Your Superbowl Ad Sucked—A Public Service Announcement

 Ads have been called the artform of the 21st Century. They can be artful if not art and The Superbowl used to be the SB of ads too. They used to be funny, daring or visually stunning. "Did you see the one with..." or "How did they talk the client into ..." were standard postgame water cooler fare. They used to be a celebration of unbounded creativity, of the big dog let off the leash for one glorious run around the stadium.

Every year the bar would get higher and those of us in advertising and marketing awaited the Big Game Spots with the eagerness of kids at Christmas. There was always one ad with an incredible concept backed by stunning production values that blew everybody away. It was a point of pride that we could share with our civilian friends and family. We could point to the screen and say, see, this is what I'm talking about. This year we all got coal.

Clients, it seem have become more conservative and so have their agencies. In their effort not to offend, they've failed to entertain or innovate. Microsoft runs the same chirpy ads, the same-ish interchangeable jiggly blonde works it for Carl's Junior, the boldest moves were reserved for Budweiser who poked millennial beer snobs (so risky) and Nationwide who cheerily reminded us that death is an important part of life (insurance).

A PSA from creatives, for creatives, a reminder that in Superbowl 2015, the most exciting part of the game, was the game. So be it. Like they're saying in Seattle, there's always next year. And for those of us who've forgotten what shocking, funny and creative look like all bundled together, there's this little gem for a product most Americans will never see or use. But I'm tempted to sign on, just because their ad is so good. Isn't that the point?

Watch it, but maybe not with your boss looking over your shoulder.

Random Olympic closing observations

In no particular order:

Whether you found the opening and closing ceremonies quirkily entertaining or insufferably pompous and my FBF's already know where I stand, the Brits did an amazingly good job.

Brit pop music rocks. It has from the '60's when I was a kid and still does. Continue to invade at will, lads and lasses.

I don't know how they did from a budgeting/profit/loss standpoint, but they pulled the games off without Chinese overkill and with no major delays, no scandals, NO TERRORISM and all in one of the world's largest, busiest, most diverse cities. Well done, London!

This (or something like it) is what Mitt Romney should have said, but we already know he's no statesman or spokesman for American anything. Whatever he was asked when he made his infamous comment, he should have realized that his job wasn't to consult as a former Olympic organizer, but as an American dignitary. The hubris of the man. Epic fail on his part. Mr. PM and Mr. Mayor of London--well-said sirs!

New Toy

Did I ask you for your love?

Did I ask you for your dedication?

I don't want, I don't want your love.

I don't want, I don't want your affection!


Dateline, June 31, 2004

8 years ago,
to the month, I plunked down good money ($1600) for the old desktop. Call it Big Blue Dell. Despite its long service, I don't really harbor any emotional attachment. People love and make love to their computers, mod them, endlessly customizing inside and out, imbue them with personalities—only to chuck them out too soon when the newest shiny box becomes available. But to a writer, a computer ideally, should just be a typewriter. Sure, a typewriter with endless time-squandering fingertip access to a world of knowledge and social engagement, but a typewriter nonetheless. Means to an end.

But when you're on your own, business-wise, your box is not just a toy—it's your work, your productivity, your revenue generator. And when you're on your own, you have to be your own IT and IT training department. So no, I'm not a tech, I don't program or solder, but I've learned a bit about everything. Even when I knew far less, every upgrade I opened my wallet for has to run this gauntlet:

1.    Is it going to make what I do easier, faster or better?
2.    Do I need it now?
3.    How soon can I afford it?

Most of my techno-fancies are felled by the first blow. Few survive all three. These are good rules. Abiding over all is the genetic predisposition to buy smart, agnostic and not very often. Modern technology and its advertising make this very difficult. Device manufacturers want you to buy early and often and that is how their advertising is geared. To build brand loyalty. When the bloom is off the rose and you want to find out how to keep older tech serviceable, well that requires some serious research skills.

I want a New Toy (oh ay oh), to keep my head expanding.
I want a New Toy (oh ay oh), nothing too demanding.
Then when everything is in roses, everything is static
Yeh my New Toy (oh ay oh), you'll find us in the attic.

ARE WE NOT MEN -- Mainly on Masculinity, Learning and "Anti-Social" Media

Last month I spent a marvelous weekend in the company of two of my best friends and their sons. It was a multigenerational, manly weekend, full of beef, beer, boasting, boating and blasting the open road in my friend's Porsche 914.

Manly stuff, including long reminiscent and forward-looking conversations wherein we expressed fears, concerns, hopes for our boys. On the whole, they are like the children of Lake Woebegone, above average lads, and nearly all labor with some degree of academic challenge.


Two speakers at Ted Talks intelligently and eloquently spoke to "boy issues" in academia.



Psychologist Philip Zimbardo asks, "Why are boys struggling?" He shares some stats (lower graduation rates, greater worries about intimacy and relationships) and suggests a few reasons. He stops short of solutions. He tells the audience that it's their job. And no doubt it is – their job and ours.


So what the heck do we do?

Annuals and Decimals--Notes on the Passing Decade

Sweet dreams are made of these

At age 10, I had a dream about my fifth grade class going on a field trip to the moon. I actually entered the gleaming rocket ship and settled into my launch chair, but I never made it. The nuns discovered I'd forgotten my lunch money, so I was kicked off the space ship and left behind. I'd never forgotten that dream, but the last place I expected to be reminded of it was at the premiere of "Tron" this week.

My 16 year old and I settled in for the trailers and I found myself watching this theatrical Kia Optima commercial: "Sweet Dreams"  with a mixture of joy, wonderment and the feeling expressed best by Roberta Flack's "Killing Me Softly." It felt like some evil mf copywriter genius at Park Pictures reached inside my head, extracted the glowing filament that best distilled all my most cherished fantasies and unfulfilled dreams and splashed them on the screen with a tagline "No one ever dreamt of driving a midsized sedan… until now.” The boy driving his bed through his fantasies turned into a driving man who watches in awe as the rocket ship of his dreams lifts off into the cosmos. He's happy in his sleek midsized sedan, but to me, it seems like a poor consolation prize.