Cosmic Blob Supplants Donnie Deutsch's Ego As Largest Thing In The Known Universe.

(AP)—After "careful and repeated measuring," a large amoeba-like structure made up of galaxies and gas bubbles has been found to exceed the size of adman Donnie Deutsch's ego, scientist Ryosuke Yamauchi from Tohoku University claims.
The Lyman alpha blob ranges some 200 million light years across, compared to 198 million for Deutsch's ego.
"We were very skeptical, naturally" said Yamauchi about the finding. "We have been scouring the four corners of the universe with our Subaru and Keck telescopes for a decade seeking something bigger than this man's ego. To find this size of a blob is nothing short of a miracle."
Deutsch could not be reached for comment.
(story link)

previously:
1. Live Blogging From Cannes.
2. Donnie Deutsch Mark!

The first NYC graffiti I've ever understood.

Playing with God's balls.

(the inscription, Psalm 31:4, reads: "Free me from the trap that is set for me, for you are my refuge.")
Isn't a round of Golf heaven? Well, now you can skip church and play on Sunday without the crushing Catholic guilt. Tee it high, and let it fly Lord-ward with Gospel Golf Balls (link. click on gospel golf in menu.) After sinking that 20-footer for quadruple bogey, you can pound your chest and point to the clouds with real love. And if you happen to slice one of God's balls into the woods and lose it, it's O-K. You'll be helping to spread the Word.(found in Newsweek)

previously:
Irrefutable Evidence that GOLF Is Not A Sport.

Actually, they're methheads. But thanks for asking.

Come on—who does crack these days? If you're going to start a NYC real estate listings website targeting the neighbors of drug addicts (?), at least know your local hot drugs.
(scanned from—where the fuck else?—L Magazine)

previously:
Free Jade Jagger Real Doll™ With Every Condo.

I wrote a post for you. And it was called "Yellow."

YES YELLOW THAT'S WHAT I'M GOING TO DO. I'M GOING TO GET A MARKER THAT PERFECTLY MATCHES THE PMS CHIP COLOR OF YOUR FUCKING LOGO, STAND ON MY FUCKING DESK, DICKHEAD-LIKE, AND DRAW A FAKE PROFIT LINE ON THE FUCKING WALL OF MY FUCKING OFFICE. AND YOU KNOW WHAT I'M GOING TO DO AFTER THAT, YOU FUCKING IDIOTS? I'M GOING TO GET A LADDER AND A BUZZSAW AND CUT A FUCKING HOLE IN MY OFFICE CEILING SO THAT I CAN EXTEND THAT YELLOW BULLSHIT FAKE PROFIT LINE UP INTO AIRSHAFT, BECAUSE I'M JUST THAT FUCKING RETARDED! WEE! HIGH PROFITS! HEY HERE'S MY BOSS! HE'S SAYS I'M FIRED AND HE'S CALLED SECURITY!
(found in Fortune)

Live by the Pun. Die by the Pun.

(bleed-through alert)
Throw in a bizarre S&M visual with your painful pun, and I'm eagerly trimming away in WWD with my X-Acto. For the next ad in your campaign, may I suggest black stilettos and a white seamless background? (btw, their website landing page has a typo, "relatioship")

oops...

Sometimes, the lag time of a weekly publication can lead to embarrassing reporting. Or, embarrassing advertising. This ConEd ad is from the July 19-25 edition of The Villager. Yes, there is "no question" this town has an abundance of cool. Of course. No question whatsoever. So very very cool. Lots and lots and lots of it, spread all over the five boroughs.

Say Nothing and Say It LOUDLY.

(click image)
Oh yeah, Volumes! Let's see, it says:
1. you have a Nokia 8801 cell phone!
2. uhh...
3. umm...
4. err...
5. (sfx: crickets)











(corner of Bond & Lafayette)

Free Jade Jagger Real Doll™ With Every Condo.

(click image)
Her #1 accomplishment in life has been to emerge alive from one of the many vaginas spelunked by Mick's dick. But this surely is 34-year-old Jade Jagger's 2nd finest moment: she's "designed" the interiors of all the condos at 16 W 19th St in Chelsea NYC (link. check out that trippy Ibiza-inspired muzak). A Jade Real Doll (link. NSFW!) is quite a nice amenity. Or is that really Jade splayed legs akimbo on my future bed? Perhaps she offers special turn-down service? Nice touch, the fake passport stamp.

previously:
1. You MUST be at least as tall as our towers to buy a condo.
2. The Unparalleled Hyperbole of NYC Real Estate Advertising.
3. CLEARLY defining your target audience.

Pirates of the Caribbean: The Clutch.

Dead Man's Chest pillaged the world for over 300 million doubloons. Underexposed starlets? You want some much needed mag coverage? Gucci Smucci, this is the clutch to be clutching these days. It's from Judith Leiber, and costs a mere $4,495 (that's app. 18,000 Pieces Of Eight). Appear barefoot (or sporting these $1,195 crocodile, python, and lizard pumps) with a tastefully tied bandanna, and you're there.

I GLOVE NEW YORK.

Did ya know there are germs on subway poles? I KNOW! ICKY EWW EWW!!! And, ya know, with the exception of those poles, every other surface you touch in New York City is pure pristine cleanliness. If only someone would invent sheaths (click image) of some sort that I could place my hands into so that I could then safely grab the mustard gas-coated poles. But, not just any old gloves, no, they'd have to look like something a member of an indie rock outfit might wear on stage, maybe with some iconic artwork that signified that I was, indeed, an idiotic, paranoid New Yorker.
(from Sunday's New York Times. link.)

"Does your Mac come with one of these, young man?"

Like most people who work as an advertising copywriter or art director, I have used Macs my whole life. Plain and simple, they're just better for visual artwork. BUT, in this latest batch of insipid Mac vs. PC commercials, the PC man is clearly the hero. Pull the trigger, my man. Pull the trigger. (found here at the latest Worth1000.com Photoshop contest).

What Tie Domi will be wearing when he gets his weekly mani/pedi.

With the percentage of female hockey fans steadily increasing, starting in September Reebok will be introducing Pink versions of every National Hockey League team jersey (link. paid subscription req'd). So, yes, we'll have Pink Blue Jackets. Pink Sharks. And Pink Panthers. Let's fast forward to the not-so-distant future: The "Pinkies" have become official team third or fourth jerseys, complete with alternate pink helmets. I believe stats will show that fighting in games where one of the teams is wearing its Pink uniforms will be near nonexistent. It would be like punching your Mom.

previously:
The Beautiful Game.

Can't quite put my finger on why this campaign sucks.

You can't blame the Butterfinger people, really. Like everybody else these days, Nestlé wants to grab some of that tasty Frat Boy demo that spends money with the combined forethought of a general invading Russia in the dead of Winter. But, well, you're a candy bar—and a candy bar with very strong ties to a 10-year-old. Wish ya luck and stuff, but to make your ads work, you'd need to use a different finger.

Jesus Jeans.

The August issue of Entrepreneur magazine has a one-page featurette on 50-year-old True Religion Jeans founder Jeffey Lubell, whose wares have become de rigueur for some of Hollywood's leading ladies. Lubell strategically and "tastefully" distresses and destroys his denim offerings. That, of course, is nothing new. Lubell's fresh gimmick is to charge, not $100 for his cotton pants, but up to 460 fucking bucks for a pair. His projected earnings for 2006 are $150 million. In response, I have distastefully distressed his eyeballs with my trusty X-ACTO™ knife (click image).
previously in stupid fashion:
1. DIESEL woos the fcuk hoi polloi.
2. Dead is the new Black.
3. The Gays don't shop Daffy's

copyranter getting annoyed by all these reporters calling.

It's official: I'm the go-to adhole for the New York Post. In Today's edition, reporter Mandy Stadtmiller gets my take on viral advertising (story link)—in particular this billboard which has now been discovered to be for a Court TV show. For the record, I did not say I find Volvo's advertising "enjoyable" (far from it). I meant to say that the best any advertiser can hope for is that their intrusive mind pollution is entertaining and remembered and doesn't piss people off.
Look for the Post profile on the copyranter in the coming weeks.

UPDATE: For the record, I was NOT misquoted by Stadtmiller. It just came out, on paper, reading like I think Volvo's advertising is enjoyable. Which, correct quote or not, is still not true.

previously:
copyranter makes NY Post Debut.

Second Post of the Day.

A few weeks ago, I promised I would start posting more often—at least two posts every work day.

You MUST be at least as tall as our towers to buy a condo.

It's time for the most idiotic visual culled from the last week's worth of terrible real estate ads placed in the New York Times and Wall Street Journal. This beaut is from an ad for Turnberry Towers/Las Vegas. It's an endless supply of stupid, so, see you next time.

previously:
1. The Unparalleled Hyperbole of NYC Real Estate Advertising.
2. CLEARLY defining your target audience.

R&R, minus R&B.

With scores of locations dotting five continents, JW Marriott Hotels have, over the years, welcomed millions of visitors through their whisper-quiet automatic doors. And, apparently, they would now prefer if you Negros would stay somewhere else. Your "boom boxes" scare all the open-shirted rich white men.

copyranter makes NY Post Debut.

In Today's edition—both paper and online—in an article titled Beasty Boys, 'Retrosexuals' Call For Return Of Manly Men (story link), Features Writer Sara Stewart quotes me on the new anti-metrosexual ad trend. My "insights" appear in the last two graphs of the article.

You must be at least this overjoyed to work in one of our shacks.

Radio Shack Manager: "Our position is that we're not just a store. We're a Shack. And we're not just a (air quotes) Radio (end air quotes) Shack. We're a...Love Shack. Because we LOVE our customers. If you want to work for us, you must love customers. So, before I give you your official Radio Shack polo shirt, I need you to give me your god damned happiest face ever..."
(in-store posters from same downtown New York Radio Shack)

related:
Evil Discussor examines the crack-sandwich smiles of real estate brokers.

Taglines are DUMB: #5.

Johnnie Walker. Keep Walking™.
This blurt of marketing hooey is meant to communicate that the Scottish hooch "has been consumed when reflecting on pivotal moments within our lives, moments of our own real progress." Yeah. Pivotal moments like wife beatings and suicides.
(pictured: parody logo by an anon student from Spain found in the latest issue of adbusters.)
previously:
Is IT In YOU?

Butch Cassidy sez: Bang your husband. Eat your greens.

I've been criticized here for not doing enough "Girl" posts. Well, I took a deep breath and dove into the latest issue of O, the Oprah Magazine. After recovering from the waves of panic attacks brought on by being forced to face my mortality on almost every page, I scanned this Newman's Own ad (click image). Be faithful to your spouse? Hey Paul, how bout you get your gnarled finger the hell out of America's bedrooms and go check on the pasta sauce?

Viva la France!

In honor of today, Bastille Day,
I have crudely and brutally chopped off the bobblehead of
hated Italian footballer Marco Materazzi.

Rocketry Mockery.

Photoshopped cover artwork
of North Korean leader Kim Jong-il
from the most recent issue of:
A.) The Economist
or
B.) Mad Magazine?

Let's Get EFFEN Drunk.

At right is Effen Vodka, out of the Netherlands. In Dutch, "Effen" means smooth. I don't know if this particular vodka, the 1,056th new vodka brand rolled out in the last year, was named over there or over here. I don't really care. And, that's all I have to say about the naming of this product. Thank you.

previously:
Product Naming For Dummies.
Product Naming For Dummies, #2.

DIESEL Woos fcuk Hoi Polloi.

Where have you gone, refreshingly nonsensical advertising that made Diesel a fashion forward brand? An angel giving me the fucking finger? Here's your 2nd ad in the campaign, free of charge: a devil giving me the peace sign.
previously:
the FUCK TRUCK hits the highway
The Gays Don't Shop Daffy's,
DEAD is the new BLACK
Fendi No. 5
Models lighter than Cotton.

The March of the Penguin.

(sorry for the bleed-through)
Sensitive World Citizen Starbucks here (click image) presents a "new way to refresh"—capture and abuse a penguin! Cool! Yep, go to your local zoo, grab a Penguin, visit your local deli, tie the Penguin up to a parking meter outside, go inside and grab yourself a $3 Starbucks® Brand can of iced coffee, and then take your new pet for a walk at the beach. Refreshing! The critter looks damn thirsty, huh? Look at that look of longing he/she is sporting gazing at the fake frosted glass of iced coffee. Wonder if our hero knows that Penguins are perfectly capable of drinking salt water? Who cares! Dude's like, "Quit squawking and keep walking. This is sooo going to get me laid."

previously:
Nice Media Placement, StarFuckheads.
O' Stupid Billboard, O' Stupid Billboard...

nothing.

I got nothing this morning. In fact, this post has gone straight to video. (found at starfire.tv). I'll try to have something this afternoon.

Taylor Hicks/Bold Moves for Ford Motors: A Review.

Watching and listening to American Idol winner Hicks "sing" and "dance" (spot) in front of video images of various Ford vehicles makes me wish: 1. Hicks was never born. 2. I was never born. 3. Henry Ford was never born.

previously:
The Fusion: A Review.

A small price to pay for a big package.

WESC (stands for WE ARE THE SUPERLATIVE CONSPIRACY and you MUST write it in ALL CAPS at all times) is a "tightly knit group of people with a sold background in clothing, skateboarding and snowboarding" whose "priority was always to create a feeling of solidarity." (what?) The solidarity expressed here appears to be between one's cock and one's sense of cockness. $7? Better be a fucking 3-pack, you American Apparel co-conspirators.
(advertecture on Houston at Broadway, high above the DKNY mural)

previously:
American Apparel: Made With Dov.
LIVE, WORK, CREATE. PAY—$30 for a fucking t-shirt.

Strange Image of the Week.

It's Friday, which means it's time for another installment of copyranter's Strange Image of the Week. The above is a visual for an ad pulled from Revenue magazine promoting "Huge Cash Bonuses" (that was the headline) by joining some sort of software selling network. "WTF" doesn't quite cut it. See you Monday.

previously:
IT'S FRIDAY
IT'S FRIDAY (well my friday)
IT'S FRIDAY AGAIN
IT'S FRIDAY YET AGAIN.
SEX MACHINES FRIDAY!!!
IT'S MASHUPS FRIDAY!!!
It's Fucking Friday.
LIVE GREASY (It's Friday)

One Game Changes Everything.

In this case...40%.
(photo taken by the eagle-eyed archeress)

"Oh my! Look at the size of him! You'll be needing at least a triplex darling...

NYC Real Estate Dominatrix Barbara Corcoran knows a big thing when she see it. Apple. Suri. Shilough. I think Corcoran is paying Boerum Hill's walking baby billboard Michelle Williams and hubbie Heath Ledger to walk that kid 18 hours a day in rotating neighborhoods. And newborns mean abandoning 1BRs for 2BRs, duplexes, and townhouses. Somewhere in Manhattan right this very second, another wall is being knocked down and a hundred more women of means are being knocked the fuck up. Keep popping those fertility pills, 30-something New York women. Barbara will find you the space, bet your first born on it.
(on lafayette, between prince & spring)

previously:
1. The Unparalleled Hyperbole of NYC Real Estate Advertising.
2. CLEARLY defining your target audience.

the difference being his salary is about 6 bucks a second.

That's ad agency JWT Detroit President George Rogers "working" a lunch shift at client White Castle to celebrate National Hamburger Month. Next, George was seen sucking the slider grease out of White Castle President E.W. "Bill" Ingram III's ass. This marked the first time he's actually tasted his client's product.

On $200 Sterling Silver Baby Rattles.

(pictured: The Cartier Baby Panther Motif Rattle)
Ah yes. I remember my first Cartier. Gleefully rattling it as I lay in my redwood crib wrapped in the hide of a recently euthanized Panda staring up at my shimmering gold ingot mobile. What's this? Mum has come to nourish me with the breast milk of 100% additive-free virgins. Afterwards it's nap time, which means Yo-Yo Ma himself yet again gently easing me to sleep with an original ballad written just for baby copyranter. My dreams? They consist of slowly torturing all the persons responsible for any baby rattles costing over five dollars.
related:
Defective Tiffany Teething Rattle Suit Settled.

T-Mobile pays CZJ $4 million per word.

Pictured taking a piss while pretending to chat on one of the many free cell phones she's received in the last year, Catherine Zero Jones is making a fucking filthy fortune as celebrity "spokesmodel" for T-Mobile. Meanwhile, she does literally next to nothing in the commercials—on average she says 5 words and takes 3 steps per spot (yes, I've counted). That's not very chatty nor very mobile. Plus, maybe it's just her natural lack of charisma, but it appears to me that she really doesn't give a shit about the product. Which, of course, she doesn't. Bravo, CZJ. You've pulled off about the biggest con job in recent ad history. T-Mobile? Get More? You idiots couldn't be getting any less for your 20 mil.

Little Mr. Apricot tells USA 'F-You.'

Four-year-old Mr. Apricot Pageant winner Mathew Burgos of Patterson, California has ignited a national f'ing firestorm by flipping the f'ing finger to the pageant, the people, the town, the mayor, the state, the country, apricots, and really, the American Way Of Life (story link here, with video report!). The little freedom hater was subsequently stripped of his title. He should be stripped of his citizenship. God Bless America!