Category Archives: Advertising

Your (Almost) Daily Hot Air

Truth In Advertising

The Huffington Post ran a little think piece on the latest Cadillac commercial. The author, Carolyn Gregoire, savaged it. Watch:

Well, guess what — I’m going to praise it. Yep. It’s the first honest commercial I’ve seen in years. Maybe ever.

What Cadillac is saying here is if you’re a soulless, amoral, stone-hearted, vapid, vacuous, pathologically acquisitive mass of testosterone-infused human tissue, our overly-big, overly-showy, over-priced, gas guzzling road hog is for you.

Credit, babies, where credit is due.

Money Mania

Let’s stick with eating the rich. We’re at the point now where some of the richest of the rich are pretty much losing their minds because, well, they’re too rich.

Apparel titan Peter Nygård is an almost-billionaire. Acc’d’ng to most estimates, he’s worth more than $800 million USD. His failure to attain that exalted B- status must weigh heavily upon him. So much so, apparently, that he craves more years upon this planet than the normal mortal is allotted. He needs time, you see, to make the final $200 mill that’ll elevate him to plutocracy heaven.

And, guess what — he’s convinced he’s bought that time! Yes sirs and ma’ams.

Nygård sez “…I have actually been reversing my aging and getting younger.”


Forever Young?

In an earlier day, we might have suspected there’s a painting of him hanging in a closet, one that shows him becoming more decrepit and frightful by the day. Now, though, evidence of his visual comeuppance prob. will be found on some image board or photo sharer. Shutterfly, say, or Snapfish, under the URL

This Wilde-ian character in human form swears to high heaven that stem cells have been reversing his arrow of time. The Bahamas Tribune has the scoop: Nygård lives there and Freeport was the site recently of a big stem cell research conference, which the younging (opposite of aging?) fashionista attended, I suppose, to show everybody how smooth his skin was and how sparkly his eyes were becoming once again.

Sane people are expressing skepticism about Nygård’s claim. The Bahamas’ frantic effort to become a global stem cell research center, too, is causing people there to welcome any and all claimants about that particular biotechnology, no matter how off the wall they are.

Painting by Ivan Albright

Painting By Numbers

Great, now not only are the rich insensitive to the needs of people and the planet, they’re becoming deranged. Happy 21st Century, everybody!

Okay Old

Sophia Anastasiou-Wasik is my oldest friend. That is, she’s been my friend for longer than anyone else. One day, though, she may be my oldest friend in the strict, years-on-this-planet sense.

She’s aging. And she isn’t hiding it. See, she’s an artist of many disciplines, sort of a Renaissance dame. She’s fiddling with her camera these days, shooting herself in what most of America would consider the most unflattering way possible.

While people innumerable stand on their heads to make the general public think they’re 10, 20, hell, even 30 years younger than they actually are, SAW is busy pointing out her own wrinkles, sags, stretches, and splotches. If you don’t see the beauty in these “flaws,” well then, the advertising agencies and the health and beauty industry have about a million tips for you.

Let’s look at a couple of her pix from her Middle Aged Skin collection:

Photo by Sophia Anastasiou-Wasik

Photo by Sophia Anastasiou-Wasik

Age, the old adage goes, before beauty.

Your Daily Hot Air

Blood Feud

The Loved One pitched this link my way last night:

From AdWeek

Seems that last fall, some guy from the usually insufferable United Kingdom posted a rant on FB, calling out a British manufacturer of menstrual pads for lying. To him.

Yep. This chap, named Richard Neill, wrote that all his early life he’d assumed women who were being visited by Aunt Flo were having a bang-up time, running and jumping and grinning like maniacs. At least that’s what he gleaned from adverts (don’t these Brits have a cutesy way with words sometimes?)

By the time he became old enough to hang around with women and they started letting him know when it was time for the Clean-up in Aisle 1, he realized that the sloughing off of the uterine and vaginal linings didn’t signal several days of bliss — either for the sloughee or for any human beings within a several-mile radius of her.

In fact, as many of us who strive not to be fooled by corporate adspeak (read: lying) know, those monthly three-to-five days often — way, way, way too often — are among the the most harrowing of our lives.

From "Psycho"

So, Neill called out the Bodyform outfit via social media and — whaddya know? — his post captured better than a hundred thousand Likes. And Bodyform, rather than call for the RAF to bomb the man’s home, decided to have a little fun.

The company produced a slick vid featuring the company CEO (played by an actress) apologizing for misleading the women (and men) of the world (or at least its market share of the orb). The actress-as-CEO looks meaningfully into the camera as she recites her mea culpa. Then she says, “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but there’s no such thing as a happy period. The reality is, some people simply can’t handle the truth.” She then tells Richard he’s blown the cover off Bodyform’s efforts to protect men from the truth about women’s beastly time, this over images of men weeping and gnashing their teeth. “You, Richard, have torn down that veil and exposed this myth.”

Aw, hell, watch the vid for yourself. This, my fellow Pencillistas, is creative advertising.

Funny, no? It makes me wish Barack Obama and the Dems had done something similar when Me Party-ists, Birthers, and other whack-a-doodles started accusing the president of everything from socialism to Manchurian Candidacy to failure to brush his teeth after every meal.

It certainly couldn’t have been less successful than the strategy they’ve used thus far.

You’ve Been A Naughty Little Girl

More evidence that too many fundamentalist Christians are really sexual fetishists in disguise: There’s a lively group of Obsessive Lovers of An Invisible Friend in the Sky who follow a path they call Christian Domestic Discipline.


The idea being, the king of the household must maintain order within his cellblock…, er, home, by spanking the little woman now and again.

How quaint. And biblical.

And, let’s be frank: Hot!

Well, for some.

Many of us — your loyal e-Pencil-weilding correspondent included — don’t dig pain. In fact, I’ve dedicated my life to the avoidance of it. But I’m an open-minded fellow so I say if you need pain to get off, then go get whipped.


The Sanctity Of Marriage

When it comes to sex, my philosophy is anything goes, as long as kids, explosives, and animals aren’t involved. (The bestial scene is so icky, you know?)

Anyways, who are these CDD folks trying to kid, beside themselves? Not I, that’s fer shur. Correction, they are trying to fool me but I ain’t falling for it.

There can be no reason on god’s green (and purple-y bruised) Earth why a man would feel the need to whip his helpmeet unless he was getting off on it. There, I’ve said it.

And any helpmeet who sticks around for said whipping also must be getting engorged in the nethers when the whip comes down. I’ve said it again.

Yet this gang of CDD-ers insists the Big Daddy-o wants us all to play master-and-slave.

This religion racket is the damnedest thing, no?

[h/t to Jezebel.]

When The Whip Comes Down

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