New Breed of Advertisers

Pepperidge Farms and Fame-lust

2012-01-23T15:03:00.000-05:00

by Sam Van Eman

Transcript for this recording:

Henri Nouwen once spent seven months in a Trappist monastery in an attempt to escape from his fame-lust; to find, as he put it, "a quiet stream underneath the fluctuating affirmations and rejections of my little world" (The Genesee Diary, 14). While in the monastery, Nouwen worked on their assembly line which produced 15,000 loaves of raisin bread (Monk's Bread) each week.

Consider this journal entry about an observation he made:

"Theodore found a little piece of metal between the thousands of raisins he pushed through the raisin washing machine. He showed it to me. It looked as sharp as a razor blade. Well, someone eating his raisin bread is saved from a bleeding stomach, thanks to Theodore, who will never hear a grateful word for it. That is the drawback of preventative medicine" (112).

Drawback of preventative medicine? Yikes. This is exactly why someone with fame-lust like Nouwen's needs a time out.

But hold on a minute, Sam. You know precisely what he means. Mixed with even the few generous acts of your own—especially the unrecognized ones—is a hope for praise. You admire Spider-Man for his masked altruism, but you also love the moment when Mary Jane is about to find out who's behind all those good deeds. Don't be too quick to judge.

The Pepperidge Farms magazine advertisement here says, "We're bakers. But we're parents, too. That's why we bake our wholesome bread the way we do. With plump, juicy raisins, sweet swirls of cinnamon—and lots of love." I appreciate the heart at the center of this image. Maybe it's real. I hope, at least, that it's more than a clever graphic, because I'm sure that some of those who made this ad (and this bread) care less about the customer and more about fame.

There are many problems in popular advertising that call for Spider-men and women to address. And there are also many elements that require Theodores to execute selflessly, year after year. Theodores may need to extract the occasional metal shard, but their main focus is on "lots of love," and on the continual production of beneficial goods and services. Not fame.

Theodore found more value in making good bread than in heroically avoiding dangerous bread, or in people knowing he made bread at all. It feels impossible for me to be Theodore. Dreams of accolades and promotions too often over-shadow the importance of the work itself, and I find myself needing to remember why it's been given to me in the first place.

Vocational Surfing: Will Someone Puhleeze Ride that Wave?

2012-01-13T12:34:00.000-05:00

by Sam Van Eman

Transcript for this recording:

Hey, it's Friday and you're either glad the work week is over or you're bummed it's coming to an end. My friend and stump-preaching vocation specialist, Byron Borger, refuses to eat at TGI Friday’s for theological reasons. Work was given to us before the fall of humankind, not after. So for that reason, despite the callouses, work is a good thing. And, honestly, because it has service and cultivation at its roots, work brings goodness into the mess that surrounds us. Byron may be onto something.

This morning I came across a surfing video. It's amazing. I've surfed only once but even my three-foot waves made me appreciate water's power and the need I would have for excellence to both understand and work within the ways of that power. In the video scenes where you look into the empty curl, you'll wonder if a surfer will emerge. In the scenes where you watch the surfer under a closing wave, you'll wonder if he will make it.

I didn’t intend to share this in order to create a point, but I couldn't help thinking about the surfing montage and work. TGIF (not the restaurant) is the relief statement of someone who can't seem to emerge. They either lack the vision, or the know-how, or the willingness to ride out what seems like pending doom. And sometimes it is pending doom. Plenty of jobs will eventually reach right over our heads and take us under. But every time?

I would like to see more of us ride this thing beyond Friday.

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Enjoy the video below. If you don’t think about work while you watch it, that’s okay. The wave is still amazing.

Super Bowl Commercials and My Spiritual Tipping Point

2012-01-09T13:25:00.000-05:00

by Sam Van Eman

Transcript of this recording:

It's early January and the perennial conversation about the Super Bowl game versus Super Bowl commercials has reached the living room already. Last night, after an overtime loss took the Steelers out of the running, a friend surrendered: "Well, there will always be the commercials." Even my seven-year old reminded me this week why she likes watching football: "I love the commercials, Daddy."

Of course, behind-the-scenes talk began months ago. This year's 30-second spot line-up was sold out before Thanksgiving. At a record-high $3.5 million a piece (about $117,000 per second), NBC is more than happy to host both the game and the high-fare entertainment.

Seth Winter, senior vice president of sales and marketing at NBC’s sports group, said, “We have shattered any recent revenue stories in regards to the Super Bowl."

Super Bowl commercials aren't predictably Jack's beanstalk for companies who commission them, but companies certainly hope their millions will become that. At the very least, with Ash Wednesday only weeks behind America's favorite game, it's as if they hope this will be the Mardi Gras of consumption until Black Friday resurrects their sales again.

My Mardi Gras

The Super Bowl is also my Mardi Gras; a last hurrah of pleasure and shiny lights before the darkness sets in; a cultural feast followed by a religious fast. I give up television each year for Lent because I watch too much tube leading up the Super Bowl. Charlie Brown specials, mid-winter sit-com reruns, play-off games, more play-off games. By the time I wake up the morning after the big event, I can't watch another minute of anything.

(Well...except for Netflix.)

The cycle does my body good. Unplugged, I'm invited to have expectations beyond wanting to see which Doritos' submission got chosen out of the more than 6000 entries for its 30 seconds of fame. Unplugged, I'm invited to wait for provision - the Easter kind no ad or product can produce.

For now - and since my team is officially out - we'll be talking about the commercials around here. I'll call my kids into the room when age-appropriate gems air, I'll talk with peers about their favorites, I'll reflect on the influence of advertising on our 21st-century hearts and minds. I'll also hope for more neighbor-sensitive commercials, pray for those creative types behind the scenes who have more power than they realize, and reflect on my own role in the machine that is consumerism.

And then, on February 6th, a day after partying with food and friends, I'll come home from work and find something else to do besides watch TV.

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Streetwalking in 2012

2012-01-04T10:27:00.000-05:00

by Sam Van Eman

Transcript of this recording:

Here's how it feels. I've come just around a city block corner onto 2012 Avenue and I'm thinking about both the last street and this one. The last one wasn't ugly or dark. It feels more like a friend's house with a decent dinner and pretty good company; the experience keeps me warm on the walk home.

More of my mind is on the next street. I've just popped out of the New York City subway and turned the corner. I've got a meeting address in my pocket. Haven't been there, haven't met the people. But the city scape is alive and the meeting promises. I see it as a brainstorming session of sorts on a topic I love to discuss. That's the feeling, anyway, rounding this corner.

As critical as I am, and as often as I complain about this issue or that discomfort, I get this feeling every year. I'm glad for a perennial optimism. I won't set New Year's resolutions (I wouldn't keep them). I'm not trying to clean last year's slate with a fabricated belief that this year will be my year. I won't even lie to myself about what potential I might or might not have. I know what I have to work with, and but for grace, those tools could sink me or save me in a few short steps.

So here I am, looking forward, eager to get to this meeting but not wanting to rush it either. The conversation I'll have there has significant implications on my work, family, and faith, all of which, as I get older, mean more to me. For everything that shapes these implications, I thank the Lord.

Here's to a walk with anticipated stops along the way and an unusual measure of grace to help 2012 surprise all of us.

Jesus and Three Movies You’ve Never Watched at Christmas

2011-12-28T10:32:00.000-05:00

Image by Marko Milošević

Several years ago, I pitched the idea of drawing names for Christmas in order to avoid the time- and bank-demanding reality of shopping for two dozen family members. Only one sibling joined me and we soon relented due to pushback. We tried again the following year. More on board, but still no go. Then it finally stuck and now it’s the norm.

My sister and I fought our own desires to maintain tradition. What we proposed was taboo, even scandalous. Okay, I admit that all we did was save a little money, but it was hard!

I want to tell you about three movie characters who are truly taboo. The summaries, I feel, are rather dry, but they convey uncanny similarities between Babette, Vianne, and Mary, characters who changed my Christmas this year.

Read more about these three at The High Calling. The High Calling hosts everyday conversations about work, life, and God.

But MAAAaaaAAAHM!

2011-12-20T18:37:00.000-05:00

by Sam Van Eman

Transcript of this recording:

Welcome to New Breed of Advertisers. The following Christmas post is called “But, MAAAaaaAAAHM!”

Parents have it rough. Toy companies market directly at kids, and the kids respond, "Yes!" while parents' wallets say "No!"

But who's to blame? The parents, for not setting good boundaries for their kids? The kids, for having low discernment skills? Or the advertisers, for putting on an irresistible show? Perhaps a little of all three.

I read an article about parents complaining to toy companies. The organization leading the push-back was Campaign for a Commercial-Free Childhood, and they wanted ads to stop being aimed at kids. Let parents make the decisions, they said.

I like this idea, but even I want half of the toys on TV, and I'm pushing 40. Maybe it's because I only had one Star Wars action figure as a kid: no spaceships, no detailed model of a far away planet, no accompanying action-figure troops, and certainly no special effects like the kids in TV commercials had.

Commercials have come a long, tempting, way since my childhood, and kids are even more seduced now. Only the strongest could resist such an onslaught of allure. I want to say to the marketing minds behind this brilliance, "Stop sucking us in. Enough is enough. Help us to lead simple lives. Quit enticing me...er, my children!"

But my first responsibility is not to change the market. It's to curb my own desires and to teach discernment to my kids. My kids have to learn the difference between wants and needs, quality and junk, genuine interests and peer pressure. I can't protect them forever.

And what about the advertisers? They certainly carry guilt, but how much? Well, just imagine how toy advertising would change if they cared more about our kids than about profit. We might be able to say – and you might want to brace yourself for this – "Johnny, if the advertiser says it's a good toy, then it's a good toy because she loves you and wants the best for you."

Without all of us – parents, kids and advertisers – doing more than we’re doing now, Christmas will always be a commercial holiday.

Here’s to a simple, commercial-free, whine-free, generous Christmas.

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Visit Campaign for a Commercial-Free Childhood.

Ingredients

2011-12-17T15:31:00.000-05:00

Transcript + link to an exercise:
Try thinking about every item you see and every act you do in terms of the raw ingredients that form them. Just as flour and baking soda go into cookies, so do wood and cotton go into chairs, and creativity and ink (and pixels) go into a logo.

Your work – my work – is a combination of a long list of raw ingredients. How we assemble them makes a world of difference. Some recipes produce work that tastes great, but isn’t healthy; other times it’s loaded with nutrition but lacks anything resembling flavor. This presents a challenge. We need to assemble ingredients that end up tasting great and benefiting the consumer. Not always an easy task.

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For more thoughts on ingredients and their relation to media consumption, read A Recipe for Film Consumption. You'll find an exercise at the end with a downloadable TV commercial (one of my all-time faves).

Angelic Gas

2011-12-15T23:55:00.000-05:00

Image by Ruth Hallam

It’s hard to be burdened with your parents’ hell while learning how to make a cow fart. Bobby’s uncle ran a farmette about a mile from our flea market trailer and kept a single cow in the pasture. One summer afternoon while admiring neatly routered crafts in the half-wood shop, half-stall, Bobby called to me.

“Wanna see something cool?”

“Sure,” I said. “What is it?”

“C’mere.” And he turned mischievously for me to follow.

I stepped through the shop door and up onto the rail that contained the heifer. I ran my hand along her back, watching the skin twitch at flies and suddenly forgetting that Bobby had something in mind. Her brown coat felt hot and soft. He was petting along her side, just in front of the pelvic bone, and began to depress the area like a doctor checking for appendicitis. His other hand joined the first and he pressed harder, massaging slowly, front to back, front to back.

And then it happened...a long, loud expulsion of gas from the cow’s behind. To a recent seventh grade graduate, it was possibly the best thing I had ever heard. Bobby had trouble containing himself while pressing again, this time slower now that he had it going, and the beautiful, wonderful sound came forth in a tremendous second wave. They both finally quit. The cow’s wide eye stared at the two of us hanging there in tears.

That’s when the smell hit. Rot and heat mixed to burn our lungs and punish us for teasing. We jumped out of the stall, gagging and laughing hysterically.

I liked Bobby. He parted his hair and said Yes ma’am and swore conservatively like people do who live in the Bible Belt but don’t really go to church. And he was good for me in a way I couldn’t have known then. Beyond the cow and dares to touch the electric fence, bike rides, fort-building and praying we wouldn’t fall to our deaths when his brother whipped rocks at us high in the tree branches, Bobby was helping me escape.

One particular memory confirmed it.

We had constructed a battle scene of figures and machines on his bedroom carpet. I remember the white walls and ceiling fan in his room because these were nicer than what I had in my closet space with the furnace in the corner. We tied fishing line around the body of a WWII fighter plane and to a blade of the ceiling fan. The slow circling threat kept soldiers on their toes. It was a G.I. Joe action-figure set-up like only the kids in TV commercials had.

We pulled the chain to Medium, continuing with our battle language but shifting more attention to the plane. It picked up speed. The painted pilot banked wider and had trouble maintaining control before settling arythmically. Bobby and I glanced at the bedroom door and then at each other.

“What do you think would happen?” he whispered.

I had no other answer. “Let’s find out.”

As soon as I pulled the chain to High and backed away, the plane rose, weaving and dipping wildly. Its left wing caught the ceiling and caused the aircraft to spin desperately out of control. Bobby and I ducked in fear. Neither of us could reach the speed chain before the red fang-mouthed decal on the nose struck the ceiling.

The string broke. The fighter plane shot over us and exploded against the wall above Bobby’s pillow, shattering into plastic pieces of camouflage and outdoing everything those kids on TV had.

Mischief, I figured then, but it’s therapy to me now because I realize that I had my own commercial going on there; a break from the usual program. Dad had drunk himself reckless, mom was on the run with four of us in a far state, middle school kept me awake at night. Welfare and church people put food on the steps by the scraggly palmetto bush. We all wondered when normal might return.

Here I thought Bobby and I were making cow farts and wrecking his models. We weren’t. He was being normal, with a normal family and normal bedroom walls and a normal life. He was my grace in a battle I couldn’t fight alone; a TV commercial of normalcy in a program of chaos.

And I loved every minute of it.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Angelic Gas" is a response to Marcus Goodyear's call for epiphany stories in the Books & Culture article Only Zombies Worship Styrofoam Jesus.

Self-promotion for Christmas

2011-12-14T11:23:00.000-05:00

I don't feel comfortable with a lot of self-promotion but, hey, you might be shopping for Christmas and I just so happen to have a possible encouragement for someone on your list. Glynn Young, author of the newly published Dancing Priest, shared a few nice words about On Earth as It is in Advertising? Moving from Commercial Hype to Gospel Hope.

I received the compliments as a gift and pass them along as such. Here's an excerpt:

"...Author Sam Van Eman is tossing a live hand grenade right into the middle of Christian complacency...[and] is taking on what is still the most significant issue affecting American Christianity – how consumer culture has invaded and taken over the church, resulting in our inability to tell the difference between what he calls the 'SimGospel' and the Gospel of the church."

Read the full review and then get your copy of On Earth at Wipf & Stock Publishers.

The Work of a Roofer

2011-12-12T10:10:00.002-05:00

Jessie Romaneix by permission via Flickr.

For a long time, I refused to work with Pete. He scared me. He didn’t say much beyond his tattoos of naked women and unusual profanities. The story goes that he reacted to a honking driver by exploding out of his car, shirtless and ripped like Bruce Lee, with a baseball bat and wearing his son’s Mickey Mouse Halloween mask. He jumped on the driver’s car hood and screamed the man into repentance.

I knew I had to love Pete. Wasn’t he among the “least of these”? The mean appearance and stories that accompanied his work-release life made a definite first impression. But I had to love him. If I didn’t realize the high calling of roofing as a trade then, at least I knew from the brokenness of my workmates that I had a job to do:

"If you see some brother or sister in need and have the means to do something about it but turn a cold shoulder and do nothing, what happens to God's love? It disappears. And you made it disappear" (1 John 3:17, The Message).

To hear more about my most memorable job (Cold tar tear-offs, for an example), read the rest of this featured article at The High Calling. The High Calling hosts everyday conversations about work, life and God.

Self-pleasure for Christmas

2011-12-08T08:50:00.001-05:00

In my recent poll, 68% of you "lounged like Mary with family and friends" on Black Friday. Mary, the one blamed by her sister Martha for lazily sitting at Jesus' feet for story time, may have gotten it right. But that doesn't make the 4% of you who "toiled like Martha for family and friends" feel any better. (Sons of Martha might, however.)

Tied for second were the categories "Other" and "took advantage of the shopping deals."

Speaking of taking advantage of shopping deals, I came across an article at AdAge this morning about new holiday ads focused on me. The National Retail Federation

"recently highlighted J.Crew, which featured a 'Gift Yourself' section on its website, along with the text 'To: You, From: You.' And this week Gap is promoting sleepwear as the perfect gift to give yourself: 'Tuck Yourself In: Dots, pops of color, and soft flannel -- perfectly sized sleepwear just for you. Give (yourself!) the gift of good sleep.'"

Photo by leapetey

I hadn't seen these ads, but certainly felt more desire to shop for myself this year. Maybe I picked up the vibe subconsciously. I went out at midnight on Black Friday to buy something for my wife. The 1000-strong lines sent me home empty-handed, but I had every intention of making the purchase and then proceeding to fondle numerous additional items I could imagine having as my own.

John Ross, CEO of Shopper Sciences, said, "It looks like retailers across the board widened the draw of their promotional assortment to appeal to a broader audience." (Broader sounds so inclusive, but the only audience added to what used to be a focus on you, is me. So broad, isn't it?) "To the extent that retailers can change their ads, we'd be advising them to do it," he said. "It appears to be something that the shopper is already embracing."

Of course we're embracing it.

What I didn't realize, but what would have been something to celebrate had I known about it, is that "Shoppers have actively tried to be less impulsive and haven't been spending on themselves for some time."

In Mr. Ross's world, this less impulsive bit isn't a point of celebration. It's a problem. It isn't a sign of stewardship or self-control, but a weakness in the system. His aim is to push retailers toward adopting a self-pleasure strategy because it's good for business. Buying for self isn't inherently bad, especially when the price is right, but to employ a self-pleasure strategy in the season most known for charity and altruism can't be good for humanity.

Black Friday therapy

2011-11-25T09:02:00.001-05:00

Surplus is an odd word, especially since most of the world endures inadequate conditions. But our stores are jammed with toys and clothing and cars and food. As far as we know, it's like that everywhere. I walked into a neighborhood market that had very few items on its shelves. I asked the clerk if they were closing down, and she said, "No. Why?" Living in a "stocked" environment has serious effects on our awareness of others. The ways in which we pursue material goods, perceive available natural resources, and relate to the larger community are clear indicators that our awareness is low.

"It's not more than you need. Just more than you're used to," says a GM truck ad. Give it time. We'll get used to it.

Material goods have a way of requiring great amounts of attention and they easily distract us from others. We feel the need to protect what we've acquired, to polish what is expensive, and to store what may lose value if left out in the weather. To paraphrase King Solomon: "The abundance of the rich permits no sleep" (Ecclesiastes 5:12b).

I don't believe that Jesus commands us to renounce all possessions. Yet, when possessions act as an immediate substitute for what can come only through faith and patience, our experience of God's immanence is blocked, and we lose our sense of place in the created order. The pursuit of self-serving riches is incompatible with God's will, and it steals time that would be better invested in others. As a result, our indulgence leads to neglect.

-- Excerpt from On Earth as It is in Advertising? Moving from Commercial Hype to Gospel Hope

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True confession: I was out last night. Black Friday eve. First time ever and amazed. At midnight, Target had at least a thousand people wrapped around the outside of the building, standing two by twos. Kohls had every parking space taken and cars lined in the far grass, like at the county fairgrounds. I saw the local news van and imagined saying, "I wrote a book about advertising and what's wrong with consumerism. I'm such a hypocrite." I left the crowds without the one item I wanted, but only because I was too tired to push through. Maybe I need to read my own handwriting.

What did you do on Black Friday? Answer in the sidebar poll.

My Own Manbag line!

2011-11-21T11:14:00.001-05:00

Satire just in time for Black Friday, compliments of creative friends at The High Calling.

Klothing Klout

2011-11-17T10:08:00.001-05:00

"You and I can both be browsing the same site but would see different pricing and selection based on our current rank. For example, you might have a closet full of Levi's while I have none. When we both browse Levi's the price on your screen would be $72 while I'd see $78 for the same pair."

- RNKD start-up guy and Zappos co-founder, Nick Shwinmurn.

The idea is that I take pictures of my clothes, tag them by brand and then post them at RNKD. The more of a particular brand I post, the more likely I am to get deals on that brand, like a few dollars off a new pair, or a gift card. Klothing Klout, if you will.

(Nick, can I get clothes free for having a particular item for, say, 15 years, like my United Way Day of Caring T-shirt - now used exclusively for mowing with its am-I-even-wearing-a-shirt feel? This guy did. My Fruit of the Loom treasure dates "May 6, 1996" in faded red on the front. Got to be worth something to their PR department.)

If RNKD can't help me beat consignment and Sally's prices, $72 vs $78 won't make much of a difference for a frugal (and rare) shopper like me.

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Read the original article here.

John Lewis: The Long Wait

2011-11-16T09:48:00.001-05:00

In just three days, Adam & Eve's "The Long Wait" had racked up well over a half-million Youtube views. Not bad for a TV advertisement. You'd assume that it was either a freakishly good homemade project recorded and passed along in admiration of a prodigy's A/V talent, or else a heart-string grabber capable of making the average human being tear up. It's the latter, of course. (Being surprised by the True, Good and Beautiful has a way of doing this to me.)

As it goes, "The Long Wait" is simply another in a myriad of consumer-driven, emotion-catching, way-too-early Christmas commercials, this time for the British equivalent of JC Penney, London-based John Lewis. That doesn't seem to matter once the commercial makes its point. It's a well-told story. Little touches like a bouncing knee make it real. And it's honest in the way that you want the protagonist to be your own kid.

Shopping doesn't make good children. Plenty of living rooms will attest to this as they host the worst in our progeny on Christmas morning. But the Good, demonstrated here, reminds me once again that Advent prepares us to hope for the Christ, and for a world that acts like him. Enjoy "The Long Wait."

(Trouble viewing it? Watch it here.)

Zits are at least 51 years old!

2011-11-14T16:11:00.001-05:00

"I am so relieved to find a good acne product before school started!"

Olive said that just two months ago in an online consumer product review. I don't remember using acne products often in my school years, though when I did it was because all of the little zits that dotted my friends' faces would join together on my own as a singular grand finale; a geographically altering explosion of embarrassment.

So Olive needs some relief today and I needed it in the 80s, but this newspaper clipping for Sea Breeze answered kids' prayers in 1960. I found the advertisement in a newspaper we dug out of our chimney.

In full, it reads:

"Amazing SEA BREEZE, new brand of antiseptic skin lotion. It works wonders for complexion in just 7 days! SEA BREEZE wipes away the excess oils that cause ____ blackheads, whiteheads and pimples. It helps prevent ____ and conditions pores. SEA BREEZE kills germs instantly - _____ soothes your skin - never dries it, as so many antiseptics do. Amazing results are guaranteed - money back from SEA BREEZE if not completely satisfied at the improvement after just 7 days! Get SEA BREEZE today! Big 4 1/4 oz. bottle - just 69¢ - at any drugstore."

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According to W, Sea Breeze started as "a cosmetic skin care brand originally launched in 1906. The Original formula was initially sold as an antiseptic for minor cuts and scratches."

Wiggle room

2011-11-05T23:30:00.000-04:00

In her book, Eve's Revenge: Women and a Spirituality of the Body, Lillian Calles Barger writes:

"Throughout great classic works of literature the beautiful woman inspires, but this beauty remains largely undefined. It has no particularity. Its content is not fixed, and its attributes are of a transcendent quality. In the Iliad, Helen of Troy is never described except as beautiful. There is no image of her except what our imagination brings to the text. In William Wordsworth's poem 'She Was a Phantom of Delight' the beloved is described as 'a moment's ornament, / Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; / Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair.' Likewise in the biblical Song of Songs the beloved is described through metaphors: 'Behold, you are fair! You have dove's eyes' (Songs 1:15)."

What our imagination brings to the text. I like that. But Barger then asks: "What happens when what it means to be 'the beloved' is no longer articulated with words but communicated by explicit images?"

I spoke with a group of college students about the effects of advertising on body image. In our discussion on the way beauty is defined, one woman said, "There's no wiggle room."

The print ad above for Olay affirms her comment. It highlights Barger's word "explicit," as in: spelled out, given definitive parameters, narrowly prescribed.

Nothing short of a miracle could transform the beauty industry into a comprehensive reflection of the Kingdom of God, but is it possible, in the meantime, to add some wiggle room? How would you do it as an advertiser, or a graphic designer, or a photographer, or a parent?

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This post was first published in early 2008 when I was my only reader. Because it's still valid and because I care about voices who cover these important advertising topics, I'm bringing it back for your consideration.

Check for $97

2011-11-01T16:59:00.002-04:00

I've had an ongoing fight with an advertising book since October of 2005. I once believed in it, supported it and loved it. Others did too. And then someone with another opinion took over and after one brief paragraph the fight began.

"...simplistic...obvious...overstates...no startling features to distinguish it...." All punches to my fragile pride.

Tony Campolo had said it was "a must read for anyone who is trying to critique our culture and stand against its debilitating effects." Ron Sider called it "an important, urgent, penetrating analysis of how today's pervasive materialism seduces us and how biblical faith liberates us." The president emeritus of Bread for the World said that it was stellar.

I loved this praise. I had worked hard, cared deeply and had a grand vision of pulling materialistic America out of its blind consumption, and I wasn't alone. Jean Kilbourne, famed for her relentless and articulate beef with Madison Avenue since the 70s, stood behind me. She said I had done "a masterful job of demonstrating how the 'simulated gospel' of advertising perverts and distorts Jesus's message of love and compassion."

But insecurity confuses all of this. It doubts. It entertains unprovable possibilities. She was just being nice. He was paid to do it. He didn't really read it - just liked the title and first few pages and gambled on it being good. I've thought a hundred variations like these, all reminders that the only opinion I really believed was the one that started the fight. These were its offspring.

One year after its release, On Earth as It is in Advertising? Moving from Commercial Hype to Gospel Hope went out of print. I tried to forget about the whole thing until, several years later, Wipf & Stock Publishers asked if they could bring it back on a need to print basis. I didn't really care. Sure, I said. I disliked the new cover (I care enough about advertising to think it should be done well). They promised a dollar per copy and I signed. And then I forgot about it again.

This morning I received a surprise check in the mail. Without telling my youngest daughter what it was for, I asked her to guess how much it might be worth. She said $5. I guessed $4.

It was $97. I'm not sure what to think about having sold 97 more copies of something collecting dust on the shelf and in my mind, but I smiled. Then not two minutes later I imagined a benefactor had set me up just like Pip in Great Expectations; someone nice and in the mood to send me a hug. Another doubt.

This post may amount to being the worst book promotion ever, but I set out to write about a fight I continue having with myself, almost four decades old, book or no book. I'm haunted by fear and the criticism that lurks about.

Don't buy a copy because you feel bad for me. I've moved on in other ways. But if you want to read a simplistic, overstated, nothing new book that is simultaneously a masterfully demonstrated, important, urgent, penetrating analysis (See what goes on in mind?), you can find reviews and sources for the original here, or buy it direct from Wipf & Stock.

Better yet, call or email my favorite local bookstore, Hearts and Minds Books.

Jesus and Harry: The Light and Dark of Light and Dark

2011-10-18T11:33:00.002-04:00

Photo by FadderUri

I'm finishing book six of the Harry Potter series in Spanish. I wouldn't have been caught dead with this accursed thing in my Pentecostal church growing up. And the 2-1/2 movie versions I've seen so far leave me feeling a sort of heaviness which I don't like. But the books, in Spanish, are not only good practice reading for me, they feel, oddly enough, just fine.

The words that have always carried considerable meaning regarding evil don't carry the same weight in a foreign language. "Witch" and "sorcery" made my dark list in English, but in Spanish? They're "bruja" and "hechiceria" which fail to conjure images of the magic-hatted, green-skinned accomplice of the Devil, or something worse. Regardless of my theological position against all things hechiceria, the added cultural weight of these terms didn't make it through the translator.

In part, this has permitted me to ponder more objectively the brouhaha about Harry Potter and his symbolic relationship with Jesus, as well as the philosophical and theological divisions in the Church about what is light and what is dark. I've made a few illustrations below to show you what I mean.

First, when I read Harry Potter, I automatically place items, characters and actions into two general categories. Of course, I could split some characters into sub-categories since they aren't always good and aren't always bad (Voldemort excluded, unless you consider his desire to learn or his ability to cultivate as essentially good things regardless of his intentions). But to keep things simple, I do the following while reading:

(If Hermione and Voldemort turn out differently in the end, humor me for now.) I do the same with items, characters and actions I'd consider Christian. The Bible, with all of the bad stuff in it, is holy and perfectly good. The financial rating of our local Christian TV station, on the other hand, falls just shy of 60% which is a big fat F. Don't get me started on the way they do fund-raising, which I can't imagine Jesus would ever endorse. So I categorize here too:

Put the two together and I run into questions, which I think are the same ones other people run into. Consider the recent debate going on in the comments of an article about Steve Jobs at TheHighCalling.org: Were his acts eternally good or eternally bad or perhaps only temporarily good? Is it eternally good to do good to your neighbor only if you're a follower of Jesus, or does love count for the good-producing heathen as well?

Or consider the controversy around Christianity Today's reviews of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (I've avoided reading spoilers so far, but I'm aware of the rebuttals). Many of us are hesitant to condone or condemn when light and dark look so similar that they tie our moral hands together. So is it like the following, with gradations of good and bad?

Or this, which doesn't try to equate Hermione with the Bible, per se, but considers that good can't exist outside of God's goodness, even if that goodness falls within the traditional category of bad, which would mean that both the Bible and Hermione are good and both local Christian TV and Voldemort are bad?

Or is there another position altogether?

The Immortal Creative

2011-10-06T16:09:00.000-04:00

I'm reading The Wounded Healer by Henri Nouwen. I've had it on the shelf for years and somehow missed it as an unofficial requirement among peers. I've reached page 13, which is aged in appearance and where Nouwen refers to "man" a lot in a pre-PC way (so acknowledged in the Intro), yet the content strikes me as prophetic; ahead of its time. Nouwen was addressing post-modernism in 1972. He recognized then that young people were moving away from absolute truth and, as a result, away from hopefulness.

One particular line caught my attention and I couldn't avoid assigning it to my concern for employees in the advertising world:

"When man is no longer able to look beyond his own death and relate himself to what extends beyond the time and space of his life, he loses his desire to create and the excitement of being human."

Nouwen isn't saying that people can stop creating, even if they lose the desire. And this isn't about the idea of legacy, which can be convoluted in the mind of the insecure (like me) as the ticket to sticking around forever. It's about recognizing that what we do matters. For good or for ill, it matters. Every action I commit results in some change, either in the world at large or in my own household; either in grand, visible forms or in the mind. Every action, they say, has an equal and opposite reaction, like elementary school teachers who alter the worlds of countless children (despite being largely forgotten).

In other words, every 30 second Hulu commercial, TV commercial, YouTube intro, is an act of creation. Even if it's forgotten in five minutes, it is an action that leads to reactions - to sales, to economic shifts, to artistic twists and digital technology, to discontent and Jones jealousy. And when it is created by the hands of employees who have lost desire and don't care about immortality - or about their neighbor for that matter - those reactions wander into whatever voids will accept them.

So I'll keep watching for workers who have an eagerness and hopefulness beyond pay raises, promotions and the bare need to simply make it through another day. I'll keep watching for workers who see their work as ministry in the immortal sense of the word.

Pee in the Bath

2011-09-20T10:55:00.000-04:00

I've been on a bathroom kick lately. No reason I'm aware of. Something subconscious maybe?

I've had this cute Brazilian TV commercial in my bookmarks for quite a while and thought now would be a good time to share it. It's in Portuguese but the subtitles will make it all clear. If you think it's crude, that's okay. I think the Charmin bears with their leftover toilet paper pieces is crude too. At least this ACT-endorsed spot from South America has a grander point: To conserve water.

ACT stands for Advertising Community Together. Their website showcases advertisements and commercials that align with the statement, "Federating, promoting and inspiring responsible communication."

I can get behind that mission. (I won't tell you whether I can get behind their invocation.) Enjoy!

Invocation

Like Therapy (Only Cheaper)

2011-09-14T10:35:00.002-04:00

Laughing Horse by Ella Richardson

I love to laugh. I even laugh by myself, though I swear I'm not crazy. I've laughed in church when I wasn't supposed to, in meetings both light and heavy, during late-night comedy and at matinee movies. I've laughed in the woods, in card games, at TV commercials, and one time I laughed when my wife and I hadn't spoken to each other for days.

Laughter does my body good. This month I wrote about it at The High Calling (see the link above). I also edited a reflection by poet Jeanne Murray Walker on laughter in a cancer ward. Then today, a colleague and I launched a little writing project on laughter.

Deidra Riggs writes for The High Calling, (in)courage, and her city newspaper. She's a delightful woman and a friend...and she loves to laugh. She's hosting the project at her site.

Check it out and be sure to submit your entry by Friday, September 23:

Like Therapy (Only Cheaper)

Where the Sun Don't Shine

2011-09-13T10:40:00.000-04:00

Image from Respect the Roll.

As of late August, "Nearly 300,000 Consumers Have Signed Up for a Free Roll Cover at RespectTheRoll.com."

You've seen the commercials. The one where Eric, Amber and John discuss tp etiquette in defense of unsheltered rolls. And another, which I saw this past Sunday night, where an elderly husband and wife peep into a neighbor's bathroom, flabbergasted at the disrespectful practice of keeping their exposed roll on the back of the commode. (Not sure whether it's the neighbor's primary roll or the extra for when the primary runs out. Are we supposed to respect both? Just the extra? If both, what do you do with the lid on the primary roll when it's time to use it?)

TMI. Sorry. I know folks who find it grossly embarrassing to buy new toilet paper in the store, let alone talk about what we do with it at home.

I've never covered my toilet paper. We have a roll on the holder and extras under the sink. There you have it. And maybe because this has always been our practice, these commercials irk me. They feel a bit like bullying: "What?! You don't ______? You must be a caveman."

Cottonelle has created a site called "Where the Sun Don't Shine Tribune," patterned after an online newspaper. Videos, Letters to the Editor, Top Stories, Current Weather. It has the same gimmicky 50s feel as the commercials. And based on the numbers, the campaign is working, with "72 requests per minute on RespectTheRoll.com at the height of website traffic." Either consumers think the available patterns will compliment their bathrooms, or they're looking for novelty in otherwise utilitarian quarters, or they really believe tp should be respected.

Do you use one? Should I? Is this an emotionally manipulative ploy to woo germaphobes (I'm one of these) or a worthwhile purchase?

No touchy.

2011-09-08T10:30:00.000-04:00

"No touchy." This phrase from Kuzco, the high-maintenance ruler-turned-llama from Emperor's New Groove, resonates with me. I can't help it. I am a fringe germaphobe, dabbling in the art of knowing where my hands have been.

So when I watch the commercial for Lysol's No-Touch Hand Soap System, I'm intrigued. For a split second, I'm intrigued. And then completely disillusioned:

"You and your family will never have to touch a germy soap pump again."

So? I could see this as a problem if I had to touch the germy pump after washing my hands, but before? Before I wash my also germy hands? This product has no logical usefulness. Fear alone will sell it if it sells.

I'm acutely aware of the before/after touching of germy surfaces. For example, it's a major faux pas to place public restroom door handles on the inside of the door yet it happens all of the time. What's the point of washing my hands (No-Touch system or not) if afterward I'm forced to share the exit door handle with so many guys who head out without washing at all? There is no point. It's like touching the soap pump again after my hands have been cleaned. When does this ever make sense?

It seems that bacterial scientists and designers are working on different pages. Talk with each other, people. Good work - the kind Christ followers should see as the standard - gets done when effective profession-level collaboration serves the public in useful ways. And both are needed: the collaboration and the usefulness. Otherwise, I either waste money on senseless products at home or feel tempted in public to knock on the bathroom door, begging someone to let me out.

Look After You Leap

2011-08-12T09:16:00.001-04:00

Image by Craig (lincolnblues).

My contribution to TheHighCalling.org this morning reminds me of how superficial I tend to be when it comes to visual judgment. So why am I not like this when it comes to advertising? I think it's because I'm jaded. Too much crying wolf over the years. I've been conditioned to approach ads assuming the bells and whistles are hiding something. And the more bells and whistles, the more hiding.

I know there's good stuff going on in the ad world. I just need more of it.

I walked past our girls’ room yesterday and saw a book lying open-faced in the chair. On the earmarked page it read, “By the time he was 57, President George Washington was completely toothless.”

Huh. Didn’t know that. Twice I caught my grandfather without his false teeth – accidentally and only twice. It shocked me both times. I’d seen strangers and National Geographic photos of people with nothing but gums, but this was my grandfather who had convinced me he had a full set. And a toothless President? Unimaginable.

The trivia page went on to say that Howard Taft weighed 350 pounds on his inauguration day. I think I knew this and vaguely remembered a story about him getting stuck in a bathtub at a college where I worked. I wondered how these men came to power. I assume it was their work ethic, leadership potential, articulation, social influence, political savvy…all the skills a public figure needs. It certainly couldn’t have been appearance because we’d never elect to President a man (or woman) with either of these physical characteristics.

"Love your neighbors for who they are on the inside," we’re told. "Don’t judge a book by its cover." Who really takes this advice? We’re a vain lot and research shows that nothing escapes our biases: gender, age, race, looks. Even as a follower of Christ, my narrow band of preference overrides what I’d like to think is Spock logic....

Read the rest here.

The High Calling is a site about work, life, and God.