The Obama Strategy.

I am not, and have never been, a zealot for Obama. But watching his press-conference last Monday taught me something about the man, and believe it or not, something about life.

There were about thirty-two thousand things that could have crossed up Obama's campaign. Rev. Wright, his opposition to suspension of the gasoline tax, white backlash, black backlash and so on. The same can be said, of course, of Obama's press conference and his efforts to pass a stimulus package. But what Obama adopts is a positive version of the thousand-yard stare. He looks beyond the quotidian slings and arrows of life, of Washington B.S. And instead, keeps his eyes on the prize.

It seems to me, that most clients and most agencies believe that the end occurs or impends every two or three days. At that point they lurch like mad and address their current crisis. The have no linchpin, no end-point that keeps them balanced.

This is the strength of Obama and the strength of decent agencies. There are storms that must be weathered but they will be better weathered if we are focused on where we want to be. In other words if we think long-term not crazy crisis.

Titles.

Like the rest of the known world I am concerned if not outright worried about the longevity of my current job. So, I check my linked-in account with some regularity to see if any of my friends and associates have skyrocketed and might, in a time of need, have something for me beyond a smile and a handshake.

Today, three of my connections had their titles updated. These are all people I know for ten years or more. And I no longer have any idea of what they do.

Vice President - Decision Management at
Marketing Design Coordinator
VP, Global Brand Systems

Decision management? Marketing design? Brand systems?

No wonder we're going to hell in a handbasket.

Two musical interludes.

The seminal song of the Great Depression. And my update written on the verge of Depression 2.0.



ONE:
"Brother, Can You Spare a Dime," lyrics by Yip Harburg, music by Jay Gorney (1931)

They used to tell me I was building a dream, and so I followed the mob,
When there was earth to plow, or guns to bear, I was always there right on the job.
They used to tell me I was building a dream, with peace and glory ahead,
Why should I be standing in line, just waiting for bread?

Once I built a railroad, I made it run, made it race against time.
Once I built a railroad; now it's done. Brother, can you spare a dime?
Once I built a tower, up to the sun, brick, and rivet, and lime;
Once I built a tower, now it's done. Brother, can you spare a dime?

Once in khaki suits, gee we looked swell,
Full of that Yankee Doodly Dum,
Half a million boots went slogging through Hell,
And I was the kid with the drum!

Say, don't you remember, they called me Al; it was Al all the time.
Why don't you remember, I'm your pal? Buddy, can you spare a dime?

Once in khaki suits, gee we looked swell,
Full of that Yankee Doodly Dum,
Half a million boots went slogging through Hell,
And I was the kid with the drum!

Say, don't you remember, they called me Al; it was Al all the time.
Say, don't you remember, I'm your pal? Buddy, can you spare a dime?

TWO:
"Brother Can You Spare A Mac?"

Once I wrote commercials, I made them good, I was never a hack,
Now I can't get freelance; it's all dried up. Brother, can you spare a Mac?
Once I won a pencil, a Clio too and always dressed in black,
Now I'm pounding pavements; there is no work. Brother, can you spare a Mac?

Don't bother me I'm decisioning.

Decisioning is a new word that has reared its ugly tongue of late. For whatever reason the phrase "decision-making" is no longer good enough.

A bit of vaudeville this morning.

The unveiling of the $16 million renovation of the 80-year-old vaudeville theater the Beacon impels me to write of a hero of mine who died Tuesday night--also an old vaudevillian. Moshe "Soupy" Weinstock teamed with Schmuel "Slappy" Tenenbaum (my uncle) to form the comedy team "Bacon and Eggs." Soupy played "Bacon" and Slappy played "Eggs." They'd open their act like this...

"We're Bacon and Eggs,
We're pals and we're chums,
When one of us is singing,
The other one hums!

We're Bacon and Eggs,
We're Bacon and Eggs,
When one of us is broke,
The other one begs."

Here are a few "bits" I remember.

BACON: My friend has been elected mayor.
EGGS: Honestly?
BACON: What does that matter?

Or:

BACON: My father killed a hundred men in the war.
EGGS: What was he? A Gunner?
BACON: Nope, a cook.

Or:

BACON: I want to ask for the hand of your daughter in marriage.
EGGS: You’re an idiot!
BACON: I know it. But I didn’t suppose you’d object to another one in the family.

Nothing about advertising this morning. Just some recollections of a time when comedy was king.

Newsweek catches on.

I found this in Thomas Friedman's op-ed today in The New York Times.

"Newsweek had an essay this week that began: “Could Silicon Valley become another Detroit?” Well, yes, it could."

I posed the same question about Madison Avenue going on two years ago now.

Remember kiddies, when I want your opinion I'll give it to you.

A bit more on tardy account people.

The Ad Contrarian turned me onto this. A video of every curse ever uttered on The Sopranos in order.

My mood.

A modest mother-fucking proposal.

Last night at 2:45 AM I completed the 4,372nd new business pitch in which I sat through myriad excruciating reviews of the creative work (reviews that required the creative people to rush their ideas, rush their revisions, rush their executions)yet didn't see the account peoples' written answers until moments before the deck had to release.

This will be the last time that happens. I've ordered a few new machines for the office that are more valuable than an HP plotter. See above.

I've got a streak going.

This is the second day in a row I've had a cab driver whose name consists solely of vowels.

While I'm on the subject of specious ads.

Communication Arts annual Advertising issue seems to be chock-full of ads that I don't believe ever ran in legitimate circles. (The East Anchorage Pennysaver doesn't count.) If you are among the legion of regular readers of Ad Aged you know I am an inveterate reader. And the scope of my reading includes "women's books," magazines like "Redbook," "Home & Garden" etc. Yet I have never seen a clever ad for Tide the likes of which dot the aforementioned issue of CA.

All of which leads me to pen this ditty:

"I think that I have never seen,
A Granger ad in a magazine.
It doesn't matter how hard I looks,
They only run in annual books."