Scribbles

You know how you get a song stuck in your head, and you can’t delete it, no matter how hard you try? And it’s never a good song. It’s always something annoying, like Uptown Girl, or Jingle Bell Rock. Or something by Cindy Lauper. That happens a lot. But lately, because I watch a lot of sports on TV, I am tortured by the simple, three-word jingle that I hear at least 5 times every night, and more on Sunday: Saved by Zero. (See? There it is, banging around your head right now.) At first I didn’t even understand what the words meant, exactly, and didn’t really bother to look up to see what product (Toyota) the song was attached to. Over time, though, and after hundreds of airings, it has leaked into my conciousness. Like radiation. Or heat rash. I can’t get rid of it. And all the time I thought I was the only one haunted by this ever-present 4-note attack, until yesterday when the afternoon drive-time sports show in Chicago announced their choices for what they call “dog food songs.” Songs that are annoying, yet catchy, and get under your skin. They listed stuff by the Carpenters, The Guess Who and Grand Funk Railroad. But #1 on their list was “Saved by Zero!” They’re stuck with it too! And so is ESPN’s Bill Simmons! He wrote that he’s gonna buy one of the cars just to drive it thru the dealership window screaming the song at the top of his lungs. And the NY Times named it “Most Annoying Commercial Ever.” And yet it continues. I just heard it again, while writing this, taunting me from the TV in the other room. If this continues we’re gonna have to start up a support group. We’ll call ourselves the “James Blunts.”

I was in a barbecue joint for lunch today, one of those places that has old advertising signs on the walls for atmosphere.

One of the ads got me thinking. It was for Stetson hats–not the cowboy kind, but the kind gentlemen wore back in the day (or, from the look of this ad, around 1950). The ad said “every man needs three hats. One for business, one for formal wear, and another for sporting events.”

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Tom Hansen, the Managing Director at Rivet, Chicago will be sharing his thoughts with us using a cartoon version of himself. Look for a new episode every two weeks!

It makes me happy to see the movie industry do well, especially after the predictions just a few years ago, of its imminent death. Box office receipts remain strong for many pictures, and the studio slates are loaded with upcoming projects.

As a long-time moviegoer, fan of pop culture, and borrower-of-property-equity-for-my-clients, big box office gives me pleasure. And confidence. But what makes me choke on my 3,000 calorie tub of popcorn are the very movies that generate the most business.

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Remember the glorious tension as Charlie Bucket tentatively opened his chocolate bar, searching for one of the Golden Tickets in “Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory?” Last summer Nike used the same tactic to sell golf balls, placing 2,000 platinum balls in random retail packages. more

I have an image of certain iconic products that seemed to follow adults around when I was a kid in the ’60s. English Leather. Pall Malls. Schlitz. Yesterday I saw an ad for what appeared to be a new small-batch bourbon from kentucky. Etched, big-shouldered bottle, handwritten manifesto, and the tagline: “The Bourbon Lover’s Bourbon.” But when I looked more closely, it was another icon from some basement circa 1955: Old Forester. This cracked me up, because I remember Old Forester as an inexpensive, hard-working liquor that my grandfather probably drank. (I think he did, ’cause there were always bottles of it, and Canadian Club, on his knotty-pine bar shelf. Right next to the corkstopper featuring two hillbillies who kissed when you pressed the lever, and a wooden sign that said “Enjoy yourself. It’s later than you think.”) So now they’ve given the old man a facelift, and there are a million entry-level drinkers who have just discovered whiskey who might embrace it, thinking it’s a new, trendy handmade sipping whiskey. It probably still tastes like it always did . . . but I give them big credit for dressing the old boy up. Hmmm. I believe more research is required . . .