Blah balh blah balh balh blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blah
blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah OLD FASHIONED blah blah blah blah blahBlah balh blah balh balh blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blah Blah balh blah balh balh blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah CREEPY blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blahBlah balh blah balh balh blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blah Blah balh blah balh balh blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah WEIRD blah blah blah Blah balh blah balh balh blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah MORBID blah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blahblah blah blah blah blah blah blahALWAYS THINK OF THIS WHEN I SEE THEM
Thursday, 28 April 2011
Saturday, 23 April 2011
Monday, 18 April 2011
10 Reasons LOVE Should Post This on Their Blog
1. (Being the main reason) There hasn't been anything proper to read on there for nearly two full moons now.
2. That post about Ste's bag doesn't count. It's a bag. Not a blog. And we want blogs, not bags. Or at least some kind of happy medium where the bags and the blogs can put aside their differences and work together.
3. PLUS, didn't Saul Bass say good design was all about compromise or something anyway? No? Well he should've done.
4. I am massively nosey. So posting this on your blog would mean I could read it back to myself and pretend it was a genuine news piece from inside your agency, like "10 Incredible Things We've Been Too Busy To Tell You About", or "10 Reasons Why Ste Owen Uses the Park & Ride." Imagine that! And then I could tell everyone what I'd just pretended to read, and they'd all be like, whoa that sounds amazing, or who the hell is Ste anyway - that guy who smells of crisps? And I'd be like, dude just go and read it for yourselves, which they would, and your web traffic would be like, boooom, through the roof, metaphorically speaking, although a skylight would be cool wouldn't it. Especially if you're nosey.
5. Erm, I am the most powerful copywriter in Britain, and hugely influential. So an endorsement from a headline act like me could lend serious kudos to a "modest concern" like yours. There is no irony in my eyes when I say that, by the way. Only a feral, bloodthirsty stare.
6. It's got a helpful picture of a wasp in it.
(You're welcome).
7. I can be your first ever uninvited guest blogger.
8. Every time you don't update your blog, Death updates his (and gets 100 new followers in heaven).
9. We're old friends and it's a nice day. It'd be a nice thing to do (group hug guys).
10. I will remain a werewolf until then.
2. That post about Ste's bag doesn't count. It's a bag. Not a blog. And we want blogs, not bags. Or at least some kind of happy medium where the bags and the blogs can put aside their differences and work together.
3. PLUS, didn't Saul Bass say good design was all about compromise or something anyway? No? Well he should've done.
4. I am massively nosey. So posting this on your blog would mean I could read it back to myself and pretend it was a genuine news piece from inside your agency, like "10 Incredible Things We've Been Too Busy To Tell You About", or "10 Reasons Why Ste Owen Uses the Park & Ride." Imagine that! And then I could tell everyone what I'd just pretended to read, and they'd all be like, whoa that sounds amazing, or who the hell is Ste anyway - that guy who smells of crisps? And I'd be like, dude just go and read it for yourselves, which they would, and your web traffic would be like, boooom, through the roof, metaphorically speaking, although a skylight would be cool wouldn't it. Especially if you're nosey.
5. Erm, I am the most powerful copywriter in Britain, and hugely influential. So an endorsement from a headline act like me could lend serious kudos to a "modest concern" like yours. There is no irony in my eyes when I say that, by the way. Only a feral, bloodthirsty stare.
6. It's got a helpful picture of a wasp in it.
(You're welcome).
7. I can be your first ever uninvited guest blogger.
8. Every time you don't update your blog, Death updates his (and gets 100 new followers in heaven).
9. We're old friends and it's a nice day. It'd be a nice thing to do (group hug guys).
10. I will remain a werewolf until then.
Thursday, 7 April 2011
Wednesday, 6 April 2011
Women Aren't Funny
Tis a fact.
Girl's just aren't that funny.
Why? Well, Germaine Greer reckons it's because women don't have to be funny. Whereas blokes are expected to be funny. They'll compete with each other to be wittiest, cleverest, and most charming bastard at the bar. In fact, that's pretty much all males do for a social life: they sit at a bar with other men, and practise taking the piss out of each other. On the other hand, women are simply expected to stick their tits out when the men come in, and not talk about their womb too much. Right?
Wrong. Because blokes aren't really that funny at all in real life, are they. Get a gang of lads together and they'll turn into a pack of smarmy boorish bastards quicker than you can put your Audi A3 keys on the bar, and order 4 bottles of Peroni. Whilst the girls, far from exuding the demure supernatural charm of a goddess, tend to be quite plain, have big arses and leave shit all over the bedroom.
Which is why the new Ikea ad by Mother is absolutely 100%, bang on the bullseye's bloody nose when it comes to portraying the foibles of the sexes. Look.
And that's not the only brilliant thing about it.
Granted, there's a few clunky bits in there (the canned laughter, the staged audience, the fucking awful ninja joke) but these are simply the residual costs of capturing the excrutiating naffness of these men and women in such a hauntingly realistic way.
No, the real (if flawed) genius of these ads is the thinking behind them. Not necessarily the thinking that there's a conversation worth having about people being messy in the context of the kinds of storage they might use, because there isn't. That's an inherently boring, and circular conversation, even to a halfwit on Facebook who in all likelihood won't be buying storage solutions any time soon. However, the thinking that a TV ad can throw you into the middle of a narrative and leave you to figure it out for yourself without patronising you or squeezing your hand hysterically for 30 seconds is a pretty powerful idea we could all do to be reminded of.
So well done Mother for reminding us that an advert can be anything at all - even a fake TV show about some twats - and that a woman will never EVER be funny.
Girl's just aren't that funny.
Why? Well, Germaine Greer reckons it's because women don't have to be funny. Whereas blokes are expected to be funny. They'll compete with each other to be wittiest, cleverest, and most charming bastard at the bar. In fact, that's pretty much all males do for a social life: they sit at a bar with other men, and practise taking the piss out of each other. On the other hand, women are simply expected to stick their tits out when the men come in, and not talk about their womb too much. Right?
Wrong. Because blokes aren't really that funny at all in real life, are they. Get a gang of lads together and they'll turn into a pack of smarmy boorish bastards quicker than you can put your Audi A3 keys on the bar, and order 4 bottles of Peroni. Whilst the girls, far from exuding the demure supernatural charm of a goddess, tend to be quite plain, have big arses and leave shit all over the bedroom.
Which is why the new Ikea ad by Mother is absolutely 100%, bang on the bullseye's bloody nose when it comes to portraying the foibles of the sexes. Look.
And that's not the only brilliant thing about it.
Granted, there's a few clunky bits in there (the canned laughter, the staged audience, the fucking awful ninja joke) but these are simply the residual costs of capturing the excrutiating naffness of these men and women in such a hauntingly realistic way.
No, the real (if flawed) genius of these ads is the thinking behind them. Not necessarily the thinking that there's a conversation worth having about people being messy in the context of the kinds of storage they might use, because there isn't. That's an inherently boring, and circular conversation, even to a halfwit on Facebook who in all likelihood won't be buying storage solutions any time soon. However, the thinking that a TV ad can throw you into the middle of a narrative and leave you to figure it out for yourself without patronising you or squeezing your hand hysterically for 30 seconds is a pretty powerful idea we could all do to be reminded of.
So well done Mother for reminding us that an advert can be anything at all - even a fake TV show about some twats - and that a woman will never EVER be funny.
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