Like a version

If there's one thing ad agencies are it's repetitive. Let me say that again - see what I did there? Especially when it comes to revising the work.

As anyone who works in the creative department of an agency knows, sometimes a project will come around an absurd amount of times. My friend Rich Siegel named his blog Round Seventeen as an homage to the number of times he's had to revise copy.

I'll see your Round Seventeen, and raise you the revision number I had on a piece of car copy yesterday. The number was 68. Now, if you're reading this post as a civilian, I suppose you're thinking with all those versions the copy must change dramatically from one to the next.

Not so much.

Revisions come from all sorts of places. Proofreaders. Account people. Low level clients. Mid-level clients. The big cheese client. Legal. The product guy. The client's wife. The cleaning crew on the third floor. It goes on and on. It's usually a word or two they obsess over ("Is this too light? Too flip? Too...you know...). More often than not, it just a change for change sake so they can feel like they were part of the process, and get their name on the credits when they fill out the award-show entry forms.

I hear the Client's Wife category is going to sweep the shows this year.

There's an old adage, one I subscribe to, that says the secret to great writing is rewriting. It's a nice thought, but working in an agency will knock that sentiment into the next zip code mighty quick.

Anyway, old Albert had it right. And I'll be he got it on the first try.

It's empty in here

As anyone who blogs will tell you, the challenge is constantly coming up with things to write about. In fact, there are more than a few people who read this blog who would say that I rarely meet the challenge.

Anyway, I don't post every day, but once in awhile I get a rush of confidence and a false sense of my abilities and go on a writing/posting jag. I'm in the middle of one now, which makes it even harder to keep coming up with things to post about. People more prolific than me don't seem to have a problem with it (I'm looking at you Round Seventeen).

All to say today I've hit the blogpost wall. I wrote about it way back in the days of aught '10 (yes, that's the correct spelling of aught - writer, hello?) in a post called Nothing Is Something.

The wall is a moving target, and can be made up of anything from "I don't feel like doing it right now." to "Don't know what to talk about." to "Squirrel!"

Here's the thing: it's Sunday, it's warm out and I'm tired. I didn't get home from the Magic Castle until after 2 a.m Saturday morning, and I just got home from seeing Kingsman: The Secret Service, which was about an hour too long.

But I do recognize the responsibility I have to my five readers, so I apologize for the lack of captivating reading today. I absolutely promise I'll do better tomorrow.

No, my fingers aren't crossed behind my back. Why do you ask?

Open for business

As I was just saying the other day to my good friend Rich Siegel, creator, curator and pledge drive MC for his Round Seventeen blog, Rich I said, you can never have enough posts slamming open space office seating.

I've written many times about the particular challenges to getting anything productive done in that environment, including here. Rich has also displayed a few well-written tirades about it, like this one for example. But it's not just a couple of malcontent, disgruntled and yet extremely talented and worth every penny and more of their day rate copywriters doing the complaining.

The monumental failure of open space floor plans has also been well-covered in many publications I'm proud to say I've stolen from some of the finer agency mailrooms around town. Fortune to Fast Company, the Washington Post to New York Magazine, and everything in between.

Now, it's one thing to bitch and moan when you're one of the cogs in a giant holding company wheel who's forced to work at the picnic table. It's quite another when the company who set it up that way realizes the insanity of it and warns you about it.

I noticed a help wanted ad, a section of which is shown above, that lets you know just what you're getting into should you decide to work with them. In case it's not legible on that Kaypro II screen (employee offices aren't the only place they're saving money), here's what it says:

Ability to work and write in an open office environment with a considerable amount of distractions and interruptions.

I don't know the exact definition of the phrase "mixed message", but I have an idea this is pretty damn close.

What they're saying is, "Hey, we know it's virtually impossible to get anything done in this office setup, but we don't care. Deal with it." Fair enough. I suppose we all have our own choice to make.

But if a company tells me, brags to me, they had a bad idea that's making them less productive, my job more difficult and they're sticking with it because it's cheaper to have me overcome their stupid obstacles than it is for them to change it, my choice would be a resounding, unequivocal no thank you.

Right after I hear what day rate they're offering.

It's complicated

I don't know any parent who hasn't wanted to write a letter like the one shown here. Especially if they've tried to help their kids with math homework.

The Common Core curriculum is a ridiculously complicated, long-way-around to solving even the simplest of math problems. A point which this father - with his degree in Electronics Engineering - so succinctly points out.

But this example of going from A to B by first going from A to Z then back again is representative of a much bigger problem.

We over complicate everything.

From our relationships (which are complicated enough) to deciding which Mocha Grande Chocolate Iced Half-Caf Vanilla Latte we're going to have at Starbucks.

On second thought, make it a frappuccino.

While no business runs as simply as it could, nobody (with the possible exception of the public school system and the federal government) is more guilty of complicating things more than they need to be than ad agencies (I can't quantify that statement - go with me on this).

In the name of "process", agencies have several layers of people who are paid for one thing and one thing only: to complicate the work. They over think, over analyze, over test, over route, over question, over accentuate, over react, over compensate, over control, over exaggerate, over dramatize and over inform every assignment they come in contact with.

My friend Rich Siegel at Round Seventeen has another dirty word for it: Collaboration.

But by doing all that, they usually also overlook the fact that by the time they're done with it, no one will want to watch, read or listen to it.

Anyone who's suffered the slings and arrows in an agency creative department knows it should be easier. Instead of ten page briefs (Hello? They're called "briefs") they should be one. Instead of several bullet points that need to be crammed into the work, it should be one. Instead of twenty people around a conference room table for every kick-off meeting...well, don't get me started on meetings.

Life is demanding enough without complicating it more than it has to be. Sometimes the simplest answer is the best one.

I hope I haven't left out any of the points I wanted to make in this post.

Maybe I'll run it by a few more people just to make sure.

Getting mugged

While my close friend and personal life coach Rich Siegel is busy over at Round Seventeen writing about issues of the day like Islamic clerics, Israel and Palestine, the Holocaust and the sorry state of advertising, I notice he has yet to tackle a vital subject that affects us all on a deeper, even more visceral level.

Of course I'm talking about celebrity mug shots.

It's always good, wholesome fun to have a laugh at someone else's expense. So let's start with one of the classics: Nick Nolte. Now the go-to choice would've been to contrast and compare a glamour boy shot of Nolte from the Rich Man Poor Man days with his now infamous Don King-esque, "Have you ever heard of conditioner?" hairstyle mug shot.

Instead, I chose an earlier mug shot of Nolte as a counterpoint to the one we all know and love. In fact, as you'll see, I've pretty much restricted all my choices to celebutards who have enjoyed the luxurious accommodations of an 8x6 holding cell more than once.

It's hard to know exactly what's more embarrassing about this early Tim Allen mug shot. The '70's stache? That he was busted in Kalamazoo (which coincidentally is the word magicians use when they forget "abracadabra"), or the fact people kept mistaking him for Geraldo Rivera?

Clearly his success from Home Improvement and voicing Buzz Lightyear is reflected in the more recent, more styled shot on the right. You can tell he's aware of the lighting, as well as his best angle. It could almost be the head shot his agent sends out for roles on shows like, you know, Oz or Prison Break.

Unfortunately for Tim, thanks to the interwebs these mug shots will be around to infinity and beyond. (See what I did there?)

                                        

Ladies and gentlemen, the man who's single-handedly putting the glamour back in anti-semitism, the one and only Mel Gibson.

This suitable-for-wallet-size mug shot on the left is from Mel's drunk driving episode a few years back on Pacific Coast Highway. Clearly, Mel still has plenty of alcohol in his bloodstream. You can see the sly smile, the sparkly eyes - the look that says "Hey, I know Jews run the business, but guess which ten-year old, independently financed film shot in a dead language grossed the most money in history?"

I'll give him this: it was a good film, even if I did know how it ended.

But see, you can't smack talk the people who run the business and still expect to have a career in it, as an older, paler and jowlier Mel knows judging by the photo on the right.

I suppose everybody's human and nobody's perfect. But sometimes stupidity just rules the day, and the mistakes we make have a way of sticking to our shoes.

Oh, and just in case you were wondering, I was going to post Lindsey Lohan's mug shots. But even on the internet, there just wasn't enough room.

You shouldn't have

First, I'd like to send my sincere thanks to everyone for all your emails and notes asking why Rotation and Balance has been taking weeks between posts lately. All of us here at RNB International Headquarters have been deeply touched by your demonstration of enthusiasm for our blog, and your genuine concern why we haven't been posting more often.

Nah, I'm just funnin' ya. No one cared.

The truth is I could never put up another post, and the impact on your life would be zip. Zilch. Zero. And some other "Z" word.

Don't feel bad, as apparently you don't. I'm used to it. I work in advertising.

You wouldn't think it at first glance, but the product is essentially the same between this blog and advertising. When it's there, and it's clever or engaging on an emotional, humorous or intellectual level, you like seeing it.

But when it's not there you don't miss it at all.

It's a lot like my high school girlfriend that way.

At any rate, we've been undergoing an "organizational restructuring" here at the main office. Our editorial and contributing writer staff has been streamlined for better efficiency, more frequent postings and articles that you can relate to and that will help you find happiness in being your true self.

Oh, wait, that was the staff over at O. Disregard that.

What we've done here at RNB is fired all the planners wearing knit caps (for a good laugh, see what my pal and Round Seventeen auteur Rich Siegel thinks of knit caps). So the work should be more frequent and a lot better, even without their unique insights.

Here's hoping you'll (continue to?) enjoy the renewed, reinvigorated, recharged, re-tooled and some other "R" word Rotation and Balance.

Taking the e-asy way out

I fully intended to have a new post up tonight. And like we've all come to expect, especially me, it was going to be witty yet insightful, terse yet pithy, lengthy but well written. But here's the deal: after the past five days I'm feeling more beat up than Tyler Durden.

Not only is my back killing me from my lovely and unexpected auto accident last Wednesday that I told you about here, but I'm also exhausted from four days sleeping on grass, standing in line, walking in halls and sitting in chairs at Comic Con.

I'm not complaining about the Con. It was teenage fun.

I am complaining about the car accident. That sucked.

Anyway, if you've been online anytime in the last couple years, you've probably noticed the explosion in Your e-cards and someecards. These are cards you make online and have added to a library for all the world to use.

I've custom made a lot of them for various posts on here, and I've also used existing ones.

Anyway, since I'm falling asleep in my soup, I'm putting up a few I like for your enjoyment.

By the way, I'm fully prepared for the lecture I'll get from my friend Rich over at Round Seventeen about taking the easy way out on this post.

I just hope he doesn't wake me when he calls and yells at me.

The first manifesto

From airlines to peanut butter to Japanese car companies, they all want one. And not just one. One like the one that started it all. And agencies want to give it to them.

The manifesto. That crisp, concise group of words that at once lays out the philosophy, character, promise, mission and direction of a company.

My friend Rich Siegel over at Round Seventeen is the best manifesto writer working, and he's written more of them than anyone I know including me. But as he'd be the first to tell you, even when it's right in front of them, they don't always see it. In a global campaign gang...effort for a luxury car company, I won't say which one - Infiniti - Rich wrote an incredible manifesto. I walked in the conference room where it was pinned on the foam core with about 25 other, lesser manifestos, and was in awe. In fact, I gave it the ultimate copywriter compliment: I wished I'd written it.

At the end of the exercise though, Infiniti stayed with the work it was doing.

The benchmark for all manifestos is and will always be Apple. But that particular one is uniquely reflective of an uncompromising leader with a singular vision. Two things too many companies are lacking.

But don't think I'm completely against them. I'm not. They're good for business.

So here's to the crazy ones. Because people who are crazy enough to think they need to hire freelancers to write manifestos are the ones that do.

Radio radio

Yesterday I was talking about radio with my pal Rich Siegel, author, owner and grand poobah of Round Seventeen. In one of my many business schemes, I asked Rich why don’t we start a radio production company. We’re both good writers with lots of radio production experience. It seemed like a win-win to me.

Rich replied, “Who pays for radio anymore?”

Thanks pal. Here’s my balloon –pop it.

Of course, he’s right.

For starters, there’s not a lot of radio being done, and what little there is certainly doesn't have any money – real money – thrown against it. Agencies usually just hand it off to the juniors, or the interns because they pay them even less than the juniors.

In most agencies, radio is considered the bastard stepchild to, well, to just about every other media. Maybe it’s because good radio is so hard to do, but many writers suddenly seem to get swamped when a radio assignment is up for grabs.

I’ve never looked at it that way.

The fact is, for the most part, the agency leaves you alone when you write radio. It’s not that high on the glam-o-meter, so you can usually fly under the radar and write some pretty fun stuff. But let me go back to an earlier point: good radio is hard to do.

There are of course basic rules to writing good radio. But if you've listened to any radio commercials lately, I'm sure you'll agree there need to be more.

Here are a few I’d add:

First, no more spots where the listener is eavesdropping on the recording session, and then the talent realizes they’re recording.

Next, no fake stand-up comedians with bad fake material and fake canned laughs.

Then, no more spots where the talent is talking about a sale with another talent, and suddenly there’s a door slam sound effect and the first talent says something to the effect of, “I guess everybody’s going to the (CLIENT NAME HERE) sale!”

Even though many writers use them, filler lines have got to go. You know the ones I mean. Lines like “so what’re you waiting for?” or “Hurry in now, the only thing that’ll be gone faster than these (PRODUCT NAME) is this sale.“

Lastly, the direction “more energy, have fun with it” must be banned from all recording sessions. No real person is that happy about having to take erectile dysfunction pills or diarrhea medicines.

This isn't the first time Rich and I have talked about starting a business. Just a few days ago, he suggested we start a deli.

I thought it was a good idea. Obviously, since we work in agencies, we already have enough baloney to stock it.

Satisfaction

Consider this a companion piece to my friend Rich’s post The Way Advertising Should Be over at the fabulous Round Seventeen.

I can’t remember where I found this letter from Mick Jagger to Andy Warhol. It’s been floating around for a long time, but it always brings a smile to my face. Come to find out that Mick is exactly the kind of client we all want.

Who knew.

Let’s break it down shall we. First, Mick makes sure Andy knows how happy he is that he’s going to work on the project. A little positive reinforcement right off the bat - always a good thing.

Next, he provides the materials Andy needs to get the job done. Andy doesn’t have to have his staff call The Rolling Stones Ltd. offices to see what assets are available, what they can use, if there’s a style guide and what format they can be sent in.

Mick goes on to talk about his past, admittedly limited experience with the process, but he clearly understands something most clients don’t: the more complicated it gets, the worse it is. He then tells Andy to do “what ever you want…” , clearly expressing his complete trust in Andy’s taste, experience, thinking and opinions.

Then, he doesn’t put him on a deadline. He doesn’t try to grind him. Instead he offers him as much money as he needs to get the job done correctly.

He wraps it all up saying his representative will call with further information, but if he in anyway tries to rush the project, Mick wants Andy to just ignore it and take the time he needs to do it right.

All I can think is working with Mick must be a gas gas gas.

I have to believe there are still clients like Mick Jagger out there. I’ve even had some that have given me a few of the liberties Mick gave Andy. Still, in the same way it’s hard for a client to find all the qualities he wants in one agency, it’s even more difficult for an agency to find all the qualities they want in a client.

Which only goes to show you can’t always get what you want. But if you try, sometimes…

For now

Not that anyone's noticed - and really, if you have then you're concentrating on the wrong things in life - but I haven't posted anything here in a couple weeks.

The reason, surprisingly enough, isn't laziness. Or lack of time. It's much simpler than that.

I haven't felt strongly enough about anything to go on a tear about it. Not that there haven't been things to feel strongly about - I'm just not feelin' it.

Plus, being the freelancer I am, the time off from the responsibility of coming up with something every day is very liberating. Doing nothing gives me more time to do nothing. What can I say? It's a skill.

So in the meantime, if you want to fill the empty void in your soul and spend some quality time with another clever, insightful, extremely well-written blog, please to enjoy my pal Rich Siegel's musings over at Round Seventeen. For a while now, Rich and I have had a friendly competition to see who could put up more blog posts in a year. Despite an early lead at the beginning of the year, I knew I was nowhere near as prolific as he is. It's official Rich (as if it wasn't before) - you win.

This isn't goodbye. It's just "I don't feel like doing it." for now.

I'll be back eventually. Probably after I'm rested, refreshed and tanned from our annual trip to the Hotel Del Coronado.

So mark your calendars for the end of August, and have yourself a fine what's left of summer.

Don't forget to write. I won't.

What's the downside?

It's always interesting to me - and not in a judgmental way - the importance atheists place on letting you know that they're atheists, and the extent they go to to prove something they don't believe in doesn't exist.

I'm sure the same enthusiasm is evident on both sides of the argument.

But my experience has been that, say, in the course of a week, I have more people telling me why I shouldn't believe than why I should. Sometimes it feels like they're protesting too much.

I happen to believe in God, but I don't run around trying to convince anyone they have to believe with me. More importantly, I'm not bothered in the least by people who don't share my feelings. I don't think less of them, I don't mock them (unless I can find the appropriate cartoon somewhere), and I go by the rule "to each their own" when it comes to faith. Or lack thereof.

My pal at Round Seventeen put up a post about why he doesn't believe there's a God. Well thought out, well reasoned and, as always, well written. If you've followed this blog for any amount of time - and if you have, really, it's time to take up a more productive hobby - you know this isn't the first time we've disagreed on the view from the other side.

One man's ceiling is another man's there's no proof a ceiling exists.

One of his points is that there isn't any physical or visible corroboration of the existence of God. I see it everywhere - trees, clouds, water, the fact we're close enough to the sun to tan but not to fry, my son's heartbeat at six weeks on the ultrasound.

I think prayers get answered in small ways every day. For example, my friend came through with awesome tickets to Springsteen tonight. Definitely an answered prayer from where I'm sitting (see what I did there?).

I also believe in the big bang theory (the real theory, not the sitcom). I believe light and matter collided to create the universe. But they didn't just get there by themselves. I also believe evolution and faith aren't mutually exclusive.

I know what you're thinking: the big bang is where everything including time began, and that I just can't wrap my head around the concept of nothingness. Please, I work in ad agencies. You have no idea how wrong you are.

Round Seventeen asks if termites go to heaven - after all, they're God's creatures too. My guess is they go to termite heaven, where everything's made of plywood and the word "tent" is forbidden. Thankfully termite heaven is nowhere near my heaven.

I'm not sure what the downside to having faith is. And I'm not sure why so many people are so upset about it.

The truth is that if there is no heaven, then the atheists get the last laugh. Although no one will hear it because they're dead.

And if, as I believe, there is a heaven, then it'll be a nice surprise for them and I'm sure they'll be welcomed with open arms.

Especially if they worked for Orkin.

I've got an astral plane to catch

My friend Rich over at Round Seventeen put up a post yesterday about an accident he was involved in years ago on the way to his mom's funeral. By his own description, it was one that should've reunited him with his mother but fortunately didn't.

Because of when it happened, and the outcome being exactly the opposite of what logic and reason would tell you it should've been, I'm of the belief it was his mom who decided to intervene and make sure Rich and his family were at her funeral. Apparently I'm not the only one who's told him this.

However, Rich doesn't agree.

When it comes to beliefs in God, angels and the supernatural, by his own admission he's simply not on board the faith train. Which is fine. All it means is that at the end of the day - and I do mean the end of the day - he'll just be packing lighter.

Hey, it's a free country and I'm not out to change anyone's mind. But one of my personal beliefs is every once in awhile there are signs of and from a world beyond that simply can't be ignored. Or explained any other way.

So I'll see your departed mom story, and raise you a departed dad story of my own.

My dad died six years after my mom. When he died, he'd been seeing a woman named Esther who rode with us to his funeral.

When we got there, my (now) wife and I wanted to be alone with my dad for a few minutes. So we went inside, and had the casket opened so we could look at him. I turned to my wife and said, "This is weird, but I feel like I want to put some money in his pocket." To which my wife said, "Go ahead."

I took out my wallet, and inside were a few different bills. I took out a few, then put them back and took out a $20 bill and put it in his pocket. After I did, I felt an immediate sense of relief. We had the casket closed, and proceeded with the service.

When it was over, we were driving Esther home. She was sitting in the back seat so I could see her in the rear view mirror. She was just casually talking about my dad, saying how sweet he was, how she'd loved traveling with him, things like that.

Then she said, "And did you know your father never went anywhere without a $20 bill in his pocket?"

Needless to say that got our attention.

I told her I didn't know that, and asked her why. She said, "Because your father was from Brooklyn, and he always thought that if he got mugged and didn't have any money on him they'd beat him up even worse. So he always carried a $20 bill in his pocket."

We were speechless.

After thinking long and hard if I'd ever heard him say that - which I never did - I finally told Esther what I'd done and told her I was pretty sure he didn't have to worry about it where he was going.

Sometimes it's easy to see the signs, sometimes it isn't. But I believe with all my heart that was a goodbye from my dad that I simply couldn't ignore. I suppose it'd be easy to chalk it up to coincidence, or say that I did hear him say it at some point and just don't remember.

But I know that wasn't it. I know, my wife knows and Esther knows what it was.

Woody Allen once said one of the things he feared most about dying is that when he got to heaven they wouldn't be able to break a twenty.

I've known for a long time that's not a worry my dad had.

Guilty pleasures Part 1: The Final Destination movies

Developing a blog post that can be turned into an ongoing series is not a new idea. My fellow blogger at Round Seventeen has a series of posts called Things Jews Don't Do. And I've done it as well with a couple posts, like Why I Love Costco, and The Luckiest Actor Alive. Now I'm doing it again with Guilty Pleasures. It's like what Hollywood does over and over. Take one idea, recycle it, and wait until people are sick and tired of it.

Then do it again.

So here we go. First up, the Final Destination movies. I’ve seen them all. I'm not proud. But I sure am entertained.

I'm the first to recognize that the money I spend on tickets for these movies could be spent on better things. Like books. Or dry cleaning. Or the college fund (just kidding: what college fund?). But then I wouldn’t have the pure joy and satisfaction of watching a bunch of snotty teenagers who're just asking for it get what’s coming to them.

And by that I mean death. Dead as disco.

Seriously, who doesn’t like to see that?

Every Final Destination movie has the same group of four or five kids. You know the ones: the brainy guy. The smarmy guy. The good girl. The slutty girl. The nerd.

Somehow, they all manage to avoid dying in a plane crash, or a roller coaster derailing, or a race car crashing into the stands. You know, everyday stuff.

Well apparently Death has a quota to make and a timecard to punch. And he gets pissed when people don't die when they're supposed to. So he has to track the kids down and off them one by one.

The great part about these movies for me is the Rube Goldberg way the killings are done. Intricate, clever and way over the top. I don't know which I liked better - the girl stuck in the car wash with her head out the sunroof that won't open, or the guy getting acupuncture who winds up falling off the table and impaling himself on the needles.

I know I'm not doing these scenes justice. You have to see them for yourself. Or not.

On the New Rules segment of his show, Bill Maher had a joke about all these movies. He said the producers of Final Destination need to look up the meaning of the word "final."

For my sake, I hope they don't.

A game of tagline.

My pal Rich writes a cripplingly funny blog of his own called Round Seventeen. And more than once, he's posted on the always fun, highly debatable subject of taglines. For example here and here.

All copywriters approach taglines with mixed feelings of excitement and possibility, as well as pain and frustration. The pressure is always on trying to come up with that elusive combination of 2 to 7 words that will perfectly, humorously/dramatically, instantly and memorably encapsulate the essence of a brand.

We're all hoping for the next Think Different. Just Do It. Got Milk. And we've all written thousands of lines looking for it.

Eventually, we hit the wall at one point or another.

That's why I'm so excited to share what will inevitably be a valuable resource.

I've discovered a man, nay, a guru, we can now turn to for the tagline help we all so desperately need now and again.

He calls himself the Tagl!ne Guru. I can tell he's excited about that title because he put an exclamation point right there where the "i" should be (Get it? Like an upside down "i").

You don't do that if you're not excited about something.

I know what you're thinking: what's the Tagl!ne Guru's tagline? I had the same question. Obviously, anyone who's narrowed down their copywriting expertise to such a specific aspect of the craft, and who positions themself as a guru, clearly isn't going to go for a cheap, smarmy, punny line any junior copywriter fresh out of ad school with a book and a dream could come up with.

Gurus don't settle for that.

Instead, I'm guessing the Tagl!ne Guru will have a pithy, memorable, awesome line that will have every copywriter reading this slapping his/her forehead and wishing he/she had come up with.

But I could be wrong about that.