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Hello everyone. Hope you all had a great holiday, regardless of what
God/temple/rock/ you profess your faith in.
KUDOS to Abercrombie and Fitch. I've got to hand it to them for their devious
and calculated manipulation of rubes across America (which, by the way, is
the title of a forthcoming charity project in which all of the money
collected to assist the dimwitted goes directly into my pocket).
If you will recall, last year around this time A&F released a catalog
containing the usual cattle call of hot bodies in various stages of undress.
Posed just so, on the surface no one considered the photos to be anything but
innocent. Yet their sub text was as guilty as O.J.
This year A&F cranked it up a notch for their $6 holiday catalog. The glossy
book, entitled "Naughty or Nice", showcases a lot less Abercrombie and a lot
more skin than the '98 version. Predictably, it's grabbing the attention of
A&F's core customer: high school students. However, the reaction of parents,
and subsequently the media, has been even more predictable. Shock, outrage,
disgust. A few even declared the catalog to be nothing short of pornography.
Michigan's Attorney General said Abercrombie could be fined for selling porn
to minors.
And what was Abercrombie's response to all of this "bad press"? A&F feigned
surprise over parents' reaction, foregoing "official" corporate P.R.. spin in
favor of allowing employees and store managers (usually kids themselves, not
much older than their customers) to speak to reporters directly. The vibe
given off by A&F was, "What's the big deal?" This tack perpetuated the idea
that it was undeserving of all the controversy. How refreshingly
manipulative. Some may say Machiavellian.
Needless to say, none of this took Abercrombie & Fitch by surprise at all.
Taking a page out of the marketing play book of Calvin Klein, A&F subscribes
to the theory that the only bad publicity is no publicity. A&F planned it
all, choreographing every step of the dance. It wouldn't surprise me at all
if they even blew the whistle on themselves, surreptitiously alerting parents
and media to the situation. Even a fool will tell you that teens are
instinctively driven to like whatever it is that their parents dislike, a
seal of approval in the adolescent world of cool and uncool. Sealed in
plastic, "Naughty or Nice" costs $6 and requires teens to show ID as proof of
age before they can buy it. The main ingredient in this recipe for success is
forbidden fruit. Gen Y has flocked to the catalog faster than a group of
grade schoolers gathers in the woods around a tattered copy of Penthouse.
The marketers at Abercrombie and Fitch are far from fools. Since their scheme
is so transparent that it is in danger of becoming invisible, I hesitate to
call them geniuses. However, the phrase "diabolical marketing technicians"
does come to mind.
Hats off to Abercrombie & Fitch for their latest exercise in subversive
marketing, once again revealing just how malleable the general public is.
I've intentionally avoided commenting on the game show "Who Wants to Be a
Millionaire?" in the past few months. The so called phenomenon that has
"captured the nation's attention" has been commented on by so many pundits in
so many forms of media that I'm sure my initial impressions were the same as
those spewed forth by many others: "Who Wants to Be an Idiot" immediately
presented itself as a more appropriate title. And to call the show a
phenomenon is simply an insult to true phenomena, like crush films for
instance. The reason for the mass appeal of the show is readily apparent to
anyone who has ever watched the show for more than ten seconds. The
intellectual volume is turned down so low that you would need the bionic ears
of Jamie Summers to hear it at all. The producers made the show easy enough
for anyone at home to play along with, eliminating fears that they will
look/feel stupid when they don't have the answer to a question. This all goes
without mentioning that the show is multiple f--king choice. And I couldn't
talk about "Who Wants to be a Millionaire" without commenting on the false
excitement and phony suspense perpetuated each time the show goes on the air.
From the ominous, synthesizer-generated music bed, to the dark colors of the
constantly flashing light show on the set, everything there is supposed to
convince me that there's some serious drama taking place live before my very
eyes. Look, the only real drama taking place is in my living room. Throwing
objects at my own television screen, and screaming insults at the top of my
lungs at the idiot who isn't sure how many stripes are on the U.S. flag, I
run the risk of my neighbors calling the police to report a domestic
disturbance.
"Yeah, there's a problem all right, officer. Would you mind doing a little
Elvis for me and firing a few rounds through the ol' Magnavox?"
Running this whole charade is Regis, with his taunting, "Confident?" And his
instant entry into the vernacular of every living American, "Is that your
final answer?"
("Naah, Reeg, I think I'll change it... Let's go with, 'Suck me'.")
Any show that asks, "How many pennies are in one US dollar?", no matter how
little the question is worth, gets the big F--K YOU. Furthermore, there will
soon be several more targets to hurl obscenities at since, in true solidarity
to the ideal of zero originality in show business, the rest of the networks
are now scrambling to get their own prime time quiz shows on the air. NBC
hasn't even bothered to change the name of their project, resurrecting the
50's program "Twenty One" with Maury Povich as the new host. ("Twenty One"
may best be remembered for its involvement in the 1959 quiz show scandals, so
one way or another, they'll have some name recognition going for them.)
If you long to be quizzed while lounging on your couch, watch "Jeopardy!"
every night. At least if the contestants on that program don't give a proper
response, there's an outside chance that the question was actually
challenging. (What is: Yes, relax, I am fully aware that the questions on
"Jeopardy!" are actually the answers and vice versa.)
A few more things:
Where in the f--k are all the people on television looking these days? Every
channel has an entertainment reporter, a commercial actor, or some "real"
person looking and speaking just wide of the camera's lense in an attempt to
make us believe that we have caught them in the midst of an interviewer's
intense scrutiny. I can't imagine that anyone is actually buying the premise.
Would someone PLEASE tell the directors, producers, or whoever is responsible
to cut the shit and have the people in front of the camera simply look
directly into the lense? That way I can see their faces clearly, remember
them in greater detail, and ensure they are hit when I spot them crossing in
front of my car.
If you are one of the dopes who feels the need to complain about the Virgin
Mary and Child in a manger on the lawn of your local town hall because your
particular religious denomination is not properly represented, I have a
message for you from your God. He says,
"STOP WHINING, YOU F--KING PUSSY."
Don't even think about giving me that "separation of church and state"
bullshit. Although we do live in a democracy, that doesn't mean that everyone
is gonna get their way every day. Look, it's majority rules. Even though the
tree stump you worship is just as worthy of adulation as Jesus Christ is,
J.C. seems to have the advantage in the head count dept. So shut up and suck
it up. The holidays are over just as soon as they begin and the manger will
soon disappear. Meanwhile, this is still America, land of the free. Feel free
to decorate your own home with elephant feces, severed chicken heads, or
whatever else you please. But only on the inside, of course. Nobody wants you
driving down the neighborhood property values by displaying that crap on the
outside of your shack, you f--king heathen.
The pain of walking this nitwit infested planet continues.
Peace, Love, & Rage.
If you'd like to have the next rage filled rambling sent directly to
you, please send your email address to OHTHERAGE@HOTMAIL.COM
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