More or Less

You would expect nothing less from Trump, because who is more of an asshole than him?

This high class gent just paid close to $1,000 for that bed and who knows how much for the professional escort. But that smug look tells me money doesn't matter to him. He's all about rubbing it in your face the next day on the golf course.

The Tarts of New York

It is a common cry among New Yorkers, even those who haven't been there very long, "Our city has become an amusement park, a cultural wasteland, a squeaky clean tourist trap thanks to Giuliani, who got rid of our beloved hookers and gangs and addicts and cleaned our once unique streets that flowed deep with human urine. What does a guy have to do to get mugged in this town anymore? Where is the grit, the grime, the EDGE, the LIFE? The people dressed in plastic bags, directing traffic?"

Even if a guy like me is to avoid gaudy Times Square and opt for a pilgrimage to St. Mark's Place, I later read that even that is a "benign tourist stop." Guilty. I guess it's not the "real" New York, whatever that is anymore. Where is that fabled place where an Anthony Bourdain could get fake punk cred because he did cocaine with one of the Ramones?

To put the knife in the belly of the once glorious whore and finish her off, along comes Kellogg's, who will open Pop-Tarts World today in Times Square. Granted, Pop-Tarts are cool, but I don't think this is the kind of cool old-school New Yorkers long for.

I know, they gave up on Times Square years ago. It is the very symbol of what they lament. Glitz, kitsch and schmaltz with a bunch of putzes wandering about, looking at the sky and getting in the way of people who know how to walk in the city. New Yorkers long ago ceded Times Square to the merchants of overwrought specialty stores and the idiots from other places. "Disneyfication," they call it.  (People around here lay claim to that term and they're no different from longing-for-the-old-days New Yorkers. If you can find a "native" of Central Florida, they'll tell you how great this place was "Before the Mouse." They'll go on about the lost citrus groves and the blue skies free of planeloads of Midwestern tourists being ferried to The Kingdom. But I suspect they wouldn't want to turn the clock back too far, to the time before AC, when living in Florida was a severe adventure for only the rugged and daring, an uncomfortable place except a few months in winter. They dream of that short, Mad Men-era window between 1960 and 1970, post-AC and pre-Disney.) 

But beyond all that - let's look at this move on the part of Kellogg's. A store devoted entirely to Pop-Tarts? That is crazy. Crazy smart. I don't care who you are or where you come from, there is likely a 95% chance that you have a favorite type of Pop-Tart. I'm partial to strawberry. And I even prefer the ones without frosting. Heated in the toaster. With a monster glass of milk. But I've been known on a late night sleepwalk to tear into even the weirder ones like chocolate chip cookie dough or s'mores, the pantry be damned for not locking itself.

Pop-Tarts are so universally loved that this isn't even a gamble on the part of Kellogg's; it's a shrine to an icon, and the people will make pilgrimage. I'd be willing to bet you'll even find a few old-school New Yorkers wandering in the place, nostalgic for their childhood pastry as much as they are for the city they remember.

OK, I Don't Hate New York Anymore

Having just returned, I had many of my prejudged notions confirmed (Yankees fans are everywhere and obnoxious as hell) and dispelled (New Yorkers are actually a very friendly lot). Purpose of the trip is explained over at my other blog.

And you know how when Beatles fans go to London, they can't resist taking a picture of themselves in that famous crosswalk, mimicking the Abbey Road album cover? I did the same on St. Mark's Place in homage to a far better album. (Get over it, Beatles freaks. I'm right and you know it.)

Super Saturated Street Scenes - Easter Edition

One of my more random hobbies is Google Street Views. Just drag that little yellow guy onto any map and it's never the same. In this limited edition print, Jesus returns to East Harlem, helping out where he sees need, while somewhere on the other side of the country the militias cry out, "What about our needs, Jesus?"(Click for large.)

I've done my share of virtual travel via Google Street Views.

Clever Twist to a Tired Template

Old school luxury apartment-home advertising is done one of three ways: an impressive rendering of the building exterior, a picture of the floor-plan, or a rendering of the fine interior with an optional young family (two children maximum limit) posing around a meal. A combination of two of those three options is also acceptable. The new school, best exemplified by Fontainebleau in collaboration with Victoria's Secret, is in a class by itself and deserves another post.

mas grande

This is the right side of a two-page spread for a building at 535 West End Ave in the Riverside Park neighborhood of Manhattan's UWS. (Did I get that right, New Yorkers?) The left side employed the interior rendering style. This is nothing groundbreaking, but they included a nice addition. The illuminated windows indicate sold residences, so you only need to imagine yourself living behind the darkened windows. (From $8.5 to $25 million.)

I'll take the fifth floor from the top.

There is a decent companion website, designed by dbox.

And this is apparently the actual corner where this fine structure will eventually stand, as it appears on Google Street Views. I added the surreal blue sky for that "artist's rendering" touch.

Rioting in the Streets, Burning of Cars, Looting, Rape

I heard a caller to a local right wing radio show last night warn people to stay indoors in the event of an Obama victory, as it would likely bring such tumultuous celebrations as to make the community unsafe for Regular Americans, you know, the kind who live in Real America, where they love their country and are patriotic and stuff. He said, "When those guns are fired into the air, the bullets will come down somewhere."

Here is a video from that cesspool of anti-American activity, New York City, where it seems the ignorant black masses and their duped white socialist friends did not fire off their weapons into the night sky, but instead did this.



Makes me "proud to be an American for the first time in my adult life."

Hat tip: Sullivan.

Something's Hoppin' in Denmark

Is it just me, or are these guys everywhere these days? I see them on TV, banners and pre-roll a lot of late. As T-Boone Pickens gears up his wind energy initiative, Vestas of Denmark is out in front of everyone else to make sure you know who to go to for all your wind turbine needs. They’ve been in the business since 1945 and operate in 60 countries. Profits last year were nearly $5 Billion. Denmark leads the way in wind power, with nearly 20% of their electricity being provided by wind in 2007.

I suppose your local community colleges had better add Wind Turbine Technician to their Associate of Science program. This video demonstrates what happens when the brakes fail on a Vestas windmill in a storm.



Now imagine that perched atop a NYC skyscraper, Mr. Mayor.

FINE PRINT: Bad Shakespeare pun unforgivable, I know.

NYC Scours Florida for Cop Recruits

The long arm of the law of New York's Finest is attempting to reverse the migrant trend of New Yorkers to Florida.

The pitch goes like this: So, your grandparents or your parents moved down here and you had no choice, right son? You know, there's a reason you wear that Yankees cap and have that giant Yankees insignia on the back of your lowered and loud Japanese import. You always eat at the New York pizzerias, don't you? You call pizza "pie," right? Don't fight it, man! New York is in your blood, son! Bring it on home, home slice! Make a whole lot more money up here protecting the citizens than you will selling weed to frat boys on Spring Break. Don't put that last part on your application.

Sign up today!

Banner found on a local news station's website.

In Memory of the Victims of 9/11, Order a Pizza

There are probably more "New York Pizzerias" here in Florida than there are in New York. And it's a safe bet that when you step into one you will be greeted by black and white framed photos of Deniro, Pacino, Stallone, Sinatra and The Sopranos, among others. You can also bet that during your lunch or dinner, you will be treated to Frank Sinatra on the way-too-loud music overhead. There will be "I (heart) NY" shirts on the wall, posters of the Brooklyn Bridge, and perhaps a NY State license plate as well. It will be called a "ristorante" and be named "Manhattan," "Brooklyn," "Antonio's," or "Anthony's."


Not far from me is this place, offering us an ad this week in which we see the NYC skyline at top, complete with the Twin Towers. "In Memory of," they gently remind us. Then, just for one more bottom-of-the-barrel shameless cliché, they give us Lady Liberty serving a greasy pie.

Class, baby.

Copyranter Rises From The [Blogging] Grave

It appears I've preached a premature eulogy. But it took him five days instead of the customary three. Still, let the enemies of truth and all who defend the black art of advertising tremble. No shop is safe from his sword and few are the ads that escape his wrath.

Welcome back. May you make some cash.

Do You Remember Where You Were When...?

We've all heard the tales of people who were alive when JFK was shot. They all have a similar story wherein everyone remembers "exactly where they were when they heard the news."

My generation will have similar stories to tell our children when they ask, "Where were you when you found out Copyranter had quit blogging?" I will answer them thusly: "It was a Saturday morning about 8 AM. I was at home drinking coffee and checking things on the bedroom computer when I read it on my Google reader from Bill Green of Make The Logo Bigger. I remember it like it was yesterday."

The greatest ad blogger to ever ad blog has quit at the top of his game. That's how the good ones should go out. No Joe Montana exit for this guy. No switching uniforms to play for a lesser team and then falling to the turf with repeated concussions, a shell of his former self. And we trust there will be no Michael Jordan-styled attempts to return to the game, unless it is as a paid columnist at a respected publication. But respected publications would want to water him down. If there's one thing we who read Copyranter figured out, it's that the guy is true to his word. He says what he means and means what he says. 110% and all the other sports cliches you can come up with. And he quit with style - after a trip to LA with his girlfriend*.

His retirement from the world of snarky ad critique will affect this blog to a degree. I had the honor of being a regular Friday beneficiary of his weekly Link Haze for a few months running and enjoyed the traffic spikes.

He offered no tags or labels and never stooped to contextual ads in his sidebar. He offered no blogroll, yet his authority rating on Technorati dwarfed most others. He was a giant. A giant asshole, but a giant nonetheless. And while I have removed retired bloggers from the Linkers and Lurkers list to the right, Copyranter will remain. He didn't just rip ads; he ripped agencies, society, culture, players, pawns and the hell that is New York City. His archives will stand the test of time and his name will forever be uttered with awe and reverence.

Best to you, Mark. Now go get a gig that pays you to do what you did so well for free.

*Perhaps Copyranter "went Hollywood" and cashed in? Perhaps American Apparel Chief Charney bought his silence?

Cargoes of Gold, Silver, Precious Stones and Pearls

T, The New York Times Style magazine, is filled with ads for stuff a good 99.999% of us will never buy, like a $47.5 million 5th Avenue penthouse, $9,000 sofas and other luxuries that make you shake your head in bemused wonder and simultaneous disgust. I enjoy some of the pictorials of cool architecture, but there is a level of pretentiousness within this magazine that causes me to pick it out of the paper first thing, because I know that every ad within competes with the next, where a simple chair, shoe, stove or clock is treated as a one-of-a-kind museum piece. Maybe I'm just jealous of the exceedingly rich, but I like to believe that if I had millions of dollars, I still wouldn't spend $10,800 on a Pergamena Folding Camp Bed.

So it was kind of nice to see lowly Target take out a detachable 8-panel brochure in this week's edition, highlighting what they call Design for All^® which featured "great design from A to Z."

I'm sure your average Central Park West socialite wouldn't slum at Target unless they had a real emergency and a handy disguise, but the ad artfully conveys that great design need not be expensive. (The item chosen for the letter Q was the Q-tip. A simple design and a great invention.) And if you're the kind of person who looks at my Vietnamese-made rubberwood workstation here at home and determines that I'm a cheap, swamp-dwelling Target shopper who probably still prefers the Levi's^® brand for jeans and spends zero dollars on haircuts, well...you' d be right.

Now, maybe while Target is so focused on cool design that functions well, they can find a new vendor to supply an alternative to those broke-down red plastic ghetto shopping carts. I've yet to push one that didn't have a bad wheel and a weird clunking noise.

Title of this post taken from here.

New York City - Just Like I Pictured It

The collective Google Street View People are hard at play, finding the obscure, the cool, the weird and the unexpected.

I found this one pretty interesting. I'll bet on any given day you can spot the out-of-town stoner pilgrims having their pictures taken here, much like at the Abbey Road crosswalk.

Bonus Trivia: The building is also featured in this Stones video.