2024-11-14
Nano Can Do

This is the second beauty brand she's founded. She launched it four years ago, four years after she stepped down from her first brand...the one she'd launched in '91 and sold to a major company a quarter century ago. And this second brand must be doing something right - either great product or great snow job - 'cuz it's valuation is already approaching a billion.

It's a "clean beauty" brand 'cuz she feels the world doesn't need more beauty products, it needs better ones. And maybe that's exactly what this brand is. Or maybe that's as gratuitous a mega-hype as the one word that turned me off of the whole spiel.

Look, I get that advertisers believe they need to over-hype their offerings just to catch people's attention. I'm willing to allow for a little embellishment when it comes to touting a product's qualities. But if you claim your product can do something so ridiculously impossible as to be snarkable, I will snark.

So when she tells me that I can apply her product in just a nanosecond, I just sigh. 'Cuz no, I can't. She can't. No one can. Ever. And in point of fact, the model in the commersh doesn't apply it all that exceptional fast, either. All I see is a second or two of her starting to apply it to one cheek. Then it's back to the spokesfounder. And I don't care how gentle the product may be, if someone ever did manage to apply it, even that one streak, in one billionth of a second, they'd wear off more than just their fingerprints, to say nothing of the gaping hole where their cheek used to be.

Sorry, beauty guru, but if you told such an egregious beaut about application speed, I have to wonder if you did so just to make some other claims of superiority seem probable by comparison.

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Entries During
2023-2024

2024-11-14 Nano Can Do

2024-11-04 Jaywebbing Jerk

2024-11-01 Roar Riff

2024-10-21 Cannot Do

2024-10-04 Soft on the Head

2024-09-06 Weather Or Not

2024-08-08 Dino Might

2024-07-08 Opposite Poles

2024-06-07 And A Miss

2024-05-16 Birdbrains & Brawn

2024-04-01 Coulda Fooled Me

2024-03-01 Classless Act

2024-02-01 Eww de Toilette

2024-01-03 Doggies Do


2023-01-02 Heads Up

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2024-11-04
Jaywebbing Jerk

This month's "Well DUH" award goes to a decades-old, direct-to-consumer, insurance sales agency. You know the kind: they get your relevant (and somewhat private) info and then check through their semi-massive database to find you the quotes they say can best serve your needs (and, of course, make them money, too).

Now me, I'm more apt to do my own research even if I use such an agency app as one, but never my only, source of info. But that's not what this curmudgeonly jabber is about. What it's about is the absolute idiocy of this choosy agency's dumdum commercial.

A man and a woman have apparently just walked past or out of Livetrends and are stepping down off the sidewalk onto the brick street level. The cars parked at the curb have plenty of space between them 'cuz the parking spacer stripes are far apart enough to accommodate a truck, so the couple can stay side by side. But a second glance will make it clear that there's only one stripe and it isn't long enough to indicate a crosswalk.

No such luck. No second glance. They don't notice. They don't even notice they're jaywaking...while on the web. They're discussing insurance, the guy is wandering the web on his cell phone, and the gal is keeping her attention on her coffee cup and his screen. So they also wander into the path of an oncoming car, which honks at and barely misses them while the distaff half of the pair yells "Watch out!" and belatedly tries to jerk her companion back towards the sidewalk. "Whoa," he says. Which he should've thought to do before wandering into the traffic lane. I guess he really does need some kind of insurance - for his health, life, stupidity, whatever - and soon.

Shift to the agency spokesdude, who starts his pitch with "The unexpected can happen to any of us."

'Scuse me, desk dude. I realize wandering into traffic with all my focus on my cell phone (one of which I don't actually have, or want, any more) is par for the course nowadays. Jaywebbing's a trend in pedestrian inanity that certainly doesn't conduce to staying alive. So you, your ad agency, your company just lost me. I don't remember anything else that came after the almost-"accident". (If it's due to your obvious obliviousness, it's not really an accident, is it?) 'Cuz I'm not oblivious enough to think that getting run over while jaywebbing should be considered UNexpected.

P.S. And no, I don't know why the cartoon above has traffic lights facing both ways (or maybe the wrong way) on what's apparently a one-way street. Maybe the cars are coming off reversible expressway lanes. You know the kind: lanes that are inbound to the city center in the morning rush hour and outbound in the evening rush. Or maybe the cartoonist was making their own statement about silly people. Or just had their own brain-blip. I just know that, while I caught the glitch, I didn't want to spend a lot of time "fixing" it...and probably doing a half-baked job of it, to boot. Hmmm, maybe that's what happened at the ad and sales agencies. But hey, they were getting/spending beau coup bucks on advertising, and I'm not. Big difference.

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2024-11-01
Roar Riff

I don't normally write about non-national commercials, but this particular group of automobile dealerships (and don't forget their used-car superstore affiliation) is scattered throughout a couple of dozen locations in the Midwest, so they do advertise on a regional basis. The auto group founder's name started with a syllable that sounds like what a full-maned lion does when he's declaring himself king of the beasts. So that's the theme they've been going with for years, continuing even after his death in 2020.

It started with a lion in their logo. Then an old-style cartoony animated lion. Then a more textured CGI lion. Always with the same pun: "word ROARRRRR-word". It got old fast, so I mostly tuned the ads out.

But the one I've been seeing - or, more to the point, hearing - lately makes me laugh. Not with. AT!

First of all, I associate it visually with that Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom scene where - in an unparalleled thumbnail of Michael Crichton's cautionary tale about human arrogance run riot, thinking we can dominate and exploit nature without repercussions - a lion arrogantly stands atop a rocky pedestal and roars at a T. Rex. Who roars in return with a blast that lays the lion's ears back. (Any questions re who outlived their declaration of dominance? No? I thought not.)

But more to the point, this CGI semi-cartoonish, lean enough to look sorta starved, auto-group lion also jumps up on a promontory - the top of a car, of course, and who's going to buy it with a dent or claw gouges? - and lets out a mighty roar. Only, not so much. I mean really, to me it sounds not like the savannah's apex predator challenging all comers but the big-cat version of housecat Angel trying to barf up a hairball.

Not a ROAR, but a Roar-cougH. Not very punny, just pretty puny. Oh well.

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2024-10-21
Cannot Do

This is another example of how editing a longer (in this case, 30-second) into a shorter version (15-second, here) leads to confusing continuity issues.

In the short version, we see a pair of under-pressure auto shop entrepreneurs discussing their need to hire more people fast to to catch up on their overabundance of vehicles in need of work.

Let's never mind questioning whether I'd want my vehicle (if I owned one) serviced by an employee whom someone hired practically on the spot, so who knows how well they vetted her/him and whether I and those around me would be satisfied and even safe with a vehicle s/he handled in such a rush.

Anyway, the light-shirted guy to our left suggests they acquire a speedy business loan. And the dark-shirted guy to our right flippantly claims "I've got this," Then he hollers out "Loan cannon!"

Suddenly, a cannon bursts through the wall and blasts him with wads of money. During which he equally suddenly trades places with the light-shirted guy, who is now standing to our right with the dark-shirted dude on our left. How did they do that? Did one or both of them teleport himself? I thought that self-teleportation was a superpower reserved by and for cats (and Pern dragons), such as here and here.

And let's never mind (a) would those bills actually survive being shot out of a cannon for long and strongly enough to actually impact someone, make him flinch, and rock him back off his solid stance? 'Cuz if so, (b) what dummkopf decided to risk actor Max Crandall's life like that? And why did Crandall let him? Didn't they ever hear of Jon-Erik Hexum, the actor who accidentally killed himself with a blank (that is, wadded paper or cotton) cartridge in an on-set handgun?

So then, the narrator does a pretty bland show-and-tell about the loan company the commersh is touting. After which, we switch back to the pair in the auto shop. And wouldn't you know it, character Larry of the dark shirt is back on our right again. Though admittedly, he wouldn't have had to teleport that time; he coulda just walked around to the original side again while the narrator waxed eloquent.

Well, given how jokey and confusing the advert is, it took me way too many (and there have been SO many) reps to even vaguely remember what was being advertized. (Though admittedly, googling it was a snap, but how many people would bother?) So, did the advertizer really get all the best bang for their buck? 'Cuz I sure won't be going to them for any.

[ASIDE] I saw the 15-second version many, too many times before I eventually saw the 30-second version, which I found out existed when I went online. In the longer version, we realize that the loan cannon has come through the wall out of their line of sight, so they turn around to see it, then turn back again. Which explains why they seemed to switch sides in the shorter version. But since the longer-version camera angle switched with them, understanding still came wa-a-ay too late for me to be happy about all the energy I'd wasted uselessly trying to suss it all out on the fly. [/ASIDE]

And don't get me started on the equivalent idiocies of the companion Loan Falcon ad. I'd be screaming, too. Not in fear of the bird. In outrage at the money-grubbing inanity of it all.

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2024-10-04
Soft on the Head

For some reason, I never saw the longer commercials for the product I'm riffing on today. Probably because it didn't really apply to me, so I never paid attention after the first few seconds. But when the shortest version came out, it got to the end soon enough for me to go "huh" when it finished.

The reason the longer versions didn't flare on my radar is that they addressed a problem I don't have. And the reasons I don't have that problem are (1) all the incoming plumbing in my home is less than 20 years old and (2) Chicago's treated water comes from Lake Michigan rather than from groundwater (spring, wells, etc). In general, surface water is softer than groundwater. And Lake Michigan water is so relatively soft that, for example, cooling towers using the Lake's water don't even have to soften it at all. Which is an economic and environmental boon, 'cuz they don't have to use 20% of their water to regenerate softeners, don't have to buy salt, and thus don't add chloride to their run-off into the ecosystem.

OK, so I finally sat through the company's most recent short ad. One that you really need to have seen the longer adverts in order to get the "punch line" of the commersh. But remember, I didn't have that background.

So this lady lets me know that she's become pretty conscious and careful about her drinking water being well filtered. OK, I get that, even though - for the reasons stated above - I have no trouble drinking water straight from my taps (though admittedly, I like to refrigerate it).

Then she tells me that she had never thought about the water coming out of her shower. Well, that's not something that I'd think about, either. After all, if I can drink water from my tap, I can certainly bathe or shower in it without being angsty.

Then she exudes that she finally got this whiz-bang special filtered shower head. Well, good for her. Mine is only a couple of years old, too. And it works just fine. So well that, like my sink spigots, I don't have to clean away buildup very often at all. Not even annually.

And then she tells me the new gizmo changed her life. Well, that's interesting. Can you elucidate, please? How did it change your life? Can it change mine, too? Maybe I can learn something.

Only she DOESN'T. She stops there. So I'm supposed to, I dunno, guess?

Well, that bites. I mean, yeah, I finally did figure it out. Though only because I grew up in foothill country. Harder water for sure. But that was over half a century ago. And I don't really remember what that harder water was like ... not without thinking hard about it.

Which, wait a minute, isn't thinking hard the last thing most advertisers want us to do? After all, thinking hard reins in impulsiveness. Thinking hard is more apt to generate questions than dollars. Thinking hard is the opposite of what most commercials want from us. (Yeah, there are some exceptions. But I doubt this ad was intentionally one of them. Maybe the longer versions, but not this truncated one.)

Well, I don't have to think too hard to know I don't need this product. Even if it would be worth all the extra bucks to someone with really hard water. And I don't mean hard water like on Antarctica. Just sayin'.

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2024-09-06
Weather Or Not

I have previously made comments about the oh-so-white insurance company's "Becoming Their Parents" series of adverts. Like calling them out on their ageism and expressing how unbearably unlikable I find their spokescharacter to be. (Maybe it's Bill Glass's fault; he's too good at giving us an egregious grump.)

In general, I'm not amused by the constant refrain that "becoming your parents" is a death knell devoutly to be avoided. My parents are no longer alive, but I still resent the implication that they were - simply by virtue of how many years they succeeded in surviving on this planet - somehow unworthy of any honor or emulation whatsoever. I certainly hope I reflect positive traits they modeled for or inspired in me. They weren't [perfect, of course. Neither am I. And neither is "parenta-life coach" Dr. Rick! He just acts like he is.

This time, though, he goes to extremes to be not only officious but also oblivious to the obvious. (At least he's in people's homes, not berating them out in public.) But he constantly bemoans the fact that various people are, ostensibly like their parents, becoming obsessed with the weather.

= One white guy whistles at the burgeoning shenanigans of the jet stream.
= Another tells his friend on the phone about the term "atmospheric river". Hey, I  for one love learning new terms, especially for things in nature.
= A black guy simply mentions the excessive amount of rainfall he's experiencing to a phone friend. Who may, after all, be a neighbor experiencing the same downpour, or a distant friend who lives where such weather doesn't happen.
= A white lady gets a phone alert about a flood warning in Louisiana. She'd certainly care if, say, she had loved ones there.
= Atmospheric-river guy exudes about the wonders one can perform with a green screen. Well, I like that tech, too. It's interesting to watch when it succeeds and, admittedly, fun to catch when it goes a little wonky.
= A brother comments on the fact that it looks like a particular weather forecast was too conservative. Well, they can't always get it right (more about that later).
= Atmos-river dude goes on to explain "dew point" to another (or the same, again) phone buddy, which for some unknown reason seems to bother his wife. But "dew point" temperature used to confuse the heck outa me, so I was glad when someone explained it to me in simple terms.
= And finally, jet-stream whistler questions whether he's seeing cumulus clouds.

[ASIDE] Dew point is a better predictor of summer comfort level than the "relative humidity" percentage is. RH comfort-level calculation morphs with the actual temperature, while DP comfort-level holds true all summer: 55F or less is dry and comfortable 'cuz your sweat can easily evaporate and cool you; 55F to 65F is sticky or muggy and the air must be breezy to cool you; 65F or more is oppressive and harder to breathe in 'cuz there's so much water vapor mixed in with the oxygen you need that the air feels "heavy" in your lungs.

OTOH, if the dew point is, say, above 32F when snow is likely in winter, chances are the result will be more sleety than snowy. Which is important to me 'cuz I can handle walking in a foot of snow, but not walking on sleet-slicked pavement.

And BTW, did you know that if your indoor temperature reaches 95F or higher, not only can't a fan alone cool you, it will actually cause your body temperature to increase! Word to the wise. [/ASIDE]

Now, my first question is: Why is this supposed professional sitting in his office mouthing off on-camera to an interviewer - or random somebody? - about his clients. Not the kind of "pro" I'd want to go to.

Secondly: With his attitude, how can he possibly inspire any kind of change in his clients, never mind a positive one. The only thing he'd inspire me to do is show him my front door. Firmly. On his way out. For the first and final time.

Thirdly: Has Dr. Rick been paying any attention to what the weather's doing in and to his own life? 'Cuz he obviously doesn't have a clue what it's been doing to anyone else's.

I alluded to this before, when I talked about weathercasters being wrong sometimes. Now, when I was a kid, weather "forecasting" was a cultural joke. Then it started improving. Scientists studied the weather more, and learned more a about how it operates (even including the butterfly effect). Then computers came along, which could crunch more data faster, and IT people built improved models that meteorologists everywhere could access. Weathercasters still had to interpret the results, but they got better at it. And then....

Man-made climate change happened ... and happened faster than nature -  and weathercasters - could adjust. The predictions still work most of the time, but surprises have started happening more and more often. And people are apt to blame the forecasters. Only, it isn't really their fault. There's just more and bigger butterfly effects now ... more chaos-theory repercussions.

Which we damn well need to be paying more attention to. 'Cuz it does damn well affect our daily lives. Despite all the oblivious-to-the-obvious, naysaying Dr. Ricks around us.

Three Chicago examples, 'cuz they definitely affect me and mine:

1. While not too terribly affected by hurricanes (yet), Chicagoland now has more tornados in a year, sometimes in a day, than it used to have in a decade or even, farther back, a century. (In July, for example, we had 17 in two days. And I was definitely worried the day Rey was going to a call out on a runway as I watched a tornado move in on O'Hare Airport.) This is 'cuz we've moved into Tornado Alley. No, that's not right. We're still where we always were. Rather, because of global warming, Tornado Alley has moved over us. Plus, we used to just see rope and cone tornados, and now we're seeing more ===> wider, longer-lasting wedge tornados. At the rate the Alley's moving, is Wisconsin or Canada far behind?

2. Between melting ice caps and higher evaporation rates over the warming oceans, coastal water levels are rising everywhere. And Chicago is a coastal city on the inland sea (Great Lakes system, the largest fresh-water repository on the face of the planet). And we're losing coastline. I live within walking distance of a site where the coast eroded so far in that the east end of a residential street turned into a sinkhole. One so big that tourtisty people came to see it. Granted Chicago is over 500' above sea level. But if Lake Michigan ever fills back up to its original level, my building will be under water.

3. The Great Lakes have storms capable of eating large ships. But now we're seeing occurrences we didn't used to face. Rey frequents Chicago's <=== large, tranquil, breakwall-protected Playpen, home to crowds of jet skiers and small boaters. He loves to jet ski. And he's good at it. In fact, he won both heats of the first jet ski races ever run at our Air & Water Show. And he has many fellow aquatics who let him stage from their boats. But Labor Day weekend this year saw such high winds, waves, and rip currents that people at the beach were warned not to swim, the piers were closed, the Lakefront Trail was unsafe, and even the Playpen was so turbulent that news film crews found only one lonely boat braving the waves there. Needless to say, Rey didn't get any jet skiing in ... didn't even bother going to the lake.

We've gotta pay attention to this stuff. And any company that insists on trying to make money by ignoring or denying there's an issue, or turning it into a joke, is on my washout list.

I urge you to find three such examples in your life. And pay attention to them. And act like you care, too. Regardless of what the reprehensible Ricks around us have to say about it. Ignore them. Better yet, start ignoring the products and services they tout ... and maybe even letting them know why.

P.S. The semi-fine print in the commersh also tells me: "Not available in all states." Really? I could understand it being not available in some states. But in all of them? In the whole country? Then why are you bothering to advertise?

P.P.S. Maybe something this heavy shoulda gone in Abiding Blog. But no, I shouldn't go shoving readers into unvarying silos. Reading outside the box is good for folks, don't you agree?

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2024-08-08
Dino Might

Hmmm, they want you to use their asthma rescue inhaler. 'Cuz the one you're using now is a dinosaur. After all, yours just treats your symptoms; theirs treats your symptoms plus inflammation, one of the causative factors.

Wait a minute. what about the other two causative factors: bronchospasm and mucus over-production? Well, okay, never mind; let's not make the perfect an enemy of the bettter. At least it's a start. And I'm not going to get into the warning labels for this product, 'cuz possible side effects happen with any medication. Especially new ones.

No, if I had asthma and needed to carry a rescue inhaler, I might, indeed, very well consider theirs. Only....

I'm sorry, but the optics make me disinclined to change. 'Cuz, I mean, look at that cute, comfy, little ol' dinosaur. Obviously not built to be a raptor; so, herbivorous. He's like a big ol' puppy dog. A Great-Great-Great Dane of puppy dogs, yes? Takes up too much space. Get's in the way sometimes. Begs attention. Wants to go with you everywhere. Alternately nuzzles you and hangs outa the car window when you're driving. But look at that look ... typical doggie unconditional love. Even waves forgivingly at you when you ship him off in a cab with somebody else.

And it's kind of a turnoff when, shut of his dino, the guy even seems to smirk a bit at someone who's walking by him with a dog-sized dog.

I dunno, the important underlying focus on asthma rescue aside, I think they missed the mark by making the dino too much fun. I mean, if I had a real-live, big-ass, old-school dinosaur who loved me (and not for dinner), even a dull green one who hasn't evolved any feathers yet (as opposed to the newfangled, smaller, colorful, flying kind which, after all, I can buy at my local pet store), what would I do?

I'd hang onto it. Yeah, it'd probably be expensive. I mean, how much would even just the license cost? Never mind food and dinohouse and transportation ('cuz I don't drive) and dinowalkers/-sitters when I have to be away?

But I could probably make a mint, too. Training the old dino to do new tricks. Ya know, show-and-tells everywhere from grade schools to paleontology symposia. Dino rides at carnivals and fairs (and even faires). Starring roles in Hollywood B movies. Unbeatable act on the Strip in Vegas. Etc., etc., etc.

Whaddaya think? What would you do?

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2024-07-08
Opposite Poles

Look, I think the statuesque insurance company's avian ads are sometimes pretty funny. I don't get all bent out of shape about treatment of animals 'cuz, while they do film live animals as templates, they use CGI to get their lead and supporting avians to look like and do what they do.

But their latest spate of ads, though they are individually humourous, are confusing and contradictory when taken in tandem. One is, like, 15 seconds long, the other 30. And while they were apparently shot at the same time in the same place, and use some of the same footage, they conflict with each other in punchline.

Both versions feature our intrepid lead-billing avian, his usual second-billing non-avian sidekick, an alarm, the lead's verbal warning ("Squawk."), and the camera following the sidekick as he slides down a firepole to the bottom and then stands there. But things do diverge.

In the short version, the sidekick slides briskly (and swooshily) down one apparent level from his office to the parking floor, sees the lead avian, and expresses surprise.

In the long version, the sidekick slides slo-o-o-o-owly (and squeakily) down a double-length pole, greets and is acknowledged by his chief on the floor between his office floor and the parking floor, finally reaches the bottom, stands there reacting to how the friction made his upper limbs feel, sees the avian, and expresses surprise.

Restrictions: First of all, you:

= do NOT ever never go down a firepole more than one story tall;
       (This is imperative. See here how one 3-story firehouse solved this.
       If your screen resolution matches mine, the story should start with
       the last paragraph you can see onscreen: The other kind of "house"....
       Also, scroll below there to the picture of the solution if you want to. )
= do not go down with the skin of your arms or legs unprotected; and
= do not use your hands to control your slide; or you
= will get badly friction-burned
= and fall before you're halfway down.

Instructions: This is how you go down a firepole (if you have the sense God gave an amoeba, never mind an avian):

= Put your hands tightly on the poll at chest height.
= Pull your torso to the pole while wrapping your legs tightly around it to control your slide.
= Once held in place, loosen but do not release the grip of your hands.
= Wrap your stronger arm around the pole so as to hold it in the crook of your elbow.
= Position that hand on the pole at about neck height
= Position your other hand on the pole above your head.
= Place that other arm over the stronger arm at an angle that holds it steady.
= Gently release some of your leg-hold to start your careful slide.
= Steady your descent with your upper body (your hands should not have this job).
= When your feet are on the surface at the bottom of the pole, release your grip.
= Move quickly away to make room so anyone coming down behind you can also land safely.

Pretty much none of which the sidekick does.

[ASIDE] Naturally, I shared this entry up to this point with Number One Son, Rey the Chicago Firefighter. Real one, not on TV. Though he did work on that show for a bit as a BG actor in Season 1, but got bored. (Where did I go wrong?) And he chuckled and said that I forgot the very first restriction, wihch is "DO NOT NEVER EVER go down a firepole head first."  Ohh-kaay, I stand corrected. [/ASIDE]

But what's most confusing is the very ends of the two versions. 'Cuz they contradict each other.

In the short version, when the sidekick reaches bottom, he sees the lead exit an elevator. And said sidekick expresses surprise that there IS an elevator. Gotta wonder how he missed that on the way in. Climbed up the facade of the building, maybe?

In the long version, he sees the lead exit the elevator. Looks up at the empty pole. And expresses surprise that the avian wasn't right behind him coming down the pole.

Look at the chronology. Say there reallywere two different alarms that the pair responded to.

If the 30-second version happened earlier, then the sidekick wouldn't be surprised that there was an elevator in the 15-second version 'cuz he'd already have seen the lead using it.

OTOH, if the 15-second version happened earlier, then the sidekick would never again be surprised that there was an elevator. So by time the 30-second version came around later, he'd know the lead was going to use the elevator rather than follow him down the pole. Especially with the lead knowing its sidekick is dumb enough to stand around at the bottom of the pole instead of getting the peck outa the way.

Sorry, you can have one, or you can have the other, but you can't have both.   Just sayin'.

P.S. In my mind, I had the PERFECT picture to put up there, But I couldn't find a copy, despite at least two hours' research (including email dialog with an expert on Chicago history) spread out over several days. Dear reader, have you or anyone you know taken or found a pic of the "Going Up or Going Nowhere?" building-facade (646 N Franklin, I think) sculpture just west and a bit above eye level of Chicago's from-north-to-Loop L tracks? Please email me a copy. I'll credit you...
       ...and move (not delete) the pic I have above of activist  "Spider Dan" Goodwin in his Spidey suit climbing the 1,454-foot (then tallest building in the world) Sears Tower in Chicago with suction cups attached to his hands and feet. (I think he also carried cams and sky hooks, but I don't know if he used them much - or at all - during the 7-hour climb.) All this despite efforts by firefighters, the first responders he was demonstrating for, to interrupt his climb. (On his second Chicago climb, the Hancock, the then mayor told the firefighters and police not to try to stop him midclimb, just to wait for him at the top.) And yes, you read all of that right. No one had ever climbed a building that tall, and he did it with no parachute, no safety lines, no net. Heavens!!!

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2024-06-07
And A Miss

Two months ago, I registered a rant here about an ad for the conspicuous cellphone company that had a conspicuous lack of black representation. And I've gotta assume I wasn't the only person to protest. There must've been a reasonable amount of blowback. 'Cuz the company's newest ad featuring the spokesman in the (think DoC-jumpsuit) orange sweater apparently took a swing at remedying the innate racism. And it coulda been a hit. I was even rooting for the company and ad agency to get a solid hit. Maybe not a homer, but at least a two-bagger. But....

Let's leave aside the fact that they're pushing their corporate stores, of which there are to-date fewer than thirty, in fewer than ten states, so not real convenient for most folks.  (I leave it to you, dear, reader, to research how many of those stores serve diverse communities. I think I know, but let me know if you discover I'm wrong.) ) Let's give 'em the benefit of the doubt that they're still in the capacity-building stage.

And let's leave aside the negative optic that there's only one customer, (Or maybe two, 'cuz the one we see enter the store while the spokesdude is outside is not wearing the same outfit as the one we see once we're inside. Maybe that second person is being served by the other employee we only see an orange sleeve of.) Maybe they couldn't afford a bunch of background actors, but we're supposed to assume there's lots of customers in the part of the store we don't see...but which I didn't.

Anyway, as far as I can tell:

= There's no black customers in the store.
= There is an orange-overshirted black employee passiovely standing around, hands demurely folded.
= Unlike the spokesperson, she must show the company logo and name tag so foks'll know she belongs there.
= And all she gets to do for the first third of the 2-minute commercial is stand around silently.
= She doesn't get to reach out to or even acknowledge the existence of her customer(s)
= Even when the guy gestures as if introducing her, turns out he's just gesturing at the phones near her.
= 40 seconds in, she finally gets 6 lines amounting to a whole 15 words (not counting a throat-clearing).
= And I swear they tried for the most inconspicuous, innocuous, diminished character they could cast.
= For over 25 seconds from when she comes into frame till her first line, she just looks up at the guy. Or just at the cellphone in his hand.
= A trend that continues except for the few seconds whenever she has a line.
= In fact, she always looks to him when he's speaking, while he reciprocates maybe half the time.
= And I do mean she looks up, 'cuz she barely reaches his shoulder joint, while her shoulder is near his elbow.
= Talk about being made to look less than...especially when they're shooting from his waist up.
= And as he blathers on, her only "acting action" is to hand him 5 phones in succession.
= But when they finally let her go off on her own to do her thing, he manages to lose track of her completely.
= That's right, he assumes she's locked in place and doesn't even look to check if he's right. Not funny.
= Did I mention she doesn't even get to deliver all the female-voice lines?
= Nope, by far, most of the female-voice lines are delivered as voiceovers by another female.
= One we only see - headphones, mic, screen, et al - in the last 5 seconds...and yeah, she's white.

Okay, maybe just for trying, they should get credit for first base. Personally, though, I think the sister in the magnificent micro-braids is being mostly macro-trivialized. But maybe that's just me.

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2024-05-16
Birdbrains & Brawn

So this pair of spokesbirds.... No, that's not right.

Umm, so this pair of spokespigeons are.... Nope, that's not quite it either.

Okay, so this pair of ANTIspokespigeons for this provider of linear TV service are discussing a recent innovation. One whereby the TV service can be provided on the stream. While admitting that the service provides a really great picture and lots of channels, they're complaining that the new technology deprives them of the great resting places they're accustomed to.

And like the whole series of these ads, this one is kinda fun. Steve Buscemi is super as bitter Bobby and Henry Winkler is hilarious as fumbling Frank. As they check out the menu of major-league ballgames on the screen, Bobby gets sidetracked by another pet peeve. And boy-oh-boy, is he piqued (in both senses of hte word) as well as beaked.

"Think about this," he demands in high dudgeon, "blue jays, cardinals, orioles. What's missing?"

Frank the optimist thinks BIG; so what's the biggest bird in the world? (The biggest flying bird. He obviously doesn't consider the truly biggest bird to be of any import, 'cuz he can fly and ostriches can't. 'Nuff said.)

"Andean condor?" he wonders. Correctly. Except I guess he doesn't watch ice hockey.

"No, walnut-brain," Bobby retorts. "Pigeons! They'd rather name a team after SOCKS."*

"To be fair," Frank admits, "we're not very athletic."

Really? What a stupid line for a writer to give a city pigeon, aka rock dove (the original species from which all the fancy breeds also came). I'm surprised Frank AND Bobby didn't irately object to the director re having to deliver that line. Self-deprecating is one thing, and there's some of that in Frank. But disparaging your whole species? The writers thought that was nice? Or even true?

Excuse me, but how athletic are the writers? Especially in comparison:

= Can they pull their whole body up into the air at will? Without a bar to pull up on?

= Can they flap their arms hard and fast enough to fly? At more than 50 to 90 miles in an hour? 500 to 800 miles in a day?

= Can they, while standing, lift twice their body weight?  Carry some 20% of their weight while in flight?

= Can they do synchronized close-order aerobatics, never falling behind and never crashing into another flyer? Even in very windy weather?

= Can they not only walk a current-carrying tightrope but even go to sleep on it? Ditto a string course?

= Can they, after being dropped in a distant location they've never been in or even seen before, navigate their way home - as much as 1,300 miles - without GPS or even a compass? (OK, they actually do have GPS and a compass. They're born with it.) And sometimes get back home even before the person who transported them to the release point does.

= Can they build a home? With their hands "tied" behind their back, relying on feet and mouth alone to handle their tools?

= Can they show us the military medals they won for saving lives and winning battles in two world wars?

= Can they - if males - dance and soar long and energetically enough, with precise enough choreography, to attract the finest life-long mate? And help nurse the babies? (Yes, female and male pigeons exude a form of milk to feed their young. And it's richer in protein and fat than human or even cow's milk.)

Not very athletic? Show me some writer (or, for that matter, some action-hero actor) who can do all that and I'll agree s/he deserves the appellation "The Rock Dove".

*Should we tell Bobby about the New York Pigeons? Maybe even show him a pic and the team logo? (Yep, pigeons can recognize all the alphabet's letters, photos and even diffferent people in the same photo, and themselves in a mirror.) Would he be partly mollified or even more petulant?

And sorry, city pidges, but if you're living in Chicago, ya gotta be down with the White Sox (even if your heart belongs to the Cubs). Or if in Boston, ya gotta look to the Red Sox, 'cuz the Boston Doves flew the coop over a century ago (and eventually landed as the Braves in Atlanta).

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2024-04-01
Coulda Fooled Me

The conspicuous cellphone company brags about not owning any towers. It's true; instead, they have handshakes with the alpha company and, for future use, the high-tea company. So they wax very expressive about all the products and services you can get at lower costs. Well, maybe.

At least their spokesguy does take you on an interesting (for such a mundane company) tour of HQ. (Assuming you ain't acrophobic. And can duck walk.) And since they target the 55+ market, you'd think I might be interested. Only I'm pretty unimpressed by the end of the ad. Actually, almost from the start, but I'll get to that as I end this article.

See, they've been located - intentionally, I'd assume - for almost 30 years in a small suburban town of about 55,000 people. And that choice of  location certainly shows up in their commersh. Wherein they show at least 40 staff members, at their jobs and in a staff group photo. (Wow, when did they do it, that they could afford to have that many staff NOT on the job?)

And boy howdy, is one fact blatantly obvious through the commercial. 'Cuz, unless I'm totally missing something, they have only a meager handful of black staff members. Not one of whom got even one non-chorus (yeah, everyone got to holler a group "hi" at you one time) line, which might've meant additional money, folks. And only one of whom got to sit in the bottom (front) half of the photo "bleachers" where he could be clearly seen even by people like me with age-related loss of visual acuity. Naturally, being in a suburb with only 1.3% black population could account for that. But again, they chose to HQ there. Plus which, they're only about 15 minutes away from the state's megacity that's 5.9% black in a population of at least 645,000 (bigger than the next four or five large cities combined), so definitely a bigger labor pool to draw from if you actually want to.

But even that employment inequity didn't seem quite as blatant compared to, for example, the ads by the guy I definitely do not get my pillows from.

No, the script (which coulda worked with minor mods) already had me disinclined. From about 10 seconds into the 2-minute advert. When the spokesguy first insults me as possibly being too stupid to know a good deal when I see one; then offers to give me, and I quote, "a minute" to smarten up. And then only gives me 4 lousy seconds! If I can't even trust the dude to be honest about how much time he's gonna give me, why should I trust his company to be honest about anything it says it's gonna give me?

Just askin'.

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2024-03-01
Classless Act

Alan's obsessed with his new bike. I mean REALLY obsessed. Seems to bring it into every conversation. Such as when he gently brags about his new acquisition to his three workmates sitting around the table at the sidewalk cafe he rode up to. And yeah, that could get old.

Still, they make sure to remind him that his workplace is the nation's #1 motorcycle insurer. [ASIDE] Note that they don't ID by what criterion it's considered #1. So let's guess: Number of policies sold? Dollar amount of policies sold? Size of sales force? Highest profit margin? Number of claims paid? Number of claims denied? Most customer kudos? Most customer complaints? Highest ROI for investors? Etc. Who knows? How slippery. Like an Orient* on an oil slick. [/ASIDE] After which, his most curmudgeonly colleague gets on his case about wedging his new ride into everything. By which we assume she means verbally, not physically (though some doubt is raised later on.) Which he, of course, doesn't think he does.

Cut to an art gallery. (Or whatever it is. And why would he be there now with his team leader? Both of them still in their company togs?) Where he and she are gazing at an abstract painting consisting of a mottled tan rectangle covering the top half of the canvas and a mottled gray rectangle covering the bottom half. Which, he tells her, reminds him of his bike. She doesn't say anything, but she certainly gives him one of those looks.

Cut to a man-on-the-street interview, him with an out-of-frame reporter's mike in his face, talking about the wolf he spotted in the neighborhood. OK, I can dig that. We have such wildlife in Chicago. Coyotes, coywolves, and wolves. Mostly in the forest preserves. But caught on camera, during the pandemic lockdown, even loping through the Loop without a care in the world. But unlike our obsessor, I don't think anyone ever compared one to their new motorcycle...which "Have you seen it, by the way?"

Cut to grandma's birthday party. Where he presents her with a cake decorated, you guessed it, with a motorcycle. To which his wife(?), sister(?), hired caregiver(?) responds "Really?" (And why is the curmudgeonly colleague there with him? Both of them still in their company togs?)

Oh look, back to the art gallery (Has a TARDIS, too, does he?), where he starts explaining in depth why the painting reminds him of his bike. Oh, poor put-upon Flo. Or so her expression tells us.

One more cut, to him showing up at the very posh party his third colleague is throwing in his very fancy digs with his very beautiful wife. The naive colleague who's repeatedly, mercilessly ridiculed by almost everyone he works with. (Except the first time they all visited his home and were flabbergasted at its size, how gorgeous and loving his wife was, and all the celebs he had there.)

Said young man welcomes Alan with a huge smile and wide-open door. Until Alan introduces his plus-one. And yeah, you guessed it, it's the motorcycle. At which point, his host slams the door in his face.

It was actually halfway humorous up to that point. But then it ticked me off. After all, if anyone should've had some semblance of sympathy for Alan's naive plight - which isn't gonna last forever, after all, 'cuz the "new" is gonna wear off sometime - shouldn't it be the guy who has to put up with that kind of sarcastic abuse every day himself?

Just sayin'.

Oh, and for the second time in three months, there's another commersh kudo with a relationship to this month's ad takedown here. But once again, you'll have to go to this month's Abiding Blog to read about it. In an opposite take from this article, it's about a real class act.

*First ever USA production motorcycle.

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2024-02-01
Eww de Toilette

Hey, she's a pretty handy gal. Uses an app to determine what's wrong with her toilet and how to fix it. Has the tank uncovered and everything. And is told it's a minor issue and she can fix it now and be done with it.

By gum, she's "Done!" that fast. In one fell swoop. Well, not quite yet. But even before she actually fixes the chain, she starts singing "We fixed this toilet on video!" And for all I know, she got transported to an alien starship or something. 'Cuz she's suddenly surrounded by eighteen spinning dancers in floofy white skirts. And - we see from above - the toilet is sitting off-center in a mandala of some sort.

After which she actually fixes the chain. And then, and I kid you not, she opens the bowl's seat cover. And flushes the toilet (begging the question: where's all the water going?). And stands right next to it the whole time.

At which point, I have to question not only her smarts but whether the guy on the phone has any, either? 'Cuz he doesn't bat an eye as she stands there. Doesn't advise her to close the seat cover, turn her back, or at least close her mouth.

Come on, expert, the toilet seat is covered with a lid for more  reasons than just to sit on. The rush of flush actually aerosolizes some of the tainted water and spews it up and out about six feet. There was no reason to lift the cover in the first place. Get it together. Put the seat cover down. (OR if there is no cover: Quickly step away. Turn your back. At least cover your face. 'Cuz you can wash off your hands easier and better than you can wash out your eyes, mouth, nose, throat, and lungs).

So, no way! Shut the front door. EWW!

P.S. General quibble: The "experts" in this cluster of fix-it adverts - the three I've seen so far, anyway - are all dudes. Why couldn't they have shown at least one being female?

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2024-01-03
Doggies Do

Nice to be back again, so let's just jump right into it.

She saved so much money on her car insurance - with the statuesque insurance company, of course, 'cuz there's the mascot back there over her right shoulder - that she started a small business. Dog walking. Easy. Nothing to be nervous about. After all, it's just walking, right?

Yeah. So she's on the waterside boardwalk with five varied sitting dogs in leashed harnesses. And one little tyke held in her left arm. Well behaved, they seem. As well they should be.

After all, most dog-walking services regularly require by contract that the dog being walked - more than just not being all aggressive - is responsive to (a) a call to return and (b) a calming technique. Always.

Especially when encountering not only other humans and canines but also felines, <--- Leporidae, and rodents. Especially -- oh, my! -- the dreaded, demoniacally addictive, must-chase Sciurus --->.

So, what are the warning flags? Well, let's see: The leashes are attached to the harnesses on the spine side. Not the best connection, as distractive control is much easier with leashes attached on the chest side. Then there's the number of dogs, especially for an inexperienced dog walker. To say nothing of the disparate sizes. Along with which, how does carrying a dog constitute "walking" it

All of these idiocies can probably be chalked up to the fact that - with a mere $700 to invest in her business start-up - she obviously didn't have anything to invest in expert training, an internship, or even consultative advice. I'm surprised if it even paid for registering and licensing her business, getting bonded and liability insurance, and developing a website, business cards, and contracts. But what do I know?

Oh, wait, I DO know. During my decade in a minority small business development corporation (which she could've obviously used), rising to Director of Education & Training, I even wrote three books on starting your own small business: on business planning, management, and financials. When Reaganomics dictated that minority small businesses were no longer of any importance (talk about defunding civic agencies!), at least one of the Small Business Administration programs picked up the three books and used them until changes in technology and business models made them obsolete. Oh, well.

Anyway, back at the commersh, you can guess things were about to come apart. And sure enough, a bunny* comes slowly hopping along the boardwalk. Which is ridiculous in and of itself; 'cuz I don't care how urbanized a wild bunny is, it ain't gonna willingly approach a pack of dogs, with or without human in tow. Especially not on a large flat surface with neither hiding places from nor obstacles to any predators apt to give chase. Even more so, it wouldn't go back and forth at a ridiculously unconcerned pace.

Naturally, it's the little dog that's the most feisty. And the most unrestrained by the dog walker. Not wearing a harness at all, just a collar. Oh, and a colorful little coat.

Bunny hops up. Which, if its wrangler wasn't too hare-brained, surely shoulda had in its contract actually being shot on its own separate film layer.

Littlest doggie jumps down. Well, of course it does. Spokeslady didn't even get the hint and tighten her grip on the little rascal when it uttered its first growly bark - which focused the attention of all the dogs on the bunny - before launching itself free of her hold. And as far as I could tell, she never had a leash in hand for it, either.)

And the chase is on. All except the biggest dog, who elects to play the role of slightly curious, slightly bored observer.

"No!" our entrepreneur hollers at the five dogs giving chase, "It's just a bunny!" As if they didn't already know. And as if knowing should give them pause to reconsider. "Calm down," she continues, as everyone reverses direction. Including where the biggest dog's attention is. She continues to harangue them through another direction change. But none respond even when she addresses them by name. (So they're not call responsive. And she doesn't know any calming techniques for them to possibly, or not, be responsive to.)

In a final act of idiocy, as only some of the dogs respond to the bunny's final change of direction, she gets tangled in the leashes, twists herself and them into a pretzel, and loses her balance. Her being flat on the boardwalk finally catches the dogs' attention away from the bunny - who I'm sure is glad to be forgotten as it heads back the way it originally came - and onto herself. Even though at this point she's not holding anyone's leash.

And wouldn't you know it, the littlest rascal comes back and "helps" her in doggy fashion by climbing up on her chest to sympathetically lick her face.

"Uhh," she says, "you're lucky you're so cute." Really? Having that incompetent a dog walker doesn't seem very lucky to me. Not lucky for the dogs and not lucky for their owners. But what do I know?

Oh wait, I DO know. Yeah, I'm definitely a cat person. But I have had three happy, well trained dogs in my life (one, Rex, a rescued singleton; the other two, Kint and Taff, littermates) and gotten along with many others (like, check out the three ""Dog Power" artiicles in the '19-'20 Abiding Blog archive page). And I've known dog walkers who know what they're doing. So I know she wasn't one of them.

On the other hand, just to give credit where credit is due, the dog actors were, in fact, well trained. Early on, the large dogs seem focused on the trainer stage right, and the smaller ones on the trainer stage left. And the littlest is mostly looking down, probably a combination of (a) not being comfortable in the arm hold and (b) watching for the "wild" critter it knows will soon be let loose (if some well-trained bunny isn't on a separate layer). Then, for safety's sake, the little dog doesn't actually participate in much of the melee. And the biggest dog is obviously trained to a different command protocol than the rest, as it spends the chase simply sitting and looking at the others go back and forth (actually looking at one trainer on command, then at the other when called to).

Oh, and one other commersh kudo. But you're going to have to go to this month's Abiding Blog to read about it. Trust me, it'll make sense when you get there.

*Actually, "bunny" - of which our chasee was an extremely well trained example - really means a baby rabbit. But most people use the word indiscriminately, not bothering to differentiate between juveniles and adults or even between rabbits and hares. In fact, of all things, Bugs Bunny - with his long ears, long hind legs, and gray coloring - is actually a hare.

P.S.  PROGRESS REPORT ON HIATUS TASKS:
1.  Keeping my promise to Rezvanieh to complete Anasazi Anthem.
     Progress has definitely not been as fast as I hoped, but it's been more or less steady. The draft manuscript is now one-third completed and online, and the eighth chapter is also about to be posted.
2.  Making several of my books available as e-books.
     My grandShoghi, the techie wizard in the family, is willing to help me accomplish this during his gap year between high school and college. I'll keep you updated.
3.  Working with Tom Ligon on the fourth novel in his new series.
     Tom's progress on the first of the novels has been adversely impacted by a major obstacle over which he has no control. We talked about a way I can help him get past that this year, and I'm all in on the support side.

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2023-01-02
Heads Up

It's time for me to take a big fork in the road. Turn my efforts to two, or possibly three, major writing projects:

= The first is keeping my promise to my spiritual mother, Rezvanieh, when she insisted that I must complete Anasazi Anthem. As you probably already know, I've published the prolog and four chapters. That leaves eighteen chapters and the epilog to go. I have the complete outline and tons of story notes, along with various supporting material. But all that does not a finished novel make. So I need to binge watch the show again, and then get on the ball with the real writing. I'll let you know as things progress.

= The second major task is responding to people who have asked me about making several of my books - most notably but not limited to Twigs of a Family Tree and (ah yes, another Andromeda-inspired tome) 2*4*7 - available as e-books. That's not as easy as it sounds. It also has to start with research into, for example, how best to Kindle-ize highly formatted material like poetry. I'll also keep you abreast of that progress.

= The third task is more iffy. I don't know whether it will fall (if it falls at all) after the first two tasks or between them. But it's an intriguing project. Tom Ligon has pretty much completed the first in a new series of (he hopes) four novels set in the universe of his two Analog novelettes: "El Dorado" (Nov 2007) and "Payback" (Jul/Aug 2009). As a result of an in-person brainstorming session last year, Tom has invited me to collaborate on the fourth novel if the series sells. That's obviously an offer I can't refuse. Needless to say, I'll brag about progress on that front, too.

All of that means, though, that much as I enjoy writing Adding Insult (and Abiding Blog), it now hasta take a back seat to these projects. So as of tomorrow, it's going on hiatus for part or all of 2023. Aphorisms & Memes, though, will continue to add weekly posters, since all 66 for 2023 were created in 2022 anyway. And I may send you the usual announcements, but quarterly instead of monthly.)

Still, you'll remember that I promised to write an average of one entry for every month this blog has existed. By the end of 2022, I needed at least 144 articles to keep that progress; so by end of 2023, it would need 156. But this is actually its 161st article, so taking up to a year off still won't mean missing my cumulative goal. If you're fairly new to this blog, that'll give you a lot of past articles to read for fun and info. And if you're a long-time reader, maybe you'll enjoy looking back at some of your favorites over the years, or even discovering one or two that you somehow missed. Just use the ToC in the rightbar to browse through the archives.

May 2023 be a safe, peaceful, productive, and fun year for you and yours. And please wish me luck on all three projects.

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