason: it paid well for short-duration labor, but after I became accustomed to relatively fat paychecks for two and three-day gigs, the morality of serving the advertising Devil began to eat at me. Being young enough at the time to think I knew what was what, I developed an unreasonable antipathy to the ad agency people responsible for all this.
After a particularly bruising day filming a commercial in the fierce heat of the deserts northeast of LA, I hit the hotel bar for a drink or three, and there was one of the agency people: a reasonably attractive woman about my age. So I bellied up to the bar and ordered a drink. My motives were mixed, of course, but it hit me that here was my chance to speak truth to ... well, not exactly "power," but to someone higher up the advertising food chain. In reality, I was preparing to bite the proverbial hand that fed me, but such is the danger of certainty blended with alcohol.
So I spoke my truth: that I thought advertising was designed to make viewers want things they didn't need and couldn't afford, and thus was a Bad Thing.
Needless to say, she did not agree. "We're offering people things that will make their lives better," she insisted. Having planted our respective flags at polar opposites, the discussion continued at a loud volume due to the extreme cacophony in that crowded bar. Given that shouting is not conducive to having a reasonable conversation, it didn't take her long to realize how much fun I wasn't, at which point she drained her glass and left .... and there I was, alone at the bar amidst a mob of yammering sunburned yahoos and desert rats, contemplating the absurdity of it all ... and of me.
It was then that I realized ad agency drones were just people doing a job, the same as me, all of us feeding at the long ad industry trough. I climbed down from that high horse and my view of agency people softened until years later, after a day filming in Arthur Bryant's BBQ restaurant in Kansas City, I accepted the agency invitation to stay and sample Mr. Bryant's fine BBQ after the shoot wrapped for the day. I was the only crew member who did, and it was nice -- they turned out to be smart, interesting people, not horned devils out to subvert and impoverish the youth of America.
And hey, the BBQ was great!
But now you've made me see the light, Bob: we were all just doing our part to keep the News Entertainment Industrial Complex marching forward in good working order. So now that the machine is falling apart and ending Life as We Knew it, where's my "Hero of the People" badge?
I just became an annual paid subscriber… So YOU sold me something, 😉.
.
However, the proliferation of advertising all around us is so INFERNAL! Watch a video on YouTube, say the rebuilding of the yacht Tally Ho by the crew of Sampson Boat Company (an excellent channel, BTW), and you must needs be interrupted with ads for Febreze or adult diapers.
.
You can skip them, MAYBE, after 5-10-15-20 seconds, but you can’t turn the page like in a magazine.
.
It’s like the Telescreen described in Orwell’s 1984, you could turn Big Brother down, but you couldn’t turn him OFF!
Wear it with honor. That and the Arthur Bryant's feast are the rewards for your service.
By the way, for a black-tape guy, you write very well.
Eradicate the imperative!
Hahahaha
I love the irony of the slogan "Shop like a billionaire" for the Temu.com portal, of all sources. Where you can get -- and I have gotten -- a perfectly nice black pullover for $5, a pair of leggings on clearance for $3.97. Not to mention a wide array of hair clips, kitchen scrubbers, Christmas lights, and novelty socks for sometimes less than $1. (Free shipping if your order totals $20! Amazing automated customer service!)
Could even the most aspirational Temu shopper fantasize that this is how a billionaire shops?
Years ago, I worked in the service of the advertising industry -- not as a critic or "Mad Men" agency drone, but in the boots-on-the-ground arena of grinding out TV commercials on set, whether in the relative comfort of a sound stage or on a distant location. I did that kind of work for nearly twenty years for one reason: it paid well for short-duration labor, but after I became accustomed to relatively fat paychecks for two and three-day gigs, the morality of serving the advertising Devil began to eat at me. Being young enough at the time to think I knew what was what, I developed an unreasonable antipathy to the ad agency people responsible for all this.
After a particularly bruising day filming a commercial in the fierce heat of the deserts northeast of LA, I hit the hotel bar for a drink or three, and there was one of the agency people: a reasonably attractive woman about my age. So I bellied up to the bar and ordered a drink. My motives were mixed, of course, but it hit me that here was my chance to speak truth to ... well, not exactly "power," but to someone higher up the advertising food chain. In reality, I was preparing to bite the proverbial hand that fed me, but such is the danger of certainty blended with alcohol.
So I spoke my truth: that I thought advertising was designed to make viewers want things they didn't need and couldn't afford, and thus was a Bad Thing.
Needless to say, she did not agree. "We're offering people things that will make their lives better," she insisted. Having planted our respective flags at polar opposites, the discussion continued at a loud volume due to the extreme cacophony in that crowded bar. Given that shouting is not conducive to having a reasonable conversation, it didn't take her long to realize how much fun I wasn't, at which point she drained her glass and left .... and there I was, alone at the bar amidst a mob of yammering sunburned yahoos and desert rats, contemplating the absurdity of it all ... and of me.
It was then that I realized ad agency drones were just people doing a job, the same as me, all of us feeding at the long ad industry trough. I climbed down from that high horse and my view of agency people softened until years later, after a day filming in Arthur Bryant's BBQ restaurant in Kansas City, I accepted the agency invitation to stay and sample Mr. Bryant's fine BBQ after the shoot wrapped for the day. I was the only crew member who did, and it was nice -- they turned out to be smart, interesting people, not horned devils out to subvert and impoverish the youth of America.
And hey, the BBQ was great!
But now you've made me see the light, Bob: we were all just doing our part to keep the News Entertainment Industrial Complex marching forward in good working order. So now that the machine is falling apart and ending Life as We Knew it, where's my "Hero of the People" badge?
🧵Thank you, Mr. Speaker.
I rise today to decry the proliferation of imperative sentences in advertising.
‘Make no mistake,’ I don’t mind imperative sentences, in general, such as, “Be brave,” or “Be strong.”
But Mr. Speaker, when advertising constantly tells me to “Stop doing this,” or “Do this one trick to empty your bowels everyday,” I must protest🪧!
I urge my colleagues to stop this madness, and OPPOSE Imperative Advertising!
(Try it tonight, ‼️)
Dear Bob,
.
I just became an annual paid subscriber… So YOU sold me something, 😉.
.
However, the proliferation of advertising all around us is so INFERNAL! Watch a video on YouTube, say the rebuilding of the yacht Tally Ho by the crew of Sampson Boat Company (an excellent channel, BTW), and you must needs be interrupted with ads for Febreze or adult diapers.
.
You can skip them, MAYBE, after 5-10-15-20 seconds, but you can’t turn the page like in a magazine.
.
It’s like the Telescreen described in Orwell’s 1984, you could turn Big Brother down, but you couldn’t turn him OFF!