Editing myself

I've been doing the same thing for a long time. I'm not talking about avoiding writing these blogposts — although since the last one I posted was November 11, 2025 I suppose you could make an arguement for it.

What I'm talking about is copywriting. Creative directing. Endless meetings. Town halls. You know, the ad game. I used to tell the wife if I was still writing commercials when I was forty to just shoot me. Clearly I had blown past that deadline.

So last year, when a certain leading cybersecurity company I'd been a creative director at for three years, and I'm not naming names — CrowdStrike — aftrer having several years of outstanding growth and financial reporting with Wall Street, unexpectedly laid off 5% of its staff, which if you're keeping count came out to 500 people (apparently the only breach they couldn't stop was trust), I found myself in an interesting position. Was I going to take my newly found expertise and look for another job in the cybersecurity world? Head back to an advertising agency after five years on the client side (yes the math adds up - before CrowdStrike I was at Epson for two years)? Do nothing, or do something completely different.

The answer about the next step building a future version of me came in the form of my great friend and writer extraordinaire Cameron Day. For reasons I will never know and will always be eternally grateful for, Cameron asked me to edit the second volume of his wildly entertaining, brutally honest and endlessly entertaning advertising survival guide trilogy pictured above, Spittin' Chicklets.

Then he asked me to edit the third one.

And a book about his f*@ked up adventures from the ad trenches.

And his wild ride as an AI anarchist in his book co-authored by AI.

I happened to mention to my former client and close friend Pete Wendy how much I was enjoying this new endeavor thanks to Cameron, and come to find out Pete was writing a book his own self and asked if I would edit it.

I love it when momentum decides to do its job.

This is the book Pete wrote. I think you'll find it well written and extraordinarily edited.

As The Fixx like to say, one thing leads to another. You're welcome Jim DeCorpo (inside joke, don't even try).

Cameron referred me to his friend John Long, who, you guessed it, was in the process of writing a book about legacy brands and what they need to do to survive.

The book is called Zombie Brands, and is packed with exceptional writing, insights and solid advice for older brands looking to survive in the new world.

The thing about this newfound career is the pressure is on and off at the same time. I don't have to come up with the idea and write it. I get to shape it, and work with writers who care deeply about their work, but who don't want to suffer while improving it.

So what am I saying? I guess it's be open to things you haven't tried before. You never know where they'll lead.

Looking at that last line, I think I may have a future writing fortune cookies. Do you know anyone?

The Long Ranger

I'm not usually one to go by what the critics say. I'm of the belief that whether it's music, movies, plays books or restaurants, a person should see it for themself then make up their own mind. One man's ceiling is another man's blockbuster and all that.

I found out last night this is not true in all cases. When it comes to The Lone Ranger - and you'll thank me for this - listen to the critics.

I can count on half a hand the number of movies I've ever walked out of. Even the crappiest movies have a great line or moment, a memorable effect to get you talking, a nuanced performance in the midst of the badness. An actor who's always great no matter how terrible the script is. The Lone Ranger has none of that.

I couldn't get out of the theater fast enough.

It's just a mess with an identity crisis. Does it want to be a drama with a touch of comedy, or a comedy with some drama? It's supposed to be a period piece, yet even the Indians in the tee-pees are saying things like "not so much."

You never really think about a consistent tone in a movie until there isn't one.

Also, when did it become necessary to explain the origins of every character's situation, how they got to be who they are. It seems like the first five hours of the film are letting us know everyone's backstory. Whatever happened to just hitting the road running - making the assumption the audience is already familiar with the character, which would be the point of making a film starring a character everyone knows, or giving them credit for having enough imagination to just jump in and hang on for the ride.

This is not a problem unique to this film. Tell me again how Superman got here, why he can fly and why bullets bounce off him. I didn't get it the first seven times.

Regardless of what you know about movies, I'm sure you know editors play an essential part in shaping a film. Apparently The Lone Ranger didn't have one. It seems like every single frame they shot is on the screen. It is the most unnecessarily long and unwieldy film I've almost ever seen all the way through.

I'm sure my show from last night hasn't let out yet.

I had a special interest in seeing this film. Thanks to his friend's aunt who worked on it, my son and his friend went to the shoot in Moab and actually worked as production assistants for a few very hot days. I love my son, but even love has its limits. Mine stops at sitting through all twenty hours of The Long Ranger.

I like both Armie Hammer and Johnny Depp. But Hammer was a monumental bore ("Who was that masked man?" "Who cares?") and has nothing at all to work with in the way of a script. Depp is essentially recycling Jack Sparrow, only this time it's a crow instead of a bandana. His eccentricities are forced, and his Injun-talk is really just another version of Sparrow's slurred speech.

It was unusual to hear the Lone Ranger's signature line "Hi-yo Silver away!" coming from the audience instead of the screen as they walked out the door. BAM! Thank you, I'll be here all week. Tip your waitress.

If you want a Lone Ranger story that's actually entertaining, try this one by Jay Thomas about Clayton Moore, who played him for years on the TV show a lot of us grew up with: