Rare, Collectible, & Otherwise

Tag: literature (Page 34 of 39)

Check if you strongly agree. Strongly disagree. Other.

If you’re still reading this, I’d be shocked to learn it.

My dad wrote that three-quarters of the way into his college thesis. I’m paraphrasing, but it was something very similar that he told me he typed into the dissertation for his degree. Thinking back on it, I kind of like knowing he did something like that.

It’s funny that I remember him telling me about his academic-rebel ways, but I can’t recall whether the professor read the line, or acknowledged it in any way. I have my doubts.

Probably because I heard the thesis story, I’ve included similar lines in my own projects. Maybe a half-dozen times or so. Most of them were corporate surveys, a couple of which were from the company I worked for at the time.

I remember when I thought I had the market cornered on good ideas, but was never given an opportunity to share them. Bang! Survey from corporate. Here we go!

Halfway through one anonymous reply-required questionnaire from corporate, I included my full name and telephone number, along with the invitation to call any time of day or night. I’d be happy to share some thoughts, I wrote.

No one ever called.

Thinking back on it, I can understand why. Even if I had a single good idea, they’d have to deal with the smart aleck who would write such a thing in the middle of a survey, just to see if anyone was reading the responses.

Just finished one from the US Postal Service. Like they really want to know my opinion. I filled it out just the same, and in doing so noted they actually had as their last question:

Can we contact you about this survey?

There was another couple of tiny little checkboxes after the question for the answer.

[] Yes

[] No

I really wanted to check a box that wasn’t on the form:

[] I dare you to call me and ask my opinion.

They’re asking for it, in every sense of the phrase. And if you’re still reading this, I’d be shocked to learn it.

Writers. A bunch written.

Today’s entry is literary. That is to say, it has to do with writing. Not literary writers, necessarily. Not authors.

Writers.

There are plenty of them out there that have nothing to do with books or publishing or creating a leather-bound legacy that might one day become the Great American Novel.

I’m talking commercials, here.

As in: TV.

Unfortunately (for the writers) the general public is widely unaware of who is behind the good (and the bad). Right now, I’m thinking about the new spot for 7*Up Ten, a reduced calorie soft drink that is being sold despite the failure of the factory chemists to eliminate those last nine pesky calories. Okay. I can try it over my One-Calorie soft drink. I’ll burn those other nine calories off somewhere. Maybe I can do it while yawning.

The commercial has Mom and Dad fawning over their purchase of a box of 7*Up Ten, the Most-Amazing-Thing-They-Have-Ever-Seen. In the background, their little baby is moonwalking, doing hand-stands, and You-Think-You-Can-Dance-Level dancing.

I don’t laugh out loud, which is probably the result of my upbringing. When I saw this spot on TV, I almost did. To keep it in perspective, I almost laughed out loud at the chase scene in the action-adventure movie The Package, starring Jason Statham. He was chasing a car through an unfamiliar area while riding a little bicycle. He managed to smash it through a glass door and time it perfectly to crash into the driver’s seat of his stolen car. Bravo. (Chuckle.)

There are others, like the Allstate ads. These aren’t knee-slappers, exactly. No slapstick humor here. Strictly situational. Maybe you’ve seen the one with the Allstate Mayhem Man appearing as a rambunctious toddler in the back seat, yelling – mommy.

“Mommy!” he shouts. “MommyMommyMommy!”

He pulls a drink from his sippy-cup and yells again.

Mommmmmyeeeee!

There are things thrown – maybe Cheerios. All accompanied by the continued shouts:

Mommmmyeeee!

No doubt, it’s just me. But I can easily envision the energetic child behind that Allstate Mayhem Man. In another ad, he disguises himself as a college flag, and as a poorly-installed TV satellite dish in another. Still, he’s the Mayhem Man. Those writers are hitting more than they are missing. The kid-in-the-backseat-of-the-minivan commercial works for me everytime.

Some are the result of writing-teams. Others are solo-shots. Unfortunately, there isn’t really a front-and-center Award Show Recognition like the Emmys or the Grammys or the Oscars that gives credit to these writers. I’m not sure about the category specifics, but there ought to be some publicity for those behind Seven*Up Ten, the Allstate ads, and the like. Some local groups give out “Addys” to winning commercials, but there is no Oscar-scale presentation.

As many commercials as we are exposed to, you’d think someone would sponsor a show.

And run commercials throughout.

The big time. Right here.

Today, through the magic of the internet, we go behind the scenes of the making of a television commercial. Pretty literally, in fact. From here, I can see the back of the guitar player and the man on the stand-up base, picking and grinning from the beds of two pickup trucks.

Pineapple Advertising, a neighbor of McHuston Booksellers with offices above the Main Street Tavern, is behind the production, which has blocked off the street from Commercial to the next intersection.

We’ve got folks out in the street with power washers, shining up the vehicles for the ad, extras are milling around waiting for their cue to queue – so to speak. I overheard someone talking to the supervising police officer.

“I’m running the show here,” said the fellow running the show.

“I’m running you in,” replied the officer. “You need a permit for this stuff.” (Just kidding, that last part.)

Compared to some of the events (like several recent parades) that result in the barricading of Main, this one has had some advance notice. I’ve gotten a couple of email reminders and a pop-in visit from the folks at Economic Development (that’s probably not the correct name for their office, but it seems like that’s what they do). I still forgot until I saw the Road Closed sign go up in front of the Tavern.

It isn’t necessarily good for business here, as parking becomes a premium when the spaces are blocked down the street, but I like the fact that an ad-man wants to use the Rose District as a back drop for a car ad. Even if none of the businesses are visible, it’s nice that Broken Arrow offers the sort of cooperation that will allow the closing of a major street for a film production.

A couple of cars had to divert around the block, but it seems a minor inconvenience to allow the crew to work.

The weather cooperated, sunshine-wise. It’s a little breezy, but no one seems to be complaining.

Yes, I went out and rubbernecked. Sat on the bench in front of the store sipping a sarsaparilla and giving the entire operation the once-over. I call it supervising. Others see it as goofing-off.

Life is good in the fast lane of the book business.

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