CRAPPLE.

Hey Snapple, what the fucking shitass hell happened to your advertising? First, I sat there shaking my head at your truly mediocre Super Bowl spot. And now, you give us this even lamer poster work? Do you really think that's a cute/clever headline? You don't see how fucking retarded it is? Here, here's a few other things that aren't good for one's immunity:
• French-kissing a Bengal Tiger.
• Copping a feel from a Gorilla.
• Sucking a Hippopotamus's Dick.
No, I don't know who the agency is, and don't give a shit.
UPDATE (via commenter): the agency responsible for this Zebra shit is "creative" shop Cliff Freeman here in New York.
(snapped in Washington Heights, NYC.)
previously in stupid beverage ads:
1. enviga. worse than confusing.
2. Perrier. Shittier.
3. 50's packin'. Nutrients.
4. The ugliest cumulus cloud I've ever seen.

Image of the Month, May 2007.

Michael Golden, CEO, Smith & Wesson, holding one of his products—the 460 XVR (Extreme Velocity Revolver) Magnum.
(scanned from the latest Business Week)
previously in CEOs:
1. The Deutsch/Trump '69'.
2. How did Air France become #1 in Europe?
3. Blamer, Fudge do lunch.
4. Today, I am a CEO.
related on Gawker: CE-nO.

If Svedka is the #1 vodka 26 years from now, I'll drink myself to death with it.

(click ad for closer look)
Svedka continues its super subtle campaign to be sexycool. First, they went after the Heteros. Next, Lesbians. After that, a lame grab at Gay men. Now it's closeted men, I guess. Note how they lamely false-trademarked their new lame term. And not only is this ad stupid, it's stupidly ironic. "...prefer Svedka over trendy labels?" Um, what's that big honking trendy label on SVEDKA_GRL's thigh plate? (scanned from the Styles section of Sunday's New York Times.)
previously in Svedka's shitty ads:
1. Who do I blame for your insipid ads, Svedka?
2. No, you're a bad ad trapped in a phone kiosk.
3. Six Stories of STUPID.
4. THIS SVUCKS.

That's the ugliest cumulus cloud I've ever seen.

Untouched? How bout re-touching the cloud photograph? Or better yet, get a better photo. Which I could do right this minute with my cheap digital camera right from my office window. If I'm gonna taste a fucking cloud, it better be the best goddamn cloud I've ever seen. But why the fuck would I want to taste a cloud anyway, Fiji water? Aren't they full of dust and shit? IT BOGGLES...
(spotted on both NYC subway and NJ Transit. double tip from GG and god-warrior.)
previously in stupid bottled water ads:
1. Anthropomorphism, to the power of Retarded.
2. Perrier. Shittier.
3. 50's packin'. Nutrients.

The four fashionable faces of Williamsburg.

Stupidly Idiotic. Idiotically Stupid. I have given NYC real estate ads a rest lately, because all NYC real estate ads are fucking moronic. But when Twenty Bayard, "Williamburg's premier parkfront condominiums," sticks the above sort-of Warhol knockoff in front of my face on the A train, I gotta dig out my camera. Who are those people? Did you do a photoshoot? Are they friends of yours? Models? Do they all live in Williamsburg? Who cares, right? With four succinct words, you've perfectly captured the essence of New York City's hipster enclave. And what an attractive building you've designed! Neighbors are thrilled, I'm sure.
previous stupid NYC real estate ads:
1. Caledonia slightly updates its ad twats.
2. Corporate real estate stooges redefine "shocking."
3. CLEARLY defining your target audience.
4. She feels pretty empty.
5. Jonathan Swift Realty, Inc.

Equine's Posterior® Award, May 2007 (#2).

By now, you've probably seen/heard of this series of ads out of Saatchi, London for Dr. Martens using dead rock stars (The other three ads feature Joe Strummer, Sid Vicious, and Joey Ramone.). The footwear company has fired the agency over the FLAP the ads have caused (The ad ran once in Fact Magazine, but somebody at the agency leaked all of them to the Internet.). What do I think? I think the ads are OK; kinda funny but too cheap trick-ish for my tastes.
No, this chocolate horse's ass goes to Dr. Martens CEO Dave Suddens, who had this to say about the campaign:
"Our mistake was to say, yes, it may appear in the one-off edition. We did not commission it and did not even like it. I'm really terribly sorry."
Nice ant balls, Douchebag. Did not even like it?!? Who the fuck do you think you're kidding? You were probably bug-eyed cackling when the ads were presented to you; maybe even rubbing yourself under the table (OK, maybe I'm exaggerating a little.). Anyway, the apology would have been sufficient. Totally not Punk Rock, dude.
UPDATE: reader eugens has a different take on this whole tempest in a teacup. He may be right. But, the award stands.
previous Equine's Posterior® Award winners:
1. Alex "Bogus" Bogusky.
2. Michelle Gass, Starbucks.
3. Andrew Keller, CP+B.
4. Bob Garfield.
5. TBWA/Chiat Day creative dept.
6. New York Times' David Carr.
7. Michael Goldberg, CMO, Zimmerman Group.
8. David Roman, VP hp.

The Shell game.

(click image to read copy)
"Our smoke stacks emit flowers, our mouths—fertilizer."
Cutesy colorful artwork is definitely in fashion these days with Earth's pals, Big Oil. Check out bp's cutesy-wootsey logo lockup. Also hot: cutesy names for flaccid alternative energy programs. bp has alternativenergy™ (shared "e" = cutesy) and Shell has Energise™ (combo of "energy" and "wise" = cutesy), while Exxon's is not so cutesy—Global Energy Management System (too busy counting money to be bothered with a cutesy name.).
Anyway, to the above balderdash. The first line of the copy reads: "If only we had a magic trash can that we could throw stuff in and make it disappear forever." Why is Shell talking to Wall Street Journal readers like they're first-graders? Copy continues: "What we can do is find creative ways to recycle. Greenhouses use our waste CO2 to grow flowers (Ohhhh, that explains the grossly misleading illustration.). And our waste sulphur to make super-strong (super!) concrete. Real energy solutions for the real world."
Big Oil companies spend a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a fraction of a (you get the idea) of their yearly revenue on alt energy initiatives. Which is in stark contrast to the large portion of their ad budgets that goes to promoting them.
With gas prices in the US heading towards $4 a gallon this Summer, you can bet Shell etc. are in a big-ass hurry to deliver "real" alternative energy solutions.
previously in specious corporate ads:
1. The Good Hands, Bad Taste People.
2. 3rd ad of campaign: Fo Shizzle My Nizzle.
3. "Trees are pretty. Let's use trees."
4. Vis-a-vis BULLSHIT.

Floating Minogue Head.

(click image for closer look.)
With creepy eyes. Replacing Madonna and her airbrushed rack.
previously in big ass Houston St. ads:
1. Tiffany's Santa.
2. The G-Star Gloryhole.
3. Six Stories of Stupid.
related: Floating Bolton Head.

So, Reebok running shoes help prevent puking?

(phone kiosk on Broadway)
Yes, running and puking and then continuing to run is crazy. However, the Kenyan (probably) runner pictured is running a race where he is, most likely, competing for thousands of dollars in winnings. THAT'S WHY HE KEEPS RUNNING AFTER PUKING. Which brings me to Reebok's dubious position in the running shoe market. RUN EASY? Are Reebok's shoes made better than other running shoes? No. Are Reebok's running shoes lighter than say Asics or Nike running shoes? No. Are they cheaper than other running shoes? No. In fact, their average price point is higher than many other brands. So, you're not really helping me at all "run easy" are you, douchebags? Which is why you put ZERO product benefits in these ads, I guess. But hey, thanks for the heads up. I will run easier. In my Brooks.
(Reebok is also the bunch of idiots who introduced pink NHL jerseys for girls/women.)
previously in specious sports marketing:
1. Reebok's new ad messaging: We Know You Suck!
2. Johnnie Walker. Official Sports Drink of the New York Yankees.
3. Taglines are DUMB: New York Knicks.

Lies Well Disguised, #33.

Reports of my demise were premature. In today's Gawker column (link), I took a look at the invasive tricks up the sleeves of New York City subway and bus advertisers (which I read about in the AdWeek supplement Other Advertising [not available online]). For previous Lies Well Disguised columns, type those three words up in my search box.

Who do I blame for your insipid advertising, Svedka?

It's true. Often, I am fake-hating on the ads I post here. Not so with Svedka vodka. As I've said, this witless drivel is the most asinine liquor advertising in history, and will continue to be the most asinine liquor advertising long after the SVEDKA_GRL (right) is a rusted pile of junk. And it keeps getting asininer! Here, we have an internet ad that when you click through, leads to blame.svedka.com. Do we actually find out any cleverly thought-out reason why Svedka wants us to blame them for our gay husbands? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK?
—tip from Joe Lamour.
previously in Svedka ads:
1. No, you're a bad ad trapped in a phone kiosk.
2. Six stories of STUPID.
3. THIS SVUCKS.

NYC Graffiti I understand, example #2.

As anyone who's ever farted out their penis can tell you, a full-on Penis Fart does make you feel both sad + glad. First off, you're sad, because, well, releasing farts out of the penis is not something a healthy body does. But you're also glad because it just feels so good to get ride of gas any which way you can. So testify, mysterious Manhattan magic marker man. Testify.
(snapped on Crosby @ Bleecker)
previously in streets of NYC:
1. The first NYC graffiti I've ever understood.
2. HOO-AH!!!
3. The "Target" Bus.
4. St. Francis of Broadway.

Increase your carbon cockprint.

Green. Green. Green. Green products are everywhere! Which is ironic, because it's too fucking late! We've already delivered the death blow to our beautiful planet. But! Painfully contrively- (not a word. should be.) named men's underwear manufacturer 2(x)ist, already makers of soy smallclothes, soldiers on with their new bamboo skivvies "infused with carbon." 22 bucks a pair.
Next year, the company will be introducing three more green products: ragweed briefs infused with muck; off-white boxers made from a slurry of human spit and pigeon shit; and undershirts made from undershirts taken off dead men.
previously in bullshit products:
1. enviga. Worse Than Confusing.
2. The $14,615 exerciser.
3. Coming soon: the Glute Ottoman.
4. Super Duper Double Extra Strength Ziploc.
5. eau de ASS.
6. M&Ms "for business."

(DON'T) take me to The River.

The River, a church in the Village on Sullivan St., says they want me to "live life in all its fullness," to experience "genuine encounters with God. Because at the cross, God chose to get tangled up in the story of Humanity so that we can get tangled up in the story of God."
Senior pastor Charles Park "says he "most identifies with Forrest Gump. Life is like a box of chocolates."
That's all fine and dandy.
What's not OK is to shove the bleak emptiness of my secular life into my face via smug cutesy subway advertising. "What was that all about?," you ask? Sorry, I can't answer that question because I didn't hear the question because according to the logical progression illustrated up there in your poster, I'm fucking DEAD. Go deeper? Yeah, I'll go deeper. Deeper into an abysmal crevice of crushing depression. Thanks much, you tangled up twatheads.
—tip from New York Punk.
previously in sanctimoniousness:
1. Playing with God's balls.
2. eHarmony vs. True.com
3. Donny Deutsch's "Ten Tenets of a Media Mogul."

SEND ME TIPS, YOU LAZY TURDS.

UPDATE: Back Monday, with normal posting.
I, yet again, am so very very very sick of advertising today. So very sick, that it took me three fucking attempts just to type the fucking word correctly. So very sick, that I can't even muster a smidgen, a scintilla, an iota of fake-hate for the stupid fake business. So very sick, that I am, again asking you, my deranged readers, to send me tips, images, sightings, etc. Preferably advertising or New York City related, but really, I will post anything even mildly interesting. Because, I am TIRED.
send them to: copyranter(at)hotmail(dot)com
(pictured: clear platform stripper shoe with 7" heel and side money slot for tips.)
previously in I am lazy:
1. Today, I am a CEO.
2. DEAD BULL: Victorious Matador.
3. copyranter's new logo.

Every time someone makes a bad pun, an angel's wings burst into flames.

(spotted on W. 3rd St.)
The Pun. The booby trap of advertising copywriting. When it works, it makes you feel warm and tingly all over. When it doesn't—which it doesn't 99% of the time—you get this. And this.
Now to today's local example. Aww. Cute! Conjures up the surreal image of guys using dead stuffed Mallards on the ends of long sticks to clean out the city's millions of filthy air shafts. Dust Duckies!
previously in bad puns:
1. Head. Exploding. Pun. Overdose.
2. Live by the Pun. Die by the Pun.
3. Chuck brings the Suck.
related on Gawker: PunMaster Kenneth Cole: worst copywriter in history.

Equine's Posterior® Award, May 2007.

(sigh. so dreamy.)
"So we have...a garage door on my office and a stuffed elephant and a fire pole and some teepees as conference rooms."
Thus spaketh Ad King Alex Bogusky, pictured in his badass motocross duds, in an interview ad for the Wall Street Journal (badass!) on the back page of this week's AdAge.
Bogus continues, this time talking about the biggest ad creativity killer: "Fear. Fear...creates paralysis. And to be successful, you have to have the courage to act." Yeah, creating cultural noise is so fucking courageous.
This marks the second "creative" from Miami's Crispin Porter + Bogusky to receive a chocolate horse's ass.
previous Equine's Posterior® Award winners:
1. Michelle Gass, Starbucks.
2. Andrew Keller, CP+B.
3. Ad "critic" Bob Garfield.
4. TBWA-Chiat Day creative dept.
5. New York Times' David Carr.
6. Michael Goldberg, CMO, Zimmerman Group.
7. David Roman, VP hp.

Ad Council PSA confuses wasted NYU students.

(kiosk on Broadway @ Bond St.)
The Ad Council, the leading producer of Public Service Advertisements, is a magical place where otherwise sinful ad agencies come together to DO SOME GOOD. About ten years ago, I worked on a mildly interesting PSA TV spot called "Drugs Don't Work"—which addressed the issue of lost profits due to employees working while high. After finishing the spot, my boss and I got stoned in his office (true story).
Which brings me to this PSA. "Buzzed" can mean on the way to being drunk. But to me, it means, firstly, baked from smoking marijuana. To others, it connotes being high from cocaine. Or crank. Or E. Or caffeine. Also, doesn't that depend on exactly how buzzed I am, officer? So confusing. I need vodka.
previously in NYC kiosk ads:
1. No, you're a bad ad trapped in a phone kiosk.
2. "Oh give me a home, where dead, stuffed antelope wear sweaters..."
3. You don't have a mouth, Ketel One phone kiosk. You can't 'say' anything.
4. Today's lesson: The 'C' words.

Marines can't use MySpace, says MySpace-using DofD.

CNN reports that the Department of Defense has barred military personnel from communicating with loved ones via MySpace, You Tube, and 11 other sites, effective today. What CNN didn't report is that the Marines maintain a recruitment site on MySpace.
Can I get HOO-AH for hypocrisy!
previously in gov't recruitment:
1. Me Tarzan. You Jane. Army Strong. Commercial Weak.
2. Central Innocuousness Agency.
3. An Army of One Model/Actress.

Taglines are DUMB: #11.

Do you live in NYC? Then, "you" probably know what it feels like to get repeatedly ass-raped by the huge corporate steel penis of TimeWarner Cable. Just for basic services, "you" are basically immediately out 100 bucks a month. Also, have "you" ever tried to return or pick up a box from them, from their—count 'em—two service offices in Manhattan? And how many times have "you" tried to buy one of their overpriced movies "on demand" on a Saturday night, only to receive the timely "unable to access movie at this time" message.
The Power of Me? No. The power of monopoly. The power of irony.
previously in Taglines are DUMB:
1. Bud Select. Expect Everything.
2. Work Hard. Fly Right.
3. The four worst car taglines.
4. Kool. Be True.
5. My favorite Tagline ever.
6. That's Marshall's Law.
7. Keep Walking.
8. Let's Shvo.
9. New York Knicks. Experience It.
10. California Psychics. When Accuracy Counts.

How overt can you go, American Apparel?

(click image to see model simulating(?) masturbating)
update: this is South American porn star Paola Rey. As anybody who reads this slutty blog knows, I am not a prude. But seriously AA—what's the fucking point of the left photo? Why not just show a gaping Hustler vagina shot? Or slap some plaster on Dov Charney's twitching little Dov and introduce a line of American Apparel Lovey Dov Dildos™ (in 15 colors!)?
(scanned from the back of the latest Radar)
update: AA sports a Woody on the lower east side—very unorthodox billboard.
previous AA ads:
1. Girls against Boys.
2. Three fetishes in one small ad.
3. Shouldn't that be 'Tights' with an 's'?
4. Cracks starting to show in AA empire?
5. AA Thongs: Made with Dov.

Lies Well Disguised, #32.

In what may be my last LWD column on Gawker, I decided to give away ALL my trade secrets about how us "creatives" come up with our "Big Ideas." The comments are pretty funny on this one (link). For the 31 previous Lies Well Disguised, just type those three words up in my search window.

Art Appreciation Fridays with copyranter #8.

(click images to appreciate better)
(L) "Montagne de Futons" (Mountain of Futons) by Tsuyoshi Ozawa, 1993, at la Collection Lambert en Avignon. Scanned from some French magazine.
(R) Milla Jovovich (remember her?), on pile of mattresses, in Seven Days (Russian) magazine, August 2001.
previous art appreciations:
1. Michelangelo's "David" vs. Man Ray's "Gift."
2. Split Ends vs. "Split Endz."
3. Mapplethorpe vs. copyranter.
4. Warhol's "Oxidation" vs. copyranter's "Untitled."
5. Ellsworth Kelly's "The Gate" vs. copyranter's "The Opening."
6. Warhol's "Pepper Pot" vs. copyranter's "Pork & Beans."

I wanna be a SheMale Escort Ad copywriter.

I'm offering my expert copywriting services to all Transsexual/SheMale Escorts. The challenge of having to juxtapose dissimilar phrases like "Golden Skin" and "Hung" in a small space ad targeted at such a hard-to-nail-down demographic is a huge turn-on. To get things started, I'll dip my toes into the head space:
• Full Lips. Fuller Girth.
• Legs To Die For. All Three Of Them.
• Cloud Nine Inches.
• Sugar Kissing + Candy Cane Licking.
(add yours in the comments, if so desired.)
previously in SEX:
1. Actually, it's a Raging Chubb.
2. 'Dis is how 'dey do subliminal advertising in Queens.
3. You've Cum A Long Way, Baby.
4. Everything you need to get the (blow) job done.
5. Hope he has a nice rack.
6. Village Voice Sex Ad Awards (The Vexys).

It IS hard for black kids to fit in on the Upper West Side.

(click image to read copy)
It's gotta be tough on the purple girl, too. Outdoor poster—snapped in the very white, very socially-conscious UWS—for the NYU Child Study Center. Copy reads, "Social phobia is intense shyness and pathological self-consciousness." Actually, "pathological self-consciousness" is a pretty dead-on description of the day-to-day mindset of many of the super-human, über-active UWS parents.
previously in New York street ads:
1. Kenneth Cole's puns are re-hyphen-tarded.
2. Zipper Theater.
3. as pure as the driven snow.
4. TRIBECA HORROR FILM FESTIVAL.
5. Bowlmor Lanes. No Alleys (?).

DEATH=DEACTIVATING LIFE.

Activating Destiny. Activating (?) Destiny? Let's walk this through. What are you, Equinox? Well, despite your inflated membership fees, you're simply a smelly room filled with benches, weights, and machines. YOU'RE A FUCKING GYM. What you're not: an ancient, magical mystical elvish chamber where mortal men come by horse and foot to polish their auras and discover their dormant—but predetermined—purposes.
(If you are the copywriter of this piece of copy, please contact me ASAP, so's that I can send you your well-earned chocolate Equine's Posterior™ award.)
previously in stupid headlines:
1. No, you're a bad ad trapped in a phone kiosk.
2. Naked Chicken Strips.
3. O' Stupid Billboard, O' Stupid Billboard.
4. Great Minds Think Alike.

Be the Balvenie Weenie®'s wingman.

The Weenie hasn't been laid since his nearly-empty bottle of 15-year-old Balvenie scotch was just barley germinating on the malting floor. His previous pickup attempts of this same local alcoholic blond all ended with the mouthless douche home alone in the dark, jerking off into old handkerchiefs while viewing secretary porn on the Internet. Anyway, to the present. Ivana Balvenie? Jesus Christ. Help him out, please. If you were the Weenie's wingman, what similarly idiotic (or foolproof?) line would you whisper into his stubby little ear?
For the previous 10 Balvenie Weenie® posts, start here.

Not for households with cats.

Yes, it's a working mouse made from a dead mouse (rat, really) carcass. The ananova story, which also features a computer made with a stuffed beaver, identified the geniuses behind this only as "two U.S. inventors."
previous ananova finds:
1. Stalin as repo man.
2. The most brilliant-est tourism marketing move ever.
3. World's worst sound ID'd.
4. 2006 Darwin Award winners.
5. Colonel Gaddafi wants his Coke® money.

Apparently, no American Apparel male model can be hotter than pervy founder Dov Charney.

(click images for closer look)
Which isn't very fucking hot. Two recent AA ads. Left: It's another sexy asian (dude's definitely got a touch of Far East Fever) with barely covered nipples. But then, his women's apparel ads are always sex sex sex and more sex. Right: Girls (and gay men), you get Mr. noodle-armed ex-con face. Who is pretty much on the same level of non-hotness you get with every AA male model.
previously in American Apparel ads:
1. Thongs.
2. Stirrup Socks.
3. Tight(s).
4. Hooters Shorts.

I passed on the Spider-Man 3™ cheeseburger.

We will use a spider visual, no matter what. Um, yuck? Promotional poster all over the place throughout the Paris Metro last week. So, I know old cheese can be quite delicious, but...cobwebs and digestion don't really marry well, oui non?
("Quick" is a fast food chain in France.)
previously in fast food:
1. I'm Loving It. "It" being The Shits.
2. America will most definitely not "feel like chicken tonight."

Comment Moderation Panel.

Due to a couple of you pathetically (really) insisting on insulting my loved ones, I have turned on comment moderation. My Comment Moderation Panel is made up of Butt-Head™ and Plato®. One or the other most approve your blurb. Both have been given copyranter commenter privileges and have been encouraged to respond to your praise/criticism. copyranter resumes normal posting schedule tomorrow.
update: To the anon who "challenged" me to produce comments aimed at my loved ones, well of course I can't produce them because I deleted them immediately. But hey, keep reading loverboy. Who knows? Maybe Butt-Head will approve your next typed pearl of wisdom.
previously in eat my ass, including, but not limited to, the dingleberries:
1. "I'm sorry you all suck."
2. Flushing the Crankcase.
3. copyranter's new logo.
4. Official copyranter Mascot.
5. tips are always appreciated.
6. the beano jingle.
7. What a DICKWAD.
8. Google image search: "commenter."

Milla Jovovich—not French.

(click image for closer look)
I haven't really found any French ads to Blitzkrieg yet (except one "Quick" [a French McDonald's-like chain] cheeseburger tie-in to Spiderman 3 using a web visual that was absolutely disgusting. Pic and Post to come next week). So, here's a three-story Milla billboard just outside of my hotel. Yum.