Think different

One thing ad agencies - I mean integrated marketing communication collectives - are supposed to do, in fact the main thing, is differentiate their clients' product from competing products. Even if the competing products are exactly the same.

Yet it seems agencies aren't able to carve out any real differentiation between themselves. It's a little like the cobblers' kids not having shoes. Well, maybe not. But you see where I'm going.

I'm not talking about the work. From agency to agency, it can be vastly different. I'm talking about the way they position themselves on their websites to clients looking for agencies.

One agency with some letters in its name has "...a process that welds together creativity and accountability to produce ideas that deliver a return..." Fair enough.

An older Madison Avenue shop that's constantly trying to reinvent itself says "...we refuse to take a backseat to the creativity of any competitor when it comes to the impact of our work." If you have to say it...

Yet another says, "We deliver the precise and most powerful combination of talents and resources, customized for superior execution." I'm sorry, I dozed off at the beginning of that description.

One big westside shop is just "a group of hard-working, independent-minded, and passionate problem solvers who live to build brands.."

Yeah yeah. Sure sure.

In many ways, like cars and laundry detergents, agencies are parity products. They all do essentially the same thing. They all have essentially the same players. It's how they do it - meaning the work (and the thinking but I'm including that since the thinking results in the work) that sets them apart.

But when an agency is able to differentiate themselves on philosophy, in a way that gives you a genuine sense there are actually people using it as a northern star guiding the work they do, it's hard to ignore.

I read a lot of agency sites for this post. And the only one I could find that did what I'm talking about was Venables Bell & Partners.

I don't have any stake in naming them. They don't know who I am. I'm damn sure they don't read this blog. I've never worked there, and I don't know if I ever will. I don't even know anyone who does.

What I do know is after reading their philosophy, I'd like to.

The itch

I go to Vegas at least once a year for SEMA. But truth be told, it's not nearly enough (I mean Vegas, not SEMA: three days of that is plenty).

Every once in awhile, like now, I get the itch. To feel the dice rattling in my hand before I roll them down the crap table. To get that jolt of adrenaline when I hit the point. To be in a town that understands you should be able to get a watered-down screwdriver 24 hours a day.

When I talk to friends of mine about going, what I hear a lot is, "I have to see if my wife'll let me go." Fortunately I'm blessed with a wife who says, "Get out of here. And bring back a little for me will ya?" I love that woman.

I like to think that I base my friendships on more substantial and meaningful things. That's why I have some friends that don't care for Vegas. But I have better ones that do.

My friend Mardel and I have gone to Vegas for years, and in the same way the tables run hot and cold, so have our trips.

However one of the great times we had was a few years ago when we were there for the Consumer Electronics Show. It's one of the biggest conventions held every year in Vegas, and an excellent excuse, er, reason to go there.

This trip, Mardel and I found ourselves at a crap table at Treasure Island at three in the morning (I know, I was as shocked as you are). Mardel was the shooter, and he was on a smokin' hot streak. He must've had the dice for over forty minutes.

We noticed on the other side of the table was a heavy hitter, betting A LOT of money. In fact at one point, they had to stop the game so they could bring this guy another rack of chips to play with.

I don't know how much money he had down on hard six, but Mardel rolled it. The roar was deafening. The gambler on the other side won $25,000 off that one roll.

I turned to Mardel and said, "If that guy had any class he'd tip you $100." As I was saying it, the stickman handed Mardel a $500 chip and said, "This is from the gentleman over there."

As I recall, there were drinks and more gambling. I'm not sure how long that money lasted, but it was sure fun while it did.

Those things don't happen every time I go to Vegas, but they happen just often enough to keep hope alive.

Of course, there are other things that happen there. But you know the saying.

Father's Day

Since today is Father's Day, I thought I'd take a minute to pay tribute to the great dads of our time. No, not the real ones, the tv ones.

It occurred to me as I was looking for these pictures that the fictional dads are as varied as the real-life ones are.

The difference is that they make great decisions almost all the time. And even when they don't, they get to resolve the situation properly in a half hour or an hour.

Sometimes they're just as much a mystery as the real ones are. For example when they appear to us after they've died and we've crashed on an island. As they so often will.

And sometimes, the people you think are least equipped to be a dad turn out to be great ones.

I used to joke that ninety percent of the job was just showing up. But two teenagers later - while it's still a big part of it - I've learned the percentage is way off.

To all the real world dads, who need more than thirty or sixty minutes to make things right, who are there for their kids at breakfast, after school, after dinner and in the middle of the night, doing their best day in and day out to provide everything and more for their kids, Happy Father's Day.

Plastics

FADE UP:

We see a four car garage attached to a large, white, modern mansion on the side of a hill in Malibu. It overlooks the Pacific Ocean. From inside, we hear a car door close.

The garage door rattles opens. As it rises, we see a pool of blackness inside.

Suddenly, two, low red lights peer at us like bloodshot eyes out of the darkness, and a throaty roar of a sports car engine blasts our ears. White reverse lights come on, and as the car backs out the morning sunlight hits it.

It is a perfectly mint, red 1967 Alpha Romeo Spider. The driver is Benjamin Braddock, Chairman and CEO of Braddock Plastics..

He turns the car and drives out of frame.

CUT TO:

Overhead shot of Benjamin Braddock speeding down Pacific Coast Highway on a postcard sunny day.

CUT TO:

CU of his hand turning on the radio.

We hear the first notes: "de dede de de de dede de de dede de..."

Suit up

I have a very extensive wardrobe. One pair of blue jeans. Two pairs of black jeans. And twenty-five hundred black t-shirts.

Crap, I need to lose weight.

Anyway, what I haven't had in my collection for a long time is a suit that I've been happy with. And by happy with I mean that fits.

Every man should have a good-looking, well-fitting suit in his wardrobe. You never know when a wedding, funeral, bar mitzvah or job interview for casino pit boss will present itself.

While I was perusing the "suit" websites, I came across this one. It's not unfamiliar to me - I hear their exceptionally bad radio spots all the time: "Get two wool suits, two dress shirts, two ties, two pairs of dress shoes, two belts, two cufflinks, two pocket scarves, two parking spaces, two soft drinks and two hot dogs for just $199!"

I thought, "What the hell." Their suits can't possibly be as bad as their radio.

I decided I'd pick one of the three days and pay a visit to their store nearest me. While I was looking to see where it was, I learned this little tidbit about 3 Day Suit Brokers:

See the irony?

Now, I've never really been much of a math wiz (although I can add up day rates like a bandit). Apparently whoever named the store wasn't either.

But I will admit it does make it a lot more convenient, especially when that $199 is burning a hole in my worsted wool pocket.

Everyone needs a hero

He's mine. Everyday, but especially today. Here's why..

If you're not following Hero Complex you should be. You'll find it here herocomplex.latimes.com and here @LATherocomplex.

Tip worthy

I'm not sure when it happened, but once it did it spread like wildfire. I'm talking about the ever present "tip jar."

In the film Reservoir Dogs, the character Mr. Pink goes on a rant against tipping (I haven't included a link because it is, after all, a family blog). I have to say I agree with some of his rant, particularly the part about being obliged to tip when the service doesn't merit it.

The jars assume everyone and every job is tip worthy. It just ain't so.

I will say however that whoever thinks of the "tip jar humor" may be deserving of a tip.

You make the call: here are a few examples: