Fritinancy

It Is. (What?) It Is!

Good thing I was on foot when I spotted this billboard:

Because if I'd been toodling by at 30 mph I'd have either (a) thought it was graffiti of zero interest, or (b) been so distracted by "Certified Pre-Owned" vs. "Used" (meaning? and so what?) that I'd have missed what's going on in the lower right-hand corner.

Oh yeah: Grape-Nuts.

You may need to click and enlarge to see the accompanying text: It is what it is in red, "hand-scrawled" type, and this URL: NoGrapesNoNuts.com.

Go ahead and click the link. I'll wait.

Back so soon? Have you recovered from the vertigo induced by that gently oscillating background? Have you decided whether the site is too cool for a brand that's been around since 1898? Not cool enough? Did it make you hungry for a big bowl of NoGrapesNoNuts? Did it answer your questions about the product's name?

OK, I'll spare you the tortured self-questioning and the NoAffectNoInfo Web experience. Here's Straight Dope (from way back in 1982) on how Grape-Nuts got its name. (Short version: grape sugar, nutty flavor.)

Because what really interests me about this Grape-Nuts campaign is the slogan: "It Is What It Is." Which means ... what, exactly? No, it isn't grapes. No, it isn't nuts. It's ... what it is.

Now, Grape-Nuts may be the first brand to appropriate "It is what it is" for commercial purposes (is it? actually, I don't know), but I'd be deeply disappointed to learn that a copywriter was paid and attaboyed to create it. Because selecting "It is what it is" is like playing buzzword bingo in the office. Haven't heard someone say it yet today? Don't worry; you will.

Besides, there's something sort of defeated-sounding about "It is what it is" for a century-old cereal brand. You want excitement, stimulation, flavor? Sorry. Not gonna happen.

Covering the Congressional steroid hearings a few months ago for Slate, Douglas McCollam called "It is what it is" "a sports cliché for our times." Coaches and players wield it shamelessly. Politicians, especially the Bush gang, love it, too: it allows them to sound thoughtful without, you know, having to think. McCollam couldn't identify a single point of origin for the phrase, but found published citations going back to 1996. And much earlier: "Indeed, in An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, philosopher John Locke wrote that 'essence may be taken for the very being of anything, whereby it is what it is.'"

Just last week, also in Slate, Ron Rosenbaum tackled the general subject of catchphrases, observing that "our language has become more catchphrase-driven, catchphrase-focused. So much so that catchphrase self-consciousness has become a phenomenon of its own." I urge anyone interested in language to read the whole article, which covers a lot of ground and, like all of Rosenbaum's writing, is laugh-out-loud funny (as they say). Here, though, I want to focus on Rosenbaum's four stages of catchphrase use: from Stage 1 ("when you first hear a phrase and take pleasure in its imaginative use of language on the literal and metaphorical level") to Stage 4 ("terminal obsolescence, dead phrase walking"). "At the end of the day" is in the latter category, Rosenbaum writes:

It kind of stuns me whenever I find someone still saying "at the end of the day" with a straight face. What are they, stuck on stupid, as they say?

But there's a worse fate than Stage 4, and "it is what it is" is consigned to it:

And then there's the danger that arises when Stage-4, zombie catchphrases that have previously been confined to a subculture escape their niche. We recently saw this happen with "It is what it is," which used to be an all-purpose coach-speak sports-night cliché. But since then, it's broken out and become a wise-sounding but profoundly empty surrogate for wisdom and perspective all too often used by idiot consultants and talking-head political pundits who seek to make themselves sound both worldly and gurulike: "It is what it is." To which one wants to say, using a monosyllabic catchphrase that is a particular favorite of mine and deserves its longevity: "Duh."

At least "It is what it is" doesn't suggest that the is-ness in question is good or bad; it's just that you can't argue it doesn't exist. Is "It is what it is" pop existentialism, at once an acknowledgement of the tragic immutability of being and a challenge to us to "take arms against a sea of troubles," as some well-known guy once said? Or is it an Eastern quietism, a rationale for resignation?

...A lasting catchphrase often earns its longevity because it has some philosophical question buried in it that hooks us. "It is what it is" is something I struggle with: How much should I accept in an "It's all good" way? Much of the time I'd much prefer if "it" isn't what "it" is. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. As they say.

So put that in your bowl of cereal and chew on it. Myself, I like my Grape-Nuts au nuke: cover with milk, heat in the microwave for about two minutes. Tasty! 

Bonus link #1: Andy Griffiths and Don Knotts in a 1964 Grape-Nuts commercial embedded into an episode of "The Andy Griffiths Show." You thought integrated advertising was something new? Hah!

Bonus link #2: Euell Gibbons shilling for Grape-Nuts ("reminds me of wild hickory nuts!") in a 1974 TV spot.

The 40-Year-Old Quotation Mark

During last month's trip to Los Angeles I continued to sort through the contents of my parents' house, as previously documented here. And I continued to find museumworthy artifacts of American commerce, thanks to my parents' meticulous archiving (what others might unfairly term "hoarding").

Case in point: the paperwork for an RCA Evanger New Vista 25" color TV. According to the receipt--preserved in a plastic bag along with the manual, the schematic, the product tag, and an insert announcing "an important new space-age development"--my parents bought the set in 1966 for 175 books of Blue Chip Stamps.¹ That particular TV was eventually replaced by a slightly more contemporary set (with a newfangled gizmo called a remote control), but the old documents were faithfully preserved.

The RCA documents capture a moment in history when technology was miraculous, advertising was free of irony, and average Americans had attention spans that allowed them to follow sentences of more than six words. By today's standards, the RCA documents, like the magazine ad reproduced here², are unacceptably verbose, filled as they are with long, well-constructed sentences set in eyestrain-inducing eight- and nine-point type. 

The writers enlivened their long copy with a variety of gimmicks. Color television was still enough of a novelty in 1966 (and an expensive novelty at that--this set cost about 75 percent of the average U.S. worker's monthly salary) that copywriters felt it necessary to use italics and capital letters to drive home their points, e.g.:

• The COLOR CONTROLS USUALLY NEED NOT BE DISTURBED DURING A BLACK-AND-WHITE TELECAST.
• To switch receiver "on" pull out the ON-VOL control knob, then turn to right approximately one-third way for medium volume; allow about one-half minute for warm-up, then reset for desired volume. 

I hope you appreciated the semicolon in that last sentence. I certainly did.

I noticed something else about RCA's writing style: the generous use of quotation marks in contexts other than actual quotation. I had thought this phenomenon (some call it abuse) was of much more recent vintage, as evidenced by the "Blog" of "Unnecessary" Quotation Marks, which amply documents contemporary "infractions" (irony intended). But no; RCA's writers were clearly enamored of superfluous quotes more than 40 years ago.

For example, a bright-pink (!) leaflet titled RCA Solid Integrated Circuitry poses the question, "What is an RCA Solid Integrated Circuit?" And answers it:

It's a tiny "chip" of silicon incorporating matched transistors, resitors and diodes. ... In the electronic systems of space vehicles ... these new micro-circuit "chips" have already proven themselves in spectacular fashion. ... RCA Solid Integrated Circuits are the latest in a series of RCA Victor advances over old-fashioned "hand wiring."

And here's an example from the operating instructions:

If circuit breaker continues to "kick out," turn receiver "off" and contact your serviceman.

Scholars call quotation marks like these scare quotes; they're considered acceptable when used to express the writer's distance from or unfamiliarity with a subject, but unacceptable when used merely to draw attention to a term. In his blog Lexicographer's Rules, Grant Barrett renames them shout quotes, thumbs his nose at the rules, and gives them an enthusiastic shout-out:

They’re appropriate when you have no other easy way to indicate emphasis. They’re appropriate when used, for example, in casual sign-making. They’re appropriate when bolding or underlining is not possible. They’re appropriate when used by people who don’t do typesetting for a living.

(Judging from his commenters' responses, you'd think Barrett was endorsing the broiling of fetuses on a spit.)

What's interesting to me are the many ways in which the RCA writers used attention-drawing quotation marks. In the first example the quotes emphasize how exotic silicon chips were in 1966--so exotic that if you didn't put quotation marks around "chips" readers might think the word was a typo. The quotes around "hand wiring," by contrast, emphasize the opposite: the laughable quaintness of your old pre-silicon black-and-white TV. "Kick out" was clearly jargon; the quotation marks told non-technical types that here was a term they might want to learn if they wanted to sound in the know. And the quote marks around "off" do what grammar gurus say they never should: add emphasis to the word.

Technical writing today seems much less solicitous of consumers' tender sensibilities. I have an entry-level color printer whose manual addresses me imperiously:

You cannot change this setting on this machine. Selections of this setting will be based on that of the PictBridge compliant device.

Uh ... sure. And heaven help me if I'm just getting started with computers and digital photography and don't know what JPEG, TIFF, or Bitmap mean. I won't get any help from the manual. Frankly, a few scare quotes here would not have been out of place.

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¹For you young 'uns: Blue Chip Stamps and their primary rival, S&H Green Stamps, were the buyer-rewards programs of the 1960s and 1970s: with every purchase at a supermarket or gas station, you'd get a few stamps to paste in a book. Completed books could be redeemed for products selected from a catalog. My father had a little side business--of questionable legality--buying stamp books from gas-station owners, small-business people, and average Joes who needed some quick cash. Dad paid something like 10 percent of the stamp books' redemption value and then exchanged the books for household gadgets; it was a family joke that everything in the house was acquired with stamps. But Blue Chip Stamps was no joke to legendary investor Warren Buffett, who began buying the company's stock in 1970, when Blue Chip had sales of $126 million. In the 2006 Berkshire Hathaway annual report, Buffett wrote: "When I was told that even certain brothels and mortuaries gave stamps to their patrons, I felt I had finally found a sure thing." It was one of very few times when Buffett was proved wrong. By 2006, Blue Chip Stamps revenues had fallen to $25,920 for the year.

²Ad for 1965 RCA New Vista color TV from here.

Hold the Pickles

Pregnant? Craving ice cream? Then hustle (or waddle) over to the nearest Baskin-Robbins store today, May 21, between 11 a.m. and 10 p.m. The company has declared it Bump Day (as in that unfortunate British slang import, baby bump), and stores are scooping free 3-oz. cones of the chain's newest addition, Soft Serve, for all expectant mothers. You'll need to bring a printout of the promotion (see link). Available in "select" stores (that should be selected) in California, Chicago, New York, Knoxville, and El Paso.

Via Ad Freak, which adds:

If I were B-R, I’d keep some extra soft serve and mix-ins on hand. A full queue of frozen-dessert craving pregnant women will not be denied! And you just know one will go into labor and name the kid “Baskin” or “Robin.” Or claim to, in exchange in for a lifetime supply of free ice cream.

Read more about Baskin-Robbins and its late founder, Irv Robbins, here.

May Linkfest

Lots o' links this month, so make yourself comfortable.

Haikuvies: Tell a movie's plot/In seventeen syllables/Spoilers? Sure--why not? (Actually, you get 17 times seven.)

It took about 24 hours for a meme called When Obama Wins to make the leap from Twitter to the whole wide web. Gather round, children, and hear Andrew Crow of Adaptive Path tell the origin story:

I'm never sure about how internet memes start, but this one started with a typo.

Dan was twittering something about Alabama, but wrote "Alambama". He joked that when Barack Obama wins the election, certain states will probably be renamed Alobama, Califobama, Nevama, Massabama, New Yobama. Of course, I thought that was hilarious and started thinking about other things that would change once Obama wins. So, a few of us started twittering silly little things, thinking of it as an inside joke.

Overnight, a few people caught on giving it a life of its own.

Jason Kottke took this and mashed it up to create this really cool microsite.

I think what interests me the most about these is how fast they spread. It's been less than 24 hours and there are already over 500 tweets about it. Certainly taken on a life of it's own.

Which is the perfect segue to my favorite WOW so far: "When Obama wins ... everyone will know the difference between its and it's." (By 111archeravenue.)

I considered saving this for Halloween, but death is always in season at Fatal Utterances, "a glossary of slang, jargon, euphemism, and cant as used by undertakers, criminals, consumer activists, and the ordinary people." Some favorite entries: bier baron (a funeral-parlor owner), Mrs. Z (a corpse), and Stare Number 12 ("the look that passes over a man's face as he regards another man as a meal").

The idea behind Brand Tags is that a brand is whatever people say it is. Go there and give your one-word impressions of brands like Gap, Starbucks, Yahoo, Greenpeace, Whole Foods, and many more. (It's all over Twitter now, but I heard it first from Rowland Hobbs, whose tags I follow on Del.icio.us.)

The Big Word Project is selling words at $1 a letter. "Search for your word and link it to your website. Your website is then the new definition." Started by a couple of graduate students in Northern Ireland.

You probably know about Stuff White People Like, which reportedly is being turned into a book. (What do white people like? Coffee, Asian girls, Ivy League schools--stuff like that.) Now Andrew Hammel, an American in Germany, offers Stuff White Germans Like: #3 Balkan disco music, #5 custom-designed bookshelves, #11 Paul Auster. (Really? Paul Auster?)

Roy Peter Clark is serializing his next book, The Glamour of Grammar, on his Poynter Online blog (Poynter's slogan: "Everything You Need to Be a Better Journalist"). He's inviting readers to make suggestions and correct errors. His goal is to present "not a comprehensive grammar, but an essential grammar: those elements of language that the reader and writer can use today and every day." Even if you groan at the mention of grammar, read this series: it's lively and engaging and wildly informative. (Yes, glamour of grammar. You knew the two words were related, didn't you? Roy explains in his first installment)

Mike Pope on the seven stages of being edited:

3) Anger

I'm starting to get irritated. What the -- ? That's a stupid edit. And so's that one. Ha! That's just wrong! Smartypants editors, think they know everything! Well, let me just set that editor straight ...

And speaking of anger, here's the Baltimore Sun's John McIntyre on "Those Damn Copy Editors," in which he addresses the complaint of "someone named Seth Godin"¹ that a copy editor "totally wrecked" his work:

Unfortunately, Mr. Godin does not supply a single instance of the copy editor's destructiveness, so it is up for discussion whether he is an injured author or a fulminating boor. (The other texts at his blog do not suggest that revision of his prose would be a cultural catastrophe.)

Catching his breath, McIntyre offers some very sensible suggestions for improving relations between writers and copy editors.

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¹ Guru Supremo of hip marketing manifestos and, according to one of McIntyre's commenters, "author of the most popular ebook ever."

Irvine Robbins, Baskin-Robbins Co-Founder, 1917-2008

Irvine "Irv" Robbins, who with his brother-in-law Burton Baskin started the Baskin-Robbins chain of ice cream stores--according to family members, the nation's oldest food franchise--died May 5 at his home in Rancho Mirage, California. He was 90.

Robbins was born in Winnipeg in 1917, the son of Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe. His father eventually became a partner in a dairy in Tacoma, Washington, and young Irvine worked at the dairy's retail store. He knew ice cream, but he excelled at marketing. According to the New York Times obituary, while he was still a teenager he realized that he could double or triple sales by changing a featured item--"three scoops of ice cream, a slice of banana, two kinds of toppings"--to "Super Banana Treat."

In 1945, after college and military service, Robbins opened his first ice-cream store in Glendale, California. He named it Snowbird Ice Cream because "he couldn't think of anything else," according to an obituary in the Seattle Post-Intelligencer. Burton Baskin, who had been operating his own shop, Burton's Ice Cream, in nearby Pasadena, became his partner three years later. Baskin died in 1967.

The business maintained separate Snowbird and Burton's identities until 1953, when the brothers-in-law hired a local ad agency, Carson/Roberts, that recommended a single name. Why didn't they choose Robbins-Baskin? According to the Times, "they took a carefully familial approach to deciding who would come first in the name of what eventually became a vast international enterprise. They flipped a coin."

Smart naming played a vital role in building the Baskin-Robbins brand. Beginning in 1953, the stores famously sold "31 flavors" (one for each day of the month, plus vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry) and Robbins himself named many of them. (The idea for 31 flavors came from Carson/Roberts; the number was three more than Howard Johnson, a competitor, offered at the time.) Robbins came up with "Beatlenut" virtually on the spot in1964 when a New York Post reporter asked him whether Baskin-Robbins had a flavor to celebrate the Beatles' first U.S. tour. (Then he found a previously unnamed flavor that fit the new name.) Other Baskin-Robbins flavors included Baseball Nut, Candi-date, Pralines 'n Cream, Daiquiri Ice, and Robbins's favorite, Jamoca Almond Fudge, introduced in 1959.

(Jamoca Almond Fudge is my favorite flavor, too, and I think the name has something to do with it. I've tried other companies' Coffee Almond Fudge and Mocha Almond Fudge, and they just don't taste the same. I remember when it dawned on me that "Jamoca" was a blend of "Jamaica"--a word I knew only from a world map--and "mocha." Total genius, that name.)

Robbins retired in 1978. Today, Baskin-Robbins is owned by the parent company of Dunkin' Donuts; it operates 5,800 stores around the world. At some point, the classic Carson/Roberts "circus" logo (pictured above) was replaced with a generic-looking monogram.

Among Irv Robbins's memorable quotes:

"We sell fun, not just ice cream."

"Not everyone likes all our flavors, but each flavor is someone's favorite."

"Sticking a scoop into the ice cream was the greatest thrill of my life."

"We didn't feel sorry for ourselves, working so hard -- because we were enjoying every minute of it."

Robbins's boat was called The 32nd Flavor.

(Additional research: the Baskin-Robbins history page and Wikipedia.)

Plum: The New Black?

New York Times advertising columnist Stuart Elliott reports that plum "may become the new black for advertisers and media companies." He cites the American Express Plum card, the RedPlum coupon inserts in Sunday newspapers, cable channel PlumTV, and tech-services company PlumChoice Online, as well as the new plum-colored labels on bottles of Penta water.

Why plum? Why now?

Trend watchers suggest several reasons so many marketers seem to be going plum loco. One recurring thought is that the success of technology brands like Apple and BlackBerry is giving fruit a good name, hence the proliferation of plums as well as brands like Pinkberry and Red Mango, which are both frozen yogurts.¹

Plum and purple colors also “evoke royalty, sophistication,” said Tom Julian, president at the Tom Julian Group in New York, a brand consultancy.

Those shades can appeal to “the emotional side of one’s passions and interests,” he added, “the individual desire for zest and to be distinct.”

Elliott also quotes Richard Kirshenbaum, co-chairman of New York ad agency Kirshenbaum Bond & Partners: “There’s a positive connotation to the name: a plum job, a plum moment; it’s something that’s sweet and natural.”

Interestingly, "Plum" wasn't American Express's first choice of names for its newest card, which was introduced last fall. Diego Scotti, AmEx's vice president for global advertising, says the company originally called the card's color "burgundy"  but was concerned about "fear of confusion with wine brands."

I wrote about the American Express Plum card last November. And in this Dec. 31 post, I listed "plum" among the top naming trends of 2007.

(Image lifted from the California Dried Plum Board. The board received permission from the Food and Drug Administration in June 2000 to use "dried plum" instead of "prune," a word associated with being old. Shortly thereafter, the California Prune Board officially became the California Dried Plum Board.)

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¹ There's also Cantaloop, yet another frozen-yogurt chain.

What Shall We Name the Umbrella?

Susan Orlean writes in The New Yorker about Steve Hollinger, the inventor of a new umbrella "that looks like a cross between a bike helmet and a sou’wester fisherman’s hat," and his collaboration with Rustan Booz and Andrew Farrar, principal partners in HandsOnToys (HOT):

“Speaking of which, where are we with names for our umbrella?” Booz asked. Hollinger showed them a list of names he had considered—Sou’wester, Windwalker, Stormwalker.

“I also have a possible patent for a golf umbrella called the Forewind,” he said.

“Sounds too much like ‘foreskin,’ ” Farrar said.

They talked for a moment about the two marketing approaches they were considering—through television infomercials and through high-end designers. The infomercials would appeal to people who want to buy something clever and useful, but the simple beauty and elegance of Hollinger’s design would also appeal to the fashion world. Farrar mentioned that he had a friend who might be able to get them a meeting with a prominent designer, and that if she liked the umbrella she might be persuaded to do a version for the fashion market, which would be sold through her line of clothing. Booz mentioned the name Bella Brella. He said, “It has a nice ring to it.”

“I like Forewind,” Hollinger insisted.

“I think the name Bella Brella is killer,” Booz said. “You’d get noticed. But what you really want is to have rain break out at the U.S. Open and then have everyone open one of the umbrellas—Poof! Poof! Poof! Perfect.”

Read the rest of "Thinking in the Rain." 

Every Woman a Queen

Patricia Hearst Shaw--remember her? with the Symbionese Liberation Army? and the roles in the John Waters movies?--was in the spotlight once again this week, this time in the genteel environs of the 132nd Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show, where her champion French bulldog took home the Best of Opposite Sex prize.

But enough about Patty. Let's talk about the dog. Specifically, the dog's name. On paper she's "Shann's Legally Blonde." But she picks up her ears and smiles a doggy smile when you call her "Diva."

Then again, who doesn't? Once upon a time, the term (which means "goddess" in Italian) was applied highly selectively, and with all due respect, to opera megastars such as Maria Callas. These days, everyone with a pair of X chromosomes is a diva. We're so democratic! Divacratic, even.

Consider this selective sampling from the brand-o-sphere:

Diva Cup®--"not a tampon, not a pad"--is a reusable silicone "menstrual solution," and without being overly graphic, I'll just say it's the least diva-esque product imaginable. (Full disclosure: I have used a similar product, and ladies, it truly is the answer to your prayers. Go get one.)

Divabetic wants to "makeover [sic] your diabetes." The organization sponsors events that are "your gateway to finding answers, feeling inspired and learning new ways to live well with diabetes while enjoying an exciting mix of free beauty and fashion services." The name was one of those coup de foudre things that happens when divas walk among us: "While attending a tribute concert to Luther Vandross ... [organization co-founder] Max [Szadek] coined the word 'divabetic' after watching Ms.Patti LaBelle reveal in her own sassy way that she was living with diabetes." Sign me up, girlfriend!

DIVA is "Europe's only mainstream lesbian magazine."

Hotel Diva, in San Francisco's theater district, calls itself a "Sexy Boutique Hotel" (caps sic). According to the hotel's designer, "hotels are about ... sleeping in a new bed, great linens, using as much hot water as you want, room service, getting up late, and having sex in the middle of the day." Now that's direct marketing.

Zappos, the online shoe store, features four pages of shoes code-named Diva, including the Gel-Dirt Diva 2 running shoe and the Diaper Dude Divas Diaper Bag. (Divas do diapers?)

"The Diva" is Old Navy's name for its lowest-rise jeans.

Diva Furniture sells furniture in Los Angeles and Seattle.

Viva Diva, a clothing boutique not far from where I live, gets points for rhyming.

Diva Espresso, which has four Seattle locations, gets points for referring to itself as "she" ("Diva paid her growing-pains dues...").

Surf Diva offers surfing lessons in San Diego.

Then there's the sisterhood of blogging divas: Cooking Diva, Techie Diva (pink! pink! pink!), Retail Design Diva (which had a nice post a few months ago on why store mannequins no longer smile).

Autism Diva hasn't posted in a while. I hope everything's OK.

And oh so much more: Diva Limousine (but of course!), Diva cooktops (divas cook?), Diva jewelry...

Still not quite sure about this diva thing? Take the Blogthings "Are You a Diva?" quiz (sample question: "Do you often cancel plans at whim?"). Then fine-tune the picture with the "What Decade Diva Are You?" test.

Finally, in honor of Patty Hearst and her champion canine companion: not one, not two, not three, but four "Diva Dog" brands on just the first page of a Google search: the Diva Dog collar collection, The Diva Dog "celebrity dog clothes," The Diva-Dog Bowtique, and Diva Dogs (UK).

P.S.: You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll roll around in something ripe when you see Diva Dog: Pit Bull on Wheels. From the plot synopsis:

The story of Coral, who was left permanently paralyzed by a hit-and-run driver. She touched and inspired people wherever she went, and now her legacy lives on as the official spokesdog for disabled animals everywhere.

Happy Valentine's Day, all you divas, human and otherwise. And smooches to you dudes, too.

Hat tip for the title of this post: Huey P. Long and Randy Newman.

Photo: Union Street clothing boutique, San Francisco.

Crying Time

Anthropologist Grant McCracken writes about brands and business at This Blog Sits at the Intersection of Anthropology and Economics, an awkwardly titled but highly readable blog that's the latest addition to my blogroll. (Hat tip: Sara Winge.) The first post I read there, on brand names like Firefox and Fire Eagle, expanded my awareness of mythical archetypes in branding. More recently McCracken wrote an appreciation of the current Kleenex ad campaign--the one that urges you to "let it out" and have a good cry. In the ads, people sit on a blue couch and weep, and not always from joy.

McCracken writes:

Now, this is the last place you would expect a brand to play. Big emotions? In public? People losing control of the feelings? In public?

Something in the culture of marketing balks at this. Emotions in advertising were supposed to be upbeat, cheery, and peppy.  That's why we have been forced suffer all that "fun in the sun" advertising. Addled icons like The Doublemint Twins, the forced good humor of a family drive to Knott's Landing¹, the spectacular gratitude that came from discovering just how much fun to operate a George Foreman grill, these were the emotional orthodoxies of the advertising world.  Negative emotions were forbidden.  The culture created by capitalism was thin and risible. 

Plus, something in the culture of marketing balked at associating the brand with something it couldn't "own." What marketers really wanted was the Unique Selling Proposition, the one functional utility the brand possessed over all others. People crying in public? Who could own this?

Here's his conclusion:

The fact that "let it out" appears in this campaign tells us that marketing is becoming a little more anthropological.  Brands are listening to their publics more closely. They are taking in aspects of the human experience more broadly. They are playing back things that have a little more narrative or at least dramatic oomph. They are now prepared to send their brands up the value hierarchy. They are making themselves partners to larger, worthier undertakings than fun in the sun.

Well, maybe. There's this one little thing, which irks me as much as it does McCracken: Kimberly-Clark, Kleenex's parent company, has applied for a trademark for the phrase "let it out." And they make sure you know about it. That TM symbol is all over the Let It Out website.

It's enough to make you cry. Or, as McCracken puts it:

When you seek to make cultural meanings part of the brand proposition, you are a guest in someone's house.  The moment you start stuffing the silver into your pockets, that's when we're going to ask you to leave.

Here's something interesting, though. There's a Let It Out corporate blog on the Kleenex site; its anonymous author maintains a relentlessly chirpy tone --"I have stopped making resolutions. Instead I choose a theme word for the year"--and the text is littered with TM symbols. Yet something very different is going on in the readers' comments, whose tags include "deppression [sic]," "bewildered," "death," "scary," "bullys [sic]," and "sadness and deciet [sic]." Kleenex encouraged them to Let It Out, and by God, they did. Very moving, even heartbreaking at times.

Kleenex would probably like you to Make It All Go Away by ordering a personalized Kleenex Oval box. $4.99 (each) plus shipping.

Image: 1950s Kleenex ad, via Life Is Marketing.

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¹ Sic. I'm pretty sure he means Knott's Berry Farm.

Moo?

The big news coming out of the North American Auto Show in Detroit, which opened to the press yesterday, was Chrysler's circuslike introduction of its 2009 Dodge Ram truck.

Led by a couple of whip-wielding cowboys, 120 longhorn cattle made their way up Congress and Washington streets to Cobo Center, where the show is being held. Amid the livestock were a couple of the new 380-horsepower trucks.

According to the Detroit Free-Press, the cattle stole the show, especially when a few of them "started mounting each other as [Chrysler President Jim] Press talked."

Well, we all love us some frisky fauna, but ... cows? It's called a Ram, dummies: shouldn't it have been leading sheep?

Maybe they couldn't round up enough sheepboys.

Photo credit: Esoteric.