Archives for September 2008

OK, here’s the link to see the ad posted at Entertainment Weekly. Hilarious. Enjoy.

For those unfamiliar with the This is SportsCenter campaign I say, where in the world have you been? ESPN has been running the campaign for years, and it’s one of the most brilliant advertising efforts ever created. Yes, I said that recently about another campaign, but it’s true in this case as well. I could watch these spots for hours. In fact, if they released them in theaters, I’d probably throw down the ten bucks to see them on the big screen. That’s how fun they are.

And the idea is so simple. SportsCenter is so close to the world of sports that athletes and mascots are actually on site, often working there, in the editing suite, in the cafeteria, out in the parking lot. The place is just oozing with athletes. Simple. Genius. High-totin’ hilarious.

The latest spot however deviates from the athlete strategy. This one stars Stephen King, a long time Boston Red Sox fan and occasional sports writer. SportsCenter has hired King to write reports and give the show a new writing perspective. The only hang up? King is injecting his sports reports with “demons” and players with “telekinesis.” Funny. King may not get an Oscar for his performance, but this one’s a home run in my book.

On a similar note, a few months ago one of the brand managers at ESPN came and lectured at our agency about the ESPN brand and the history of the SportsCenter campaign. I found it fascinating. The most interesting tidbit: the offices featured in the ads are the real thing. They don’t build sets for these shoots. Those are real SportsCenter cubicles. The people milling about (athletes excluded) are real employees. Cheap and effective.

Please, SportsCenter. Don’t stop. Keep these coming.

Recently someone anonymously posted on this blog and suggested that I check out Lee Child’s Jack Reacher novels. I had never heard of Child but as soon as I picked up The Enemy, I new I had come home. This, ladies and gentlemen, is my kind of book. A tough-guy, gritty mystery that keeps me hopoked from page one to closing.

Ironically, a few days after I began listening to The Enemy on CD (read by Dick Hill, a veteran of the audiobook world) I stumbled upon a column by Stephen King in Entertainment Weekly. The column was all about the false notion circulating in fiction these days that men don’t read. Don’t write a book for men, wannabe novelist, men are too engrossed in their football and steak sauces to pick up one of them silly books.

Hogwash, says Stephen King. Poppycock. Men read. In fact, King suggested a name for the kind of books we men typically devour. Manfiction. And the best example of manfiction, says King, is Lee Child and his Jack Reacher novels.

I believe it. Jack Reacher is the ultimate loner tough guy, a large, husky former military police officer who is part drifter, part criminal investigator, and all man.

I suppose part of my fascination with Jack Reacher is that my dad was an MP back in the day. Dad was mostly stationed in Germany when I was a kid, but he’s told me a lot about his experiences as an MP, and his description of the military matches up quite nicely with how Child portrays it, which is: highly political and full of self-centered pricks.

Don’t get me wrong. The military is full of valiant men and women who fight for no other reason then to protect the innocent and preserve freedom. Jack Reacher is one such example.

But among these hundreds of thousands of selfless soldiers is the occasional careerist, the officer who seeks power, the man who dreams of becoming a general and squashing those under him simply because he can. Jack Reacher refers to these men as (pardon my French) assholes.

And in The Enemy, there are a few such characters. Not because Child is trying to taint the image of the military, but because this is a mystery, after all, and it’s the author’s job to throw suspicion on a lot of different characters in order to keep us, the readers, tagging along, desperate to know the truth.

I picked The Enemy as my first Jack Reacher novel at random — it was the first one I found at the library — but now I see how truly lucky I was to pick this one first.

The Enemy is the eighth Jack Reacher novel, but unlike most, it takes place while Reacher is still in the military, or more specifically just as the Berlin Wall is coming down at the beginning of 1990.

Reacher is a young major and has just been transferred from Panama to North Carolina. It’s New Years. Just past midnight. And Reacher gets a phone call. A two-star general has been found dead in a seedy hotel room, apparently having died of a heartache while cavorting with a prostitute. The general, Reacher learns, is a married man and the commanding officer of the Army’s Armored Division in Germany. In other words, a very important person. Reacher’s orders: protect the military. Clean up the mess and keep it hush hush.

But the general’s briefcase is missing. And hours later the general’s wife is found murdered. Slowly Reacher uncovers a much grander plot at work that puts him in ever-increasing danger.

I won’t divulge more than that. I’ll only say that The Enemy is the type of book I hope to be reading when I’m ninety years old, the type of book I’ll never tire of. Jack Racher is the man. And if men really aren’t reading as some naysayers say, then please send me all the Jack Reacher novels you can find. I for one can’t get enough.

OK, for those dying to know, the song is called “Bruises” by a band from Brooklyn called Chairlift.

And now let me explain why Chairlift is likely the happiest band in the music industry right now.

Aspiring musicians used to dream about getting their songs on the radio, making the big break, so to speak. Get out on the airwaves, and your career is all but guaranteed. If DJs got behind your songs (usually because of bribes from record companies — but that’s a discussion for another day), then radio listeners would get behind your song as well, and sells of your album would really take off.

Nowadays it seems like the best way to launch a music career is to license your song for a commercial, and more specifically for an iPod commercial. If the hipsters over at TBWA Chiat Day, the ad agency with the Apple account, like your new undiscovered song, you might be fortunate enough to have a bunch of silhouetted dancers movin’ and groovin’ to it on national television.

Is there anything cooler than these spots on TV right now? I don’t think so. And Apple has been running the campaign for four years or so. That, my friend, is an accomplishment. “Cool” is such a fleeting thing. Cool today. Uncool tomorrow. Or better said, uncool five minutes later.

And yet, after all these years and with little variation in the campaign, Apple has maintained its place at the top of the cool food chain. Partly because the product continues to reinvent itself and become slicker and smarter all the time. And partly because of good old fashion product advertising.

And why do the ads work so well?

Well, I can’t explain it other then to say that “they’re just cool, okay?” Spastic people performing back-breaking spins, splits, kicks, and twists is both inhuman and inhumanly cool. There’s no other way to describe it.

Recently however, the spots have taken a turn. Instead of dancing people, we have dancing iPods, so to speak. They float into (or are placed on) the screen, spinning and twisting and flying inward with the music. It’s beautiful and elegant and thanks to the infectious song by Chairlift, downright mesmerizing.

And that’s the simple genius behind Apple’s advertising strategy: when you’ve got a beautiful, amazing product, show your beautiful amazing product. You don’t need a pitchman. You don’t need smoke in mirrors or a talking monkey or any other advertising trick. You just allow the product to speak and wow for itself.

The bottom line: download this song. It has sweet, whimsical lyrics and a melody that sticks in your brain. Worth the 99 cents it cost to download it at iTunes? You betcha.

And that, dear reader, is why Chairlift is the happiest band in the business at present. The song’s popularity rating at iTunes is at its highest. Everyone and his brother is downloading this song. And an obscure band that wasn’t even on the music buyer’s radar is now beeping and blipping like a fast approaching aircraft.

World, meet Chairlift.

The newest Microsoft ad just launched, and the venerable Jerry Seinfeld is nowhere to be seen. Seinfeld’s absence comes as no surprise, however, as news agencies have been all aflutter recently, posting that Microsoft had “pulled” Seinfeld from their ad campaign.

Not so, says a Microsoft spokesperson, who called the allegations “preposterous.” Microsoft hasn’t “pulled” anything. This has been the plan all along. Seinfeld wasn’t the new face of the brand. He was merely one element in a much larger marketing initiative.

Whispers from Crispin Porter Bogusky, the Colorado based super agency that recently won the Microsoft account and produced the spots, confirms this. Seinfeld was never hired to be a spokesperson. He was hired to do a job, and he’s done it.

People have slammed the first two spots with Seinfeld suggesting that they prove how out of touch Microsoft truly is. Seinfeld is a man of the 90s, after all. What’s he doing in a commercial in 2008 for a company desperately trying to reinvent itself?

To that I say, you’re missing the point. What Crispin has done is brilliant. Not the spots themselves, per se, but the implementation of them. This campaign has garnered more media attention than any advertising initiative in recent history. News agencies and blogs (this one included) are all over this story. Hours of televised news coverage. Hundreds (I’m guessing) of articles online and in the printed press on whether or not the spots are effective.

And here’s why that’s a good thing: it’s all free advertising. Clients would love to be in the news this much, to incite debate like this.

But they’re criticizing the spots, you say.

Well, not all of them, I say. Some people actually like the spots. They’re weird, yes. But they’re also unexpected. Last year’s Vista launch was a real steamer. This campaign is something totally unique.

And I’d wager that most Americans still like Jerry Seinfeld. He still wears tight jeans and has a funny haircut, but who doesn’t like Jerry Seinfeld? Have we become that cynical? Have we become too hip for Seinfeld?

I say, show me a Jerry-Seinfeld hater, and I’ll show you a depressed, jaded American.

Here’s the bottom line. Microsoft is suddenly in the news again. The spots may not be the funniest thing going on in the industry, but they are funny to some extent. They’re doing more help than harm.

After all, Bill Gates has long been perceived as a stiff, bizarre little fellow. Now, at least, he’s a stiff, bizarre little fellow who doesn’t mind taking a few potshots at himself.

And considering how large and corporate a company like Microsoft is, getting work like this produced is nothing shy of monumental. I know from experience. Selling fresh, distinctive work is hard. Clients don’t like risk. Risk is bad. Risk is dangerous. And this work is incredibly risky. Bravo to Microsoft for having the courage to go with it.

Which bring us finally to spot number three, the one without Seinfeld. Here Microsoft addresses the ad campaign that’s been kicking their trash for the past two years: the Apple/PC campaign, which in my opinion is some of the greatest advertising ever created. High praise, yes, but in my mind it ranks right up there with Wendy’s “Where’s the Beef?”. Timeless. Hilarious. Effective.
In the new spot, Microsoft addresses this campaign head on. It all begins with a guy dressed like PC from the Apple campaign, saying “Hello, I’m a PC, and I’ve been made into a stereotype.” Which is a nice way of saying, “Hello, I’m a PC and I’m a victim and I’ve been unfairly labeled by a big meany advertising company. I’ve sat by quietly for a while, allowing Steve Jobs to mock me openly and make me look like a tubby, naive ignoramus, but no more. It’s time the world knew the truth about PCs. We’re not as doltish as you suggest we are. We’re good at making spreadsheets, yes. But that’s not all we do, thank you very much. PCs still lead the market for a reason.”

I’m taking some creative license with the subtext, but you get my point.

Then we’re introduced to a myriad of people, all claiming to be PCs, and who use they PCs for good, important, even hip, endeavors. A fashion designer. A geneticist. A scuba diver. An astronaut. One PC even claims to blog for Obama. Ah ha! Take that, Apple!

It’s a simple idea, brilliantly executed. I even like the tagline: Windows, Life Without Walls.

Simple. Smart. And precisely the type of counterstrike advertising Microsoft so desperately needed.

Now, will this make Windows relevant again? Will generation Y or Z (or whatever generation we’re on these days) toss out there sleek Mac laptops and run to Best Buy for a PC? Not likely.

But the new spot does likely restore some of the confidence consumers have recently lost in the Microsoft brand.

But it’s more of a strategically smart move than a creative revolution. We’ve seen this type of execution before. There’s nothing especially breakthrough about it.

But it is the right thing to say; it makes sound strategic sense. It’s almost as if, after years of not touching the chess board and letting Mac slowly knock down a knight here and a rook there, Microsoft’s queen just took an agressive sweeping move across the board to suddenly get back in the game.

Check it out below.

I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve never read Jack London before. I know, shameful. He’s a man’s author if ever there was one. But I saw an unabridged version of Call of the Wild on CD at the library and decided to give it a try. The language is poetic without being pretentious. And if ever there was a book that actually made me consider getting a dog this is it. I found myself envying John Thorton, the Klondike man who earns Buck’s undying love and devotion.

What I love most about Wild is that it’s an adventure story through and through. A literary classic, yes. But an adventure story first and foremost. There’s peril at every turn as Buck, the stout St. Bernard/Collie mix, is kidnapped from his comfortable home at an estate in California and sold as a sled dog far north in the merciless Klondike. Buck must learn the law of “club and fang,” the harsh, savage code of the North in which the strong and vicious rule with brute force and bite.

Passed from owner to owner, Buck learns that there are good natured and evil men in the world. And that dogs too can be classified as such. One of the novel’s most thrilling moments is the stand-off between Buck and his rival dog Spitz.

But the story’s true heart emerges when Buck finds John Thorton. Theirs is the relationship that every dog-owner longs for. And when Buck is called upon to pull the 1,000 pound sled to win John Thorton a bet, I felt like cheering as much as the witnesses in the story.

Recently I picked up a collection of Jack London short stories at the used book sale. And now I’m very glad that I did.

Most everyone who intends to read this book probably already has by now; I’m a little late to the party. What can I say? Lauren had to read it first. Then again, since she read it in like 48 hours, I don’t have much of an excuse for taking so long to finish it, do I?

Hmm. I guess I’m just slow. Get over it.

The fourth and final book in Stephenie Meyer’s teenage vampire saga is the most controversial of the bunch, dividing her loyal fan base and earning a D rating from Entertainment Weekly. Considering how little weight I give to book and movie reviews at EW, the D thing doesn’t faze me, but the outrage from some of her fans did. I tried not to listen to all the complains since I hadn’t read the book at the time and didn’t want to taint my experience by knowing beforehand what fanned everyone’s fire, but simply knowing that people were displeased made me a little skeptical.

So if you haven’t read the book and want to avoid spoilers, stop reading now. OK, you’ve been warned.

In my opinion, which only holds any value with my mother and wife, Breaking Dawn is an excellent and appropriate conclusion to a wonderful series. The Jacob-imprinting-on-the-baby thing didn’t bother me. As one fellow reader pointed out to me: Jacob imprinting was inevitable. That mythology had already been introduced. Meyer was merely living up to the rules she had already established. Besides, she prepared us for this beforehand. One of the other werewolves . . . excuse me, shape shifters, had already imprinted on a toddler. Meyer is no dummy. She prepared us all well.

And Bella gaining and learning vampire powers. Awesome. Her shield ability. Awesome. Stumping the Volturi in the field. Awesome. My only complaint was that the Volturi didn’t get a major butt kicking. Four hundreds of pages they prepare and talk about an impending fight and then the fight never happens? Say what?

But these are small petty things. Overall it was wonderfully enjoyable. Thank you, Mrs. Meyer. Please don’t let this be your last.