Okay, so there's this hierarchy of commercials. The laws of marketing dictate that even between the most useful product in the world and the most willing consumer in the world, commercials provide a vehicle for, often artificially, regulating the distance between consumer and consumable. And whether a commercial is something that you look forward to or an annoyance that poisions the time it takes you to reach for the TiVo remote, the truth is that the hierarchy of commercials plays a big role in how jazzed you are about stuff you may or may not even like. So here goes:
Level 1: Commercials that inspire mass product returns, boycotts, and even protests. Crosses: good. Fire: good. Madonna: ehh... but put the three together, and you get something that didn't make a lot of people very fond of Pepsi.
Level 2: Commercials that make you not want to buy something. Some people liked them, but for many people, the Quiznos "spongemonkeys" had a certain "eewww" factor, and those people, when they were hungry for a sub sandwich and came upon a Quiznos, would keep on driving until they got to a Subway.
Level 3: Commercials that keep you indifferent. "Taco Bell has a new product? It's got carne asada and some kind of tangy mayo concoction? Great...when's the ballgame on?"
Level 4: Commercials that make you interested. The teaser trailer for that movie you may or may not see in six months didn't get you making plans to go see it, but it got the seed planted in your brain. That's level 4.
Level 5: Commercials that inspire purchase intention. I don't have enough money to get every DVD that comes out on the market. But when I can, I'm totally getting the Seinfeld Seasons 5 & 6 that comes with the handwritten script and all the special features.
Level 6: Commercials that make you go out and get something. If you like music, and if you have a particular fondness for U2, and you weren't in the Apple store ten minutes after seeing the U2 iPod commercial, then you don't have a pulse.
And for a long time, at least for me, that was the list. But a couple weeks ago a commercial came along that changed everything.
Back in October of 2000, things were pretty good. I was experiencing the dizzying heights of the mania known as eBay Addiction. I had purchased numerous LPs, a couple Willie McGee jerseys, and some out-of-print books, and, not to brag, my feedback score was skyrocketing. There's been a certain ebb and flow to my eBay usage since, but I've never stayed away for long.
When the "Daydream Believer" commercials came out, I absolutely loved them. The commercials called to mind a feeling that lots of people have toward eBay, and the song, plus the imagery of getting "it," whatever "it" is, caused me to do something I didn't think was possible. I love the commercial so much I've had to invent Level 7.
Level 7: Commercials that make you want to give your money directly to the company. Go ahead, eBay. You can have it. Take whatever you want. Seriously. I don't even want anything in return. Not the Traveling Wilburys CD, the Simpsons cel with certificate of authenticity, the life-size Han Solo in carbonite, or the Beatles' Yesterday and Today LP with the butcher cover. Not even the powder blue Lance Alworth jersey. The perfect marriage of product and message has shot you straight to the top of the advertising hierarchy, and as a result I just want to give you my money. That's how much I love your latest commercial.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
A Way Out for Marshmallow and Yam
Before heading off to Crawford, President Bush did something very important today. Here's my entry from last year's ethics journal, on the timely topic of animal rights:
This year's turkeys aren't going to a farm; they're going to Disneyland to become grand marshals of its Thanksgiving Day Parade, which will bring us a long way toward answering the age-old question of whether animals are capable of feeling ridiculous.
Today was a somewhat exciting day in my family because it was the day that President Bush pardoned the turkey and sent it off to a farm to live out the rest of its days. This is not normally something that registers on the Lauve radar, but my father works for the turkey segment of Cargill, and this year one of his colleagues, who is serving in a rotation as president of the Turkey Federation, went to Washington with his family to present the turkey. So a family I’ve known for a long time got to schmooze with the President and take part in this cute tradition that ensures that a turkey’s life will be spared this Thanksgiving.
Except the fortunes of the turkey are not nearly as pleasant as most people believe. Since the turkey is bred for consumption, he is much too fat to be any good in a natural environment. So he goes off to a farm with a lot of other animals and dies almost immediately. When I told my mother this last night, she reacted as if I was telling her that pro wrestling was fake.
I don’t know how many people would make a stink about this, but I don’t know why they can’t just use a wild turkey (I would guess it’s tough to get one that’s docile enough) or just do away with the ceremony completely. To me it just seems like a waste to doom an eatin’ bird to a fate it’s not suited to.
This year's turkeys aren't going to a farm; they're going to Disneyland to become grand marshals of its Thanksgiving Day Parade, which will bring us a long way toward answering the age-old question of whether animals are capable of feeling ridiculous.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
The Top 50 States with the Strongest Personality
1. Texas
2. California
3. Florida
4. Hawaii
5. Alaska
6. Massachusetts
7. New York
8. Colorado
9. Louisiana
10. Virginia
11. Arizona
12. North Carolina
13. Vermont
14. Tennessee
15. Oregon
16. Utah
17. Indiana
18. Georgia
19. Connecticut
20. Kansas
21. Oklahoma
22. Missouri
23. New Jersey
24. Mississippi
25. Iowa
26. Pennsylvania
27. Montana
28. Nebraska
29. Wisconsin
30. New Mexico
31. Michigan
32. South Carolina
33. Wyoming
34. Minnesota
35. Idaho
36. Illinois
37. Alabama
38. Maryland
39. Arkansas
40. Maine
41. New Hampshire
42. Washington
43. Kentucky
44. Nevada
45. Rhode Island
46. Ohio
47. West Virginia
48. South Dakota
49. Delaware
50. North Dakota
2. California
3. Florida
4. Hawaii
5. Alaska
6. Massachusetts
7. New York
8. Colorado
9. Louisiana
10. Virginia
11. Arizona
12. North Carolina
13. Vermont
14. Tennessee
15. Oregon
16. Utah
17. Indiana
18. Georgia
19. Connecticut
20. Kansas
21. Oklahoma
22. Missouri
23. New Jersey
24. Mississippi
25. Iowa
26. Pennsylvania
27. Montana
28. Nebraska
29. Wisconsin
30. New Mexico
31. Michigan
32. South Carolina
33. Wyoming
34. Minnesota
35. Idaho
36. Illinois
37. Alabama
38. Maryland
39. Arkansas
40. Maine
41. New Hampshire
42. Washington
43. Kentucky
44. Nevada
45. Rhode Island
46. Ohio
47. West Virginia
48. South Dakota
49. Delaware
50. North Dakota
Thursday, November 10, 2005
A Well Deserved Cy
Back in late September, I had a conversation with Chris Carpenter that really told me a lot about him.
At the time, he had had a couple bad starts in a row after having basically nothing but quality starts all year. Needless to say, he was not in the best spirits. "Yeah, it's been a good year," he said, "but lately I feel like all the innings I've pitched are catching up to me. I just can't locate my pitches the way I did earlier in the season."
I tried to reassure him. "You've been the best pitcher in the league all year, and you'll get it back together."
"I sure hope so," he said as he dropped his head, his eyes disappearing beneath the brim of his cap. "I feel like I'm letting the team down with my performance lately. I just don't want to screw things up for them."
"Chris, that's ridiculous," I said. "The team wouldn't be anywhere without you. You've been its star all year. Sure it's been rough at times, but you've carried us through. And yeah, we're in ninth place right now, but without you we wouldn't be above 12th or 13th place. I'd say the team is pretty proud of you."
Slowly, as he thought about what I had said, he began to pick his head up, and he looked at me with a sideways glance that was at the same time frustrated and amused. He stared at me for a couple seconds, and then he said, "I'm talking about the Cardinals, skip, not the Crickets!!"
-----------------------------------------
The Crickets were born out of my friend Adam's fantasy baseball league. It was my first time playing fantasy baseball, and to say that I screwed up the draft would be a tremendous understatement. My first two picks were Edgar Renteria (ranked #39) and Joey Gathright (ranked about #800), and while a few fantasy nerds would tell you that those were not the best choices, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. But my best pick was the first pitcher I chose, Mr. Chris Carpenter. I later told Adam about the pick, and I said that I was able to get Carp because some people thought that his great 2004 year was a fluke. Adam said that, yeah, he kind of thought that it was a fluke, too.
Apparently Carpenter was listening, because he put together a remarkable year. I was lucky enough to see him pitch twice this year; in the first game he pitched eight shutout innings to defeat Andy Pettitte, and the second, also in Houston, was his 20th victory. I was honored to be able to attend that game, which at the time made a Cy Young seem almost certain. Carpenter slipped a little down the stretch, and you could make a great argument for Willis or Clemens or Pettitte (though they went a combined 0-4 against Carpenter), but it's great to see him get the Cards' first Cy Youong award since Bob Gibson. He started three of the Cardinals' five postseason victories, and he was one of two players on the team who really deserve whatever postseason accolades come their way. Way to go, Chris. There's a spot in the 2006 Crickets' starting rotation waiting for you.
At the time, he had had a couple bad starts in a row after having basically nothing but quality starts all year. Needless to say, he was not in the best spirits. "Yeah, it's been a good year," he said, "but lately I feel like all the innings I've pitched are catching up to me. I just can't locate my pitches the way I did earlier in the season."
I tried to reassure him. "You've been the best pitcher in the league all year, and you'll get it back together."
"I sure hope so," he said as he dropped his head, his eyes disappearing beneath the brim of his cap. "I feel like I'm letting the team down with my performance lately. I just don't want to screw things up for them."
"Chris, that's ridiculous," I said. "The team wouldn't be anywhere without you. You've been its star all year. Sure it's been rough at times, but you've carried us through. And yeah, we're in ninth place right now, but without you we wouldn't be above 12th or 13th place. I'd say the team is pretty proud of you."
Slowly, as he thought about what I had said, he began to pick his head up, and he looked at me with a sideways glance that was at the same time frustrated and amused. He stared at me for a couple seconds, and then he said, "I'm talking about the Cardinals, skip, not the Crickets!!"
-----------------------------------------
The Crickets were born out of my friend Adam's fantasy baseball league. It was my first time playing fantasy baseball, and to say that I screwed up the draft would be a tremendous understatement. My first two picks were Edgar Renteria (ranked #39) and Joey Gathright (ranked about #800), and while a few fantasy nerds would tell you that those were not the best choices, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. But my best pick was the first pitcher I chose, Mr. Chris Carpenter. I later told Adam about the pick, and I said that I was able to get Carp because some people thought that his great 2004 year was a fluke. Adam said that, yeah, he kind of thought that it was a fluke, too.
Apparently Carpenter was listening, because he put together a remarkable year. I was lucky enough to see him pitch twice this year; in the first game he pitched eight shutout innings to defeat Andy Pettitte, and the second, also in Houston, was his 20th victory. I was honored to be able to attend that game, which at the time made a Cy Young seem almost certain. Carpenter slipped a little down the stretch, and you could make a great argument for Willis or Clemens or Pettitte (though they went a combined 0-4 against Carpenter), but it's great to see him get the Cards' first Cy Youong award since Bob Gibson. He started three of the Cardinals' five postseason victories, and he was one of two players on the team who really deserve whatever postseason accolades come their way. Way to go, Chris. There's a spot in the 2006 Crickets' starting rotation waiting for you.
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