An open letter to Morongo Hotel & Casino

Dear Person In Charge Of Marketing,

Being a copywriter and creative director as long as I’ve been, I appreciate better than most people how difficult it is to create great advertising. Or even good advertising, you know, the kind that at a minimum gets the communication across in a somewhat entertaining, memorable, non-offensive manner.

And of all the mediums available, from broadcast to print to online, perhaps nowhere is that more true than radio. But then, I don’t have to tell you. I'm sure it's not the first time you've heard this, but your long-running radio campaign for Morongo ranks somewhere between an east-coast sewage spill and a crime against humanity.

I’ve tried to figure out exactly why I have this extreme reaction to your radio commercials. What is it exactly about them that provokes such a visceral, negative response? After some serious consideration, I think I’ve narrowed it down. Everything.

I’ve never been to Morongo Hotel and Casino, so I don’t know exactly what the experience is like. What I do know is if it’s anything like your radio spots, I’d rather stick dull needles in my eyes. Slowly.

I'd also like to offer some constructive criticism, although granted it's hard to know where to start. So let's begin with your tagline: Good times.

In print, on TV and on radio, your announcer or on-camera talent ends the spots saying, enthusiastically, "Morongo! Good times!"

Apparently whoever wrote the spots didn't realize the phrase "good times" is used in everyday vernacular to refer to something bad. For example, one person might say, "I'm number two million twelve on the waiting list for a kidney transplant." The person they're talking to would reply, sarcastically, "Good times."

I don't think the phrase means what you think it means. And no amount of airplay and false enthusiasm will change that.

It's the same as when people say something is bad, they actually mean it's good. Or when someone hears something they want to know more about, they say, "Shut up!"

All I'm saying is a working knowledge of what words mean and how they're used is probably a good thing to have in life and before you start writing radio spots.

Let's talk about talent. I could make a snarky remark like you should try having some in your radio spots. But I'm not going to.

But you should.

Instead of the painfully obvious non-union talent blathering on in the spots, you might try to pony up for union talent that can actually make bad copy sound palatable - a skill that would come in mighty handy in this case. I know, I can hear you griping about budgets and residuals and fast turnarounds. Here's the thing: you're a casino. It says right on your website that by 2008 you had put up to $2.8 billion into the local economy. Crying poor just isn't going to cut it. Pony up for some real talent and polish your public face.

On your radio spot I heard driving to work today, the non-union woman breathlessly says, "Sunday is fun day!" Is it really? It sounded more like "Sunday is being yelled with the direction to sound excited, but not quite making it day."

Also, the phrase "Sunday is fun day!" has been used in bad advertising of everything from mattress stores to car dealerships to coffee shops since the beginning of the Jurassic era. Besides, at a casino aren't all days fun days?

I realize you can't have original music for each spot when you do so many of them. But you can use better needle drop music. Perhaps a track that isn't so forced, isn't trying so hard. Maybe one that reflects a more elegant experience (assuming of course you can provide one).

Finally, the very premise of your spots has been done to death. I'm talking about the top of the spot, where your voice-talent (and I use the word talent loosely) is supposed to be in a recording booth, and we catch him saying something funny when he doesn't think the mic is on. The other problem is nothing he says is funny.

As the movie Spinal Tap teaches us, there's a fine line between clever and stupid. And you are most definitely on the wrong side of the line.

My suggestion would be if you have an agency creating your advertising, fire them and get a better one. And if you don't have an agency, get one. (At the very least, bring in a freelance writer for a fresh point of view. I'm just sayin'...)

There's a huge segment of the population who'd love not to drive all the way to Nevada to gamble and be entertained. And gamble. I believe with media buys that run your spots as frequently as yours do, you can change their perception of Morongo by upping the quality of your radio advertising.

Without attracting new clientele, you can't expect to expand and thrive. Then, if the current customers decide to reduce their visits and average spending, Morongo could wind up just another empty husk of a building, a symbol of excess and broken dreams. A reminder of what could've been if only you'd done better radio.

Good times.