Unstuck

Letting go. It's never easy.

Case in point: a week ago, thanks to the record-setting stock market (Bidenomics bitch!), I was able to sell some shares and treat myself to my first brand new car in seventeen years. German car, expensive to maintain, expensive to repair, ridiculously expensive to own.

What the hell. I'm not taking it with me. And as the wife said, "Life is short. Buy the car."

The point is in purchasing my new wheels, I have to let go of my old ones, a fourteen-year old Lexus ES350 with over 155,000 miles on it. While I was initially thrilled at jettisoning the Lexus, I started thinking about all the times of my life that car has been a part of.

Driving the kids to school.

To rehearsals.

To game practice.

Nights out with the wife.

Emergency trips to urgent care or the ER. Fortunately not many of those.

I'm not gonna lie: thinking about the outgoing car in that light got me more than a little misty. It shouldn't come as a surprise. If you know anything about me, and if you don't by now then I just don't know where we go from here, you know I'm a sap.

I cry at Hallmark commercials. I never had a chance.

Because I have a new car, and a new windshield, I also have to say goodbye to something else I've been holding onto for the last two cars I've owned. My Chiat/Day parking sticker.

I always loved the Chiat sticker. The pirate culture it represented. The skull and crossbones shadow it made at high noon on the dash. The bragging rights it gave me. And the fact I could visit Chiat weeks after I was done freelancing there, park unnoticed amongst them, and sneak upstairs for one of their great breakfast burritos from the in-house restaurant.

I'm not proud. But on a stack of bibles, it was a pretty fuckin' great burrito.

When I was still working at agencies, before finding the most awesome client side job ever, that little blue sticker was also proof positive, tangible evidence, something I could point to whenever I'd play the Chiat card.

Which almost everyone who works or worked there does at one time or another.

The sticker's faded now, and years of sunlight exposure have given it a little curling around the edges. And just like the velcro strips that hold my FasTrak transponder, or the Magic Castle member parking discount sticker, the time has come to lower the pirate flag, and let go of the Chiat sticker.

All to say that if you want to sneak in for a breakfast burrito, we're going to have to take your car.

Not so Super

I’ll be the first to admit it. I am not by any stretch of the imagination or in any way a sports fan. I know what you’re thinking: how can someone like me who’s in peak physical condition not be into sports?

I know, it’s a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.

I do however occasionally like watching the World Series (baseball, right?) but that’s about it. Unless you count the Kentucky Derby, Preakness and Belmont Stakes because who doesn’t like horseys.

And reading the Racing Form. And placing bets.

Anyway, when Super Bowl Sunday rolls around every year, for the most part I look at it as the best day of the year to go to the movies, visit Disneyland or shop at South Coast Plaza. At least for about three and a half hours.

But because I’m in the line of work I’m in, I do have to slog through the game and watch the commercials. Including mine.

Here’s the problem: Apple set the bar for Super Bowl spots with their legendary “1984” commercial. You know, the one directed by Ridley Scott that we’re still talking about forty years later. But the downside of that spot was it got advertisers to think that just by pouring a ton of money into a spot, they’d have a memorable, entertaining Super Bowl spot that would ring up championship sales for whatever they were hawking.

Not so fast. If you watched the big game this year, you might’ve noticed there are about sixty examples that prove otherwise.

That’s not to say there haven’t been some enjoyable spots over the years. One of my favorites is this FedEx spot, which lays out in detail exactly what it takes to produce a successful Super Bowl spot. It's a low-res version, but you still get the idea.

Another is the Audi “Prom” spot. Everything about it is right—the casting, the dialog, the story, the production. They even caught lightning in a bottle with the reaction shot of the prom queen after the kiss.

The spot I liked most this year, besides mine, was actually this Disney+ commercial. Simple, engaging and not weighed down with celebrities and production value. It wasn’t forced.

I was discussing the spot with my close personal friend and blogger extraordinaire Rich Siegel, and he reminded me of the other reason I liked it so much. He said “When everyone is shouting, whisper.”

He’s right of course. Enough with the shouting.

In politics. In life. And especially in Super Bowl spots.

Encore post: 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.

Encore post: Non-essential personnel

There’s been a great deal of discussion about essential and non-essential workers these past ten months. In the middle of a devastating pandemic, we quickly found out who we absolutely needed and who we could live without.

And the surprises weren’t all that surprising.

The people we take for granted day in and day out—grocery checkers and stockers, delivery people. Obviously the frontline medical heroes. The under siege postal workers (buy stamps). People who keep security and infrastructure going. As well as a long list of others.

And hey, you'll never guess who wasn’t considered essential. Give up? I hate for you to hear it this way but it's people who work in advertising agencies. I know, I’m as shocked as you are.

But here's something we know deep down in those places we don't talk about: the harsh reality is that was true even before the pandemic. And it’ll be true after.

Truth can be such a cruel mistress.

Come to find out in a non-existent survey not conducted by Gallop, that in the time of Covid, turns out people across every demographic—including some that haven’t even been segmented yet—actually set priorities about what's essential and what isn't.

While people are busy worrying whether a cough is just a cough or whether it's a debilitating virus that's going to have them fighting for their lives in the ER, oddly enough they don’t consider banner ads, screen takeovers, wild postings, commercials of any kind (with the exception of those two Match.com Satan ads), radio spots repeating the phone number three times, bus shelters, outdoor, paid social, email, direct response tchotchkes (no I didn't look up the spelling, yes it's correct), online surveys, YouTube pre-rolls, theater ads that piss you off before the movie (remember movies?), product placement in those movies, brochures, endcaps, welcome kits and more essential.

Even more non-essential? People who create them.

But fear not fellow agency people. Remember that many great artists aren't appreciated in their own time. Eventually this too shall pass, and people will come out of the plague culture and discover they hold a deep appreciation and fond nostalgia for all the ads they saw that began with "These are challenging times..." and ended with "We're in this together."

Someday the world at large will see the sense in theoretically normal-thinking adults putting their health and the health of loved ones at risk to bring them commercials that involved people breaking into dance for no reason, running footage, bite and smiles and people who aren't doctors but play one on television.

You know, the same as usual except now the people in them wear masks.

I've heard the arguments: we're keeping the economy going during a bad time. Bringing information people would have no. other. way. of getting. Setting an example by being at work, etc.

I got news for you. Essentially, you're kidding yourself.

Non-essential personnel

There’s been a great deal of discussion about essential and non-essential workers these past ten months. In the middle of a devastating pandemic, we quickly found out who we absolutely needed and who we could live without.

And the surprises weren’t all that surprising.

The people we take for granted day in and day out—grocery checkers and stockers, delivery people. Obviously the frontline medical heroes. The under siege postal workers (buy stamps). People who keep security and infrastructure going. As well as a long list of others.

And hey, you'll never guess who wasn’t considered essential. Give up? I hate for you to hear it this way but it's people who work in advertising agencies. I know, I’m as shocked as you are.

But here's something we know deep down in those places we don't talk about: the harsh reality is that was true even before the pandemic. And it’ll be true after.

Truth can be such a cruel mistress.

Come to find out in a non-existent survey not conducted by Gallop, that in the time of Covid, turns out people across every demographic—including some that haven’t even been segmented yet—actually set priorities about what's essential and what isn't.

While people are busy worrying whether a cough is just a cough or whether it's a debilitating virus that's going to have them fighting for their lives in the ER, oddly enough they don’t consider banner ads, screen takeovers, wild postings, commercials of any kind (with the exception of those two Match.com Satan ads), radio spots repeating the phone number three times, bus shelters, outdoor, paid social, email, direct response tchotchkes (no I didn't look up the spelling, yes it's correct), online surveys, YouTube pre-rolls, theater ads that piss you off before the movie (remember movies?), product placement in those movies, brochures, endcaps, welcome kits and more essential.

Even more non-essential? People who create them.

But fear not fellow agency people. Remember that many great artists aren't appreciated in their own time. Eventually this too shall pass, and people will come out of the plague culture and discover they hold a deep appreciation and fond nostalgia for all the ads they saw that began with "These are challenging times..." and ended with "We're in this together."

Someday the world at large will see the sense in theoretically normal-thinking adults putting their health and the health of loved ones at risk to bring them commercials that involved people breaking into dance for no reason, running footage, bite and smiles and people who aren't doctors but play one on television.

You know, the same as usual except now the people in them wear masks.

I've heard the arguments: we're keeping the economy going during a bad time. Bringing information people would have no. other. way. of getting. Setting an example by being at work, etc.

I got news for you. Essentially, you're kidding yourself.

What game?

I hear there's a game on today. Nah, I'm just messing with ya. I know today is the Super Bowl. Here's the thing: I don't care.

In fact, on of my list of five things I couldn't care less about, four of them are the Super Bowl.

It won't come as a surprise to anyone who knows me, despite my rigorous workout routine of Double-Double's and Neapolitan shakes, that I'm not the sports guy. I'm the movie guy. The theatre guy. The concert guy. The comedy club guy. The TV bingeing guy. The horse racing guy. The car racing guy. The "let's drop everything and go to Vegas" guy.

The football guy? Not so much.

My feeling is every year, Super Bowl Sunday is the best day to do anything else. Between 3:30pm and 7pm, you'll never have a better day to go shopping at the mall. See a movie. Go to Disneyland. Try that restaurant you can never get reservations at. Traffic is non-existent. Crowds disappear. And parking is plentiful.

Of course, because I'm in advertising, there's pressure and a certain amount of obligation to watch the Super Bowl commercials. Every year, ever since the brilliant, industry-changing, Ridley Scott directed Apple 1984 spot, clients blow a shit-ton (technical term) of cash on their Super Bowl spots.

There's a lot of creativity on display. But that's also a lot of cash that could've been better spent much more effectively in any number of different ways. Or maybe not as effectively. As one of my creative colleagues at the agency told me, "Do you have any idea how many banner ads no one looks at that kind of money could buy?"

As I write this, it's about an hour and a half into the game. Here's my take so far:

The Doritos/Mountain Dew spot with Peter Dinklage and Morgan Freeman in a lip-synced rap battle is pretty fun.

The Tide series of spots, with Stranger Things David Harbour show a surprising amount of creativity for a brand not known for it with the premise every ad is a Tide ad.

The Pringles spot with Bill Hader tries way too hard to recreate the success of "Wasssupp!" from a few years ago, only now the word is "Wow!" I think the word is "Yawn."

The Australian Tourism spot with Danny McBride and Chris Hemsworth was going along nicely, until the shot of original Crockadile Dundee star Paul Hogan, who's 78-years old and looks every second of it 'mate.

I'm not offended easily, but in what I believe will be a monumental backfire I'm fairly certain Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. never intended his voice and words to be used selling Dodge RAM trucks.

Obviously I haven't seen them all yet, but I can already tell you my favorite, whether I like it or not, will be the one my agency did (Team player, hello?)

Super Bowl is also where the studios break out trailer premieres for their most anxiously awaited films. It's a testimony to the enormously talented Ron Howard—who was brought in after original directors Phil Lord and Chris Miller were fired with only weeks to go in production—that the Stars Wars movie Solo looks unbelievably awesome.

Who couldn't use a movie where dinosaurs are running amok—again. Thankfully, Juraissic World Fallen Kingdom looks like it's going to fill that vacuum just swell.

Towering Inferno pedigreed Skyscraper with Dwayne Johnson looks like a few hours of mindless fun (just like my high school girlfriend).

That's all I have for now. I'm going to get back to not watching the game and thinking of unencumbered places I can go for the next two hours while it's on.

Right after I don't watch the Justin Timberlake halftime show.

What's the attraction

I've always been attracted to a certain theme in art and photography. More than just "That's a nice picture." or "Huh. Interesting." I'm talking about images that draw me in, make me feel something on a visceral level.

Images like this one my friend Ron posted on his Facebook page.

I'm not sure what it says about me that I gravitate mostly to either solitary figures, representations of loneliness or images of disparate people, together and at the same time isolated in their own thoughts like those in much of Edward Hopper's work, especially his classic, essential Nighthawks.

It probably says I need something as a counterpoint to all the happiness and joy I put out into the world. Either that or I need help. Sometimes it's hard to tell.

Maybe I'm attracted to them because of the universality of the emotions. Aren't we all a stuffed teddy bear, cast out to the side of the road?

Okay. Maybe not.

The point is there seems to be more of a reality and truth to these images than ones where people are laughing, just a little too happy despite the reality of the world around them. Like the people who dance in commercials because their detergent gets the clothes brighter, or they're finally free of the constipation that's been plaguing them (hard to dance when you're constipated, so I hear).

Many of my friends find it an interesting contrast that I usually go for the joke at any cost, yet I'm a sucker for a sad image.

I would've been great in a Woody Allen film.

Spaced out

What's the difference between a giant asteroid, comet and meteor hitting the earth? The answer is you're dead.

This Monday, an asteroid, which, I don't have to tell you, consists of metals and rocky material, is going to pass by earth fairly close in astronomical terms. It'll come within 745,000 miles of us, and should be visible with clear skies and an expensive pair of binoculars.

Just like Linkin Park at Greensboro Coliseum.

This particular asteroid has the unfortunate name of 2004 BL86, which only tells me that whoever names these things really needs to hire an agency do a naming exploration, as well as commercials for the fly by.

One agency might create an animated asteroid character along the lines of Mr. Mucinex or the RAID bugs. They could call it something clever that tests well, like Mr. Asteroid.

Another might use a D-list celebrity in an asteroid costume, warning us of the close proximity. Kathy Griffin, keep your phone line open.

I'm sure there's also any number of westside shops ready with a bearded hipster, deadpan, obscure reference-filled, dripping with irony spot where the only thing the wardrobe person has to worry about is which t-shirt goes with which pair of faded jeans and knit cap.

For all our sake, let's hope that asteroid isn't as far off course as I'm off topic.

At any given time, as the chart to the left frighteningly shows, there are hundreds of asteroids with bad aim trying to reunite us with the dinosaurs. And these are just the ones we know about.

Scientists refer to a potentially catastrophic asteroid strike as an EEE: earth extinction event. It could take a couple forms. It might hit us so hard it'd kick up a dust and dirt cloud blocking out the sun for centuries, making the air unbreathable and killing all life on earth. Or it might just hit the earth so hard it knocks it out of its orbit, and on a path straight towards the sun (stock up on SPF 1,000,000 now).

Maybe there's a scenario where it doesn't hit us at all, but just flies by super close. If the timing's right, it'd be a great way to open next year's Tournament of Roses parade. Followed by the stealth bomber of course.

I'm personally of the belief that if one were on course to wipe us out, the government wouldn't tell us for fear of panic in the streets. And really, the panic would be misplaced because unless you're Richard Branson, you really don't have a way off the planet in time to avoid it. I know there are a lot of secrets the government keeps that it shouldn't, but I'd be fine not knowing. One minute I'm sitting in my living room watching my 12th binge of Breaking Bad, the next minute I'm dust. Lights out. The really sad thing is the house probably wouldn't look much worse than it does now.

Fascination with our own demise is nothing new. Hollywood's had a great time of it for years, making movies like Armageddon where Bruce Willis and crew save earth from the asteroid. I've seen the movie. I think being wiped out by the asteroid would be more entertaining.

If you're looking for how popular keeping an eye on asteroids has become, you don't need a telescope to see it. NASA Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL) whose job is to keep an eye on these things has an asteroid watch page and Twitter feed (@AsteroidWatch). There's also an Asteroid Watch app , so while you're updating your Facebook status on your smartphone you can also check how long until you take the big dirtnap.

It's like my art director partner Pete Andress used to say: we hang by a thread. None of us know when the hit is coming. So I guess the point is to stop our petty fighting, get our priorities straight, love each other, and just enjoy it all while we're here.

Right after we up the homeowner's insurance.

It's showtime. Almost.

This is going to seem hard to believe, but unlike fairy tales and stories about unicorns, leprechauns, insightful account planners and consumer engagement, this one is absolutely true.

Once upon a time, people used to go to movie theaters and, not including movie trailers, there were no commercials or advertising before the movie. None. Zilch.

Then, someone at the L.A. Times had an idea about how the paper could get into the movie business. They decided they’d give a discount on media placement for theater listings to the theater chains if they’d run an L.A. Times commercial before the movies started.

It was a great deal for the Times. Captive audience, big screen and a theater extortion plan they knew the chains would go for.

When these commercials started appearing years ago, it didn’t matter if you were seeing a movie at the Village in Westwood or the Gardena Cinema. They were unanimously and loudly booed. People threw popcorn at the screen. The audience could get commercials at home on their televisions. It wasn’t what they were coming to the movies for. They hated it and they weren't going to sit for it.

Except that they have.

Fast forward to today. Since no one looks in the newspaper for show times anymore, the L.A. Times commercials are a quaint memory (and the paper might soon be as well). But what’s taken its place are theater owners who’ve co-opted the idea to generate revenue for themselves.

You know those pre-show, pre-packaged group of ads, shorts, trailers and interviews you see before movies? The ones that are usually bundled as First Look or The Twenty (short for the 20 minutes prior to showtime)? Yes it's paid advertising. But it's the theaters themselves who are bringing it to you.

The three major chains - Regal, AMC and Cinemark - have together formed National CineMedia(NCM) to show preshow ads in their theaters. Here's an idea how much they're making off it:

And you thought all their profit was coming from $4.75 cups of Coke.

It's actually amazing they manage to have the ad sales they do. Here's the pitch from their website:

If by fully engaged audience they mean a theater full of people talking, checking their phones, texting, playing games, looking for seats, at the concession stand buying $5.75 buckets of popcorn, then yes, they're fully engaged.

Fully engaged isn't the only promise they make that they aren't keeping.

Did you see it? It's the part at the end about loving the brand? I'm pretty sure being shown commercials in a theater has just the opposite effect. It's one thing when you see a bad commercial on television. But when you see one (or the same one) on a 60-ft. screen in 70mm with Dolby sound, the badness just scales up. So does the resentment. Even if it's a good spot, it's holding you captive before your movie.

There are two problems here. First, as always, is the money. Like the fees the airlines charge for what once was free, the theaters are making way too much from these commercials to get rid of them. And second is a passive audience who has just come to accept the first fact.

I usually like a theater as quiet as possible.

But I do miss the booing I used to hear the minute the commercial started playing.

AT&T Jew-verse

Everyone has to live with a certain amount of denial in life. Otherwise, we'd never cross a street, get on a plane or eat at Jack In The Box for fear of what could happen to us. It's how we manage everyday risk and emotion.

Since, according to this article, the average consumer can be exposed to between 3000 and 20,000 ads a day, and actually see and register about 250 of them, commercials - especially bad ones - have also become one of the things we have to deny in order not to be overwhelmed by them. Out of necessity, they become white noise.

It'd be a second career getting mad about all of them.

However, there is one commercial so bad, so hateful, so grating in the most primal way, I feel pointing it out is less of a gripe and more of a public service. It's this one:

Here's how I'm pretty sure the meeting went.

CLIENT: What do you think the kid should look like?

ART DIRECTOR: Well, he should be...

ACCOUNT PERSON: We were leaning towards a "New York" look. (actually does air quotes)

CLIENT: You mean Jewish.

ACCOUNT PERSON: Yes, you know, curly hair, big nose...

Laughter erupts in the room.

CLIENT: Can we have him say some Jew sounding words?

WRITER: Like fancy, schmancy or for cryin' out loud?

CLIENT: Yes!

ACCOUNT PERSON: (hamming it up - no pun intended) Oy vey, we'll do it.

ART DIRECTOR: Maybe an argyle sweater, so he looks like the old Je...uh, old "New York" guys you see in the jewelry mart.

CLIENT: I love it. What do they say?

ACCOUNT PERSON: Mazel tov?

CLIENT: That's it!

Laughter erupts again.

Don't get me wrong, I love the Jews on TV. I can even tolerate the stereotyping. But what I hate is a stale concept, long past its expiration date, that's been done a gazillion times before - in this case a kid talking like a wiser, older "New York" grandfather to kids slightly younger than him who, for some inexplicable reason, know how to act their real age.

And wagging the corn dog while he's talking must be a Jewish tradition I'm not familiar with.

It's frustrating because it's AT&T. A big client with a huge advertising budget and decent production dollars to spend, and this is the best they (and their 65-year old, Jackie Mason loving writer/art director team) could do.

Then, just to make sure there's absolutely no escape, they run the crap out of this spot. You can't turn on the TV without seeing it everywhere. Maybe the kid got them the air time wholesale.

The best advice I can give the team, or anyone else associated with this spot is that same advice that works managing life's risks.

If someone asks if it's your spot, deny it.

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.