I wish I could have sent every person in the world our family’s special 2008 Christmas card, but I didn’t have all your addresses and I was pretty low on stamps. So, here it is on the worldwide internets for your holiday viewing pleasure. Thanks, and merry happy happy to you and yours from us and ours.
THE COVER
OPENS TO THE INSIDE
FLIPS OVER TO THE BACK (written by son, Jack)
I missed the deadline for Cannes but wanted to release this film in time for Oscar considerations.
Come enjoy a little film, eh?
Our agency recently created an interesting campaign for the National Blues Foundation in Memphis (including selling Robert Johnson’s soul on e-Bay– some Frenchman bought it for $80, a bargain). I had little to do with any of the work, except for being smart enough to hire talented people. This stuff is definitely lint worth collecting. To see the full magilla of coolness, catch a ride to http://www.igetblues.com/
If you’re like me, you’re married to my wife and have two sons. You are also earning your daily bread by toiling in the mine shafts of advertising creativity. And if there’s a wilder, more woolly boolly, hurly-burly business, well I’d sure like to know about it!
This ad game is chock full o’ interesting people with fascinating stories. Here are some of the true snapshots of this business known in the industrial waste management industry as “advertising.”
An account guy and a copywriter were on their way to a client meeting in New York. The writer was carrying a portfolio case stuffed with fourteen campaigns; the fruits of six months hard labor. The writer stopped at the entrance to the plane and said, “No, I can’t go! This plane is going to crash unexpectedly and everyone in it is going to die, die, die, I tells ya–– die ’til they’re dead!”
The account supervisor tried to reason with him. “Come on, this flight’ll be perfectly safe, and the little bag of nuts will be fresh and delicious.”
“No,” said the trembling writer, “I have a premonition of impending doom! Feel my spine, it’s chilly! And look, my goosebumps are breaking out in hives. Let’s take a later flight.”
“Don’t be preposterous,” the account man said as he wrestled the portfolio from the writer’s hands, “We have exit row seats.” He dashed on board as the writer nervously watched the plane back away from the gate. The writer had tears streaming down his face as he shouted, “Does anyone have a Kleenex?! I’m drowning here! Kleenex, please!”
As you probably guessed, the flight did not crash. In fact, the plane arrived twenty minutes early (tragically, the little bag of nuts were stale). The writer who had the premonition was fired for insubordination, and stealing computers. Thus, his vision of impending doom had indeed come true!
There was a happy side to this story, however. The client hated all fourteen campaigns in the portfolio case, but he and the account guy came up with some ads and had a pool of art directors “jiffy-them-up!” The account man was promoted and well-moneyed for his efforts.
There’s the famous story of the movie theatre owner who spliced subliminal ads for soft drinks and popcorn into a feature film. The audience watched the entire film and felt the subliminal scenes added little to the plot, although they considered popcorn a good character and wished the soft drink could have had an action scene.
Oh, and what about the tale of the writer who had writer’s block for 31 years– he didn’t produce one single good idea for over three decades! He invested well, however, and eventually retired to a small mansion in the south of France. Talk about embarrassment…
What about the short lived campaign featuring “Harry the Happy Hemorrhoid”? Maybe he wasn’t the best spokes-creation for Ritz crackers, but he was a spunky little fellow!
There’s the legendary story of the agency that tried to buy the rights to the Beatles’ classic song “Yesterday” and change the lyrics for a Pick ‘n Pay Shoes campaign. “Pick ‘n Pay… all the shoes I want and where my socks will stay/ how I love that place in a podiatry sort of way/ oh, I believe in Pick ‘n Pay… why, she paid re-tail/ I don’t know/ she wouldn’t say/ I said, ‘save-on-a-terrific-selection-of-the-latest-styles-and-colors- in-quality-footwear-including-sensible-yet-fashionable-pumps’/ oh, how I believe in Pick ‘n Pa-a-a-a-a-y!/ Pick ‘n Pay…”
At the eleventh hour, the negotiation for the song rights were called off when it was discovered the entire production budget was $4,100.
Then there’s the famous story about the art director who worked simultaneously at two large Chicago ad agencies, without either knowing about the other. The wiseacre was discovered eventually, however, after 39 years. It seems both his retirement parties were scheduled for the same night.
Finally, there’s the incredible story of the creative director interviewing a young writer and discovering samples of his (the CD’s) work in the guy’s book! “Hey,” said the irate creative director, “this is my resume… these are my ads… and this bottle appears to contain my urine samples!”
The embarrassed writer quickly gathered his materials, stuffed them into his portfolio, produced a trombone and blasted “Wah Wah Wahhhhhh!” as he dashed out the office.
It’s a wacky business, this ad game, but it’s safer than catching knives dropped from buildings.
Three guys from Detroit go into a Washington showroom. They check out the goods, like what they see and make an offer.
$25 billion.
They get rejected. “No can-do,” says the salesman.
The guys go home, re-group and come back a couple weeks later and make another offer.
$34 billion.
“Whoa-boy,” says the salesman. “I’m not so sure my manager will go for that. I’ll try, but I don’t know if I can get that kind of financing. I’m going to have to go see if my manager will go for this sweet offer. But I make no promises.”
He leaves. The three guys wait nervously.
Buying an industry is a pain.
Every year it’s a traditional Thanksgiving news story: the official Presidential pardon of one lucky turkey.
It’s a photo-op that newspapers and broadcast stations feast upon; a little sorbet to clear the ravenous appetite of the 24-hour news cycle. But this little news-nothing is NOT what it seems!!!!!!!!!!!(wait, let me add a few more exclamation points for emphasis) !!!!!!! (I’ll boldface and italicize them, too) !!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Get a load of this everyone: turkeys are our real leaders, and have been calling the shots in these United States for a long, long time.
It was no accident that Ben Franklin proposed the humble turkey as our national bird… he was ruled by an old tom turkey named Samuel.
When the eagle was named the national symbol instead, Samuel the turkey had Franklin banished to France as punishment. But the turkey uprising had taken firm root, and the clever beasts would not be deterred in their insatiable lust for power. Let eagles have the glory of being a patriotic ‘symbol’; turkeys would seize the real power– ruling our country!
For years, turkeys tried unsuccessfully to get a foothold in the corridors of political power. Six turkeys worked together beneath a large overcoat and tried to pass themselves off as Martin Van Buren at his inauguration, but the plot failed when they could not produce a hand to place on the Bible for the swearing-in ceremony. Years later, scandal arose when it was revealed Millard Fillmore’s Secretary of State was in fact a smooth-gobbling turkey wearing an ascot. The turkey was quickly removed from office and replaced with a human. But before long, a real power move was finally made inside the White House.
An ambitious turkey named Daniel persuaded Abraham Lincoln’s son, Tad, to make a plea to the old man to spare his life before Thanksgiving. Tad made his case and his dad agreed. Daniel the turkey was spared. Daniel saw his opening, and the political pull of turkeys have gotten stronger ever since.
Over the next decades, turkey insiders began working Washington hard. Clever turkeys formed K-Street lobbying firms and began greasing the inside track of American politics. Turkeys were bipartisan, funneling cash, sexual favors, and giblets to whatever political party was in power. By the time Harry S. Truman was in office, the turkey cabal was in full evil control of Washington, DC. Ever since, every president has made the pardoning of a turkey an annual event.
The turkey receiving the presidential pardon is typically the Grand Gobbler, top dog, fatcat, head cheese. Said turkey will occupy the Oval Office and tell the President exactly what to do. A quick look at some legislation that has been quietly passed over the years proves the power of this ingenious poultry breed.
Did you know turkeys are not subject to ANY income taxes whatsoever? A turkey making $450 million a year pays $0 in taxes, a regular wealthy American could pay upwards of $6,200!
Turkeys are legally permitted to carry nuclear weapons and may smoke openly in public places.
Like some sort of brazen foreign diplomat, turkeys may park their cars wherever they like– even in handicap spots or way past the painted dividing line.
Turkeys cannot be tried for manslaughter, gambling, libel, arson, kidnapping, piracy, child abuse, fraud, aggressive panhandling, perjury, drunk driving, squatting, speeding, graffiti, sabotage, bank robbery, spitting in public places, jaywalking, embezzlement (note to self: NEVER EVER hire a turkey to handle any finances, no matter how impressive the resume), trespassing, petty larceny or sexual harassment. In fact, by law you cannot issue a restraining order against a turkey.
In short, turkeys are virtually immune from our judicial system. Talk about powerful lobbyists!
The true disgrace is that turkeys openly flaunt their immense power and iron-fisted control of the country by staging the farcical annual ‘pardoning’ by the President. It all seems so cute and innocent, but at its core is evilness and unholy not goodness.
So why do these leader turkeys permit the senseless slaughter of millions of their compatriots every Thanksgiving? Well, they like the taste of turkey gravy. They also think that since millions of their own die, no one will suspect that the leader turkeys are really calling the shots. Typically after the Presidential photo-op, the “pardoned turkey”, the prez and key cabinet officials convene in the Oval Office where the Top Tom gives the human leaders their marching orders.
Recently, a few brave turkeys were promised witness relocation and protection by the FBI if they came forward and gave sworn testament to the inner workings of the insidious turkey cabal. The turkeys were told they’d have their stories told on TV to Sarah Palin. Alas, when the cameras began to roll, the turkeys were silenced in the background as Ms. Palin held court on other subjects she deemed more important.
Now that you know the true story of turkey power in America, those Thanksgiving leftovers have never tasted better.