Because that's what we wear to work.
Occasionally, or - again - all the freaking time, those amazing, spectacular $100,000 bill filled G-string ads are due rightnow. As in, if you don't get this in rightnow 100 puppies will be executed and kittens will be mauled by bears, nay orphans, orphans will be mauled by bears, and time will reverse and the Apollo 13 astronauts won't be saved, your mom will be punched in the face, and much Doom and Woe. Of course, when you're under that much pressure, you produce the best most fan-freaking-tastic ad evah. Evah. Evah. You choose the perfect photo, select the choicest text, put it all together in the best combination, people see it and there are tears. Of happiness, sadness, joy, hope, and conviction all wrapped together. And money. Tears of money. Raining all over the place.
That totally does not happen. I mean, maybe it will happen. But the chances aint good.
Which is why when I see an ad, I like to critique the hell out of it.
Have you seen that ad for Sensa? I'm not entirely sure that's what it's called. Like so many good, and bad, ads, you don't remember the actual product, just that the ad was good (like the Traveler's insurance commercial with the dog trying to find a safe spot for his bone) or bad (like every car commercial.) (Both of those were baaad examples of my point, but were good examples of good and bad commercials. So partial credit for me. Kinda like, no exactly like, showing your work on a math test, but getting the answer wrong. I miss school. Everything in life should be like a math test. Like when you go to work and do absolutely nothing all day. And your boss is like: "Johnson, you didn't get this report done." And you'd be like: "Correct, boss man. But I did get up this morning, got dressed, brushed my teeth and came to work." And your boss would be like: "What the hell does that have to do with anything Johnson?" And you'd be like: "Partial credit, boss man." And he'd be like: "Johnson, did you forget to take your meds today?" And you'd be like: "Flamingos are pink." And then your boss would turn and leave, but you'd hear him say to his assistant: "Johnson gets partial credit today. And zero orphans should mauled by bears.")
The point. Back to the point. The Sensa ad starts with a snowman that disappears and is replaced with a girl, who resembles Jenny McCarthy, wearing a red bathing suit and the snowman's top hat. Utterly transfixed, I watched this over and over again. And I asked myself, what are they trying to tell me? What am I supposed to take away from this ad? That their product will make a snowman turn into Jenny McCarthy? Weird. I mean, do snowmen even have computers? How are they supposed to see this ad? It's an Internet ad. Do they expect snowmen to go to the library and ask to use one of the computers? That's ridiculous. Libraries are dangerous for snowmen. They make them melt. And also tell them to rape other snowmen. (If you don't know what I'm talking about, you should go back to the post I wrote about my library telling people to rape each other. Seriously, my library actually did that. Kinda.)
And why Jenny McCarthy? Do all snowmen aspire to be the former Singled Out host? Do they stare longingly from the frigid yard into the cozy living room at the tv where Ms. McCarthy guides horny singles through a series of tests to find their one true sex partner, I mean, love?
Eventually the ad stopped replaying and the snowman never reappeared and only Jenny was left. And I was all "Come back snowman!" But he didn't. And I was all "Life is so unfair!" And I just stared at the ad. And hoped. That the show would go on. But it didn't. So I finally read the ad. And it said something about Sensa sprinkling away the pounds. And then I kinda remembered what else had been going on in the scene: snow falling on the snowman, making him turn into Jenny McCarthy.
If snow falls on a snowman he gets bigger. That's not rocket science people. Just plain science. Snowmen are made of snow, Sensa people. More of it equals fatter snowmen.
I realize, Sensa people, that you probably intended for the sprinkled object to be Sensa, and not something that makes snowmen fatter, but perhaps it would be more effective if your product didn't resemble snow. Which makes snowmen bigger. Do I sound like I'm repeating myself?
And what's the deal with sprinkling away the pounds? That doesn't even make sense. Sprinkling powder of some kind is something Tinkerbell does. And what Tinkerbell has to do with a snowman, Jenny McCarthy and your product, I do not know.
Basically, you totally missed the mark.
What you should have done is have your product resemble the sun and say: Sensa, it melts the pounds away. Cliche? Trite? Predictable? Yes. But it freaking makes sense.
Your ad is dumb and no one will remember it.
Except for me. Who wrote a whole post about it.
Partial credit for you. $100,000 bills filled G-strings for me. Everyone wins.
Expect for snowmen. I'm pretty sure they lose.
Unless... they turn into Jenny McCarthy in a G-string...
|Anatomically Confused Snowman|
Nope. They still lose.