"Special" Pleasure (wink, wink)

There's a conversation going on over at Chimp Media Monitoring following the Chimp Messiah's discovery of a great TV ad for Lynx body spray.

George Parker wonders, "Wouldn't it be great if someone could actually come up with a cologne concept that wasn't... "Spray this on, get laid?""

That would be great, but it will never happen. That is the only angle ever used by men's fragrances. Witness this ad for Old Spice, circa 1958. Tame, but the insinuation is obvious: Tad and Muffy are going to be getting and giving some special pleasure as a result of smelling nice.

Chimp says, "The target market for Lynx is the adolescent who is only interested in navigating his pork boat into the first available port." Absolutely true. Those who are desperately (and unsuccessfully) looking to get laid are the targets for men's fragrances. It used to be frat boys and young professionals like the man pictured here. Now, the target goes much lower, to middle school boys who take way too long in the bathroom. They used to whisper to the guys, "Hey, fella, your girlfriend might let you get to 2nd base tonight." Now they tell them, "Dude, you're gonna be in a four-way with that chick, her roommate and her cousin. And if her Mom busts you, she's gonna want in on some of what you're packin'."

The only other change from the old cologne marketing is that men were once encouraged to splash a bit on their faces. A bottle of Old Spice could last months, years even. Not good for sales. So now they call them "body sprays." Translation: use it liberally and then buy another can.

Stranger Than Fashion

Will The Real Chuck Taylor Please Roll Over in His Grave

I guess the point of all the D&G, John Varvatos, Casare Paciotti, etc. ads for stuff I will never buy is to cause the viewer to go, "What? Wait. Ummm. That's disturbing. Disturbingly artistic. Artistically disturbed. Nice photo of a weird situation. Unexplainable. I'll bet those clothes (shoes, jewelry) are expensive."

That's all it says to me. I see an ad like this, and I know I can't afford to play in this store. And I really hate it when a nice, storied brand gets taken into the realm of ultra-hip fashion. Example: Converse's Chuck Taylors were not meant to be expensive, designer shoes. But if they have John Varvatos' name on them, they double in price. And they get pictured in such bizare situations as the woman on the park picnic table holding a gallon of water as she's molested by a reject from a Clash cover band. She emits a jet of water from her lips while a hapless third member of the party apparently ruins the burgers in the background. Someone has written "sexy mess" on the picnic table bench. The copywriter worked hard on that line: Get Chucked.

Yeah? Chuck you, John Varvatos.

Chuck Taylors are eternallly cool. They've been in fashion, in one way or another, since the 1930s. But the fashion-conscious shallownistas can wear them now without feeling like they're slumming.

Mr. Varvatos, you are too artistic [expensive] for me. I just want normal Chuck Taylors. I'd prefer they not be associated with you.

Friday Film Fun

From aspiring filmmaker Nick Andrews, the Helena, Montana high school senior who gave us "My Hands are Bananas," comes this curious gem, entitled "Emo Fight." This kid has a future.

St. Patrick's: A Day - Not a Season

BBDO has been doing the Guinness "Jib-Jab" styled TV spots, with the two cutout brewmeisters bopping around in crude South Parkian fashion, falling into Monty-Pythonesque slapstick mishaps as they congratulate each other with "Briliant!"

They're fine, funny spots most of the time, except this time of year, when Guinness and BBDO try to sell us on the notion that "St. Patrick's Season" is forthcoming.

Shut up. We have reason enough to hate Hallmark and Wal-Mart for the ways in which they make up seasons and reasons to buy crap. We don't need to hate an Irish brewery, too. St. Patrick's is a day. March 17th. Always was. Always will be. Don't pretend to extend this celebration just for the sake of selling what only a select few can stomach.

I won't go on about the awful taste of this warm sludge, the color of untreated wastewater. In America, we've come to expect that beer was meant to be served one degree above freezing, with a lime, on a beach, with your woman, maybe with some nachos. Warm beer and buttered brown bread may suit you and your mates in the smokey pubs of the Old Country, but this is the New World, and our St. Patrick's celebrations involve wearing a bit of green for one day. That's all.

Disclaimer: The author of Where's My Jetpack? is an equal opportunity blogger and fears for his life when insults of products might be misconstrued as insults of entire countries or cultures. Some of my best friends are Irish and I've even been known to enjoy a couple of U2 songs. I believe in an individual's right to choose his or her own beer without regard to color or creed, but rather on the content of the beer's character. You are free to buy and drink your liquid bread, or your porkchop in a glass, and I will defend that right as I toast you from the beach, hoisting a chilled, crisp Corona Light. With a lime.

In Praise of Little Debbie

She doesn't get out much. Not a lot of TV spots for the Snack Girl out there, though I did find this one that ties Little Debbie to NASCAR. (The actor studied at the Crispin Glover School just prior to the shoot.) Who knew Little Debbie was into NASCAR?



The reason I like Little Debbie is that she hasn't changed. You'll never see her breakdancing in the streets like the Cheetos Cheetah, or trying to rap, skateboard, surf or any of the other stunts Ronald McDonald pulls off in an advertising year. I even saw Cap'n Crunch with a guitar once. Blasphemy.

Little Debbie just sits there and smiles, virtually unchanged since 1960. OK, once in while she has a smoke. But only when she's drinking.

Signage Seen in the Neighborhood

Or...God, I Need a Pool

A house down the street from mine just recently underwent some additions, including a new roof, a new pool and a screened pool enclosure. Last Sunday, I watched as the man of the house drove stakes into the front lawn, a large piece of plywood at his feet. I assumed it was for a garage sale or something. Then this sign appeared.
















Buyer’s guilt? Not sure, but the Bible verse he cites on the sign reads: And my God shall supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.

A roof is a need, for sure, and it could be argued (somewhat weakly) that one needs a pool here in Florida. But the screened pool enclosure? Seems more like a convenience. I think Paul might’ve meant food, clothing, shelter and the like when he wrote that to the Philippians.

I’m going to have grab the video camera and interview this guy and put it up on YouTube. When you’re putting up an advertising sign like this, I think you expect to be questioned about it.

Travel Expense That Won't Yield New Biz

And Other Ramblings on Diversity

High Jive suggested the banner image at top a while back in honor of Black History Month. (Formerly known as "Negro History Week" when it first came about, so that's some progress.)

I was poking around at Getty Images and came across a nice little cartoon I couldn't resist messing with. Note the smiling execs listening patiently to the bright, clean and articulate Man of Color as he pitches a campaign. He is not likely to win the business.

This ties in nicely with the comments of South Carolina state senator Darrell Jackson, a sought-after man in that state for his supposed influence in the black community. Jackson claims that Senator Obama can't possibly win the presidency BECAUSE he is black. Senator Jackson, who has two more jobs, one as a pastor, the other as head of his own political consultancy, was recently hired by Hillary Clinton. He has not surprisingly come out in support of Mrs. Clinton, the whitest white woman in the history of whiteness, Margaret Thatcher included.

Blacks don't vote en masse, as far as I know, and to assume that one man's endorsement is going to sway the black vote sounds pretty damned racist if you ask me. As Obama told Steve Kroft: "I think that there is an assumption on the part of some commentators that somehow the black community is so unsophisticated that the minute you put an African-American face up on the screen, that they automatically say, "That's our guy.""

Same goes for political consultants and "influencers."

Kingsford Trying to Kill Hispanics

I grill on average 3 evenings a week. Carne de Res. Carne De Pollo. Pescaodos y Mariscos. Etc. Down here in Florida, (The Sub Deep South) it's grillin' time pretty much 365.

I'm a Kingsford man. Mesquite, preferably. Kingsford charcoal has its roots in the Ford corporation. Bold Moves, indeed.

The entire bag is in English AND Spanish, EXCEPT the carbon monoxide warning at the top advising you not to grill inside your home, trailer, tent, or migrant worker shack.

I'm sure Kingsford means no harm. Update that package, bros.

Axe Wearers, You Boys Are Amateurs

Because you can never have enough Old Spice, here's a retro look at what made Swordsmen of Old splash on the sailor's aroma in generous amounts. Note the "diversity" attempt and the simple USP: Girls Like It. Also noteworthy, the woman pausing in front of the spouting fountains. Risqué!



Previously:
Suicide Thwarted by Old Spice
Old Spice Goes For Gay Market in 1971

Republic of White Trashistan

We're supposed to be in Jacksonville tomorrow night for a big overnight fiesta, and it finally dawned on us that we have to drive through Daytona Beach twice on the weekend of the Daytona 500. You haven't lived until you're sitting in traffic with 100,000 NASCAR fans.

We're not NASCAR people, but we should've been able to pick up the clues. The airwaves are packed with radio and TV spots for the race. Meaning: it's two days before the race (the radio ads call it "the greatest race of all time" or "the Great American Race" or something like that) and they're STILL trying to move tickets. This can't be good for America.

I'm sure it's a party. I'm sure it's probably great fun. I'm sure you can hear Molly Hatchet and Lynyrd Skynyrd and Keith Urban at the pre-race tailgating festivities. But it looks like our country's love affair with this sport is running out of gas. With Nextel as the main sponsor, (the Redneck walkie-talkie) they sealed up the mullet demographic pretty tight. Then they brought in Aerosmith to revive "Back in the Saddle" as a new theme song, which probably panders to the same demo. While I've never been to a race, I can bet that a fun and challenging game to play at any NASCAR event would be "Find the Black People." NASCAR needs a broader base.

NASCAR needs to reach out to the Kentucky Derby set, the Wimbledon set, not to mention minorities, tree-huggers, emo kids and soccer hooligans. There aren't enough Nextel users to fill those stands, and if this is the Great American Race, then NASCAR is in trouble.

Previously from the Prime Minister of Mulletavia

Girl Scout Cookies Filled with Crack

The Girl Scouts don't really know how to sell. They just show up at your door and your mouth waters and you buy some of their cookies. Or their Moms or Dads do the "selling" for them at work. And you rarely buy just one box. And at $3.50 (up $1 from a decade ago) for a tiny box, you're getting hosed bigtime. But you don't care. It's an addiction. Not sure what the organization is paying per box, but the consumer is paying, in some cases, 23 cents per cookie.

But you say to yourself, "66% of Women of Professional Achievement were Girl Scouts at some point in their youth," or you remind yourself that 71.4% of women in the U. S. Senate and 67.1% of the women in the House of Representatives today are Girl Scout alumnae.

Then when you run out of the cookies, the little salesgirls are camped out in front of Home Depot or your local supermarket with their leftover "surplus."

They don't advertise. They just show up. And they make $700 million a year. That's pretty impressive. Boy Scouts can't touch those numbers with their crappy popcorn sales. It's an American tradition that we look forward to every year. And the cookies are gone way too soon. If the Girl Scouts got smart, they'd have more than one selling season.

Not sure why this 1932 cover of The Country Gentleman featured a troop of Girl Scouts hiking up a hill, but it's a mildly disturbing cover image for a men's magazine. The Country Pedophile, maybe.

Cruel Church Advertising

The church marquee. Drive-by religion. A unique and truly American mixture of faith and advertising. (Tell me if I'm wrong, Brits, Aussies, Germans and Dutch. Yeah, I look at the stats of this blog.)

I once thought I'd compile a book of the stupid and/or clever ones I've seen, but most are just truly.....stupid. Clichés and puns are the norm for this outdoor expression.

Make your own at Church Sign Generator.

Today is a Good Day to Get Fired

A Florida prosecutor was the subject of a sexual harassment complaint based in part on his Valentine's gift to a secretary of a sexy teddy negligee;

A British employee forwarded to half a dozen co-workers a steamy Valentine's Day email from his girlfriend, which accidentally was circulated to over 10 million computers worldwide;

A California college professor accused of harassing multiple female students sealed his own fate by sending the students Valentine's Day cards expressing his affection.

Instances stolen from Business Wire.

Most Depressing Tech Advertising Ever

It's mid-20th Century Germany, the memory of the war still fresh in your mind, the nationwide devastation evident in your government subsidized studio apartment that you've decorated as best you can on your meager salary, your workspace a tiny child's desk, a hand-me-down gift from the occupying Americans.

Siemens understands your plight and is working to at least provide your family with passive entertainment. Keep the drapes drawn against the cratered streets and shells of buildings that were once your glorious city. Watch TV. It will soothe the pain.

Cheer up, former servant of the Third Reich. Even though Siemens supported Hitler and participated in the "Aryanizing" of businesses, using slave labor from concentration camps to build electric switches for military uses, they understand your situation and want to help you and your family. Better times are ahead, Citizen. Stop slouching in defeat. Sit tall at your baby desk and work hard. Someday, things will not be so bad.

Previously in German Companies That Made it Big After Helping Hitler.

Tell Her You Love Her With a Plea for Sex

It's that time of year again, when date-rapists everywhere are expecting a little "thanks" for their "thoughtfulness." Nothing says, "I bought this for me," like lingerie. Forget the endless parade of jewelry store ads, you don't need to spend that much money for what you're after. Guys, if you want some hot action, listen to the lusty lady voiceover here, (with the campy stripper music as background bed) and order your girl some undergarments. She will reward you with her affections and your "I love you" won't have been wasted.

This advertiser knows its target well. The production and copy are so bad only a guy with a beer buzz could appreciate it. Aired during the Colbert Report last night.



And if you read the comments to this video on YouTube, it's terribly transparent the way the company is trying to do the "viral thing" with fake commenting from inside shills. If you're going to do "social media optimization," at least try to sound authentic. Something beyond "Wow! This is the best idea for a Valentine's Day gift EVER! I bought one for my girlfriend and it really worked, if you know what I mean! Great product! Fast shipping! Action not guaranteed, but pretty much a sure thing! Do it, guys!"

Why bother? A bottle of Old Spice is so much more affordable, and it does the same thing, from what I hear.

Little Terrorist Talks Smack to Jack

What made Jack Bauer into the baddest field agent ever? Could it have been this? Witness in-the-field torture techniques that really work.



Count the product placements in tonight's 2-hour episode of 24.

Winner: Best SPAM Subject Line

"Motorcade Contemptuous"

It was a stock tip, of course; the new variety with the jumbled word jpeg attached over body copy of random nonsense. Sample sentence: "When assembled together with your ball head, you will have a plethora of knobs in front of you."

He was Born Robert Matthew Van Winkle

Shame on TurboTax and Intuit for this atrocity.

I'm not sure which is sadder; the shameless, endless calls for consumer generated content disguised as "contests" or the cheapening of everyone's allotted 15 minutes, which is now down to about 10 seconds. And Robert Van Winkle gets a second shot? Something is wrong.

Alerted to this horror by AdFreak.

It's Not About the Issues

As Obama gets set to announce his official candidacy today, it's time to evaluate the websites and packaging of the three leading Democratic contenders. For most of the voting American public, it's not about the issues; it's about the image. We're a shallow people, by and large. The candidates won't acknowledge that, but there's a reason they hire teams of handlers, pollsters, PR gurus, speechwriters, strategists and media specialists. Promises made on the campaign trail are rarely delivered upon. It's mainly fluff and bluster. So let's look at the packages.

Hillary Clinton's website trys very hard to be all about "a conversation," but she has yet to offer blogging abilities, promising that this "crucial part of our exciting national conversation" is forthcoming. Throughout the site she is rarely referred to by her last name. Everything is "Hillary" this and "Hillary" that. Even her official logo is simply "Hillary." We're also invited to join "Team Hillary." Too much. Too fake. Too desperate. Are you Oprah or Senator Clinton? Stop trying so hard to be my friend.


Barack Obama's website is the MySpace of candidate sites, offering a "MyBarackObama.com" sign-up that allows you to blog about Obama, share funny stories with your fellow Obamaniacs and probably even download Obama's favorite music from iTunes. You can watch "BarackTV" and cruise over to the ObamaStore for all your Obama apparel needs. Obama's tone is serious and he wants very much to "work together." He wants you to roll up your sleeves like he does and start getting in the trenches. He's got a "real" look about him and a nice logo, too. He will gain on Hillary after today.

The John Edwards site is a disaster of web design, for starters. Apparently a templated design, the colors will jar you right off the bat. His logo is extremely weak and the organization of content is not very well planned out. To his credit, he's the only candidate to offer a prominent "En Espanol" button. His merchandise section is horrendous. (Example: nasty trucker hat above.) Step it up, Johnboy, if you hope to catch these two.



We'll tackle the Republican websites at another time. Where's My Jetpack? is not affiliated with any political party and sits on the fence until voting time. Also, we don't reveal who we voted for. That's why they have a curtain at the voting booth.

I'm Gonna Win

"Airline tycoon Richard Branson announced on Friday a $25 million prize for the first person to come up with a way of scrubbing greenhouse gases out of the atmosphere in the battle to beat global warming."

How about we take Richard Branson into the outer reaches of the atmosphere, open his giant vacuum of a head and let all the gases rush in to fill it?














Here is Richard playing "I am God," with Al Gore.

Before Adobe® After Effects

Pure Power! It is my sincere hope that one of these songs gets stuck in your head all weekend and that the memory of the lightning/electricity effect haunts you for months..



The mentioning of Adobe® is not to be considered an endorsement of their post production tools. Use what you want. I will shill for Adobe® when they start paying me. But I did finally get a licensed copy of Photoshop®.

The Games Astronauts Play

A Pampered Life

Freelance Fred makes the case on a previous post that the astronaughty scandal has introduced the term "Space Diapers" into the culture, and he considers that a plus.

I think he's right. Whole new markets opening up for adult diapers now.



















UPDATE: Brandspankin' did it better a couple days ago.

Who's Your GoDaddy?

Crybaby Celeb Sues Bad Painter

Keith* Urban is in a huff. I don't know any Keith Urban songs, but if I ever hear one, I will turn it off in protest of his attitude and engorged sense of entitlement. Seems that Mr. Kidman, fresh out of his much-publicized rehab, is suing a guy named Keith Urban, who lives in New Jersey and paints weird, inexplicable stuff like the characters from Married with Children over the US Capitol with a turd salad in the foreground. Wait...come to think of it, that makes perfect sense.

Keith Urban the painter beat Keith Urban the singer to the URL of keithurban.com. Keith the singer says Keith the painter is cybersquatting. Keith the painter reserved the URL in 1999.

Guess what, Keith Kidman? You lose. The guy's name is Keith Urban. He's not cybersquatting. He's just faster and smarter than you, even if his paintings suck.

Bob Parsons: care to weigh in here?

*The name Keith viloates the "i before e" rule, so we need to start pronouncing it Kayth.

Life Has Yet to Imitate Art

For all the talk in the industry about the lack of minorites in positions of importance, at least stock photography has long attempted to embrace multiculturalism, presenting us with a rosey picture of racial harmony and good will among men and women. (Although I'm not so sure this is an actual picture from the 70s from Getty Images. I refuse to believe even the sleaziset of used car dealers actually went to work dressed like this. Seems a little "too" 70s.)

We see it everywhere, especially in college brochures. So there's obviously an awareness that in order to appeal to all targets, you must represent all targets. Or is it just White Ad Man's Guilt that causes ads to reflect a mini United Nations?

Party Like It's 1979

Having been introduced to the glories of Hungarian commercials by Fish&Chimps, I now on occassion go trolling for Hungarian stuff on YouTube, my fixation with their progress in the Art of Cheese never satisfied.

Until now!

SuperBowl Consumer Mindshare

Don't believe me? Witness the coal-raking Angela is undergoing over at AdRants.

Brand Reputation Management

Astronaughties

Yikes! PR nightmare for NASA. You don't expect this sort of stuff from the best and brightest, but I guess NASA is no different than Wal-Mart.

The NASA logo has remained unchanged since it was first designed by an employee in 1959. Maybe today is a good day to change it.

"In my day, we didn't have "mission specialists." We just got into dangerous experimental aircraft and flew until we died. These astronauts today, they have it too easy. Coed space flights, nice meals, big pay. And if some crazy spacechick came huntin' down the other astrobabe I was bangin', drivin' half-way across the country in diapers to tie her up, man...I gotta think about that one. Weird."

Let The Biker Wars Begin

As I suspected, the upcoming Touchstone Pictures release Wild Hogs, will be a giant product placement vehicle for Harley Davidson. (vehicle...heh.)
















Beware, Harley: Market backlash will soon be upon you.

Hey, Indian, this could work in your favor. Granted, you have a long way to go to catch the big HD, but you can't buy this sort of negative press for your competitors.

Indian is gearing up. Today they launched their new website.

The Anthony Hopkins film, "World's Fastest Indian," was premature, released before Indian could start cycle production. It did poorly at the box office, too.

No SuperBowl Spots Reviewed Here

Let's just call it the SuperBlow from now on. The hype is never worth the delivery. Nor are the ensuing analyses worth much either.

AdRants has already posted enough spot reviews to make up for EVERYONE. (Geez, Steve, do you even let Angela sleep? 35 posts (and counting) yesterday is a little insane. One might even call it shark-jumping, if that term can apply to blogs. But I guess ad reviews are your job...so good job. But Angela's review of Prince's performance has awakened the Prince Army.)

Then again, in Steve's defense, at least he didn't set up a whole site devoted to critiquing Super Bowl spots.

Stuart Elliott, desperate for a new and "literary" angle, goes way off the deep end in his New York Times analysis: "No commercial that appeared last night during Super Bowl XLI directly addressed Iraq...but the ongoing war seemed to linger just below the surface of many of this year’s commercials." Stuart thought the commercials were too violent and attributes that to the Iraq war. Quite a stretch, Stu.

Hopefully, we can all move on now.


Henry Winkler as Arthur Fonzarelli, giving birth to the term "jumped the shark."

Need a New Rebel Brand

Down here in Florida, where it's pretty much motorcycle riding weather year round, we see an overabundance of a certain breed of enthusiast out on the weekend, riding very nice and expensive bikes and decked from head to toe in shiny matching leather outfits. The bikes are pristine and well-cared for and the riders are very carefully groomed as they try to affect the dangerous mystique that riders of their particular brand of bike had in the glory days of Outlaw Bikers.

But you can see behind the fake grimaces the perfect teeth of the well-paid upper middle class. When they park their bikes, they get out little cloths and wipe them down. "Oops. Water spot on my tailpipe." The cloths are emblazoned with the logo of their bike manufacturer.

Nearly 5 to 1*, these weekend pretenders prefer a particular brand of motorcyle. They wear boots from the same maker, as well as jackets, chaps, headscarves, t-shirts, gloves and I'm sure, underwear and socks.

I don't ride a bike yet. But when my time for mid-life crisis comes and I'm feeling the need to make loud noises on the highway with the wind in my hair, there is no way in hell I will ride one of those bikes. The original rebel has turned rebellion into a style all its own - and it's lost all its edge.

Which is why I am watching with interest the resurrection of Indian Motorcyles. They've got a perfect built-in brand builder: America's First Motorcycle. The logo is nice too. They recently bought a plant in North Carolina and hope to be manufacturing bikes mid-year. I will want one. And I want to work on this account. To make a dent in a market completely dominated by a certain Milwaukee bike maker would be fun. And I would pitch the rebel angle.

Suburban street. Clean-shaven dentist sits idling at a red light on his sparkly ego-booster, checking his teeth in the mirror, fixing his hair, pulling out a grey one. Up comes a couple on an Indian, male and female, (try to get Sam Elliot and Andie MacDowell) who idle alongside. Their bike is not clean, neither are they. Glances exchanged, slight smirk crosses Sam's face. Tight shot on gas tank logo. Roar off. Logo and tag: America's First Motorcycle.

You're only selling a mystique, and the mystique of the competition has vanished in market overload. You're selling rebellion, and an army of matching suburbanites riding the same bike doesn't speak of dissent.

I see HD riders trading their bikes in for Indians real soon.

*Ratio is completely made-up and reflects the author's disdain for the overhyped bikes of Milwaukee.


UPDATE: No sooner do I post this and Touchstone Pictures announces the soon coming "Wild Hogs." From the studio: A mis-matched group of bored suburbanites longing to escape the stress of their daily lives and embrace the freedom of the open road finds that it takes more than polished chrome and leather jackets to truly experience the biker lifestyle in this revved-up road comedy starring John Travolta, Tim Allen, Martin Lawrence, and William H. Macy. Upon trading the comfort of the couches for the thunderous rumble of their two-wheeled street machines, these four adventurous riders cross paths with the notorious Del Fuegos - an authentic biker gang that doesn't take kindly to the weekend warrior type.

Well, good. I hope Travolta and company all get their asses kicked. But my guess is there will be a bunch of HD product placements in this movie.

Very Nice™

I am seriously enjoying this spot for Office Max. Saw it during one of the playoff games two weeks ago and DDB Chicago (and others) finally got it up online. Titled "Boyfriend," the thing seems a bit K-fed inspired. I don't care if it sells copying and binding services, it's genius, right down to the stereotypical 70's porn music at the close. Cleveland even brought his iced out pimp goblet to dinner.

Brazilian Models Sex Beach Cam Live Nude

Generally, this blog gets anywhere from 50 to 100 hits a day. Pretty modest. The graph below represents January. The protruding appendage represents the Land O' Lakes post.

Ya'll is sick.

You! Gee! See?

Don't BS an Astronaut

For those big-time, A-list bloggers (you know who you are) who host banners, toss this one in your inventory and let it run as a PSA of sorts. Your country thanks you.