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Pepsi. United. Spicer.

Look at your feeds. Your friend’s and your family’s. Hell, look at mine. These three fails have dominated EVERYTHING the past few days, one following the other, aftershocks in a pop culture earthquake. I don’t even have to provide a summary. We’ve all seen the videos. Shared them on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and Snapchat. If you turn on the news that’s all they are talking about.

And my o’ my, have we commented. Holy Hashtags! The shaming has been resounding. Pepsi is tone deaf! The “Friendly Skies” have gone berserk! Sean Spicer is a fool… or worse!

And you know what? In two weeks it won’t matter.

In some of these cases, maybe all of them, there will be a backlash of support, if for no other reason than to court controversy and/or create “click bait.” A second wave of folks will “rise up” and say what needs to be said. All ink is good ink, they will say about Pepsi’s idiotic commercial. “It became part of the conversation!” And that “doctor” who was bloodied while pulled from his plane seat? Well, it turns out he was nothing but a pill pusher anyway, convicted and defrocked. And Sean Spicer was only comparing one dictator to another. The righteous will quote Jesus: “Let him who is without sin… be the first to throw a stone…”

In the unlikely event that none of the above happens, this will: Pepsi shall throw support at various “urban” causes, proving they are not tone deaf to the needs of the “community.” Their PR will be all over it. United will codify its CEO’s janky apology with a full-page newspaper ad and a preachy commercial. They will give the mistreated passenger money to go away. Mr. Spicer will be muzzled and muted, more for embarrassing the President (that’s Trump’s job) than the content of his words.

In the end there is no end. More lunacy will occur, replacing the current noise with new louder noise. Shameful acts will occur and thusly be shamed. Then the shamers will be shamed. And so on and so forth. In the olden days of the 20th century any one of these scandals would have lasted for months. Not anymore. The modern content zombie constantly needs new flesh to tear apart. Why do you think they’re called “feeds?”

And yesterday’s chewed upon? You guessed it. They merely get up. People will still drink Pepsi. People will still fly United. And, if he’s not scapegoated into the private sector, Sean Spicer will still be the White House Press Secretary.

One final thought and it’s a dark one. We find this all terribly funny.
Maybe it’s true: “We are all Negan.”

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For copy & content creation that breaks through the noise, hit me up: https://steffanwork.wordpress.com/

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Have you noticed news publishers rapidly escalating their reporting of Tweets by anyone and everyone in the public eye? Be it a C-list celebrity or the President of the United States (the same thing by the way) everyone from CNN to your local online paper feverishly love to tell us about Joe Blow’s random Tweets.

It’s a new level of scrutiny on a very low type of communication. Tweets, especially those without links to something important, are really nothing more than brain farts. Such missives would normally smell for a few seconds then dissipate into the cosmos. Which, for the most part, is what should happen to these bits of unpleasant emissions.

But not anymore. Now a goof’s drunken reflection on current events has become a current event. When twitter blows up (at the drop of a hat) the “news” slavishly tells us about it. Call it Tweet Reporting, kissing cousin of “Fake News.” It’s not unlike telling your BFF at Starbucks, “Did you hear what so and so said the other night?” Titillating in the moment but hardly worth documenting.

In the age of social media it is completely understandable but it’s also ridiculous. Obviously, the lesson here is that folks, especially prominent ones, should be more careful before spewing their opinions into cyberspace. But Twitter, Snapchat and the rest are mostly “in the moment” phenomenon and people tend not to be at their best in the moment. Hence, the adage, count to ten before reacting to a trigger. Be it anger, fear, lust or countless other base emotions, we are always better off showing restraint. Feelings aren’t facts.

Alas, social media isn’t built for contemplation. Today’s “truths” are a narrative based on first reactions, which seldom are accurate. But once a dumbass Tweet is picked up by the media it becomes a fact. This creates a domino effect of yet more facts aka hasty reactions. And the world spins out of control. @twitter #whogivesashit

For content that matters, hit me up: https://steffanwork.wordpress.com/

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When I was in college, I took a course on rhetoric and debate in 20th century America. In it, we looked at numerous famous speeches made by famous people: Lincoln, Jefferson, King, etc. Learning from great persuaders how to fashion a rational and emotional argument would later become useful as a copywriter and presenter. During that semester, no document we studied was more powerful than Martin Luther King’s Letter From a Birmingham Jail.

I am not being glib when I say Letter from a Birmingham Jail is one of the finest pieces of long copy ever written. No question Equal Rights was and is a big idea. I like LFABJ better than King’s more famous “I Have a Dream” speech. Not because of content (both are awesome) but because of circumstances. King was alone in a jail cell when he wrote it.

On this, the anniversary of what would have been MLK’s 87th birthday; I think it a fine thing to reexamine this seminal document. An excerpt follows. The full text is linked below it.

“We have waited for more than 340 years for our constitutional and God given rights. The nations of Asia and Africa are moving with jetlike speed toward gaining political independence, but we still creep at horse and buggy pace toward gaining a cup of coffee at a lunch counter. Perhaps it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging darts of segregation to say, “Wait.” But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate filled policemen curse, kick and even kill your black brothers and sisters; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six year old daughter why she can’t go to the public amusement park that has just been advertised on television, and see tears welling up in her eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see ominous clouds of inferiority beginning to form in her little mental sky, and see her beginning to distort her personality by developing an unconscious bitterness toward white people; when you have to concoct an answer for a five year old son who is asking: “Daddy, why do white people treat colored people so mean?”; when you take a cross county drive and find it necessary to sleep night after night in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because no motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and day out by nagging signs reading “white” and “colored”; when your first name becomes “nigger,” your middle name becomes “boy” (however old you are) and your last name becomes “John,” and your wife and mother are never given the respected title “Mrs.”; when you are harried by day and haunted by night by the fact that you are a Negro, living constantly at tiptoe stance, never quite knowing what to expect next, and are plagued with inner fears and outer resentments; when you are forever fighting a degenerating sense of “nobodiness”–then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait. There comes a time when the cup of endurance runs over, and men are no longer willing to be plunged into the abyss of despair. I hope, sirs, you can understand our legitimate and unavoidable impatience. You express a great deal of anxiety over our willingness to break laws. This is certainly a legitimate concern. Since we so diligently urge people to obey the Supreme Court’s decision of 1954 outlawing segregation in the public schools, at first glance it may seem rather paradoxical for us consciously to break laws. One may well ask: “How can you advocate breaking some laws and obeying others?” The answer lies in the fact that there are two types of laws: just and unjust. I would be the first to advocate obeying just laws. One has not only a legal but a moral responsibility to obey just laws. Conversely, one has a moral responsibility to disobey unjust laws. I would agree with St. Augustine that “an unjust law is no law at all.”

http://www.africa.upenn.edu/Articles_Gen/Letter_Birmingham.html

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Is it just me or did 2016 seem to fall down the stairs like a bag of groceries? Rolling cans, broken bottles and a lot of F bombs.  Even Christmas couldn’t save it. In my view, the holidays only added literal and emotional hangovers to an already jittery society. Like kicking a dead horse.

Maybe it was our interminable Presidential election: a bitter race between two people no one really liked, barely won by a nincompoop. The whole thing was a shit show, democracy at its nadir.

Red vs Blue. Cop vs Citizen. Black vs White. The election was but a symptom of a country in turmoil. The European Union fared no better. Britain was torn away from Europe like a scab. A wound that won’t heal soon, as refugees flood into struggling countries, running away from places that are even worse.

Our world has never felt more dangerous and divided than it did in 2016. Here and abroad, animosities festered and boiled over. “Planes, Trains and Automobiles” felt less like a classic movie than a means to obliterate people.

Despite all, I am and always will be an optimist. I believe in renewal and recovery; I have seen it happen every day. It’s always darkest before the dawn and though winter has most definitely come the cold, clear dawn of January might be just what we all need.

If what you need in the new year is glass way full copywriting, content creation or creative leadership look me up: https://steffanwork.wordpress.com/

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At first glance, this item seems like merely a glib menu item from a bar in Los Angeles. Which it is. But the gimmick of selling patrons a 40-ounce bottle of Colt 45 in a brown paper bag is much more than just an innocuous promotion. it’s a crucible.

Undeniably “creative” in that it is a clever way for St. Felix to make 500% profit from cheap swill and also generate beaucoup buzz. No question the concept will appeal to hipsters looking for “authentic experiences.” It’s ironic. It’s social. It’s the kind of shit new drinkers adore as they search for persons in the bar and personas online. #OldSchool #Chillin #Dawg!

But isn’t it also grotesque because it makes light of skid row and more precisely the American Black Ghetto?  We in Adland remember the embarrassing debacle the seemingly innocuous “Ghetto Days” party invitation created. Heads rolled. Accounts moved. Reputations were ruined. It was a big ugly deal. In my view, selling white boys a “45 in a bag” to get their drink on is basically the same thing.

Deplorable or a small stroke of genius? The question is truly loaded, given the abysmal state of race relations and how angry, sensitive and scared everyone is. These days, a stupid party favor can easily become a fire starter. Is this one?

For creative business ideas that only create “good” controversy: https://steffanwork.wordpress.com/