Friday Flick


I did promise y'all more videos, so here's a favorite! As far as I can tell it's from an Asian comedy show... or so I hope. It can't possibly be real.



Keep on clicking!

PDL
.

Pillsbury’s Home Sweet Home – The Power of Symbols and Signs


Have you seen Pillsbury’s latest TV advert? We are shown shot after shot of several people in different contexts clicking their heels; then some warm croissants coming out of a stove and then a wide shot of a ‘home’ in a field and the caption, “home is calling.” What’s important to point out is the manner in which people are clicking their heels; if I say Dorothy and “there’s no place like home,” I’m sure you get the visual…

Whether or not I like the commercial is irrelevant, what’s interesting is that such a simple action from a film released nearly seventy years ago can have such symbolic relevance today. Other than the clicking of heels and the word ‘home’ which appears in the commercial's last 5 seconds, there are absolutely no other images to link this ad with the film.

Like a wink, a thumb’s up or giving the finger…

The Wizard of Oz has given meaning to an otherwise meaningless movement that barely feels ‘at home’ in any dance routine; bringing one’s heels together, carefully, deliberately, two or more times… And after all, who doesn’t remember this ‘classic’ scene which leads to the film’s black and white denouement?! Dorothy and her pack of misfits unmask ‘the wizard’ as being just another insecure and vulnerable fake (can we draw parallels to modern day television preachers… too easy!) and rather than file for a defamation suit, the wizard rights the wrongs and provides each with the gift they had sought before telling Dorothy the secret that will inevitably lead her back home; she clicks her heels, says that famous magic phrase, and lands back in the safety of home and family, and in Kansas to boot!

And yet now, if anyone else tries to sell products by using this symbolic action in a way that may resemble Pillsbury’s usage, a pack of hungry and efficient lawyers will no doubt quickly forbid them from ever doing so again! In a way, this action now belongs to Pillsbury – and certainly for quite some time… But did we really assign this action as much weight simply after the film, or did time and the power of nostalgia allow Pillsbury to shape and assign a specific meaning to this action?And did Pillsbury have to pay for the rights to use this gesture? Can someone own the rights to such an act or the symbolic value assigned to an action? Should we be paying someone each time we flip that proverbial bird? What will be equally interesting to monitor is whether or not this Pillsbury campaign revives any interest in the Wizard of Oz books, films, et al.

More on this...

Keep on clicking!

PDL

© Pascal-Denis Lussier 2008

The Day the Parade Stood Still


Seeing as it is Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade tomorrow, here's a first draft of an a propos short story:


The Day the Parade Stood Still


Five of the men invited to this meeting had arrived a good ten minutes early, wanting to make a good impression. They now wait in the stuffy makeshift living room for what seems like an interminably long time for yet another man already more than five minutes late.
The topic, everyone’s favorite alcoholic beverage—the only bit of conversation, exhausting less than a minute—wears out and the men fall back in their chairs and nurse their beers. Shifty eyed, their initial excitement and apprehension slowly becoming boredom as they begin to get used to each other’s presence, to their invisible host pacing on the other side of the wall, and to the screeching, suburb-bound trains occasionally barging in on the apartment’s heavy, squeak filled silence.
Then, a booming knock rattles the front door.
The wiry, angry-looking fellow with the shaved head is on his feet and coiled like a new spring as the guy in the ketchup-stained camouflage jacket gags on his beer—spittles fly unnoticed across the room—and the swarthy, Latino version of Truman Capote instinctively pats his double-breasted jacket for the weapon he was specifically told not to bring while the clean-cut dude in the white Oxford button-down shirt with the bulging neck muscles and swelled, veiny forearms eyeballs the obese black man who returns a similar, panic-filled look, his plump fingers bunching sweatpants, digging in his meaty thighs.
The knocking starts up again. All five jerk in sync with the sharp bangs that ring through the bare apartment. Then, simultaneously, they begin to recognize the structured, rapid succession of knocks. Here is the anticipated pause, and there is the expected double knock; breathing resumes in the tiny, sweat-scented room. The men lean back, the cheap chairs creak and strain under their weight as each takes a swig from his beer bottle in almost perfect choreography.
“Coming, coming!” A sixth, lanky, olive-skinned man emerges from the kitchen and heads for the front door, rushing by the living room so that the men sitting there catch only a glimpse of a bright, blue-white blur. They chuckle quietly amongst themselves as if sharing a private running-gag despite their having met for the first time only minutes earlier.
"Who is it?" asks the sixth man with his nose pressed against the front door as he strains his eye through the spyhole.
"It’s the Avon lady’s husband," a harsh voice echoes back through the reinforced steel door.
"But I did not order anything," the man replies flatly.
"I was in the neighborhood and she asked me to drop off some free samples."
Satisfied with the response, the man slides the chain, unlocks the deadbolt, turns the key in the double lock, and opens the door to an imposing, big boned, big-jawed man in a long black overcoat.
"Mr. Eastwood, yes? How are you?"
The man called Eastwood nods and steps inside to be greeted by an acrid mix of hops and sweat and some unknown spice. "Fine,” he replies as he removes his sunglasses and folds them into his breast pocket in one swift, practiced movement. His fat, chapped lips curl involuntarily and betray a slight grin as he studies his host who—obviously Arabic or thereabouts, I always have a hard time telling, thinks Eastwood—is wearing crisp, flawlessly blue, knock-off jeans with an identical denim shirt still showing the stiff, starchy packaging creases. Immaculately white sneakers act as eye magnets but even more comical and attention getting is the huge, ostentatious silver belt buckle with the slogan “Born Free” and an eighteen-wheeler embossed in a way that makes it look like it’s on the verge of breaking free from the cold, metallic world that contains it. Even his hair, as dark as the dark of his eyes, seems somehow inappropriate—tied in a neat, slicked-down ponytail that pokes through the opening at the back of a royal blue Nike cap and drops to about mid-back. The man is plainly trying to look American, but, and although it’s true that one could find a vast number of people wearing the same things, the look on him seems absurd—like eyeglasses on a turtle.
“I can tell you like my, how do you say, treads?” The man’s rough skin creases in a smile. “As American as apple pie, no?”
“Threads. Yes, as American as apple pie,” chuckles Eastwood. The two shake hands.
"Please, call me Superman." He takes Eastwood by the elbow. "Come, come, my friend. We are ready to start. You are the last to arrive." He guides him outside the cramped foyer and into a somber living room where the five men, each fondling a near-empty beer bottle, stare back from mismatched metallic chairs placed around a chipped melamine coffee table, their backs against bare, cracked walls. Eastwood nods at them and all nod back, straighten up, re-settle in their seats, clearly happy to have another face join them and perhaps finally get down to some business.
"Everyone, this is Mr. Eastwood," says Superman who then points to the gangly, bald guy who’s chewing his nails, then to the guy in a camouflage jacket with a day-old beard that probably took a week to grow, then towards the Latino in a creased polyester suit who looks equally inept in love and killing, then to the obese, clammy man who seems to be struggling with each breath, ending with what looks like a surfer dude on steroids. He says each of their assigned names as his finger lands on them. "Eastwood, this is Pokeman, Indiana, Mickey, Hulk, and Springsteen."
Eastwood shake hands with each, stretches far over the table to reach the fat man, and takes the empty seat next to Springsteen.
"Before we get started, would you like a drink?" Superman asks Eastwood.
"I suppose I'll have a beer."
Superman vanishes and Eastwood reaches inside his jacket pocket, scans the room for an ashtray. “Do any of you mind if I smoke?”
“I sure as hell don’t but some of these guys do,” snarls Pokeman as he raises his chin towards Hulk then Springsteen.
“Yeah. I kinda would prefer it if you could, you know, abstain,” says Springsteen with a hint of condescension.
Superman comes back holding a sweaty beer bottle in one hand and a stack of manila envelopes in the other. Eastwood takes the beer and the sealed envelope he’s handed; the rest of the manilas are distributed. He takes a sip of the cold beer as he stares at his phony name carefully printed on the envelope, unsure whether or not he should open it. He scans the room; everyone else seems to be wondering the same thing.
"Please do not open them up just yet," says Superman in answer to all. "First of all, I'd like to thank you for coming. You are about to be a part of history. If any of you know anything about us, our past and our people, you will know that we are not accustomed to dealing in this manner. Unfortunately, in light of past events, we are now under tremendous scrutiny. The CIA, the FBI, the NSA, even the triple-A is monitoring our every movement. It is now impossible for even one of us to think about urinating in holy water, never mind plan an attack on America. This is why we have traced our paths to you through the classified section of Guns&Boobs.”
“Classified!" says Indiana. "Oh! Oh yeah! You mean the small ads."
"Can we at least know which group we're dealing with?" asks Eastwood.
"For the moment, no you may not," says Superman. "We do not think that this should matter to you or that it should affect your job. You will find out, but all in good time." He leans against the doorframe and sticks his thumbs in his belt loops, taps his thighs with his long, manicured fingers. "I must warn you that once you open these envelopes, there is no turning back. This is your last chance to gracefully renounce this opportunity if you are so inclined.”
All eyes shift from one to the next. No one says anything.
“Good! You may now open them."
Eastwood tears open the envelope. Inside is a street map of Manhattan. A thick red line traces a course from Central Park to 7th Avenue with several times scribbled along Broadway. Inside is also the blueprint of a building top with a red star bringing attention to one of its corners and a single piece of plain white letter paper with an address printed on several strips of label-maker tape. Everything seems normal, as expected, until he tilts the envelope and two Barney game cards, a cut out of Ronald McDonald, and three stickers of Jimmy Neutron slide into his hand; Eastwood is as insulted as he is confused. All the other ‘packages’ he had opened contained pictures of diplomats, dictators, and industrialists—he doesn’t know what to make of these. He glances sideways and sees that Springsteen is staring, agape, at prints of Mr. Monopoly and Uncle Sam in his hands. Eastwood then looks at the others who all look back with equal confusion, with the exception of Pokeman who sits with elbows on knees, tiny hands massaging his shinny scalp as he concentrates on a color drawing of a red dog and two comic strips featuring a fat orange cat.
“Is this a joke?” asks Eastwood.
Superman doesn’t answer. He spins on his heels and leaves the room. The men look at one another as they listen to his footsteps recede down the long, bare hallway and into the empty bedroom at the far end of the apartment. They hear the harsh squeak and slide of an erratic closet door and a loud clank of metal smacking wood that is instantly accompanied by coarse, guttural sounds they all assume to be cursing. Superman finally reappears holding what appears to be a tactical rifle, as each had expected (except Pokeman, who had imagined some sort of secret super weapon).
Without saying a word, his dark features expressionless, Superman raises the rifle and pulls the trigger; the sound of wet, mucus-filled spitting escapes from the end of the barrel followed by the sound of plaster crumbling above Hulk's head. The men jump in their seats as wispy white dust invades the beams of sunlight pouring over the edges of the worn floral bed sheet that serves as curtain. Hulk shakes the white specks out of his matted, already salt-and-pepper hair as the others rise to examine the precise, miniature hole in the tatty, brittle plaster.
"What the hell's that!"
"This, gentleman, is the most advanced, most powerful BB gun available. Dead-on accuracy up to a half-mile; 25 shots per minute." The same spitting sound as he fires again and plaster crumbles a few feet above the first shot. "And whisper quiet too. And the best feature? Can anyone guess?"
No one says anything. The men are all mentally debating whether they should take Superman seriously, laugh or get up and leave.
"Try and guess, my friends," begs Superman.
"The telescopic sight," offers Indiana meekly.
"It's weight," guesses Hulk.
"No, no. It is lightweight but in truth, the telescope, it is shit. What is so great about…"
"No need for registration," interrupts Eastwood.
"Correct!" exclaims Superman tapping the tip of his nose and giving Eastwood a nod of approval before repeating, "No need for registration." He hands the rifle over to Eastwood. "Please pass it around. These can be purchased by anyone without any background check and all the messy paper trails. We have actually acquired these by dealing with middlemen who hired teenagers from four different mid-west states to buy them. They then arrived in New York via Houston, Washington and Chicago. They are absolutely untraceable."
“Sorry man, I only work with my Mauser. I’ve got a Bausch & Lomb scope mounted on…”
"What the hell are we suppose to kill with these?" interrupts Mickey.
"Inflatable versions of the characters in each of your folio, Mr. Mickey."
"I don't get it," says Springsteen.
Eastwood looks at the map, the blueprint—just then it hits him. “Are you asking us to take down the giant helium balloons during Macy’s annual Thanksgiving Day Parade?”
“Very good my friend. You are better than your advert suggested.”
"Yo man! You’ve got to be kiddin’ me!” says Hulk.
“But…but…that's sick!” says Indiana.
"That'll ruin Thanksgiving! Think of the children! Why don’t dju ever think of the children?" shouts Mickey.
“I’m still not sure I get it,” says Springsteen.
“What my colleagues are trying to say,” Eastwood breaks in, “is that the Thanksgiving Day parade is an innocent, wholesome, family oriented tradition. Why can’t we just shoot off a few politicians, stars, and such? Seems like the more humane thing to do, no?”
“Sorry my friends,” Superman brings his hands together with a loud clap, “this is, how do you say, a not negotiable deal.”
“Screw this! I for one refuse to participate,” says Indiana as he tosses his envelope and papers on the coffee table, finishes his beer and slams the empty bottle on the table then rises. “I’m outa here!”
“Stop!” Superman blocks the exit, both hands raised, palms forward. “You will do no such thing my friends! Please remain seated,” he orders. “We have been taking pictures of you all this time that clearly show you in contact with me. I am a well-known terrorist. If you refuse to co-operate these will be instantly leaked to the media. I think you can all guess the consequences this will have for you.”
"And what if I was to kill dju right here, man?" Mickey hisses.
"Please," Superman chortles unimpressed. "Then my associates will gun you down before you even reach the front door…and also the pictures will be leaked to the media."
“What! What associates? Where are they?”
“You mustn’t worry about that, my friends. But please, the option is always yours to find out should you want to kill me, or simply walk out.”
The men sit hunched, subdued, with eyes riveted on the worn melamine tabletop and their callused hands squeezed into tight fists, knuckles turning white. A grinding train fades; the refrigerator motor turns itself off, whines down. Total silence and the tension in the room tightens like a Yo-yo string that turns your finger purple then blue. The men are fuming, that is, with the exception of Pokeman who is actually excited. What no one knows is that, despite his claims, Pokeman’s only victims have been neighbourhood cats he had targeted for training. Bagging Garfield and Clifford The Big Red Dog will be a major step up.
“Then if I’m to do this I have to use my own rifle; not these sissy guns,” suddenly growls Springsteen.
“No!” snaps Superman. “You will use the BB guns. That's the problem with you people," he chides, "always ready to use a grenade-launcher when a slingshot is sufficient. Our goal is to strike directly at American pride in a way that America, and not Americans, gets hurt. And this is only the first of such attack. Trust me, my friends, pretty soon the word 'parade' will strike fear across the United States."
"You're insane!" says Eastwood.
“Maybe so. Nonetheless, that gives you all four weeks to acquaint yourselves with your positions, surroundings, bring your weapons inside the security area, plan an escape route, and all that stuff you guys do. You will never see or hear from me again. If you go to the authorities, you will only be jeopardizing yourselves and your colleagues—you will not be able to link us to you. Payment will be made immediately following confirmation of your kills. Target not down, no payment." He loops his thumbs around his belt again, fingers on the buckle. "By the way, Hulk, we are still in need of a void cheque if you want direct deposit.”

Eastwood is scrutinizing the contract for a loophole. Hulk and Indiana are telling themselves that they sure could use the money. Mickey sits horrified as he imagines the children's reaction. Springsteen is still sulking about not being able to use his Mauser. And Pokeman is stroking his peach smooth head wondering whether or not he should ask for another beer. He doesn't see why everyone else is so upset and he doesn’t care—this is the first time that somebody has replied to his ad and he's just really happy that he'll finally have something genuine to put on his resume.


The end


Keep on clicking

PDL


© Pascal-Denis Lussier 2008

Quebec Election – Am I too Busy or Distracted to find it Interesting?


That title pretty much sums up how I feel about the upcoming Quebec election; I keep thinking that something I’m doing is responsible for the lack of salient news I am receiving on the subject. Am I missing something? Could it be that I am not tuned to the proper channels on my TV or Radio? Did one of the stations I don’t normally watch buy all the rights to broadcast anything of real interest to voters? Should I be watching RDS or TSN and listening to CKOI for top-notch political news? And could it also be that my usual sources for printed news are all presently suffering a shortage of qualified political journalists and are relying on gossip columnists to cover the electoral campaign?

I was relieved, then perplexed, to learn that the answer to all of the above questions is ‘no’! So then what’s happening? Why does this particular election seem so blah on the political front yet, on the personal front, offers all of the elements of a good sit-com? I can understand why Quebecers - just a few months after both our $300 million let’s-do-all-this-for-nothing Federal election and the fireworks display at the White House - are saturated with politics and are relatively detached from this campaign and the idea of going to the polls on Dec. 8, but the impression I get is that the candidates themselves aren’t wholeheartedly into it.

We can’t blame Jean Charest for taking on a relaxed attitude, after all, he’s in a cushy position right now, and though many have called him an opportunist for calling this election, perhaps ‘shrewd’ is an equally valid label; he saw a chance to secure a majority government, and he took it. After all, who could have possibly predicted that the man often identified as the “worst premier in Quebec’s history” during his first term would now enjoy a comfortable lead that almost guarantees him a third mandate – he will be the first to serve three terms since Maurice Duplessis.

What about Mario Dumont and Pauline Marois? Is it perhaps that the delay afforded to them is insufficient to properly frame their plans and objectives and, pressed to act rather than strategize, they have opted for partisan rhetoric, banter, and negative tactics.

Or could it be that the results of the recent federal election unconsciously acts as presage to this election and so barely anyone is truly paying attention to what the PQ and ADQ leaders have to say? Or is it because we feel we’ve already heard all they have to say? Charest and Dumont are going head to head for the third time and Marois, well…

This may be Pauline Marois’ first election as party leader but her condescension is certainly well known to us, having been the subject of countless (negative) headlines that have followed her career through the ranks of the PQ. And so, still facing the legacy left by her previous involvements in the education and health ministries (amongst others), why should we heed her criticisms of the Liberal government and their lack of progress vis-à-vis certain promises, especially within a minority government? This, combined with a history of back-stabbing and in-fighting which has continually plagued the party she heads, not to mention that their obsession with separation is becoming an evermore unrealistic and unnecessary subject - especially with Charest’s focus on ‘Cultural sovereignty – that they themselves are trying to avoid, actually leads me to question why anyone would even pay attention to the PQ today (perhaps I’m too Anglophone to understand, as I’ve been told…)? But didn’t history teach us anything?! Did we forget the 100 billion dollar deficit they tried to hide and which popped into light when they finally lost power to Liberals? Are we forgetting that the PQ (and Marois) is one of the major reasons why Quebecers are the highest taxed in Canada?

As for Mario Dumont… I honestly believe that we’d be all ears if his party had more money and stronger support. Times are tough and Canadians, even Quebecers, are reluctant to embrace change – it’s just part of who we are. A visionary like Dumont forces us to face our own insecurities since his leadership would no doubt take us in un-chartered territories; this is not something we seem ready to accept, especially with all the instability and turmoil currently present in the world. His passion and ever increasing desperation to strike at the hearts of voters can often be misinterpreted as totalitarian mania, and this can definitely be off-putting to a populace whose primary motto is: reject everything today, but don’t do anything about tomorrow. Yet ironically, a party like the ADQ would never have been able to see the light of day in a province other than Quebec… Quebecers seem content to drop the issue of separation once and for all, yet we are not ready to be considered ‘Canadians.’ It seems to me that the ADQ is that voice, encompassing Tory ‘corporativism’, Liberal 'conventionality' and PQ 'fanaticism' whilst trying to move beyond those parties’ failings in Quebec, empowering us to take control of tomorrow in a responsible, economically feasible manner. We may not like the direction Dumont is suggesting, but if we examine trends and world events, many of those changes will be unavoidable; why not take those steps today! Hasn’t the PQ proven to us time and time again, absolute idealism is insufficient to govern?

Despite the hubbub, and Quebecers being Quebecers, I can’t say that I’m anticipating that tonight’s debate will produce any major shifts at the polls. We know what can be expected; the two trailing leaders will attempt to destabilize Charest by any means possible. What I’m looking forward to seeing is whether or not Marois will be able to keep her snobby attitude in check and whether or not Dumont still has a few cards up his sleeves.


Keep on clicking!

PDL


© 2008, Pascal-Denis Lussier

Life Through Commercials



Life Lesson #1 - The More Complex you Make it, The More You Look Like You Know What You are Talking About

Secret's 5 Reasons

I’m certain you’ve seen that Secret antiperspirant commercial, the one with the brunette flashing her armpits since, as she claims, she uses Secret for these five “good reasons:”

1. Giving high-five to a complete stranger;
2. Saluting a doorman in a military fashion;
3. Hailing a cab then telling the driver she’d prefer walking;
4. Raising hands and shouting “I’m innocent,” to cops, then leaving;
5. Throwing a piece of garbage in a can and almost hit someone.

Pretty silly when you think about it; for instance, 3 above cannot possibly be a valid reason for anyone to chose one brand of antiperspirant over another, yet, simply put, these are the five reasons she mentions to us.
After a good look at each of the five above, it is easy to see that they are all variants of just one ‘reason’ i.e. creating situations that call for exposing one’s armpits. Is that really the reason why we buy antiperspirant? As there really been a moment when someone somewhere said something along the lines of, “Oh dear! I’m out of antiperspirant! I won’t be able to bother members of the police force or salute my doorman today?” Well, I concede; there probably has, but for the sake of argument…

So can we really consider those five statements above to be ‘reasons’ per se or are they not simply behaviors motivated by certain goals which in turn can be viewed as reasons?

To demonstrate what I am trying to say, I will use the following example: a bird zooms for your head; you flap your arms and run away.
Now, a bird in the sky is definitely not a reason to scamper, it’s a perfectly natural place for birds to be, and a bird that attacks you could potentially be dangerous but, viewed as a temporally singular event, is a bird flying towards your head reason enough to hide and flee? It may seem like a ridiculous question but if you answered yes then you squarely aren’t a member of my religion (using terms that derive from the more popular religions, I’m an agnostic posing as a non-practicing atheist! Put into my words, I’m the exalted high priest, pope and christ of my own domain and affairs, thank you very much.)

So why is yes a no-no? Well, what if you’re positioned in a way that you don’t see the bird coming at you? What if you’re blind? What if something went terribly wrong with your 3 for 1 laser-surgery and you’ve got thick cotton patches taped over your eyes? The bird will still swoop down to give you a peck on the melon, but if you don’t speak birdalese and don’t have a clue that he is preparing to do so, chances are you won’t flail your arms and start running until after he’s whopped you in the head. Therefore, it can be deduced that the reaction (and not action – the distinction is important) to an external event is dependant on sensory input and not solely on the occurrence of the action.
Otherwise, if ‘bird flying towards head’ is a reason for acting a particular way, what is the distinguishing factor that makes ‘three birds flying towards head’ an even more valid reason? The occurrence ‘Bird’ could be replaced by ‘brick’ and your reaction would be the same. However, replacing “bird’ with ‘fluff ball’ will produce different results; this is an important distinction.
So, by Occams Razor, since it is logically easier to write a rule to account for constants rather than for variables, this is the initial approach that should be applied. Other than ‘you,’ the necessary operand in this equation without whom birds and bricks are flying unhindered, the only other constant is one that we impose on this formula, the solution, so that we may investigate and solve the elements that are unknown but which result in our solution, the act of cowering and running. Outside of Jeopardy, an answer can’t also be the reason to itself, and since the sum of ‘you’ plus the variable ‘flying object’ does not always produce the same result (e.g. with fluff ball), it becomes very clear that we are missing another constant to account for the condition making the sum of ‘you’ plus ‘flying object’ always equal to “run for you life.” Consequently, this element must also be the inherited result of ‘you’ and ‘flying object.’
What I’m getting at is that the real culprit behind your hiding and running is fear – you are afraid to get hurt, so you hide and run. If all you’ve had are bricks thrown at your head all your life then I’d be willing to bet my neighbor’s house that you’d react the same way if I were to hurl a fluff ball at your head – scamper and run… But, experiencing the fluffy-ness of the fluff ball could also have negative effects as I could decide to toy with you and pitch a brick disguised as a fluff ball (the ol’ reverse of that sponge brick gag).

So what’s the point of all of this? After all, wasn’t this meant to be an entry about that goofy Secret commercial and those five reasons to flash, sniff, and caress your armpit while strolling through the city…
Yes, and it still is. It’s just that I’ve heard and read tons of negative comments on this add and all the articles I came across were pretty empty, and just ragged on about “how stupid” the commercial was because of those 5 reasons I mentioned at the beginning. You have to keep in mind the incredible sum of dollars invested to produce such an ad, which includes the ten’s of thousands paid to marketing research companies to present the campaign to focus groups, etc. Also, since I received 3 emails asking me what I thought about it, rather than simply hop on the bandwagon (something I’m rarely prone to do), I felt I was going to have to go beyond the obvious in order to produce something of interest, and also to explain why, despite the fact that I myself find their current ad concept asinine, I always tend to watch it in its entirety and I am always left smiling, although I may hide it, by the end of the commercial.

So all that prior talk about birds, bricks, and heads was just to frame my approach so you may have a better handle on the conclusions I will draw and why I think most people have missed the mark in their analysis of this ad.

By adopting the point of view I outline above, it is now possible to arrive at a different interpretation of those five reasons and thusly reduce those five actions to motivators or goals that are meant to justify (i.e. give reason to) the actions themselves. I derive the following:

1. tease 2. annoy 3. piss off 4. taunt 5. disturb

Still not good reasons to buy antiperspirant?
I will not delve into the subject of dominance roles and power-based relations as I’ll assume that everyone can see why these five modes of conduct usually manifest themselves as attempts to assert or divert power within a relationship or group. If you agree with this then you must invariably accept that the underlying ‘reason’ driving such goals can only be fear…

I can hear your groans through my modem, saying things like, “teasing someone doesn’t have to be negative if done in a ‘cute’ way; and it’s often a good ice-breaker to meet new friends and potential dates. So where the f*** does fear figure into this?”

To that I say, “What do you think dating is all about; it’s about sex and establishing power positions, through sex, during sex and for the next round of sex. But watch out, once those positions are established and each one’s dominance level is recognized, the sex slowly disappears... This is usually after a few months into the relationship and immediately after marriage since the roles aren’t only understood, they’re black on white and legally binding!

But let’s go back to the subject of fear. As an aside, as I’ll devote an entire entry to this in the near future, I firmly believe that absolutely all human behavior and actions can be explained as a reaction to fear. Yes, everything… power and greed also. I’m not trying to make my analysis of this commercial conform to my point of view or use it as an example hoping to convert you, but it can’t be denied that all, except perhaps the last of the 5 ‘reasons’ shown to us, are all about asserting power. So it seems clear to me that what we are seeing are different situations wherein the woman asserts power through non-threatening yet sexually charged methods. Don’t forget that two of the men involved act as pseudo-authority figures, doorman and taxi driver (which she hails, to have him at her servitude…) and two cops, which are clear authority figures.
So the message told is: don’t let your fears dominate, use feminine guile to assert your place amongst men.

In the end, this is just another, but not so banal, example of a company using a sense of security to sell a product. She’s in a bustling metropolis (New York comes to mind; there may even be visual references but I don’t think I caught them) and rather than feeling frightened and defenseless, she’s cool (and dry and fresh and damn cute), and smiles and saunters amidst a rushed crowd – composed primarily of men – in which she is totally at ease with the idea of taking on vulnerable poses in a thin tank top. This is where I’d get confused when I started thinking about this ad. I had originally thought that the ad, despite the targeted market, had been ill-conceived by men who still held the antiquated belief that real men still had a say in the choice of products that entered the home. I just couldn’t make sense of the ad as I couldn’t believe it had actually been geared towards women. At first glance there aren’t any real elements which you’d readily associate with a feminine hygiene product other than a really cute and clearly clean woman.

Then I reasoned that the text was just pointless dribble; it was there solely to fill space and so hardly any time had been devoted to its creation. The entire focus was meant to be on the girl; the old adage that a pleasant face, smile and body, especially feminine, always sells. Then I thought about those studies proving that women tend to favor being served by other women in stores and restaurants, etc., and generally pay more attention when the voice on the PA or in-car navigation system, etc., is female, whether live or electronic.
So my early conclusions led me to put this ad in the same category as that Tic-Tac girl. That breath of cool minty air being sucked in through delicious lips as she gazes into my eyes…uh…I mean, gazes into the camera with those stunningly deep hazel-colored, Oreo sized eyes. That inhale was such a success 4 years ago that Tic-Tac has barely changed the concept or the girl since then. And what warm-blooded, testosterone filled, women-obsessed male (i.e. heterosexual male free of most pathological problems) doesn’t get flashbacks of that commercial each time he witnesses someone sucking in air through puckered lips, irregardless of whether it’s his mechanic or his grandmother performing the action? I may even have fantasized about her on several occasions (note to myself: make sure I edit this out of the final version).

But no, after having rationalized the elements as I so describe since the beginning, I conclude that it really is geared towards women, with the side affect that guys certainly won’t mind the girl, and that the text is intended to be for our brain and not for our ears; it unconsciously forces viewers to tag each behavior so the brain can assign an emotion/reaction to each more efficiently. Yet, because each ‘reason’ is actually synthetic in character since the woman instigates or causes the events prompting her to expose her armpits, this ad differs from the majority given that the sense of security being instilled is one of empowerment. A slightly more refined version of the message that this ad is sending: don’t let your fears and gender control you, you can control every situation (if you buy this antiperspirant).

As a guy what does this mean for me? That I actually can get excited by some of the things that are on TV besides The Simpsons!

Now, where’s that tube of mayonnaise? What?! I’m on a tight budget! Have you seen the price of Vaseline these days? Helloooo! Petroleum jelly…

Keep on clicking!

PDL


© Pascal-Denis Lussier 2008

Shocking Footage


This real short video landed on my (PC's) desktop.
Coffee lovers, thought you'd seen (or should that be drunk) it all...

I don't want to say anymore; don't want to ruin it for you. But watch out! I kid you not, it is very shocking! People with a weak heart should refrain from watching.

Unfortunately, I don't know who to give credit to...

I'll have a few more like this in upcoming weeks!

Keep on clicking (with trembling fingers)!

PDL

To Flush or Not to Flush? That is the Question! Have You Ever Asked It?


Musings on philosophy, sociology, and garbage

Imagine yourself in your washroom or, for those extreme enthusiasts among us, a public washroom. You grab some toilet paper or a tissue and then blow your nose or wipe make-up, sweat, whatever, from your face (if both then hopefully not in that order with the same tissue…).
What then?
Although it can be argued that in actual fact there are at least four options available to you, I will assume that most people consider only two possibilities: you can either flush your used tissue down the toilet or you can toss it in the garbage can. But which is better for the environment?
And what if you had to take care of other business and you were going to flush anyhow?

Now be honest! Have you ever asked yourself those very questions? Have you bothered to find an answer? Once you had an answer, did you act accordingly from that point on? Did you inform others?

Or are you the type of person who flushes everything the toilet seems to be able to swallow, from diapers and Q-tips to plastic wrappers and vacuum cleaner bags to leftovers and veggie trimmings on top of the occasional toilet paper? You know that this is good on your budget – you’re cutting down on garbage bags, and less garbage bags means less landfill… but have you seriously asked yourself how taxing this really is on the environment? Which takes priority?

The solution to this very important query – flush or toss – varies depending on the source providing the answer but, according to me, what supercedes any answer in terms of substance warranting our attention is the fact that you would actually ask yourself such a question and then took steps towards finding an answer. (For those of you who only want the answer, it’s at the end of this entry.)

Irregardless of the scope used when examining humans and human behavior, it’s safe to say that people can generally be separated into three groups: those that do because they want to; those that do because they have to; and those that don’t give a crap!
If you’ve ever suddenly found yourself asking “flush or toss?” and really wanted to find out the answer so you could actually practice the one deemed the better, then you belong to the first group. Those who have never asked themselves such a question because even talking about it is a silly waste of time obviously belong in the third. Most of us fit in the second group; we may overhear or stumble upon the answer, but since we don’t “have to do it,” we probably won’t.

In regards to recycling and the environment we all like to think that we belong to the first group – those that do because we want to — and we all have the best intentions in mind but unfortunately our daily routines and blah, blah, blah don’t allow us to actually do our part to the full extent! We normally do our best but… And yet we always find a way to do those daily activities we actually do like to do...

Ok, ok but listen! Today [insert favorite excuse here e.g. I’m meeting someone], and that’s why I’m walking stiff armed with the piece of garbage tangling at the tip of my fingers, and, hoping my leg camouflages my crime, I let it fall to the ground when the passing bus distracts the bystanders.
Sounds familiar?
Well at least you feel guilty enough to try and hide your action. Some people have no qualms whatsoever with the idea of chucking garbage in clear view of everyone; for them the sidewalks, park lawns, alleyways and waterways are huge and convenient garbage pails. And if you dare say anything and don’t get the “f-word” as an answer, you can probably expect one of these three responses: it’s the city’s fault, there aren’t enough garbage cans; everybody else does it; or worse, the response which for me demonstrates a serious flaw with one’s reasoning faculties – someone is paid to clean up! Rarely will you get an apology for such destructive behavior…

With close to 7 billion people on the planet it’s safe to say that each of us is not the only one who, at any given time, espouses that I-don’t-normally-do-that-but-I-can-justify-it-this-time approach to the environment… Now add to that all the people who don’t give a crap and that’s a heck of a lot of people polluting all at once, even if with good reasons.

Only once everyone instinctively asks questions like “flush or toss?” and feels that seeking out an answer is a necessary behavior as a responsible member of a much greater collective whole, only then will we be able to say that things have changed… For one, we’ll have changed! If we were all to act with such absolute responsibility and altruism then we certainly wouldn’t be “the human race” anymore, would we? Aren’t the underlying factors that place us in one of those three groups mentioned above – laziness, greed, fears and insecurities and so forth, not to mention the constitution, which guarantees us the right to not give a crap! – aren’t those factors the same characteristics that distinguish us as humans?
So are we close to seeing a real change, not one dictated by economics but one that is motivated by an honest desire as individuals to not act so individually?

At this point, it seems clear that no, we are not; the human race is not ready to evolve past the plundering mob we seem doomed to be. But those of us that still find time out of our busy schedules to ponder such serious subjects as “flush or toss?” in search of true enlightenment and those that work hard to provide wise (versus cost-effective) answers, these are the people that act as beacons reminding us that such a fantasy…uh…I mean… such a change is a possibility.
It’s just that it’s an individual thing! Like everything else in life – it’s up to you.

And the answer is:

Instead of flushing or tossing, compost and recycle! Toilet paper and tissue containing only organic matter can be composted (and never recycled). And if composting is not an option then flushing seems to be the preferred method, since, according to city of Montreal officials, 90 to 95 percent of the tissue dissolves in water and leaves very little solid waste in comparison with tissues that end up in landfills.
However, there is a great deal of debate whether or not the disposal of the remaining 5 to 10 percent – which forms a sludge extracted during the water treatment process that often ends up in landfills or in our oceans – is in fact more harmful to the environment since the process releases higher levels of methane gas.

Oh the irony!

Keep on clicking!

PDL


© Pascal-Denis Lussier 2008

Yes I’m Cool! A Tongue-in-Cheek look at Language and Internet ‘Shortcuts’


I’ve heard that there are rumours out there that would have you believe that I am un-cool! Haircut and the way I dress aside, this ‘urban myth’ apparently stems from the fact that I refuse to use abbreviations and acronyms in all my electronic communications. To that I say lol! Big lol indeed! Even ROFL!
The reason I refuse to do so has nothing to do with being un-cool. Far from it! In fact, as I'll eventually demonstrate, doing so would be counterproductive to coolness and so you can trust that I will continue to strongly advocate proper usage and to ‘rebel’ against the continued use of shortened forms on the Internet! Why? Sure, I can lie and tell you that it’s because continued usage of ‘shortcuts’ impoverishes language skills and the ability to communicate properly, especially in the business community – and I do in fact believe that this is true. But in all honesty, I personally don’t give a FF if you can’t write or express yourself properly. Yippy for me! Just as long as you can read what I write, then I’m happy…

I could also tell you that the use of abbreviations and acronyms is all part of some big conspiracy cooked up by the Bush family (amongst others) and CERN, where top scientists are mandated to develop new implementation tactics for the SYSTEM TWAP project, the Secret Yokelization Scheme To Equally Manipulate The World and All People. This project, inspired by Orwell's deterministic "newspeak," aims to reduce our abilty to properly communicate ideas and concepts thus making us easier to 'control.' Introducing infomercials was part of phase 1, phase 2 focuses on Internet shortcuts...
Yes, that's right! SYSTEM TWAP; you’ve never heard of it because it’s secret (it’s the first word in the acronym, remember)!

Sure, I can feed you all of the above and even provide scientific facts to defend my case – well except for the SYSTEM TWAP part; already I fear that my life may be at risk once the CIA reads this post, but, as I am true to THE cause, I strongly believe that the people have a right to know!

But, in all honesty, the real reason why I don’t use or encourage the use of abbreviations and acronyms on the Internet is that I absolutely do not want any of them to catch on and become acceptable forms in English! Why? Simple; I usually get paid by the word! If I were to root for all the shortened expressions that are so popular today, that would be tantamount to a porn star getting penile or breast reduction surgery!!! Just doesn’t make sense! In that business, the more you got, the longer it is, the bigger the pay! Well duh! It’s the same thing for writing when you get paid by the word or page.

Think about it; if I were to use ‘BTW’ instead of ‘by the way’, at 15 cents a word that’s a 30 cents difference. So now why would I want to participate in some sort of harebrained scheme that results in an even greater amount of undecipherable texts on the World Wide Web (don't you see the link? CERN, World Wide Web…World Wide…and Web… all part of SYSTEM TWAP I tell you) and smaller pay-cheques for me.
If this trend continues and the accepted and preferred writing style entails that a 2000-word text can be expressed using only 789 words, then that would mean having to take a 61 percent cut in pay on my part… now that is way un-cool!!!
But, just to appease all of you and prove that it’s a matter of personal choice and not due to some sort of lexical deficiency on my part, I’ll now write something in ‘geek-speak.’ Yes, geek-speak! That’s the term I’m trying to push, hoping it catches on in order to deter all those non-nerds and non-nerd-wannabes from using shortened speech in their communications.

Anyway, here goes:

1. Eye…euh…no wait…let’s start over.

1. (take two) I TYS. Now d u Bleav dat I can b just as ;) as u BC 1 2 can rite līk dis! KWIM? NE1 CDI. IOW DUH D HD NNKD IYS KJH OIC! LOL!!!

Here’s the translation for you normal people:

2. I told you so. Now do you believe that I can be just as cool as you because I too can write like this! Know what I mean? Anyone can do it. In other words this is stupid.

Unfortunately, after the word stupid (that’s: after the word “stupid” i.e. DUH in version 1, and not: after the word, stupid – just making sure so I don’t get angry letters), the rest is unfortunately unclear; either I don’t remember what I wrote or I think my cat may have strolled across the keyboard while I was in the kitchen… Any how this kinda makes my point regarding the unintelligentcialitionality (what?! It's a word) of using such forms…

Now, here is the proper way to write those same five sentences as in 2, but with maximum profit in mind:

3. Yes! I did in fact tell you so, didn’t I? And since at this point in your life there no longer is any reason to warrant further self-delusion, you must hence come to the conclusion that I, beyond the common banalities of equal standing and of equal rights in this fair world that is ours, that I too can be just as cool or trendy as you and anyone else befitting this description since I too have been blessed with the ability to express myself not only through writing, but, and more specific to the subject at hand, by writing in a way that relies on abbreviations and acronyms. You, no doubt, can appreciate and fully understand the point I am trying to make. Truth be told – should I be so vain as to believe that what I speak is indeed the undeniable truth on the matter – all of god’s creatures are equipped with the same reasoning faculties thus enabling them to express themselves using shortened or abbreviated forms. Unfortunately, to do so i.e. to write in such a manner, shines light upon what should, without any reservation or uncertainty, be considered indolent behavior.

Let’s analyze all of this.

At 15 cents a word, number 1 gives me $3.75, number 2 pays $4.80, and number three reaps in $19.25.

Viewed this way, now you tell me which is the coolest…

So you see! I’m not anal-retentive! I’m cool.

Down with geek-speak. Abolish Abbreviations! Kill Acronyms! And most importantly, join your local chapter of the Internet Coalition Against Internet Shortcuts To Help In The Fight Against The Secret Yokelization Scheme To Equally Manipulate The World and All People (ICAISTHINTFATSYSTEMTWAP). I take donations!

Keep on clicking!

PDL


© Pascal-Denis Lussier 2008

Pascal-Denis' Blah, Blah, Blog


Introducing...

Blah, blah, blog! My blog! Why? Why not!

I always have lots to say, and who doesn't like to have an audience? And let's face it, the way things are going these days, blogging has got to be far safer than pushing one's opinions on anybody within earshot at one's local Tim Horton; they won't even let you deliver a sermon to their clients anymore unless you buy at least one coffee or donut! Since, as a writer, my budget doesn't allow me the cost of a coffee or donut each time I want rant, here's my blog.

People who know me often describe me as smart, insightful, witty, a wicked-punster, thought-provoking and, occasionally, a morally-stubborn arsehole!! People who don't know me are welcomed to use any of those words to talk about me, but I only really accept morally-stubborn arsehole from those that do know me...

Every week (or whenever I get the chance) I'll fire a verbal tirade on a subject that has struck me as significant, significantly ridiculous, ridiculously ludicrous or simply, significantly and ridiculously insignificant yet still worth mentioning!

Confused? Me too! I'm getting a headache...

It used to be "keep on trucking" but times have changed; keep on clicking!

PDL

Down My Street and Up Yours. Copyrights © 2008 - 2011 by pdl com. All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews, no part of this blog may be used in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the owner. For information contact: pdlussier[at]downmystreetandupyours.org