Showing 1 - 10 of 85 posts found matching keyword: advertising
The 25 actors and directors nominated in their categories at tonight's Academy Awards will receive a gift bag worth a reported $100,000. That sounds like a lot, but it's really a load of crap.
Thirty percent of that total is a coupon for plastic surgery. About half are coupons for food, vacations, and self-help sessions. Most of the rest are beauty products or drugs (chocolate, cannabis-infused edibles, and absinthe). There's also a book, a bracelet, a bow tie, and a plunger. But it's not just any plunger! It's the Mister Poop Fully Functional Plunger!
But wait, that's not all! According to their press release:
"The Oscar® nominees receiving gift bags will each get a Mister Poop Toilet Plunger, and a T-Shirt emblazoned, "Crappy Products that Really Work'."
That beats their first draft: "I was nominated for an Oscar® and all I got was this lousy t-shirt promoting a shitty plunger."
The release goes on to
warn us announce that the manufacturers, who paid a minimum of $4,000 just to have their products included in the gift bags, are "in talks" with retailers about shelving their products. (They do know that there is already a poo-shaped plunger on the market, don't they?)
Mister Poop Plungers and Toilet Brushes, coming soon to a 7-Eleven near you.
During a commercial break in the evening news, Mom says, "I keep getting this jingle stuck in my head." She was talking about the ad for Ozempic, which sounds more than a little like this:
I wasn't alive in 1974, but Mom was, and she says she's never heard of Pilot or their single, "Magic." Obviously, there's only one explanation for this: all documented instances of Pilot are part of an elaborate counter-intelligence campaign created by Communist trolls for the purpose of destabilizing our American capitalist corporatocracy by fooling rubes like me into believing that some kind of popular culture preexisted the marketing needs of greedy pharmaceutical conglomerates. Those bastards!
Now, if you'll excuse me, it's time for my federally mandated once-weekly semaglutide injection.
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It could be worse. It could be a commercial for ass cream.
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Preparation H earned some notoriety in 2016 with an advertisement introducing America to the town of Keister, Minnesota. Their latest commercial features a town named Tookus.
Unlike Keister, Tookus is, as you can see in the screencap above, a "Fictional Town." Seeing that, I wondered to myself, if Tookus is fictional, where did they film it?
If you look closely, you'll see the street signs in the background reference U.S. 23 and Georgia Highway 42. Turns out, that's the intersection of Keys Ferry Street and Macon Street. Tookus is in downtown McDonough, Georgia!
My Mother's maternal family hails from just outside McDonough in a little place called Kelleytown (which has a surprisingly thorough Wikipedia entry). In fact, the family still owns some land out there. So if you're ever passing through Tookus, look us up.
UPDATE 2018-07-21: I'm watching Smokey and the Bandit, and what do I see but this intersection! About 15 minutes in, Bandit evades a state patrolman by hiding his Trans Am right where the camera would be placed for this commercial. McDonough looked pretty much the same in 1979, though that cafe behind the "officer" didn't exist yet. See the screenshot at atlantatimemachine.com.
Another advertisement also spotted in the March 1, 1918 edition of The Newnan Herald:
Pay close attention to that last part:
"THESE CALENDARS WILL NOT BE GIVEN TO CHILDREN."
Why not? Kids love cola. Kids need to know the days of the week.
What "special pose" could sweet, dear Hollywood darling Ruth Roland, star of The Matrimonial Martyr, The Devil's Bait, and The Neglected Wife, be showing that's so inappropriate for the little tykes of Newnan?
Well, I never! Get that thing out of your mouth, you floozy! Scandalous!
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Advertisements spotted in the March 1, 1918 edition of The Newnan Herald (formerly the Coweta Advertiser):
Hoover means DEATH to dust (and Germans)!
So are you saying that I should try smoking peanuts?
I am amused that "fit" appears in sarcastic quotes. I'm more amused that it says "eat our meats." *giggle*
This one's not funny. It's just racist.
As for why I was looking through 100-year-old newspapers, what can I say? I like to read incredibly inappropriate advertising. (More on that on Tuesday.)
Cinnamon Frosted Flakes are a real thing now. I haven't had them yet, and after watching this commercial, I can tell you I never will. We'll be right back after this message.
Did you hear that guy at the end of the commercial say that Cinnamon Frosted Flakes "tastes like victory"? Does Kellogg's know where that line comes from? Have they never seen Robert Duvall as the satiric Lt. Col. Kilgore in Apocalypse Now?
Once upon a time, art and literature employed allusions to previous works audiences would be familiar with in order to reinforce concepts. In modern America, corporations still use allusions, but they no longer expect the audience to understand them rationally. They only want to trigger an emotional connection. "Oh, yeah. I remember Apocalypse Now. I liked it. I bet I'd like Cinnamon Frosted Flakes."
Kellogg's doesn't care if the actual reference is to napalm, a weapon used to burn people to death. Nor does Dodge care if their products are pitched by Star Wars' oppressive evil Empire. Six Flags gladly names roller coasters after DC Comics serial killers.
So good luck with your new product, Kellogg's, but I still pay attention to who is trying to sell me something. Kilgore can keep his cinnamon. I'll stick with my Sugar Frosted Flakes, the cereal that Superman says is the best.
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Cherry Coke finally reached China last month, and Coca-Cola promoted its launch with cans featuring a caricature of billionaire investor Warren Buffett.
Stop and think about that. If you put Warren Buffett's face on something in America, no one would even know who the hell he was. ("Steve Martin sure got old!") Name one person from China whose face might influence you to buy a product. Take your time. I'll wait.
The reason I mention this is not to denigrate Americans — they don't need me for that; they're doing so well themselves — is because of how Bloomberg News reported it.
At his company's annual meeting last year, [Buffett] said his happiness from drinking soda outweighs health benefits from eating more vegetables.
That must have been painful to publish. Bloomberg's founder and owner, Michael Bloomberg, is behind the nationwide push to tax sodas. According to Warren Buffett, that's the same as taxing happiness. (I bet nobody's taxing broccoli.) Whose word are you going to take for that? I know who the Chinese trust.
Science backs up Bloomberg. Sugar overconsumption is a nationwide problem. However, I doubt anyone with a net worth of $75 billion worries much about healthcare. But then, neither do the Chinese, 95% of whom have basic health insurance coverage. That just one more thing they're doing better than us.
So drink up, China. You can afford it, and America sure could use the help.
When did the release of a movie trailer become something that gets hyped for weeks? A trailer isn't a movie, it's a commercial. It's 60 seconds of clips from a movie that are usually better than the movie itself. Is that worth getting excited about?
NBC and Disney seem to think it is. For the first week of the Olympics, they told me to hang on until Thursday, when I'd finally get my first taste of the new Star Wars movie in the form of a new trailer. Now the trailer has been released, and I have to wait only four more months until the film comes out. Hooray?
What's so magical about trailers? The new Marvel movie, Doctor Strange, runs a television ad suggesting I should sprint to the Internet to see the "full" trailer, as though it's too good for television. If it's that great, it will come to me. That's what good movies do; they transcend.
And is all this hype really necessary? Summer blockbusters are grossing half a billion dollars these days. If Louis B. Mayer got wind of that amount in the afterlife, he'd step out of his tomb and start making zombie musicals.
Ask yourself, is your life so terrible that the only thing keeping you going is the prospect of a new movie coming out for Christmas? If so, I suggest you need to see a psychiatrist, not a movie.
(For the record, I wasn't impressed with the Star Wars trailer. Can't they tell a story that doesn't have to do with prequels or sequels? That galaxy far, far away is starting to feel like a really small place. Also, part of the appeal of the Star Wars universe has always looked lived in, but now it looks like a fine layer of dirt has coated the camera lens, too. Ugh. That's what I want when I go to the movies: to watch a solid gray screen for 2 hours. What's wrong with color, Hollywood?)
Now get off my lawn.
I had a conversation the other day with my father who, like many Americans, believes that the end is nigh. It was mostly the usual stuff: Obama. Gun rights. Big government. Federal debt. Apparently, the Iranian bombs will begin falling any day now.
I was trying to argue him out of his position — I'm not saying things are great, but I don't think we're 30 seconds away from Red Dawn — when my argument was destroyed by five words from my television.
"Artisan French Toast at IHoP."
Ok, Dad. You win. It must be the End of Days if IHoP is serving quality food. The last time I was there, they couldn't manage to give me pancakes.