copier-ranter. (that's French for copyranter).

Next week, I will be on vacation in France. No, I will not be visiting the northern village of Pussy. Yes, I will be posting a few times if I can get/find an internet connection. No, I will not be posting naked pics of my girlfriend. Yes, I will be taking my Frisbee®. No, I will not be throwing it from the top of the Eiffel Tower.
previously in vacation:
1. What I saw at Burning Man.
2. Gone snorkeling with the Speedo®-sporting Donny Deutsch.
3. Catching squirrels in Washington Square Park.
4. Amsterdam Marijuana Menu.
5. Rats on a Dog (Vienna pic #1).

Joe Torre asking passing bicyclists on Brooklyn Bridge if they can pitch.

(click image to read copy)
The Yankees have lost 6 in a row and are in last place, 5 and 1/2 games back of the Red Sox. Anybody who thinks George Michael Steinbrenner wouldn't fire god-like manager Joe Torre so soon in the season doesn't know their Yankeeography very well. If the Yankees get swept in the upcoming weekend series against Boston, what do you think'll be Steinbrenner's response? All of which makes these frequent ads in the Wall Street Journal for accounting firm J.H. Cohn all the more deliciously ironic. How Are You Managing?™ indeed.
previously in Yankees:
1. What every self-respecting Bleacher Creature will be wearing this Fall.
2. Alex, get upstairs and put your big pants on!
3. Yankee clubhouse soon to smell like whorehouse.
4. Is IT In YOU?

Lies Well Disguised, #31.

This week on Gawker, I took a brief look at advertising awards show season (link). I've judged a few shows over the years—and killed everything that was put in front of me. One time, a One Show administrator even took me aside and told me that I HAD to have liked something I'd seen. She was wrong. For previous Lies Well Disguised columns, enter those three words up in my search window.

"Middle manager" sends 10,000 horrified concert-goers scrambling for exits.

Casinos are notoriously difficult clients to work with. Their taste is often in their asses, and they can never decide what they want to focus on: the gambling or their other crap. Still. That's no excuse for the above (click image). Who approved this art direction? This photo shoot? I mean, look at that fucking tool. Shouldn't they be trying to entice potential customers with their advertising?
Campaign via was-good-about-ten-years-ago New York ad agency Kirshenbaum Bond + Partners.
previous stupid ad visuals:
1. Cantmissable!
2. The Ameriprise Co-Chairmen.
3. You MUST be at least as tall as out towers to buy a condo.
4. My early frontrunner for worst ad of 2007.
5. The Good Hands, Bad Taste People.

I want to see video of its twitching body.

Snuggle®. The name alone makes me want to burn down a dozen laundromats (after hours). Of all the ad icons that have fouled our TVs, this heinous fabric softener sheet shill (here's an old spot) is my 2nd most-hated ever (He's #1). Well, now girls of all ages can buy a Snuggle head purse. I am tempted to get one—if only to impale it on my fire escape to scare away pigeons/intruders. (Thanks to Theresa LaGuardia for the tip. She says she's related to long deceased, three-term NYC mayor Fiorello LaGuardia. I see no reason not to believe her.)
previously in ad icons:
1. Balvenie Weenie® thread.
2. Kotex® Ko.
3. Advertising Week 2006: Procession of Icons.
related on Gawker: Advertising Week 2006.

Sailing with Carson & Justin.

It's been awhile since I checked in with Hickey-Freeman's little future i-bankers. Last Summer in Amagansett, the precocious twats got the absolute bejesus beaten out of them by a gang of local skater punks. Poor Justin's favorite jacket was left in tatters. No matter. Mommy Socialite and Daddy Analyst sued the punks' parents, donated the boys' old rags to the Salvation Army, and bought them whole new H-F Summer wardrobes. This season, Justin is again the bro with the more adventurous tastes—check out that groovetastic trippiness! Kid Carson sports the classic, but never old, bright white suit. Boy toys ahoy matey!
previously in stupid fashion ads:
1. Hey boys want some PUNCH?
2. What's Italian for Twat?
3. Diesel woos fcuk hoi polloi.
4. DEAD is the new BLACK.
5. Jimmy Choo. Shoes to die for.
6. Gays don't shop Daffy's.
7. Fendi No. 5.

What the marketing director of Chase jerks off to every morning.

Banks love their logos. They don't just want big logos on their ads. They want HUGE fucking logos. More logos. Aesthetically pleasing meaningless logos. Here in Chase's new campaign, you have scores of shiny happy Chase logos dotting the New York metro area like cum drops. So sexy and powerful. Oh yeah, baby. More. Better. Faster.
previously in bank advertising:
1. What the marketing director of Deutsche Bank jerks off to every morning.
2. Meet John Dowd. Banker. Founding Father.
3. ...because he doesn't have a firm understanding of the Gramm-Leach-Bliley Act?
4. Dude, chill. It's a CD, not the Fountain of Youth.
5. The Bank of Opportunistic Stock Photo Use.

copyranter recommends a site.

It's the Advertising Age Adages blog (link), written mostly by AdAge editor Ken Wheaton. I like it because it covers ad and media related stories that don't appear on the sites of the usual ad and media suspects. I also like it because the posts are short and to-the-point; I'm daunted by lots of words.

EARTH DAY IRONY, example #1.

(click image to read copy)
Corcoran Real Estate Group, for those of you not from the New York City region, is a multi-kabillion dollar company that has un-planted (deplanted?) trees, bushes, grass, and a lot of tenants. This ad—#5 in their "How To Live Who You Are" (what?) series—is from the front page of yesterday's New York Times real estate section. So, did any of you stop by one of their Earth Day open houses and pick up your free "Corcoran Seed Packet?" What they should have been handing out was free Corcoran fertilizer bags.
(seriously slimeballs, YOU GOTTA BE FUCKIN' KIDDIN' ME)
previous stupid real estate ads:
1. Caledonia slightly updates its ad twats.
2. Corporate Real Estate Stooges Redefine "Shocking."
3. She feels pretty empty.
4. The unparalleled hyperbole of NYC Real Estate Ads.

Actually, it's a Raging Chubb.

The Elephant Penis In The Room. Oh, please, like that wasn't your first thought upon reading this. The ad agency and Chubb's marketing folk had to discuss the hard-on reference. At least the "It's Chubb" part is under the woman. If you cover up the top headline, this reads like an ad for an erectile dysfunction remedy.
(scanned from the May Inc.)
previously in SEX in ads:
1. 'Dis is how they do subliminal advertising in Queens.
2. You've Cum A Long Way, Baby.
3. C'mon baby, it's low in calories.
4. Bowlmor Big Rack.
5. Samsung commits an innuendon’t.

Zipper Theater.

(click image for closer look)
Intrusive bit of 3-D advertecture on Lafayette near Bond for bag seller LeSportsac. The look is nicely carried through to their homepage. But, this thing really bothers me for some reason. Hmm. Small picture reason: the way it's unattractively hung on the building, sticking out over the edge. Big picture reason: Soon every fucking building on high visibility streets in Manhattan is going to have a zipper or Madonna or a big baby or Kate Moss's ass or a horse's ass or a big package or corporate-sponsored graffiti or corporate-sponsored art or a fucking cell phone or Adam Sandler or Frodo on it. And SOMEBODY is going to lose it.

Lies Well Disguised, #30

Yesterday on Gawker, I took a look at Donny Deutsch's take on the Don Imus imbroglio. (link) Advertising's "bad boy" sure has himself a mighty guilty conscience. For previous Lies Well Disguised columns, type those 3 words up in my search window.

No, you're a bad ad trapped in a phone kiosk.

(click image for closer look)
This is the worst liquor advertising out there right now. Worse than Dewars. Worse than Grand Marnier. Worse than Courvoisier. Worse even than Balvenie. OK, maybe not worse than Ketel One. The writing in this campaign is fucking horrible. What fucking horseshit this line is. Somebody at a monthly group-think meeting must have chimed in with something like: "Our fembot is hot, but can we get "gay" into a headline somehow? Everybody looks to The Gays to see what they're drinking." And, as I've mentioned in every Svedka post, and will keep mentioning, the "SVEDKA_GRL" look is a blatant rip off of director Chris Cunningham.
(kiosk on Broadway near Houston)
previously in Svedka ads:
1. Six Stories of Stupid.
2. THIS SVUCKS.

My early frontrunner for worst ad of 2007.

Scanned from this week's AdAge, it's for Marketing Evolution, whose CEO Rex Briggs is the author of What Sticks, yet another marketing book that's got all the answers on advertising effectiveness. Let's look at the effectiveness of your ad, Rex: Why is the hunter trying to kill his potential ROI? Why isn't the hunter wearing high-visibility clothing? Does the hunter represent you or me? Why, Rex, would you—the King of ad effectiveness—place an ad that makes you look stupider than Elmer Fudd?
previously in stupid ads:
1. The Caledonia Twats.
2. So reading Business Week will give me Encephalitis?
3. Y&R thanks me for screwing you.
4. Who CARES where we were...

Jugs of Campari.

(click image to increase boobs size)
For some reason, I gave Campari the benefit of the doubt here with their new print campaign. I thought, 'they really couldn't, so blatantly, just be using Salma Hayek's big tits, and only Salma Hayek's big tits, to sell their yucky apéritif.' A visit to the website would surely reveal a movie tie-in or a sophisticated story line around the "Hotel Campari" or some kind of special promotion, yes? No. It's just Salma Hayek's big tits.
Bravo Campari? I guess?
previously in liquor ads:
1. What's on your headstone, Tommy?
2. The drunken conversation is waiting.
3. Worst. Anthropomorphism. EVER.
4. Product Naming for DUMMIES, #2.

Art Appreciation Fridays with copyranter, #7.

(L)—Michelangelo's "David" (1504), 5.17 meter marble statue. Considered by many art historians to be the single greatest piece of art in the history of civilization.
(R)—Replica of of "Gift" (1958). Original (1921) by Man Ray (Emmanuel Radnitzky). Painted flatiron with row of tacks, heads glued to bottom. Considered by copyranter to be the single fucking greatest piece of fucking artwork in the history of the entire fucking world.
previously in art appreciation with copyranter:
1. Split Ends vs. "Split Endz"
2. Mapplethorpe's tomato/knife vs. copyranter's tomato/plastic knife.
3. Warhol's "Oxidation" vs. copyranter's "Untitled"
4. Ellsworth Kelly's "The Gate" vs. copyranter's "The Opening"
5. Warhol's "Pepper Pot" vs. copyranter's "Pork & Beans"

NHL playoffs preview on DEADSPIN.

Will Leitch runs the best sports blog on the web at deadspin.com. One sport that his site doesn't cover so well is hockey. So he asked my to do a couple of posts previewing this year's NHL playoff action. Here's the Eastern Conference preview (link). And here's the Western Conference preview (link). If you have time, read the comments; his readers are both batshit insane and very entertaining. In a few weeks, I'll also be doing a Stanley Cup finals preview.

Lies Well Disguised, #29.

This week on Gawker, I invited any and all New York ad agencies to invite me to their shops for some possibly favorable press coverage (link). So far, I've gotten one feeler. It's understandable, after my visit to BBDO, that some agencies might be a little reluctant to take me up on my offer, but it is a sincere one. You a New York agency? If you got some good shit to show me, show it to me, and I'll show it to the media world. Go read the column for contact particulars. For previous Lies Well Disguised columns, type that phrase up in my search window.

Harlem "lodges" beckon curly-haired cutie-pie.

(click image to read copy)
No herd-follower, you. You're an "individual." You're wistful. A hopeless dreamer. You've got big plans. And lots of turtleneck cardigans. You've never killed a deer, never even shot a gun (see logo). But you're still relatively rugged. You've hiked. A couple of times. Your Dad made you paint the house when you were 15. You did a fine job. And now, Daddy's ready to pay you back with your very own Harlem lodge. You own an Ella Fitzgerald CD. It's duets with that fat trumpet player who sang sometimes, what's-his-name. Your Aunt what's-her-name gave it to you...
previously in idiotic NYC real estate ads:
1. Let's guess Amber's current nabe.
2. The power of platinum.
3. CLEARLY defining your target audience.
4. She feels pretty empty.
5. Jonathan Swift Realty, Inc.
related on Gawker: The unparalleled hyperbole of NYC Real Estate Ads.

Sanjaya Malakar's ad dopplegänger.

I've never watched one second of American Idol and yet thanks to "news" reports, I know all about the latest poster child for the apocalypse. Apparently he can't sing, and yet he's going to win a singing contest? Is that about right? Well Mr. Malakar, take a long look at your future. In fact, if I was your agent (you got one, I'm sure), I'd be calling lowermybills.com and every other tacky advertiser in the Red Book before it's too late. All those shadow dancers need work, too.
previously in music-related ads:
1. Taylor Hicks "Bold Moves" for Ford: a review.
2. Iggy Pop for John Varvatos.
3. Velvet Revolver for John Varvatos.
4. 50's packin'. Nutrients.
5. India.Arie: Pop Crap or Good Shit? Discuss.
6. Lenny Kravitz: ABSOLUT KRAP.

American Apparel inserts three fetishes into one small, tight ad.

(click image for close-up look, you fiends)
Asians. Feet. Crotch shots. Bravo, Lovey Dov Charney. You've raised the Perv Alert level to Red. Let's recap: First, you hit the thong enthusiasts. Next, you showed us a little ass crack. Then, came an ambiguous headline/visual sexual puzzle. And now this "Hooters" shorts ad (I don't see a trademark Dov, did you get permission from Hooters® to use their name? I'm sure you did.). Charney may have cashed out, but he's obviously still got his smelly, sticky fingers all over the advertising. But because AA doesn't exploit foreign workers, it's all OK...right?
update: as reader/commenter hjih points out, that's not just a crotch shot, it's camel toe.
previous American Apparel ads:
1. Tights.
2. Stirrup Socks.
3. Thong.

UPDATE: Best Political Slogan Ever.

Last November, while taking about a quarter-assed look at political slogans, I cited Herbert Hoover's "chicken in every pot, car in every garage" motto as the best slogan in history. I was wrong. Reader Margueritte sent me this old Guardian link about war-torn Liberia and President Charles Taylor (right). In the article, writer Sarah Left reports that one of Taylor's slogans in the 1997 general election was: "He killed my Ma, he killed my Pa, but I will vote for him." Taylor won 75% of the popular vote.
previously in politics:
1. On Political Slogans.
2. SHTICKBALL.
3. New York Attorney General Primary: The Signs.
4. Always use black type, sweetheart.

This public service message brought to you by the Perfect Celebrity Mothers of Park Slope (PCMPS).

Frequent copyranter contributor brandspankin' snapped this gem of a Public Service subway poster recently. The 2nd and 3rd ads in the campaign would be:
• NEVER BAKE A BABY
• NEVER EAT A BABY
previously in NYC subway finds:
1. worse than confusing.
2. The MTA needs our 16 million eyes.
3. conEdison. FULL OF IT.
4. Worst. Anthropomorphism. EVER.
5. I GLOVE NEW YORK.

Tips Are Always Appreciated.

Previously, when I typed "commenter" into Google Image Search, this was the first person's pic (link) that came up. Today, Easter Sunday, this here was the first one.
Sad.
Still, I do not hate all of you. I've even used a few of your tips now and again. See an ad, billboard, etc. that you think is stupid or great, snap or scan it and send it to me (copyranter(at)hotmail(dot)com).
Also, if you work at an ad agency and want to rat out your boss or an asshole account executive or even a fucking co-worker who stole your idea or maybe you're just an asshole yourself and you like to watch nice-but-idiotic people suffer—send me stories, overheard conversations, illegal invoices, etc. Last round, there were only a couple of noteworthy reports. But hey, you never know.
Oh, also—he is risen, rejoice, etc. Happy Easter.
previously in I heart commenters:
1. Someone Talked, Round 1.
2. The Human Train Wreck.
3. Google Image Search: commenter.
4. Gone snorkeling with Donny Deutsch.

REEBOK's new ad messaging: We Know You Suck!

Reebok is a nobody in the running shoe market. So this—please excuse me as I use a hackneyed marketing phrase—targeting the "low-hanging fruit" strategy (or slow-moving runners) makes sense. However, vis-a-vis the execution—as any semi-serious runner, or cardiologist, can tell you—running a 6-minute mile is a much better workout than running a 10-minute mile.
Also, Popeye is reportedly suing the shoe company over their new tagline.
(photo taken by one of copyranter's NYC subway reporters)
UPDATE: Steve Hall at adrants informs me that this tagline is old. Live/Blog/Learn, etc.
previously in specious sports marketing:
1. Head & Shoulders draws play in man's head.
2. Johnnie Walker: Official Sports Drink of the New York Yankees.
3. A-Rod's "milk" mustache.
4. Taglines are DUMB: New York Knicks.
5. Johnnie Walker quarterback.

Equine's Posterior® Award, April 2007.

"... we don't want to be that big company that's corporate and slick," said Michelle Gass, Starbucks' senior VP of global products. "We don't. We still think about ourselves as a small entrepreneurial company."
Michelle, Shut The Fuck Up.
That quote is from a Business Week article (link) about CEO Howard Schultz's mission to triple the number Starbuck's stores (to over 40,000) by 2012.
Congrats, Gass. The chocolate horse's ass is all yours. You can heat it up and melt it to make yourself and those in the inner circle of your huge staff Grande Caffe Mochas.
previous Equine's Posterior® winners:
1. Andrew Keller, CP+B.
2. Bob Garfield.
3. TBWA/Chiat Day creative dept.
4. New York Times' David Carr.
5. Michael Goldberg, CMO, Zimmerman Group.
6. David Roman, VP, hp.

ASBESTOS: What Can't It Not Do?

(click image to read copy)
The burning smell of irony. Reader Chris Jarvis sent in this ad which, judging by the look and type, I'd say is circa 1970s-mid80s (update: it's from 1981). Copy reads: "Asbestos contains fire, cannot burn and holds up after metal and glass have melted down, giving vital time for people to escape." Also, note the tagline.
The ad is from a Canadian company, Asbestos Corporation Limited. Surprised they're still operating and haven't been sued into a pile of dust.
It hits me very hard personally: my Father has asbestosis in his lungs from 37 years of pipe-fitter work for a big DuPont chemical plant. The company's plant physicians kept his condition a secret from him for several years.
previously in corporations don't give a shit:
1. bp. beyond poppycock.
2. The Good Hands, Bad Taste People.
3. Trees are pretty. Let's use trees.

Lies Well Disguised, #28.

This July, AMC starts airing an original series called Mad Men—about a fictitious 1960s NYC ad agency. Yesterday on Gawker, I took a trip back to my first ad job, working for a truly "mad man" (link). For the previous 27 Lies Well Disguised columns, type that phrase into my search window, upper left.

COLE DROPS ANOTHER DIRTY BOMB.

(click image for closer look)
ADVERTS OF CRASS COMMERCIALISM. Because, if Kenny stops forcibly cramming square peg headlines into round hole ads, the terrorists will have won. What's the next hot button issue you're going to insensitively usurp to sell merch, Cole? How 'bout global warming/watches: BETTER "WATCH" IT, OUR PLANET IS RUNNING OUT OF TIME! Or, Darfur/men's ties: SHOW THE WORLD YOUR DRESSY SIDE, NOT GENOCIDE! etc.
(also: "The Writing Is On The Wall"—so mysterious! What's the frequency, Kenneth? What does it mean, man? [answer: absolutely nothing.])
previously in idiotic ken cole ads:
1. Kenneth Cole owns AIDS.
2. Cole loses yet another battle in war on words.
3. Cole's puns are re-hyphen-tarded.
related on Gawker: Kenneth Cole. Heel.

I...I...I don't hate these new Crunch posters.

(click images for closer look)
I don't love them either, but they're kinda—cute (I KNOW, I'm punching myself in the balls repeatedly for writing that.)? I've hated every Crunch gym campaign iteration for years now; until now. Please, somebody else, destroy these ads for me?
(photographed today at Lafayette & Prince)
previously in Crunch ads: Crunch invites me not to join now.

Future Sexy Titles for JT's Next Recording.

Over the weekend, A rep for super-sexy crooner Justin Timberlake contacted copyranter seeking help for the title of the stud's next CD. The rep asked for "similar but different" names than FUTURESEX/LOVESOUNDS, his #1 multi-platinum 2006 album. I got a few, but could you guys help me? I'll give you a very small cut of my big, thick fee.
• PROSPECTIVEPUSSY/FUCKMOANS
• SEXYASS/PANTSBULGE
• EJACULATESOON/CUMBALLS
• ENGORGEDPENIS/MULTIPLEORGASMS.
• NONSTOPINTERCOURSE/TWITCHINGHARDON
• DELAYEDCLIMAX/HIGHPITCHEDSQUEAKS
previously in music-related posts:
1. Iggy Pop for John Varvatos.
2. 50's packin'. Nutrients.
3. India.Arie: Pop Crap or Good Shit? Discuss.
4. Look at Jigga, gettin' all "A River Runs Through It" on us.
5. Taylor Hicks for Ford: a short review.

Kenneth Cole owns AIDS.

Evidently, because of his involvement with the AIDS cause, junior copywriter Kenny Cole thinks it is now his inexorable right to profit off of the disease by slapping disease-y punlines on all of his product ads. FYI: I didn't crop off any copy from the ad; the headline and Kenny's signature are the only words on the page. Also, nice touch Ken using blotchy bloody type (click image). Subtle!
(scanned from the April Details)
previously in Kenny Cole ads:
1. Cole loses yet another battle in war on words.
2. Cole's puns are re-hyphen-tarded.
related on Gawker: Kenneth Cole. Heel.