Another Advertising Tail

The San Jose Mercury News with an estimated circulation of 225,000 has lost abundant amounts of classified advertising revenue as well as most large retail advertisers except for Western Appliance and Macy’s. The downturn in the economy fostered the increase in two-page, full-color advertisements from motel-based companies like Treasure Hunters Roadshow who try to “help” financially beleaguered citizens by offering to acquire their “gold and silver coins, jewelry, wrist & pocket watches, toys, trains, dolls, military items & swords, and advertising items.” Perhaps they’ll make an offer on this advertising article.

It’s a Small World

Newspaper advertising seems to have grown in one small, seemingly innocuous category; that which requests vehicle donation for a charitable organization. Each advertisement is black and white, 3-inches wide and two to three inches deep.

The eclectic list of organizations lead with a bold headline asking readers to either “Donate Your Car” or “Donate Your Vehicle.” This is usually followed by a description of what vehicles are acceptable and the list includes cars, trucks, vans, rv’s, boats, motorcycles, trailers, “and more.” It might be a blessing if they would also accept two-wheeled, motorized Segway scooters, the terror of the sidewalks. Many walkers and other non-users would be grateful if the charitable organizations first accepted and then scrapped them.

Not a Cliff Hanger

In a bit of irony, in September 2010, the millionaire owner of the Segway company was found dead in a river near his UK estate, having plunged over an 80-foot cliff while riding his Segway. The scooter was found near the body. Now let us segue back to the charitable organizations.

These organizations running solo advertisements include Make A Wish Foundation, the Polly Klass Foundation, the City Team Ministries, and The California Council of the Blind. There is one advertisement which is a triple-header seeking vehicles for the Diabetes Society, Big Brothers, Big Sisters, and South Bay Purebred Rescue.

They all offer free pickup, have a web site to let you easily donate online, let you know that your donation is tax deductible, and have a phone number and “Live Operators 7 days!,” which is better than dead operators.

Seeking a Local Locale

When I called them, I received a busy signal at one organization, a recorded message from another, and a woman answered on her cell phone and our conversation kept being cut off. I was able to get through and talk to someone at Make A Wish who said that she could take down my information and have a towing company pick up my car. I said it was running and I could deliver it and she asked for my area code and then offered me several Northern California locations to take it to, the closest of which was about fifty miles away. I would get a minimum $500 write off, and if the car was sold at a higher price, I would receive a Form 1095C acknowledging that price as my donation.

When I asked her where she was located, she replied “Minnesota,” but quickly explained that while Make A Wish was a national organization, all proceeds from the sale of my car would go to my state.

After thinking it over, I will either keep my 1987 Honda CRX, give it to my daughter, or drive it off a cliff with Thelma by my side.

Truth in Advertising and Other Lies

Our two local weekly publications are aimed at a 25-to-35-year-old audience, and occasionally offer readable and usable writing. They are primarily published to siphon local advertising dollars away from the town’s only daily newspaper. Both of the weeklies’ use a standard gimmick of publishing a “Best Of” issue where employees, relatives and friends vote as many times as possible for their favorites, and the top three in each category are officially listed. Occasionally, customers also vote if egged on enough by the establishment. In turn, all of the first, second and third-place “winners” are convinced to run full-color advertisements bragging about their pseudo status.

Categorically Denied

The cornucopia of categories cover every entity from dog parks to dentists, and in the latter category, two dentists proudly placed a headline in their ads thanking voters for making them “The Best Dentist.” One did earn that dubious honor however the other finished in second place. When I called the second-place “winner,” the receptionist said, “People just cast their vote. It’s not democratic. We just get called by the newspaper’s advertising people who asked us to run an ad. We never usually advertise at all.” She was reluctant to discuss why the second-place winner was advertised as “Best.”

Not Really My Type

There are two main types of advertising in print media. There’s classified where the advertisements are placed according to classifications such as “Help Wanted,” Used Cars” and the like, and display where larger advertisements are run throughout the publication. This is something any neophyte should be taught their first day on the job.

When I called the weekly, a sophomoric intern answered the phone and I asked if she could connect me to display advertising.  In a squeaky voice she incredulously asked, “Display?” After I explained what the term meant, she transferred me to a more mature twenty-something saleswoman. I innocently asked how two dentists could be “The Best,” especially in light of the fact that her publication listed one of them as being in second place.

The Last Shall be First

She answered firmly, “He is a winner in second place, so he is ‘The Best Dentist.” I tried to convince her that he was “The Second Best Dentist,” probably because he didn’t have as many employees, relatives and friends voting for him as the first-place winner. She adamantly defended her point by saying, “There are thousands of dentists in the area. (Only190 are listed in the Yellow Pages). The voters voted for the top three and that makes him a winner in ‘The Best Dentist’ category.” I tried once again to convince her otherwise, but she was probably too busy planning for the next “Best Of” issue and figuring out how to hustle advertisements from all of the future first, second and third place winners, as well as those who finished last.

Some of those latter establishments probably didn’t have enough employees, relatives and friends voting to finish in the top three, so they created their own advertising headlines declaring, “Thanks for making us winners.”

I wonder which of my neighbors’ noisy dogs had the inclination to vote for the “Best Dog Park?”

 

 

 

Hear Today and Gone Tomorrow

On January 9 the front pages of most newspapers were filled with stories of the tragic shootings in Tucson, Arizona, as were the lead stories on radio, television and in the major news magazines. The primary focus was on Rep. Gabrielle Giffords and the perpetrator.

Within a week, the shootings were relegated to shorter side stories on the other victims, the motivation for the killings, the funerals, and then coverage drifted to stories on gun control and Arizona’s Wild West persona. They were accompanied by editorials from the left and the right. Each screamed for attention and went to ludicrous lengths to offer something new and different. A syndicated columnist with a Spanish surname offered the following headline to his screed, “To Latinos’ relief, suspect was white.”

Please Step to the Rear

Slowly but steadily the stories moved away from the lead item on television’s evening news and the front page of newspapers. It found a resting place first on page A4, then A6, and then was pushed back to A8. On February 5, four weeks after the tragedy the story shifted to astronaut Mark Kelly, Giffords’ husband and his decision to command the space shuttle Endeavor’s flight in April. That flight will be news again in two months, but will remain a dormant story until then.

But that’s the same with any news story whether it is the heinous shootings in Arizona, the revolutionary demonstrations in Tunisia and Egypt, or the suffocating snowstorms that closed much of the country from the Midwest to the east coast, at one time causing the cancellation of thirteen thousand flights.

News is news when it happens and just like the snow, when it melts away it is no longer news. It is easily replaced by the next grab-your-attention-for-the-moment story.

News vs. Unadulterated Hype

The annual Super Bull is the uncontested winner of the non-news hype award as its coverage in late January and early February pulsates on the pages of newspapers and magazines, resonates on the airwaves and even clouds the skies above. The latter takes place during the game when a commercial blimp flies overhead thumping its sales message while the broadcasters below marvel aloud on what a wonderful view they are bringing you. Like the game itself, the blimp is filled with hot air.

Locals Go Loco

Local retailers succumb every year to the hoopla and join the hype of the game trying to sell whatever they are pushing. Some advertisements intimate that to preserve lifelong relationships, you have to “score big with your friends” by having enough to eat and drink at your party. Other retailers offer “Super Deals” on everything from big-screen television sets to automobiles, and the consumer who buys one of their products are told that they will have their lives transformed for they “will be a winner.”

The Big One Is Coming

The February 5th edition, known as SB XLV, is a showcase for advertising and national advertisers who are willing to spend $3 million for thirty seconds of time; that comes to $100,000 per second. To many advertisers it’s well worth the price; of the twenty all-time most-watched television programs, sixteen have been the Super Bull, including those in first, third, fourth and fifth place in the years 2010, 2008, 2009, and 2007 respectively. Last year’s SB XLIV reached 51.7 million households with an average audience of 106.5 million viewers. In second place was the last episode of M*A*S*H which ran on February 28, 1983 and reached 50,150,000 households.

A Straight Beats a Flush

For many people, the commercials are the highlight of the game, but there’s a concomitant problem connected with them. During the 1956-57 television season “I Love Lucy” was the number one rated television program, as it had been three of the previous four seasons. The water department in White Plains, New York was puzzled as to why every Monday night at 8:10 PM and 8:20 PM, the level in the reservoir dropped dramatically. One astute worker finally figured out that was when the commercial breaks for the “Lucy” show occurred, most viewers hurried straight to their bathrooms so as to not miss any of the program, and then they all flushed at about the same time.

I’ll Drink to That

Among this year’s SB XLV advertisers are Pepsi, Coke, Dr. Pepper and Anheuser-Busch and combined they are scheduled to run a minimum of nine commercials for one form of liquid refreshment or another.

With viewers being subliminally or overtly encouraged to quaff a drink or two or more during the game, when commercial time arrives, don’t be too surprised if the reservoir level in your town also goes down leaving advertisers high and dry. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You Betcha — Our Campaign Was Dead On Target

Sarah Palin, the darling of the Tea Party and  irrational Republican conservatives, is as dangerous as a loaded gun when her mouth shoots off ill-timed and straight-from-the-hip proclamations. Her campaign managers are inept in many media. During the fall campaign, her SARAHPAC targeted Democratic congress people who voted  for the Obama Health Care Plan. In a not-too-subtle, not-too-intelligent way, Sarah and her gang  did it by creating a poster that displayed crosshairs of gun sights directly aimed at twenty of her Democratic enemies around the country.

One was pointed at the occupant of Arizona’s Eighth District, Gabrielle Giffords, who was first elected in 2006. http://www.themudflats.net/wp-content/uploads/palincrosshairs.jpg

On Saturday, January 8, 2011, a deranged twenty-two-year-old gunman approached Congresswoman Giffords at a voter meeting in Tucson, Arizona. He shot her in the head, killed a federal judge and five others including a nine-year-old girl. Giffords was among at least twelve people who were wounded.

Ever the leader the GOP desperately needs, just hours after the shooting Sarah issued a statement expressing “sincere condolences” to the family of Giffords and other victims.

Keep your powder dry as the 2012 congressional candidates, all 435 of them, start loading up on the rhetoric, ready to shoot off hopefully only their mouths. Care for another cup of tea? 

 

 

Who’s Sari Now?

Indian Ambassador to the US Meera Shankar was pulled from an airport security line, taken to a VIP waiting room and patted down by a female Transportation Security Administration (TSA) agent in the Jackson, Mississippi airport. Others could observe her during her humiliating pat down ordeal.

This might have been part of the TSA’s plan to reduce the federal debt as at huffingtonpost.com/harvey-gotliffe-phd/a-pat-on-the-back-and-els_b_785224.html.

She had presented her diplomatic papers to officers and was escorted by a Mississippi Development Authority representative and an airport security officer. She may have been singled out because she was wearing a sari, which is a traditional Indian robe that is draped across the body. 

The Jackson airport does not yet have full-body scanners, which meant that the ambassador became subject to a complete pat down.

We're Not Going to Miss U.

She had been a guest of the University of Mississippi and there may not be many others willing to be guests of Ole Miss, not after the story received worldwide media coverage.

We’re Going to Miss You

This bad press could also cut down attendance at one of Mississippi’s largest tourist attractions — the Elvis Presley Birthplace and Museum in Tupelo.

For further information on how to enjoy your next stay in Mississippi, please contact: http://www.visitmississippi.org/

  

You May Find Yourself, If You Stop Running

In 1969, poet and songwriter Rod Marvin McKuen wrote the lyrics to “Lonesome Cities,” and one profound line of his song says “Maybe when I’ve done it all, seen all there is to see, I’ll find out I still cannot, run away from me.”

Many individuals do try and run away, yet many others continually seek ways to find themselves. While some may be able to do so within the confines of their own home, others have to search in a more utopian setting away from their daily existence. 

One such utopia exists 162 miles south of San Francisco in Big Sur, California. It is called Esalen and it is nestled between the mountains and the Pacific Ocean at the bottom of a narrow road off of Highway One. Here one is able to find tranquility, but only if she or he is willing to leave the distractions of their daily life behind them and to open their arms, heart and mind to what they can possibly become.

At Esalen you can find a weekend or five-day workshop, or a much longer one on a multiplicity of mind-massaging topics, but most people who attend, are there to learn more about themselves.

You can learn from your workshop leader by listening, digesting and then choosing whether to adopt his or her ideas; from talking to strangers at breaks in your workshop who shortly become confiding friends; but mostly you learn about yourself from yourself.

You will have ample free time to contemplate as you gaze mesmerized by a star-laden night sky. Or perhaps you seek the calm caress of the healing waters in the natural hot spring baths. You can also find peace within by walking down meandering trails that wend their way through lush gardens that lead you to rushing waterfalls. You can rest quietly and cogitate sitting on a wooden bench in the middle of a grassy expanse on the top of a cliff above the Pacific Ocean, listening as its waves crash below you, telling you their story.

You can do all of this if you can leave your daily life behind you while you are at Esalen and you are open to all of the possibilities of what life beyond today can offer. At that moment, you are capable to begin taking yourself on a wondrous new journey. 

The answers to the Four Play word quiz found in Vol. 4, No.4 of the Ho-Ho-Kus Cogitator are: Here, Were, Wore, Gore, Gone.

To receive a PDF copy of that entire issue, please write to: hohokuscogitator@att.net

 

John F. Kennedy’s Not-So-Happy Anniversary

November 22, 2010 is the forty-seventh anniversary of the assassination of President John Fitzgerald Kennedy in Dallas and there was limited coverage in the media today. It’s akin to high school reunions in that such events attract much more attention when the anniversary number seems more significant — such as the twenty-fifth or fiftieth.

When the 50^th anniversary of JFK’s death takes place three years from now, there may be more hullabaloo, and one aspect of remembrance will change quite dramatically. The number of those who remember where they were on the day he was killed will diminish considerably, and not so much so because those who were around have died, although most of those who were in their thirties back in 1963 will be gone.

Forgetting to Remember

However, the main contributor to this demise in remembrance can be attributed to the fact that as of this date, most Americans weren’t around back then and they weren’t all that keen to hear their parents and grandparents start off any story with “I remember when.”

The younger generations have much less of an interest in and a knowledge of history, perhaps remembering their most significant date as the day when they joined Facebook.

Of our estimated population of more than 310 million, more than 69% were less than ten years old when Kennedy died and naturally, most have no recollection of what happened on that day. The median age in the United States today is 36.8 years of age, which means that many of our reporters and news gatherers fit into that group who learned about recent history over the Internet, or perhaps a rare few read about Kennedy in the pages of a book.

The Past As We See It

We all have a potential tendency to distort the past with uncorroborated thoughts about long ago events both large and small. Those events that we lived through tend to fade into a distorted fog or are remembered not as they happened but as how we would like to have had them taken place.

When I came to California in 1960, on our first day my friend Nick and I ended up in Long Beach where a fishing boat accident had just occurred and the captain was being carried away on stretcher. We took photographs of the scene, rushed the film to the Los Angeles Times, and our photograph appeared on page two of the next day’s paper, for which we were paid $15. Years later I visited Detroit and at a party, I listened as Nick told the fishing boat story to a group of people. He proudly spoke of the $150 we had been paid for our efforts, and I did not contradict him then but when I went home I found my photocopy of the $15 check.

Inflated Ideas Are the Norm Today

Rather than accusing him of knowingly or unknowingly distorting the facts, I decided to give him credit for adjusting the sum by taking inflation into account.