Naples Lumber. Everything you need to get the (blow) job done.

(click image)
Naples Lumber & Supply Company ad scanned from the latest Naples Illustrated (great magazine). Now, there are plenty of examples of phallicism in ads out there. But I am very impressed by the complete lack of creativity executed here. Why not just go ahead and have the woman fellating the electric "screw" driver?
previously in sex in ads:
1. You've Cum A Long Way, Baby.
2. The Bowlmor Girls. Now With Zero Bowling.
3. It's not strange. You just need to come out fella.
4. Bud tells Gays OK to be Gay.

The Deutsch/Trump '69'

Winner's Circle. That's the headline for ad man Donny Deutsch's "Deutsch Mark" column in December's Gotham (I really miss Prick Jason Binn's eloquent letter from the CEO). This time, he sloppily fellates fellow "brand master" Donald Trump.
The highlights:
• Deutsch tells Trump a red label on his water bottle is "not the way to go"
• Trump tells Deutsch the secret to his success: "When someone attacks you, you attack back, but much, much harder."
• Also, "Never quit."
There, now you don't have to enroll at prestigious Trump University.
(image from fleshpickle.com)
previously in Deutsch Mark:
1. Donny Douche sits down with Ted Turner.
2. Donny Douche continues to break the big stories.
3. Donny Deutsch Mark!

Lies Well Disguised, #10.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas in fake snow-covered Advertising Land. Which means stupid BIG RED BOWS and fake antlers on everything! (link)
(for previous Lies Well Disguised posts, go here)

Punctuation/Sense Thrown Out Window.

"IT" BEING ME COMMITTING SUICIDE BY DRIVING A CAR INTO A RIVER OR SOMEONE ELSE COMMITTING SUICIDE BY DRIVING A CAR INTO A RIVER OR A RANDOM CAR ACCIDENTALLY FALLING INTO A RIVER ANYBODY ELSE GOT A GUESS?
previously in NYC retail ads:
1. WHAT???
2. Horse's Ass over Manhattan.

What the F happened to Ashley Judd's face?

(click image and take a close look)
The December/January issue of Gotham was delivered to my desk yesterday. But before I could even open it and read what Big Idea Douche Donny Deutsch had to share in his penetrating Deutsch Mark column (more on that later in the week), I was transfixed by the above face which supposedly belongs to Ashley Judd. Either she's had some bad work done, or Gotham's photographer/retoucher/makeup artist did a really shitty job. Hopefully the latter.
UPDATE: as an anon commenter wrote, it does look like the wax museum version of Ashley.
previously in scary Hollywood:
1. Scary Hart.
2. Right Gwynnie. And I'm Martian.
3. copyranter celeb dish #1.

Congrats skycaptain.

Presented without (much) comment because I'm fucking busy, some fucking retard from Oregon with help from his 2 idiot kids broke the world record for largest rubberband ball, fashioning a sphere that weighed 4,600 fucking pounds. The old record was 3,120 pounds. It took a full year of this 26-year-old's life to make the pointless orb. Now what, genius? Hopefully, you'll request that you be buried with your Sisyphean blob. (link)
UPDATE: As Andrew from fungibleconvictions.com points out, this manqué was sponsored by fucking OfficeMax.
previously in retarded:
1. rolling grass thing.
2. the Horshack Rorschach.
3. Republic of China reshapes mountains for copyranter's birthday.

The continuing chestification of True.com

After I posted a previous true.com item, a commenter who used to work at the Texas offices of the questionable dating site wrote that CEO Herb Vest (rhymes with breast) is in fact obsessed with bOObs. Judging by the latest round of Women You Won't Find Among True's Membership to pop up on my hotmail page, I'd say it's case closed on Herbie's obsession with fully loaded ladies. Anybody know if the Herbmeister's married?
previous true.com posts:
1. So feel free to wear your tightest short shorts, ladies.
2. match.com bronskied by True.com DD-cup sandwich.
3. BREAKING NEWS NOW...
4. BIKINI KILL
5. On online dating advertising.
6. This is my Diaphragm. Scared?
7. Holly's Once, Twice, Three Times A lady...

God Speedo®, Douchebag.

Happy 49th, Donny Deutsch—you sneaky Scorpion you. What's the Big Idea for tonight? Driving your Escalade to Nobu for some vastly overrated sushi? You got a date? Or is it a night out with the Drakkar Noir-drenched ad boys? Either way, the big five-0's staring you in the face, Double D. Hope you're mixing in some cardio with all those bicep curls, Dude. Check the Empire State building tonight. I've arranged for it to be lit a brownish/yellowish vinegar hue.

previous Donny Deutsch posts:
1. Deutsch sits down with Ted Turner.
2. Deutsch continues to break the big stories.
3. Donny Deutsch Mark!
4. Cosmic blob supplants Deutsch's ego...
5. That's Mr. "Douche" Brittney.

Lies Well Disguised, #9.

What is the lower form of advertising? That would be the Fake Testimonial. Today at Gawker.com, I explore a recent favorite example of this vile ad trick (link).
previous Lies Well Disguised:
8. AIDS ads make me so horny.7. Kenneth Cole. Heel.
6. Ad horror stories.
5. We are all made of Starbucks.
4. Deutsch & Binn: Perfect Douche Storm.
3. Unparalleled hyperbole of NYC real estate ads.
2. The bloody death of celebrity endorsements.
1. Advertising Week 2006.

That's great. Did your fancy machine find that small, black umbrella I left at Grand Central Station last Friday?

Exactly whom is this ad targeting, MTA? Terrorists? Forgetful boobs like me? Nah. This ad was produced for one reason: so's that you could show off your shiny new picker-upper thingumajig. So that us subway/bus riders would nod and say "Ahh, that's why the fare keeps going up despite record MTA budget windfalls—utterly useless 'anti-terror' purchases."
(photo taken by advertising brand spanker Slinky Redfoot of brandspankin.com)
previous MTA posts:
1. 16 million eyes...
2. MTA. Very anal.

Jonathan Swift Realty, Inc.

(click image)
The Brobdingnags were 12 times as big as Gulliver. This ad for Infinity Flats must therefore be inferring that their $4.5 mil+ lofts are 12 times as big as a normal-sized loft. One can thusly conclude that the normal-sized Manhattan loft condo is about 341.6 square feet and costs about $375,000, yes? Hmm. BUT, if one were to sell all one's children to be eaten, then that there Brobdingnagian pricetag wouldn't seem so "infinitely" ridiculous. (at least they spelled 'Brobdingnagian' right)
(scanned from the front page of last week's New York Observer)
previously in stupid NYC real estate ads:
1. Plaza Hotel advertecture.
2. You must identify with 1 of these 5 twats...
3. Corporate real estate stooges redefine "shocking"
4. Unparalleled hyperbole of NYC real estate ads.
5. She feels pretty empty.
6. CLEARLY defining your target audience.

I hate kids.

(click image)
Not YOUR kids, of course. Other people's. So, I've been laughing at this photo for, like, a week straight. It is fucking brilliant. And guess what? The photog, Tierney Gearon, is a women and a mother! And you wanna know something else? That's her mother in the mask—who's a schizophrenic manic-depressive! Art is Cool! (scanned from the November Black Book)
previously in Fuck You Friday:
1. Rolling Grass Thing.
2. The Horshack Rorschach.
23. Floating Bolton Head.

There's pee in your butt.

(click image)
Anti-tobacco extremists thetruth.com , as part of a new "infect truth" campaign, placed ads (this one was from the December Fader) with two of the above removable yellow splash stickers in them. Citing a "1993 tobacco industry document," they claim that cigarettes contain urea, aka carbamide—a nitrogenous compound found in the urine of mammals (science is hard.). Also in the ad, to set an example, the truth infecters stuck one of the stickers over the head of the Camel cigarette camel on a deli poster.
Here in NYC, most delis already smell like pee, so this guerrilla marketing would just add to the ambiance. Plus ex-smoker and Mayor/First Nanny Mike Bloomberg, who's done everything short of making smoking a felony, will now probably order a million of these babies and personally plaster 4 or 5 of 'em on every tobacco poster in the City.
previously in tobacco:
1. Tastes Good Like a Cigarette Should. Redux.
2. Taglines are DUMB: tobacco edition.
3. Retro cigarette ads.

Lies Well Disguised, #8.

AIDS advertising. Good at getting people hot and bothered. Not so good at promoting AIDS awareness. Check out the sexy visuals and much less sexy words in this week's Gawker column (link).
previous Lies Well Disguised:
7. Kenneth Cole. Heel.
6. Advertising Horror Stories.
5. We are all made of Starbucks.
4. Deutsch & Binn: Perfect Douche Storm.
3. Unparalleled Hyperbole of NYC Real Estate Ads.
2. The Bloody Death of Celebrity Endorsements.
1. Advertising Week 2006.

So feel free to wear your tightest short shorts, Ladies.

Yes, even in their "safety"-focused online ads specifically targeting women, True's skeevy CEO & founder Herb Vest probably jerked off into the model's photo-shoot underwear while approving this ad. update: as Darren wrote in the comments, this is a stock photo.
previous True posts:
1. match.com bronskied by True.com DD-cup sandwich.
2. BREAKING News Now...
3. BIKINI KILL

Head. Exploding. Pun. Overdose.

(In SoHo on Crosby St, between Prince & Spring)
Tea for models? Model T? T-Model? Formal model Tea? A tea model? God, I need a drink. Not of tea.
previously in Puns:
1. Live by the Pun. Die by the Pun.
2. Chuck brings the Suck.
3. Kenneth Cole's Puns are Re-Hyphen-Tarded.

Boomer's Beemer Befouls Boho's Bosom.

Spotted DEEP in the heart of Greenwich Village. The nerve.
I'm so angry, I think I'll write a Beat poem:
(sfx: snapping fingers)
Red Dagger of Commercialism
Pierces my Soul so
Deeply Shallow Yuppies
Guppies walking Bred
Puppies Bread Lines
wines & Whines
NOT my Kinds
Zo-Loft'd Minds...
(oh Fuck it. I gotta get back to sucking on a client's Balls.)
previous car posts:
1. The Car as Cock.
2. Taglines are DUMB: NYC Auto Show edition.
3. Car Dealer Ads Are A Gift From Satan

Zenith watches. Accurate. Won't destroy you.

Now that's a Unique Selling Proposition. For the Man who is tired of being destroyed, again and again, by cheap, evil Swatch® watches. Because it certainly can't be the watch quoting Nietzsche because, you know, watches can't talk. From Zenith's website:
"We could think of fairy dust, just like in the fairy tales we read to our children, spreading a rain of stars over the planet. Our senses awake, our hearts pound, our eyes sparkle. This is magic. This is art. This is ZENITH!"
But I worry for our studly, time-sensitive protagonist: he appears to be gazing not at stars, but into the abyss. And as Friedrich also said, if you gaze for too long, "the abyss gazes also into you."
This nondestructive timepiece retails for a heart-pounding $10,874.
previous watch posts:
1. Trump "Signature" Watch.
2. Time to egest.

Tommy Dewar's words should have been heeded by ad agency.

(click image)
"...to know where not to return" indeed. I am so SICK of hard liquor makers making my head hurt before I drink their elixirs. Jesus Fucking Christ, the (fake?) man's been dead for 76 fucking years. Old Scotch? Good (theoretically. I actually hate Scotch). Old Ideas? Not Good.

previously in hard liquor:
1. What's on your headstone, Tommy?
2. The drunken conversation is waiting.
3. Worst Anthropomorphism. EVER.
4. An unsigned letter from a distillery in Holland.
5. Got it yet? Take your time.
6. Excuse Me, While I Puke And Die.

They did it on Lane 23.

(click image)
• Ladies, want to get pregnant? • Go bowling at Bowlmor! • Knock down pins and get knocked up! • Keep your mind in the gutter! • He'll be putting more than his fingers in the hole! • The seven-ten split never felt so good! • Automatic scoring! • Right in the pocket! • Go over the line! • Smooth black balls! • (sigh. these are as bad as the ad)
(poster on E. 10th St.)

previous Bowlmor posts:
1. It's not strange. You just need to come out fella.
2. WHAT!!!
3. The Bowlmor Girls. Now with zero bowling.

Google Image Search: "commenter"

Yes, this grassy asshole and his ride show up on the first page of the search. And unlike "journalists" with "ethics" I never argue with the Goog. The point? Well, even though this failed miserably the first time I tried it, I'm trying it again: Leave a comment here if there's something you'd like me to address. Leave a comment if you like the blog. Leave a comment if you hate the blog. Leave a comment if you'd like to see more comments from the anon "I'd Fuck Her/Him" commenter (one vote from me). Because, really, this blog is yours. And even more really, it really isn't.

oh look, White Ad People "dancing"

(click image and play "where's black waldo?")
ad:tech ended Wednesday night here in NYC. No, I didn't attend and wouldn't have attended even if the organizers had paid me to pee on the above catch-phrase spewing, shakin' & fakin' morons from the dark rafters. OK, yes, you're right. Depending on the negotiations, I would have then attended.
(photo by ariel waldman via adrants)

previously in "I'm losing my mind":
1. ADVERTISING SUCKS SMELLY DICK.
2. It's Fucking Friday.
3. The Human Train Wreck.

That tradition being seasonal price gouging.

Yes, it's the fucking most fucking wonderful fucking time of the fucking year. The big stupid Christmas tree goes up today in ugly-ass Rockefeller Center, beckoning the hoi polloi horde who then inexpertly waddle over to Radio City Music Hall to take in the absolutely entrancing CHRISTMAS FUCKING SPECTACULAR. Meanwhile downtown, right outside my window, I get to experience the pure joy of another smart, seasonal Starbucks billboard that shows an activity that 99.9% of New Yorkers will not be experiencing this Winter—the .1% who do get a chance to sled in NYC will be doing it in a kinda grayish/brownish sludge (thanks ricpic). Enjoy your 5 buck cups of 'bucks bullshit, babbitts (Sinclair Lewis reference. look it up, consumerist sheep).
previous Starbucks posts:
1. Starbucks Salon: A Venti Hooey Latte.
2. Starbucks Holiday Postcard.
3. O' Stupid Billboard, O' Stupid Billboard...
4. Starbucks needs to go to Billboarding School.
5. The Way $tarbuck$ $ee$ it.
6. Smart Media Placement, StarFuckHeads.

The Balvenie Weenie®. Middle notes of figs and peat, a vinegar bottom, and the overwhelming stench of scrotum sweat.

(click image)
Oh, I've noticed, my mouthless douchy ad icon friend. Same Wholesale Liquidators white boxers too, right? Same Hamburger and/or Tuna Helper® and same porn every night. Same fruitless pickup lines. Same Brylcreem. Same hope that your Mommy will die some day soon so's that you can collect that insurance policy and pretend to be an asshole i-banker for a couple of sweet wondrous months and maybe, just maybe, have sex with something besides your little ugly right drinking hand.
previous Balvenie Weenie® posts:
6. Balvenie Weenie® asks for it.
5. Balvenie Weenie® brings his A Game.
4. out again with the Balvenie Weenie®.
3. Balvenie Weenie® motto.
2. Balvenie Weenie®, Cinco de Mayo edition.
1. Balvenie Weenie®.

Donny Douche sits down with Ted Turner.

November's Gotham brought us Gothamists another Deutsch Mark, the monthly column that's become the can't-miss read of, well, me and Deutsch. Donny digs deep to unearth the good quotes from nutcase Turner: "You don't win people over by bombing them"; to be a success, "make people happy"; and TT's axiom, ""early to bed, early to rise, work like hell, and advertise!" (I got that tattooed on my ass this morning.)
But the keenest insight came from Double D himself: "there are a few traits highly accomplished people share: humility, passion, and a sense of humor."
D-squared, you're at best one for three.
(above, Deutsch's executive washcloset)
previous Deutsch posts:
1. Cosmic blob supplants Deutsch's ego...
2. Deutsch continues to break the big stories.
3. Donny Deutsch Mark!
4. That's Mr. 'Douche' Brittney.

Mini Naomi Campbell Terrorizes Sleeping Maid.

(AP) New York—Captured here on a surveillance camera in her maid's very red bedroom, mini Naomi Campbell was arrested this morning for mini-assault with a mini-cellphone, marking the 10th time in 8 years the tempestuous 36-year-old supermodel has been booked for battery.
Said Rosalita Jones, Campbell's 493th maid in the last decade, "I felt a little something hit my cheek, and I saw little Miss Naomi standing on my chest in her tiny blue cotton structured suit. Her teeny face was very angry. I think she was yelling something about she needed a size -157 not -158. It was hard to make out exactly what she was saying."
After refusing to explain why she was now under a foot tall, mini Campbell was soaked with mace by an unidentified NYPD officer and stuffed in his breast pocket for the trip to an undisclosed Manhattan North precinct. She is currently being held without bail in an empty water cooler bottle.
Cotton Incorporated's President and CEO J. Berrye Worsham reportedly has already sent a size -157 of the outfit to Campbell's residence via courier.
(ad scanned from WWD)

previous cottoninc posts:
1. Models lighter than Cotton.
2. Cotton. The fabric of their size double zero lives.

Lies Well Disguised, #7.

Ever wonder who the worst advertising copywriter in the history of the world is? (no not me you dickheads) I presented my case yesterday at gawker (link).
previous Lies Well Disguised:
6. true advertising horror stories.
5. We are all made of Starbucks.
4. Deutsch & Binn: perfect Douche storm.
3. The unparalleled hyperbole of NYC real estate ads.
2. The bloody death of celebrity endorsements.
1. Advertising Week 2006

"I still haven't found what I'm looking for"

Spurred by boredom, I spent the last week documenting the Google searches that mistakenly led wandering cybersouls to my site. Here's a sampling:
• glory hole ny • panties for girls 6 to 14 • crackhead greeting cards • get paid for gay greeting cards • Idaho hookers • free real doll • how to make a fleshlight • beer bottle dildo • fuck her feet • bowel of fuck • how many calories in a blowjob • why do girls suck dick • cheeseburger pussy • mature witty pickup lines • forgot my diaphragm • kids drawings of mountains (?)

previously:
1. Google Image Search: copyranter
2. The color of Hell.
3. SEX MACHINES FRIDAY!!!

Always use black type, sweetheart.

Spotted during the Republican National Convention here in NYC in 2004. They say politics makes strange bedfellows. Or, as T.S. Eliot said about elections, "The foxes have a sincere interest in prolonging the lives of the poultry." Or Nancy Reagan, at a Just Say No press conference, "I didn't intend for this to take on a political tone. I'm just here for the drugs..." Or Napoleon, "In politics, an absurdity is not a handicap."
That is one heck of an Inauguration Ball dress, though.

On Political Slogans.

A Chicken In Every Pot. A Car In Every Garage. That slogan, considered by many historians as the best political motto in history, got Herbert Hoover, considered by many historians as the worst president in history, elected in a landslide in 1928. By 1932, Unemployment was cooking at a 25% rate and millions of Americans didn't even have a pot to piss in.
Got Guv? That's the beaut that Chicago dairy magnate Jim Oberweis used, unsuccessfully, in his bid for the Republican nomination for Governor of Illinois earlier this year.
I Like Ike. Ross For Boss. My two favorites. Easy to remember and promise zilch. The perfect taglines.

previously in politics:
1. SHTICKBALL.
2. Ferrer For Mayor. Better Than Fair.
3. The New York Attorney General Primary—The Signs.

How many "Trumps" are there in Trump magazine?

Yesterday, while listening to WOXY at work, I grabbed the Fall issue of Donald Trump's quarterly magazine and commenced counting exactly how times "Trump" appears in print—editorial and advertising—within its 112 pages. I count 298 times, plus 1 "Tump" typo (in editorial. I'm sure that person has been fired!).

previous Trump posts:
1. Trump Vodka Taglines.
2. Trump Introduces Signature Watch. World Watches And Wonders Why.

Lies Well Disguised, #6.

Last week, I wrote a trilogy of true advertising horror stories for gawker. Here's the link.
previous Lies Well Disguised on gawker:
5. We are all made of Starbucks.
4. Deutsch & Binn: The Perfect Douche Storm.
3. The Unparalleled Hyperbole of NYC Real Estate Advertising.
2. The Bloody Death of Celebrity Endorsements.
1. Advertising Week 2006.

Taglines are DUMB: New York Knicks.

The New York Knicks. Experience It.
"It" being:
• How many times Stephon Marbury gets a "T" for kicking the ball after yet another turnover (1 and counting)
• How many times coach Isiah Thomas winces in disgust (would challenge the world's top mathematicians)
• How many times team disappears in 4th quarter (2 and counting)
• Spike Lee not waving his towel (pretty much a constant)
• Misery.

previously:
1. Knicks sign shooting guard to 4-year, $27 million contract.

Horse's Ass over Manhattan.

(click image)
Have you heard of the new underground phenomenon sweeping the world called streethorsing? No? Well that's "music tastemaker" Steve DJ Kid Millionaire (sometimes aka Kid Thousand) Aoki, son of Rocky "Benihana" Aoki, "streethorsing" (cough. photoshopped.) over a Ford Ranchero over the DKNY billboard over the corner of Houston and Broadway over NYC. It's a handpainted billboard for Lafayette St. clothing store WESC (WE are the Superlative Conspiracy. Yes. Yes, you are.). Here, Aoki models "Clay", the world's first streethorsing jacket (will take their word for that. looks like a tracksuit to me.). It's a shot from a book called "Horse Play: A Streethorsing Retrospective" currently ranked 1,359,436 on Amazon. Coolhunting says about the book, which also features photos of Mark "gardensnake" Hunter and Jason Lee, "Whether or not the obscure subculture actually exists, the tome is filled with unbelievable photos of horses doing skateboard-like tricks..."
I have only one thing to add to that: I will give 100 bucks to the first Tagger/Bomber who defaces this horse's ass. Write me.
(pic of cobrasnake from brooklyn vegan.)

previous WESC post:
1. a small price to pay for a big package.

"Darker. No, make him DARKER."

(click image)
Let's take a trip back in time. Waaay back before wassup. Old School! Back when it was good to be King. When the big decision was whether your dinner party was going to be "stag or mixed." When you could always count on Clarence to keep an eye on the Bud supply. You do have eyes, right Clarence?
Note the NRA logo, lower right corner.
(Budweiser ad from 1934)
UPDATE: the logo is for the National Recovery Act.

previous vintage beer posts:
1. PBR's hipster pedigree.
2. It's Friday. Let's Get Fucking Drunk.

181st St. station platform, A train.

previously:
1. TriBeCa Horror Film Festival.
2. The first NYC graffiti I've ever understood.

Chuck Brings The Suck.

(click images)
Chucks are Cool. Inexpensive and Iconic. What is not cool is this new campaign for Converse/John Varvatos clothing. If you haven't clicked the images, please do so now. Up top, you'll notice smirking pretty boy not quite covering up his "Civil Disobedience" button. Subtle. On the bottom, we have a soulless "Rebel" rocker. Why not just write "No sole to sell" in the TV dust and hit up pun-master Kenneth Cole for co-op dollars?
(photos taken on Bleecker St.)
previously:
1. As opposed to, what? Trade pelts for them?
2. CONS® and Cons.

It's not strange. You just need to come out, fella.

Visual portion of the latest print ad from local tongue-in-cheek bowling venue Bowlmor Lanes—"where everyone from Richard Nixon (!) to the Rolling Stones (!) to Cameron Diaz (?)" to every noodle-armed NYC dickhead hipster Puke has rolled. Prices now up to near 10 fucking bucks per person per game. For bowling. Well apparently, you're paying an extra fin for the warming irony.

previous Bowlmor posts:
1. WHAT???
2. The Bowlmor Girls. Now with Zero Bowling.

Central Innocuousness Agency

(click image)
That's the best you dolts can do—an image of the world with a bunch of boring pictures on it? YOU'RE THE C I FUCKING A. How bout Jason Bourne? Or a cool looking torture device? Pussies. Your recruitment ads give comfort to the enemy.

previously:
1. An Army of One Model/Actress.
2. PRESIDENTIAL TAGLINE
3. Operation Thesaurus.

Got it yet? Take your time.

previously:
1. An Unsigned Letter from a Distillery in Holland.