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Here’s the most important thing I try to teach my ad students.

I’ve been the chair of the ad department here at SCAD for just over three years now, and I’m all totes cray about teaching. (Totes cray – see how hip you get hangin’ with the college crowd?)

Over these last few years I’ve had the privilege of leading a million in-class critiques. And in all that time, there’s one piece of advice I found myself giving more than any other.

“Your idea isn’t fast enough.”

Here’s the thing: The customer has to get what you’re saying instantly, or close to it.  For my money, a quick-get — the Speed of the Get — is the first and the most important thing an idea needs to have. A quick-get matters more than even the creativity of the piece. (I know, heresy.)

For my money, the official order of importance goes

1.) Speed of the Get

2.) Believability

3.) Creativity.

Well, perhaps one could quibble,  “Oh yeah, but if it’s not creative first, then why would readers even look at your stupid idea anyway?” There are probably many erudite rebuttals to this, but mine is just shut up, it’s my blog.

I liken the Speed of the Get to the length of a fuse on a stick of dynamite. You don’t want the fuse to be too short or too long. If the fuse is too short, it probably means your idea is too simple or too stripped-down. It may read quickly but it’ll have little effect on the viewer. Sort of like a STOP sign; obviously an instant read but not something I’m likely to post on Facebook.

Few students however err on the side of too-short fuses. In an effort to create an intriguing idea that requires a little bit of the viewer – which is a good thing – students tend to encode their ideas. But if understanding the idea takes one or two beats longer than it should, FAIL. Because nobody has time to wait around for an idea to go off.  The fuse burns, camera follows it around the corner, everybody loses interest, a minute later somebody hears a distant… pop …  says, “Wait, did you hear somethin’?”

Now that I’ve finally plowed my analogy deep into the ground, I think I’ll spade dirt over it by providing free-of-charge the handy image you see below.

Peace out. (Like I said, I’m very hip now, what with these whacky college kids.)

Screenshot 2015-06-06 09.00.30

Tom Lichtenheld’s drawing of the Focus Group inside my Brain.

Man, my stuff rocks.
Man, my stuff rocks.

Tom Lichtenheld used to be one of the world’s best art directors and now he is one of the world’s best children’s books authors. (Don’t take my word for it. Look him up. His latest has been on the NYTimes bestseller list for, like, 80 years now.)

Anyway, years ago when we were workin’ together at Fallon, he went out of his way to be mean-spirited and disrespectful to me, just because he thought I liked everything I did.

Which is SO not true.

(Man, this is a good blog, isn’t it? The BEST.)

How Not To Suck as a Creative Director.

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I think it’s a shame that so many people, when they become creative directors, forget what it was like being a creative. Most of them seem to forget what it was they themselves most needed, back when they were a workin’ creative. They forget what it was like. They forget what they were like.

Me? When I was a young copywriter, I was (among other things) insecure, arrogant, clueless, impatient, and always cynical. Always cynical. And cynics are hard to lead because they don’t believe a thing most managers have to say. And the thing managers do that cynics find most grating?


“Hey, it’s not so bad we have to re-pitch this client! I just know you can come up with something better!”

Cynics hate cheerleading. Cynics don’t want account people to beat around the bush saying, “It’s okay, your ads are with Jesus now.” Just say “Dude, your campaign died because the client didn’t get it. And yeah, it sucks.” I’d counsel managers to share the creatives’ pain, to share their frustration. They don’t need you to come in and plop some whipped cream on the shit sandwich.  In fact, when one of my teams was told they had to do something that was stupid or just kinda sucked, I said, “Hey, when you have to eat a turd, don’t nibble.”

Cynics hate cheerleading. They also hate pretty much everything about corporate structure: memos, meetings, time sheets, expense reports, all that H.R. stuff. It bores them or irritates them. The smart creative manager will do everything he or she can can to streamline the corporate red-tape and act as a buffer against agency bureaucracy.

Cynics also hate meetings. They’re a huge time-suck. Cynics think, “Why did we even have that meeting? You coulda just leaned into my office and said it.” My suggestion: fewer meetings, more conversations.

Here’s another interesting thing about creatives. You’d be surprised how much torture we can take if you just tell us why we’re being tortured. Creatives like transparency. They wanna know what they’re part of. They wanna know why they’re being asked to do something, even if it’s a dumb reason; and in this business, it usually is a dumb reason.  Smart creative managers don’t try to “protect” creatives from the bad news; and in this business, it usually is bad news.

It’s bad news, so just say it. If you try to tiptoe around it, you’ll end up sounding like that guy in Office Space who was always goin’, “Uh, yeeeeaaahh, if you could just go ahead and come in this weekend.”

Another thing I wish I’d heard less of when I was a young creative?

It usually comes during a creative meeting. Someone in the back of room puts down their donut and says, “Well, if I could just be the devil’s advocate here for a sec….”

Dude, shut up.

Ideas are fragile. The bubble can pop so easily. Instead of being the devil’s advocate, why not be the angel’s advocate? Don’t just blurt out what you hate about something. Not liking stuff is easy. Anyone can do it. It’s harder to find out what’s good about the idea. The trick is finding that little coal and then blowin’ on it till it’s flame.

I forget where I read this quotation from writing coach Jay O’Callahan, but it went like this: “It is strange that, in our culture, we are trained to look for weaknesses. When I work with people, they are often surprised when I point out the wonderful crucial details – the parts that are alive.” He went on to suggest, “If our eyes are always looking for weakness, we begin to lose our intuition to notice beauty.”

I found this very same advice from a venture capitalist, David Sze of Greylock Partners: “Anyone can tell you why something’s going to fail. The real trick is to find out why something will succeed.”

Before I wear out my welcome here, I’ll just close with one last piece of advice, this one from my old boss, the late Mike Hughes of The Martin Agency.

Mike said that rejection is such a daily part of this business, and so it’s important to remember creatives need to score a victory every once in a while. It doesn’t have to be a huge win; just a little victory at the right time can keep creatives very motivated. He said:

“[A creative director should help find] relief for the people with thankless jobs – the copywriter on the account that has a new direction every week, the account person who deals with the especially difficult client, the project manager on the project that can’t be managed, the planner who’s partnered with a not-very-good creative team.

“Sometimes that relief means the top people at the agency need to get involved with a problem client or account. Sometimes it means moving people into different positions – even if it makes everyone involved feel a little uncomfortable. Sometimes it means creating or investing in projects that have a high likelihood of meaningful success, even if that success isn’t a financial one.”

Oh, how I miss Mike.

–Luke Sullivan

[Full disclosure: I didn’t plan for the essay to stop this abruptly, but the fall quarter is ending and I gotta run.]







Richmond 1985: Life at a Small Agency and a Really Small Agency.

In 1983 – for you English Lit majors, 30 years ago – I joined the creative department of a small agency in Richmond as hire #10 or so. I went on to work at medium-sized and large agencies, but my time at the Martin Agency I remember with particular fondness. For students waffling between big versus small – both have their charms – today is about small.


This is the original building at Lee Circle where I first met Mike Hughes, best boss I ever had. (To our great shock, Mike died this last December 15th.) We ten creatives whom he oversaw worked on the third floor, which was an old ballroom. The biggest client at the time was Barnett Banks and while I don’t remember their billings, we did maybe two TV spots a year, buncha magazine, and too much radio. (Today their big account is some company called Wal-Mart.)

In those days, creative teams weren’t as common and everybody pretty much worked with everybody; and everybody knew everybody, and not just in the creative department but all over. If I were a new staffer at some big-ass shop in New York, I doubt their president woulda walked up to my desk – like Don Just did – to whisper, “Psst, we’re takin’ the timeshare jet to Palm Beach for the weekend and stayin’ at The Breakers.” (What followed was kinda like Spring Break, but without the youth, beauty, or sex.)

Not all small agencies were as fun as Martin was in the ‘80s. Come to think of it, it was probably the crazy decade of the ‘80s that got us nuts. Nah. It was us. We were crazy. Well, maybe five of us were crazy. Okay, I was crazy.

We’d gather almost nightly in one area bar or another, and not just Martin Agency people. The creative departments from other city agencies (Siddall, Matthus & Coughter, Lawler Ballard, Ford & Westbrook) gathered at joints like Humphrey’s, Jay’s, Strawberry Street Café, and Joe’s Inn; the last of which still has some of our brain cells on the ceiling, plus I think Mahoney left an open tab there.

Cynicism and sarcasm were the coinage of our realm, and we encouraged leaning into people’s cubicles to insult their work, looks, age, sexual orientation, whatever was handy. Insults were so common on the third floor they were the default setting of all hallway greetings. In fact, to signify you actually had something nice to say to someone, you had to lean in, speak, and then back away with two raised and open hands. (“I’m unarmed, not a threat.”)

Rollover to enlarge.
Rollover to enlarge.

Sometimes blanket insults were called for, such as the time I tacked this list to the third-floor bulletin board. It was for all “my” art directors, a list of rules about proper behavior while riding my coattails to the One Show. (My favorite being rule 5, somethin’ about, “Be quiet, I’m trying to think up here.” Boom!)

Though Richmond was a small ad town back then and never made the New York Times (well, once) we all wanted to crush each others’ dreams in the local ad competition, burn their pathetic villages, and leave their old women wailing in the streets, “Why do we suck so much?”

Actually we were all great friends and we’d help any and all with concepts and share our ideas scribbled on bar napkins. In fact, it was the napkin-layouts that gave my friend Cabell Harris the idea for Drinking Buddies Advertising and the logo. I managed to save only a piece of the stationery but the business card was cooler; an actual napkin with ad scribbles on it. (Oh, and the Martin Agency toilet paper? That’s from the bathroom during a party at an agency across town, Westbrook Inc.) Also pictured below is the entire creative department of Drinking Buddies Advertising. (Cabell, me, Danny Boone at the Strawberry Street Café branch office). Like Martin, we were a small agency too; we just didn’t have a health plan. (No wait, we did. “Try to switch to filtered cigarettes and always eat the fruit in your drink.”)

photo (2)

Our good boss, Mike Hughes, somehow put up with all this foolishness and freelancing, as he had only to peek out his office to see we worked pretty hard at our day jobs. Still, I’m not sure any of it woulda been possible at a big-ass agency (or under a different creative director).

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There are more stories to tell another day. For now I’ll part with these last two pictures, both of me and Cabell Harris. It clearly shows what horrible things 30 years in the business can do to a person. Forgive me for leaving out all kinds of wonderful Martin Agency people, but that core group, you guys know who you are: Andy, Cabell, Christi, Danny, Diane, Hal, HV, Jane, Jerry, Mahoney, Russ, Tyson, and Wayne-us. I love you guys.)


Ad Coach’s Post-Game Locker Room Speech


Hey everybody. Particularly you ad students who were in the national ad competition last week:

Professor Novak sent me an email last week giving me the results of the competition you all went to last week. Like him, I was truly bummed. Certainly not as bummed as you guys, but bummed just the same.

Empathy is probably way-more-called-for here than any lesson, but this is a school and I am a teacher, so… sue me, but I see a learning opportunity.

Believe it or not, I was once a young ad geek too, and back then winning in the shows was the most important thing to me. Nothing else mattered. This attitude served me well….but only on those days when I won a lot of awards. The days I didn’t do well in the shows, I got so depressed. It was kinda pathetic.

Fortunately, I managed to grow out of that phase and develop a healthy respect for my talents regardless of how I did in the shows. A big part of what helped me get to that place was what happened the first time I was invited to be a judge in the show of shows – The One Show.

There I was in Barbados (yeah, not too shabby) with all these big-shot ad stars, creatives I’d been studying for years. These were some really great ad people, okay? As the show was judged over the course of about five days – and to my dawning horror – I saw things die that just….well, shouldn’t have died. Great stuff, dying left and right. I was amazed at the capriciousness of the judges. One day they’d love a piece of work and move it forward in the competition. The next day, “What’s this crap still doing in the show?”

I came back to my job with a renewed vigor and, more importantly, a perspective I didn’t have before.

The shows – both the good and bad, local and international – the shows are all ruled by the Gods. Ultimately, you cannot control what gets in, even if you write the best single ad ever written in the space-time continuum. Sure, excellent work has better odds, but at the end of the day, it’s a roll of the dice.

So, to you guys on the team that competed last week, I say hats off to you. Yeah, goddammit, we didn’t win. It sucks. Fine, feel rotten for a day, but don’t let it keep you from getting in the ring next year. Same thing goes for those great times when you win – feel great for a day, and then get ready for the next one.

If only I’d listened to my old boss, the late Mike Hughes, when I was at The Martin Agency. All those times I came dragging into work depressed that I’d been shut out at some award show, Mike would say, “Luke (you whiny self-obsessed dingbat ….[okay, I added that part]), let your joy come from the journey, not the destination. Let your joy come from the working, not the results of your work.”

–See you in the hallways, Prof Luke

I believe there’s something more powerful than creativity. (I’m serious.)

More and more these days I’ve begun to think creativity isn’t the most important thing in an ad campaign. Heresy, I know, but I’m thinkin’  there is another way – possibly a better one – for a brand to stand out.

See, the thing is we’re a nation of eye-rollers. We’re cynics. Nothing is authentic anymore. We put finger-quotes around everything.

This national eye-rolling and “yeah whatever” didn’t happen overnight. Our sense of ironic remove is the result of a steady drip of lies from every authority figure we’ve ever set on every pedestal throughout history.

The heavens began to fall (in this writer’s opinion) when President Dick Nixon was exposed as the paranoid felon he was. That was in 1974 and ever since we’ve watched pedestals fall like dominoes as icon after icon was exposed as a liar, a cheat, a criminal, a pederast. Murderous policemen, horny congressmen (remember “wide stance”?), and priests PRIESTS, don’t even get me started. The Wall Street dirtbags, the Enron asshats … the nightly news is an endless perp walk of fallen heroes laid so comically low even our best satirists cannot summon the necessary irony.  Well, Fran Lebowitz came close when she wrote, “No matter how cynical I get, it’s impossible to keep up.”

Even as I write these words, on the news I am watching yet another Florida judge tell yet another pudgy white cretin after killing yet another black man, “Dude, we can’t stay mad at youuuu.”

And so we are a nation of skeptics, cynics and eye-rollers. It isn’t just that our bullshit detectors are set on high; it’s our truth detectors; those we turned off a long time ago. There isn’t any.

Okay, so here’s my question. Given all this, how can any brand manager continue to think people are going to believe his commercials? People don’t believe the news anymore. Considering all this, is more creativity really the answer?

Well, obviously, creativity’s important, but I’ve come to believe that right now the fastest way to stand out in this blizzard of bullshit is to tell the truth.

In The Art of Immersion, author Frank Rose wrote, “People today are experiencing an authenticity crisis, and with good reason. Value is a function of scarcity. And in a time of scripted ‘reality’ TV and Photoshop everywhere, authenticity is a scarce commodity.”

If I were a brand manager today, I’d at least have a go at accurately describing my product with candor and honesty, without superlatives, and maybe throw in a dollop of self-deprecation. And I’d publicly admit, “Yes, we have an agenda. We want you to buy our stuff.”

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Crispin wanted you to buy Domino’s pizza and they brought the brand back to life with honesty (“We heard our pizza isn’t so great.”) and transparency (“Here’s what we’re doing to improve it.”) It isn’t rocket science, as Bogusky himself explained: “This generation knows you’re trying to sell them something. And you know they know. So let’s just drop the pretense and make the whole experience as much fun as possible.”

I’m reminded of one of my favorite ads, the ’60s VW ad shown here. While Detroit was selling “sizzle” and chrome and bullshit, VW shrugged its shoulders and went, “We don’t mind. Have fun at the party.”

So this is where I net out these days: the most unusual thing a brand can do to show up on a consumer’s radar is to be authentic. To be real. To cut the bullshit and quit trying to hide the fact that you’re trying to sell them something. Be authentic. Talk about about your brand the way you would tell a friend. You wouldn’t lie. You wouldn’t exaggerate. You wouldn’t use exclamation points. You wouldn’t oversell. You wouldn’t “spin.”

You’d say, “Hey, check this cool thing out. It works pretty well. I bought one. Maybe you’d like it too.”

Very smart guest-posting by a former student: Racism, Xenophobia, and the Super Bowl Coke spot.

Double-selfie of me and my smart student, Igor Tanzil.
Double-selfie of me and my smart student, Igor Tanzil.

I had, for a number of reasons, left out Coca-Cola’s “Beautiful” Super Bowl spot by W+K out of my ad picks of the year. The first reason being that it didn’t quite move me like my other options did. It was a spot that is worthy of the Wieden + Kennedy name: a larger than life message for a larger than life brand that was executed to a tee. Nevertheless, it didn’t elicit enough emotion in me to warrant a spot in my favorites. Maybe its because I’m not an American, or maybe its because I’m not a huge fan of soda; whatever the case, I saw it, appreciated it for the beautiful sentiment that it presented and moved on.

Now, the second reason I left it out was the obvious can of worms it presented. The moment the lyrics of “America the Beautiful” was sung in another language, I smiled. It changed to another, and another, and the spot culminated in a number of languages I hardly recognized. As previously stated, it was a beautiful sentiment and I admired both W+K and Coke for it. I was however, almost immediately fearful for the backlash it might bring upon itself and chose to avoid touching the subject. Call it cowardice, call it indifference, whatever – I left it alone.

That is of course until the following couple days. I hold my Facebook friends and other social media contacts in high esteem in the fact that I didn’t have to see too many negative reactions to the ad in any sort of agreeable fashion, and for that, kudos my friends: this post is for you.

So a little background for the unaware: Two iconic American companies, Coca-Cola and W+K, presented the nation with a message of tolerance and grace that is a direct reflection of the global world we live in today. Of course, the internet and its denizens reacted as one might suspect and you can find evidence of this on Coca-Cola’s Facebook page, their YouTube spot, and this nice compilation by Matt Binder on his blog: Public Shaming.

In one fell swoop, the consolidated vermin and scum in a country that preached racial equality and world peace came out of the woodwork. Bigots rose as one and cast their Cokes in protest, armchair politicians and closeted Klan members took to their keyboards and bullhorns; and so revealed are a nation’s worst.

I am, admittedly, not a political person and am for the most part content with confining my political views and outrages to close friends and family. However, something like this deserves a little more attention. The unfortunate lifeforms that took to the web are a sad reminder to the many nay-sayers out there that bigotry and racism are alive and well. Lest we forget, hate breeds hate and the clear heads that preach tolerance and understanding are few and far between. In my humble opinion, when you actively hate a culture and people so much as to express your hate in public – please stifle your surprise when they reciprocate.

I grew up in three different countries, I was shaped by two cultures not of my own, and I am more fluent in a language that is not my mother tongue. Such is the nature of a modern, global society. And yet, even in a country that proclaimed world dominance with the right to maintain a role as peacekeeper, such hate persists.

Every remark that condemns this ad is a reminder to all that we are indeed different.

Every can of Coke thrown in anger is a call to others to hate.

We often forget just how easily a little discrimination can lead to full blown war. And to react to a soda ad with such vigorous spite? I’d wager some money that these people also believe that the world is flat and that the sun is in motion around their sad pathetic lives.

To Wieden + Kennedy and Coca-Cola, rock on. No matter how you cut it, the commercial conveyed a message that is apparently ahead of its time. To you and the rest of us who saw the ad and didn’t immediately turn into a degenerate: take solace. For every bigot out there attempting a Coke boycott, the rest of us will go on towards a future that is quickly leaving them behind.

To those who have the urge to express anger towards a multilingual take on a song, please take a moment to consider this:

Your actual nation anthem – called The Star-Spangled Banner, by the way – has not actually been defiled in any way.

Your vision of an all white nation under an enforced language is a similar aspiration held by a one Adolf Hitler in the early half of the twentieth century.

Also, given all the effort put forth by both the ad agency and Coca-Cola to make this commercial a reality, it is safe to assume that countless hours have gone into studying any possible backlash and response from the ad. You, and your inbred bigoted kin have been considered and deemed to be in the minority (or a fantastic emotional pressure point to exploit).

Finally, to those who insist that you aren’t a racist with the argument that the English language is a sacred unifying factor in the United States, well consider this: If your language is the last and sole unifying thread for the country, then the country itself has some issues.

Love of country, regardless of who you are, is an intangible feeling that goes beyond language. It is a feeling that is borne out of familiarity, appreciation of everything your country has given you, and most importantly, the people that make up your country. Countries aren’t divided by language, to that point, why aren’t you the United States of America, Australia, Canada, England, New Zealand, Singapore, South Africa?

A country is an ideal, a feeling, a place, a home.

I’ve watched in envy as people call America “home” regardless of where they are from and regardless of the language they are most comfortable speaking. This is the ideal that made so many of us foreigners flock here, and whether or not we will ever be accepted, we look to this ideal as a beacon of what could be. America, the beautiful, will remain beautiful regardless of what’s being spoken on the street. And my country, Indonesia, will still be mine even after we’ve incorporated the English language into our education. Because at the end of the day, home isn’t defined by a language, a language is but a means to understand.

It’s just a crying ass shame that so much misunderstanding has to fall in between.

– Igor Tanzil

• • • • • • • • • • • •

NOTE: It’s a sad day when the Americans I’m proudest of are from other countries. You rock, Igor.

The two states of consumer awareness: Shopping for Vegetables and Being a Vegetable.


Open on Scene I: (In front of Hilton at SXSW Austin)

I’m on the sidewalk, minding my own business, inside my bubble.

My taxi pulls up and just as I’m about to hop in, I’m attacked.

Some Jesus-y type of person is in my face telling me how his god is better than my god and how my ass is gonna fry to a crisp on Beelzebub’s Griddle unless I take his stinkin’ brochure.

He doesn’t ask for my permission. He doesn’t know if I’m open to his message. He just thrusts a brochure in my face. I go into Matrix-bullet-time, dodge his sales pitch, leap into my taxi, and I’m gone.


Cut to scene II: (interior of house, living room).

This time, I’m at home. I’m watchin’ TV. In fact, to make it apples-to-apples, let’s say I’m watching “Taxi,” not waiting for one.

Suddenly the movie stops and another schmuck is in my face. Only now it’s some yuppie at his breakfast table telling me his coffee is better than my coffee. What am I? Flypaper for freaks?

Don’t these guys get it? Whether I’m watching “Taxi” or getting into one, I ain’t shoppin’.

Does lying on my couch in my underwear, eating stale Cheetos, does it look like I’m shopping? I’m not kicking tires, comparing prices, or squeezin’ melons; I’m relaxing.  I’m a vegetable.

Vegetables are not interested in sales pitches. Vegetables like escape. They like stories, adventure, drama, but definitely not pitches.

Tomorrow, however, is a different story. Tomorrow, I actually am gonna be buying something — a new Toyota. And before I buy it, I’ll want all the facts. I’ll welcome the brochures. I’ll listen to the sales pitch. I may even watch the in-store video. But that’s tomorrow.


I propose that at any given time, every customer is in one of these two modes: “Shopping for Vegetables,” or “Being a Vegetable.”

These two modes go by other names: passive and active. emotional and rational, intuitive and analytical. And if you agree there are times when you’re actively shopping and times you’re not, it stands to reason two different kinds of sales method ought to be employed.

It seems to me that any sales pitch that intrudes on someone Being a Vegetable ought to go easy on the detail and maybe just tell a cool story.

The Vegetable is not shopping, he’s watchin’ “Taxi.” He doesn’t have a notepad and pencil and  won’t be taking notes on whether a car has a V-6 engine or ABS brakes. In fact, even if his current car is on fire out in the driveway, now’s not the time to read him a brochure.

But the next morning? When the Fritos are gone and the TV is cold to the touch,  our vegetable will be in a different frame of mind. Now he’s ready to kick a tire. He’s Shopping for Vegetables. This is where the rational brain kicks in, gathering facts to support what began as an emotional decision; prices are compared, trunks looked in, brochures gathered.

Given all this, it would seem to me that traditional ad people ought to throw themselves in a quivering, grateful heap around the ankles of the internet and say thank you.

Thank you for helping take the load of information that until now every client wanted jammed into every ad, every TV spot, and if it didn’t fit, get a shoe horn and some Crisco because, by God, we’re gonna get it all in there.

Old Man Sullivan Yells at Ad Kids from His Porch, “You Kids Just Git Now!”

Selling stuff is so much more important than people.
Selling stuff is so much more important than people.

Okay, I have the next viral branding stunt all figured. Just nailed it.

We go to a college and randomly pick ten freshmen for an “interview” in some office on campus. Obviously, the room will be wired for video and sound and we’ll record everything that is said. The fun starts when our moderator tells the first student:

MODERATOR: I am sorry to inform you that your father just died.

STUDENT: What?!  Wha…

(Oh, the look on her face is priceless.)

MODERATOR: No seriously,” we’ll say handing her a Kleenex, “your Dad, he’s like totally dead. Takin’ a dirt nap.”

STUDENT: My dad, you mean my…

MODERATOR: Yep. Dude fell out a seventh-story window, landed on a bike rack.  Ouch!  Now that’s gotta hurt. … Sooo, anyhoo…

STUDENT [CRYING]: This can’t be happening, it, it…

(Keep the tape rollin’ fellas, this is golden.)

That’s when our moderator says, “That Kleenex you’re using, to sop up all those blubbery cry-baby tears? That, my friend, that is the new more absorbent Kleenex. Boy howdy!”

STUDENT: What?! You….you fuc….

MODERATOR: Your Dad? He’s not dead, ya big silly. But … don’t you love how soft new improved Kleenex is?

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Okay, so how is this stupid idea any different from those pranks we see more and more brands doing on YouTube?

Yes, they are clever but many of these pranks scare the heck out of people. Watch what they do to the poor lady in this video just to sell their stupid deodorant. The set-up of the stunt is very clever, no doubt, but does the lady look like she’s havin’ fun?

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The latest prank makin’ the rounds is a concept to promote the movie “Carrie.” Again, I love how clever the set-up is, but look carefully at the video. Do the people in the coffee shop look like they are havin’ fun?

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One could argue that this is experiential advertising; really good experiential stuff. Instead of just telling people that “Carrie” is frightening, they make them feel the product. On that score, this promo delivers.

But what if I staged, say, a terrorist take-over at La Guardia airport for the movie “United 93”?

Is a defense of “Well, come on!, We made people experience the product,” is that really justification?

I’ve told several friends how much I hate these fear-producing stunts, and some of my buddies just tell me to shut up and get over it. Maybe I am wrong. Maybe I’ve become the old guy on his porch shakin’ his fist and yellin’ “Now you kids git offa my lawn!”

But I’ll wager I’m not the only one who hates this crap. Am I?