The economy’s ugly and it’s hurting a lot of people. Political pundits point fingers and flap their yaps endlessly about who is at fault. Not to worry, there’s plenty of blame to go around.
The little film does a brilliant job of explaining the entire sorted stew in just over 11 minutes. The staff of economists at The Lint Screen vouch that as far as we can tell it’s pretty spot-on about who did what, when, where, how and why.
Spend a little time and learn a lot. Let’s hear your reactions. Accurate? Bull? Fluff? And how do you feel about these same scumbuckets still getting paid bonuses out the wazoo? Sorry, that was neither fair nor balanced…
A wife can forgive the ‘other woman’, can’t she?Bernie Madoff is serving a 150-year prison sentence for hoodwinking investors out of millions. Now one of those investors, Sheryl Weinstein, claims Bernie also stole her heart. In her soon to be published book, she confesses to have been involved in an affair with Madoff for over 20 years. Despite this new scandalous revelation, Bernie Madoff’s legal wife, Ruth, sent the following letter to the judge overseeing Mr. Madoff’s case.
Dear Your Most Honored Honor:
Back in June, you sentenced my loving husband, Bernard Madoff (Prisoner #61727-054), to serve 150-years in federal prison for his crimes of bilking innocent investors out of countless millions, their precious dreams and the remains of their sacred lives.
My husband is a good man, an honorable man, a 71-year old man. I am writing you with a sincere request.
If he serves his full term, Bernie will not be released until June 4, 2159. Your Honorable Honor, if you would shed some mercy, I implore you to reduce his sentence to an early release date of June 4, 2158. Please, let him enjoy some free time before his time is up.
Thank you, kind sir. In closing, I must mention that Bernie told me that you appear to be gaining a lot of weight. He said even in your black robe, you appear to be morbidly obese.
Best wishes,
Ms. Ruth Madoff Standing By Her Man As Best She Can
See me? 281st row, 134th from left, wearing a porkpie hat. Winking.
It was supposed to be a little concert in upstate New York. Just some friends, some music, some good times. It became a legendary rock concert and historic event. Even though I was just a kid from northeastern Ohio, I was there and kept a haphazard journal. Here are my notes from 40 years ago (scribbled on a Big Chief tablet):
Met some black dude named Jimi. Says he’s playing guitar on Sunday and wants to make a political statement. Says he’s thinking of playing “The Hokey-Pokey” because in Vietnam, you’re either in, you’re out, or you’re shaking it all about. I tell him it seems kinda heavy-handed. I suggest he plays “The Star Spangled Banner” and let people draw their own conclusions. He threw me his guitar and said, “Thanks, kid.” I wonder if he’s really playing or just kidding me…
Some of the younger kids are talking. Rumors going ’round is that the yellow Pez are cool. Orange are nice. BUT DO NOT take the purple Pez. They’re really, really sour.
Have given up on the idea of introducing myself to everyone here. After 14 straight hours of doing it, feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface. It’s also nearly impossible to remember all their names.
Rain. Mud. Stink like a wet monkey riding a wet donkey. Apparently there is no deodorant concession stand. Moisture also makes hair unmanageable.
Met a dude named Willie and his old lady Mildred. She was having a hard time getting her walker through the mud.
Where’s The 1910 Fruitgum Company? I thought they were playing… No Cowsills, yet, either… Herb Alpert & The Tiajuana Brass?
A Woodstock Poem: Love is in the air. Love is everywhere. Love to love this loving love. Love. Love. I hate those who can’t love. Love or die. Love or die. Love or I spit in your eye. Love, for crying out loud–LOVE!!!
Been holding this pee in for nine hours. I wish this bathroom line would move.
All these incredible young people, free spirits, open minds, all gathered together– baptized by rain, rock, and love. This world is going to be such a trippy, beautiful, peaceful place when these hippies take over and everyone just loves everyone and digs on everything. No more war, hate, pollution, prejudice, pain, flat tires, hunger, fallen arches, poverty, charlie horses in the middle of the night… no, man, it’s all going to be better. The world will change and it’s all going to be cool. Of this I am sure.
Came across this cool trailer for a movie that’s out. How many of these people do you recognize? If you’re not in advertising, you’re forgiven for seeing strangers. If you’re in advertising and they’re strangers, wallow in ignorance and shame.
All hail the creators of “The Most Interesting Man in the World” campaign for Dos Equis beer. Let us now sing the praises of this brilliant campaign.
It does not talk about beer ingredients.
It does not feature hot babes lusting for dudes who hold the product.
It does not perpetuate the battle of the sexes with sophomoric gags.
It does not exude fake sincerity and empathy for its audience.
It does not feature brewers or their brewing secrets.
For the love of beauty product shots, it doesn’t even have a beer pour!
Our hero is a man with robust facial hair and adventurous tales that would have made Hemingway pee his pants in fear and caused Norman Mailer to sit down and shut his pie-hole.
In commercials he is described this way: “His beard alone has experienced more than a lesser man’s entire body.”
“The police often question him… just because they find him so interesting.”
“His personality is so magnetic, he is unable to carry credit cards.”
“He once had an awkward moment just to know how it feels.”
“His blood smells like cologne.”
“He lives vicariously… through himself.”
Little wonder “his reputation is expanding faster than the universe.”
This campaign broke a couple years ago, and its legend continues as it breaks all the conventions of beer advertising and becomes a cultural phenomenon. Imagine the bravery of a client who approved the line “The Most Interesting Man” speaks toward the end of each spot, “I don’t always drink beer, but when I do, I prefer Dos Equis.”
WHAT! That’s the softest sell ever. “I don’t always drink beer”(hey, who’s paying for this spot?!)… “but when I do”(you better drink it, it’s in your contract, mister…) “I prefer Dos Equis.” (“Prefer?!” How about “I INSIST it be great tasting, double-hopped, crystal spring water cold filtered for extra flavor-liciousness Dos Equis!”)
The most interesting thing about “The Most Interesting Man” campaign is this: the execution IS the idea. Once, this idea would have been killed because “any beer could say it.” So what? Any beer didn’t say it. Dos Equis did, and they created a man, a myth and a beer legend that will endure for quite some time.
In a flat beer sales environment, Dos Equis is up, way up. It’s great when great advertising works.
Rush warned us, now Lou Dobbs confirms it: President Barack Obama is an illegal alien. But that’s only half the story, morning glories.
It’s not just that Obama wasn’t born in these United States, perhaps he’s not even from our planet– making him an illegal alien alien!
Cripes, people– what if when he loosens his tie, takes off the suit and peels back his skin, he’s some sort of hideous creature from another galaxy here for our tasty healthcare, delicious salty snacks and refreshing protoplasm.
Look, I don’t want to sound alarmist here, but RuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuN!
