Reflections from the Land of Screamin' Guitars & Zit Cream Commercials

Old disc jockeys have BIG record collections. It just goes with the territory.

Low life record promoters kept most of us loaded down with multiple copies of everything their label was pushing at the moment and we, in turn, used the singles, t-shirts and albums to pay off bookies, bar tabs and babysitters.   Well, okay, I did.  Some guys and gals actually liked pop music and treasured their role in making the hits; their walls sport gold records as proof.  Personally, the music never meant much to me.  I got into the radio business so that I could TALK about stuff.  The music was, in old farm boy parlance,  just so much cow flop we pitchforked into the mix to coax ratings.  With the rare exception of a song I actually liked, I looked on purveying the hits as "slopping" the listeners" with the intention of keeping them glued to what was--at the moment-- the GREATEST radio station on the planet.   (Until I got fired and went somewhere else.)

In hindsight I suppose a move to talk radio would have been the smart thing for a guy like me, though an act consisting of me yelling "Shut up moron…Get off my phone!" perhaps had limited appeal.  In addition, for numerous years  there wasn't an easier buck than music radio.  It was air conditioned, indoors, and required no heavy lifting.   The tunes we had to play afforded ample opportunity for trips to the men's room, vending machines and expeditions down the hall to flirt with the women in the traffic department.  Truth be known, some of the songs were so awful that it was necessary to leave the control room just to keep from throwing up.  "Seasons In the Sun" by Terry Jacks was such a ballad.  In 1974 that piece of floating fecal matter was in the hot rotation at many stations.  To avoid permanent ear bleed and brain damage I would invariably attempt to make sure whenever this beauty was scheduled a jingle would precede it to allow me ample time to escape before enduring a single note.

I hadn't thought of Mr. Jacks hideous crime against music in years.  Mercifully, it never really made it on to the playlist of most major "oldies" stations where I was forced to relive the 60's and 70's late in my career.  Then, like an infestation of brain termites, my old pal, Bill Moffitt, slipped this musical turd into a CD he burned for me.  Bill and I have been friends for years and share not only a Midwest background but a similar job history.  By shear coincidence the two of us wound up getting hired and fired at three different  stations at approximately the same time.  We were in broadcast harness together for over fifteen years,  much to the chagrin of multiple program directors we either drove to distraction or, better yet, out of the business.  Take THAT programing putzes!

Mr. Moffitt has, almost without question, one of the largest music libraries ANYWHERE.  Everything from rock n' roll, to country, classical and jazz has been requisitioned and inventoried by "The Moff" and he enjoys putting  together  some of the most eclectic compilations imaginable for his pals.  They are surprisingly entertaining.

Recently I was enjoying--yes, actually enjoying--Moffitt's latest creation featuring everything from Tony Bennett singing the Army Air Corp theme to Roger Miller's "Dang Me" when the audio punch bowl was suddenly befouled by the Godawful "Seasons in the Sun".  My ears may never recover.
How could he do this to me?  Oh, the humanity!

For those who don't remember, I have found the incriminating contemptuous piece of pop pap on You Tube.  Listen if you dare, before I seal it in a lead container for deposit in the Groove Yard of Good Guy Gold.
Good day to you Mr. Jacks!  I am headed to Moffitt's house to administer a sound thrashing.

PeeeeUuuuuuuu!

And They Call It--- Guppy Love

"Hello darlin'.  Come here often?"

Apparently with their country's economy running on fumes and half the population out of work the intellectual giants at Italy's University of Padua have nothing better to do than spend time gauging the attractiveness of guppies and exploring their mating habits.

In an article published by Britain's Royal Society, NOT available on newsstands everywhere, Ms. Clelia Gasparini expounds at great length on the startling news that she and her colleagues at U. of P. discovered:  Male guppies use ugly friends to appear more attractive to potential mates.  Yep, old Clelia and friends have blown the lid off guppy nookie.  Finally!

In the interest of science, Gasparini and friends set up a little experiment not unlike the old Dating Game TV show.  Sans genial host, Jim Lange, these scientists placed a female guppy inside a special partition at  one end of an aquarium along with two very "hot" and brightly colored males.  In the other end of the tank an equally yummy looking Guppy hottie was positioned next to a couple of less colorful and more ordinary looking boy guppies.

Guppy mating, giving new meaning to "hook up"

When another male guppy was plopped in the center of this water filled singles bar he nearly always chose to hang with his more schlubby looking pals who were orbiting bachelorette number 2 in the "gee he has a great personality" control area of the aquarium.

I guess there are no surprises here.  The importance of a less attractive wing man when the male of any species is on bone patrol can never be underestimated.  This is precisely why I am puzzled by the absence of additional controls in this experiment.  Why not try using variations in the size of the male fish wallet for example.  Or, just for grins, how about throwing a few of the more "chesty" females into the equation?

"We got to get it together baby."

If these crazy Italians really want to get creative there is always endless possibilities when soft lights, a fine Chablis and some Barry White records are introduced to the mix.  Of course who knows what kind of aquatic damage would ensue when guppies become hotter than Monica Lewinsky at a Boy Scout Jamboree.

Wake up Italians!  Never be afraid to fly the freak flag in the name of science!

Hardly A Super Bowl of Advertising

I don't know about you but I didn't feel like some of those big national advertisers got their moneys worth this year.  At $4 million for a :30 second spot, it seems as if some unsuspecting vice presidents got hosed.  

For example:  Did watching a bunch of geriatric escapees cause you to "run for the border" and grab some Taco Bell?  Didn't think so.

The impression left by Taco Bell was the decidedly negative feeling that if I ate there the food would render me instantly old--okay, oldER.  Why not promote the new and improved Taco Bell menu or their more often than not cheerful service and ultra clean bathrooms?

Then, there was Go Daddy.  Not only did the uber nerd sucking face with the super model give me the dry heaves, it DID NOT send me to their website to snag a brand new URL?   I don't think I'm alone here. 

What the hell were these companies trying to accomplish??!!

The guess here is that the majority of advertisers and their agencies have become so intent on impressing their peers with how hip and funny they are that they have forgotten the sole purpose of advertising: MOVE THE GOODS!  Since the first caveman chiseled the point of a spear, humans have tried to convince others that they really needed, and would be willing to part with money for,  a superior product.  Sometimes this can be accomplished with humor and other times an honest presentation of specific advantages will result in the sale of goods, but ultimately the message should be designed to SELL.  

Watching the majority of this year's Super Bowl spots left me not only NOT wanting to buy what they were selling but half the time I couldn't tell WHAT they were attempting to sell me.  They were clever but ineffective.  Some companies would have done themselves a large favor had they merely taken their four or eight million dollars and set fire to it.  I'm fairly certain that the crowd attracted by the sight of that kind of scratch going up in smoke would have made a better and more receptive audience.   Madison Avenue trying to dazzle Madison Avenue via style and wit left the majority of consumers out of the equation.

Naturally, there were some exceptions to this bumper crop of stupid commercials.  By general consensus, Budweiser's "Brotherhood" ad was effective in grabbing the attention of millennials.  However, at least for the more mature demographic, hands down the best of the bunch was the "So God Made a Farmer" ad for Dodge Ram trucks.  The Richards Group of Dallas took audio from a 1978 speech Paul Harvey gave to the Future Farmers of America and coupled it with pictures featuring farmers on tractors, kneeling in prayer, barns, silos, cows and a window draped with an American flag. It was brilliant!  The late Mr. Harvey was a genius at painting word pictures and his signature dramatic pauses coupled with pictures created a riveting and moving experience that made us watch and listen.  I don't know about you, but when the two minute piece was finished I wanted nothing more than to move to the country…right after buying my new Dodge Ram truck.  It was so good I'll bet you actually forgot that Chrysler, Dodge's parent, is an Italian company these days.  

If you didn't see it, here is the Paul Harvey Dodge Ram spot:

And now you know…THE REST OF THE STORY

A Very Fizzy Message

It has become more of a national holiday than some of our actual holidays.  Next thing you know, some nimrod in congress will be introducing a bill to turn Super Bowl weekend into one of those meaningless three day benders we use to commemorate dates that once were important.  Lincoln's birthday anyone?

Slightly less than half the country gives a damn about the outcome of this year's meat grinder between the San Francisco 49r's and the Baltimore Ravens.  Personally I've always liked the Niners and am prepared to give the points and take the bet.   They will beat the three or four point spread and put a merciful end to media attention focused on the largest source of natural gas in the Western hemisphere, Ray Lewis.

Maybe more important than the game, high priced very creative commercials have become a popular feature of the annual broadcast.  Even non-fans often watch the tilt just to catch the ads.  They, in fact, enjoy a certain advantage over football fans in that they are free to snarf snacks and socialize while the game is underway only pausing to give rapt attention to the latest Coke or Pepsi spot.

Oh yeah, Coke and Pepsi will be there but don't count on seeing the latest SodaStream production.  It seems that CBS has caved to the purveyors with the greater financial throw-weight and banned the newest SodaStream message.  Go figure.

The big guys may have played into the deft promotional hands of some very clever competitors  because anyone with access to a computer can view the new commercial on-line.

CHECK IT OUT...

The commercial Coke and Pepsi don't want you to see.

                                                                    GO NINERS!