Ah, and here it is, the remnants of a failed blog.
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A NOTE TO ADVERTISERS ( Feb. 4, 2008 )
Before selecting the music you want to have in your commercial, please stop and think about the lyrics. It won’t take long, I promise. Just take a minute to think about what the lyrics can mean given the context, just to make sure there are no red flags. Here are a couple of simple things you should look out for:
1) MAKE SURE THAT YOUR CLEVER LITTLE PLAY ON WORDS CAN’T BACKFIRE.
For example, take a look at the Target commercials (throughout which they show the phrase “Hello, Goodbuy” to coincide with the music). Now, I’m sure whoever thought that up is probably very please with his/her cleverness, never having stopped to listen to the full lyrics. Now, let’s apply their little play on words to the lyrics, shall we? Hmmm, what was the line? That’s right, “I DON’T KNOW WHY YOU SAY GOODBYE GOODBUY.” Not exactly the message they should want to send, huh?
2) PAY MORE ATTENTION TO WHEN THE MUSIC STARTS.
My absolute favourite example of why this is important is the commercial for that Yaz birth control pill. Here’s a quick recap:
THE GIRL: What if there was a pill that could do more than that?
CUE MUSIC: WE’RE NOT GONNA TAKE IT!
Seriously, what were they thinking?
A SWEET DEAL ( Feb. 6,2008 )
It has come to my attention that these new customizable M&M’s can serve many more sectors of the public than Mars, Inc. is targeting.
Imagine this, you come home one day, look through the mail and spot a bag of customized M&M’s. You happily open and empty the pack to discover that it is filled with pink candies inscribed with messages such as: “PAY UP NOW,” “YOU OWE $1200,” “YOU HAVE ‘TIL THE 1ST ” and, of course, “WE’LL BREAK YOUR LEGS.”
Now that is the way bill collectors need to go. It’s a win-win situation; they get their message across, and the debtor gets a pack of chocolate to cheer them up after the bad news.
Heck, since a majority of Americans are in debt nowadays, even dentists will get a piece of the action thanks to the inevitable rise in cavities.
NEW TERM ( Feb.7,2008 )
Writer’s Rubbish (ri-ters ruhb-ish):
noun Similar to writer’s block, wherein a person is able to write, but continuously trips over his words and must constantly start over and/or rewrite passages due to a lack of translucent sentences and the ongoing presence of blatant stupidity.
COMMON SENSE RESTRICTIONS ( Feb. 8,2008 )
While reading the NY Times, I came across a Kershner article about Israel’s decision to reduce “the amount of electricity it sells to Gaza as part of sanctions against continued rocket fire.”
Wow. Let’s just take a look at the logic here.
In order to get people who are already pissed off (and rightly so) about the fuel supply restrictions and other humanitarian violations to stop shooting rockets at you, start taking away their electricity, thereby making them more desperate and giving them more of a reason to fight back.
Yeah, that’ll do it.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to try and make some new friends by cutting of electricity and supplies to the other dorms.
DAILY SNIPPETS ( Feb. 9, 2008 )
Heard outside of a classroom.
“Global Warming is about as real as Zeus.”
Awww, it’s so good to see that people still believe in the Greek gods.
NEWS FLASH ( Feb. 13, 2008 )
Senate Votes to Euthanize Civil Liberty
The Senate passed a bill on Tuesday allowing for the euthanization of the Right to Privacy. The vote came after many weeks of lengthy and heated debates in the Senate.
“This civil liberty has been doing poorly for years now,” said a Senator, “we are doing the best thing by ‘putting it down’ in the most humane manner possible.”
The Right to Privacy first took ill soon after the September 11th attacks, when the PATRIOT ACT was passed.
Despite the best efforts of the government, the Right to Privacy managed to recover slightly in recent years. However, the improvement was not enough to convince the Senate that a full recovery was possible.
The House is expected to vote on the bill as early as this week.
SPRING, PLEASE ( Feb. 13, 2008 )
That’s it, I’ve had it with winter.
The snow.
The ice.
The evil, freezing wind which waits, lurking, for you to lift your head to see where you are walking before smacking you headlong in the face, sending you reeling backwards, half blind due to your eyeballs having been frozen in their sockets.
And, above all else, the crosswalks that have been coated in a mysterious substance to make them more slippery than ice after even only the slightest dusting of snow. (There is nothing more traumatic than slowing stepping onto the crosswalk only to discover yourself shooting across the street in front of cars and vans, flapping your arms wildly in a futile attempt to keep your balance.)
There is only one thing left to do to make this weather stop.
I must kidnap all the groundhogs.
Don’t try to talk me out of it; it must be done for the good of mankind.
I will kidnap them, then, using systematic desensitization, get them to stop extending winter just because they’re scared of their own damned shadows.
Of course, the groundhogs aren’t the only ones to blame. After all, if Persephone had had the good sense to take a bagged lunch with her to Hades, we wouldn’t have winter in the first place.
POLITICAL CHATTER ( Feb. 16, 2008 )
Throughout the past few months, I have overheard many conversations concerning Hillary and Obama. Surprisingly, a good deal of those conversations involve talk about how good Hillary is, how honest she is, etc.
And, it amazes me that not one person seems to recall the whole Whitewater scandal.
Oh well, that’s selective memory for you.
Note: Don’t take this post as evidence that I support Obama, because I don’t. My candidate dropped out recently.
EASTER’S COMING ( Feb. 18, 2008 )
Almost everyone knows about the traditions of Easter; a large, rogue rabbit runs about on Easter Day hiding the brightly decorated and chocolate-filled children of local chickens in an attempt to create a dialog about the resurrection of Godboy (AKA Jesus).
But on this day, have we ever considered how lucky it is that we went with the Easter Bunny, instead of an Easter Chicken. It was that little decision that now saves us from running about looking for and eating brightly coloured, chocolate-filled rabbit fetuses.
Praise the lord.
