3H Grade Pencils and George Carlin lead to the Big Idea

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Okay, so where am I?

I needed some 3H grade pencils since I am sketching out a new look for my man cave and wanted an accurate drawing of case I need to be built. Standard No. 2 pencils won't cut the mustard. Why you ask? Well, H leads are tremendously smudge-proof and supply the cleanest lines, making the pencil of choice for tasks such as technical drawings, light sketching, and outlines. If you’re a lefty (I’m not, but sensitive to the plight of the southpaw), taking advantage of smudge-resistant H leads is a must. Yet, I digress…

Anyway, you used to have to drag yourself to one of the only high-end art supply stores in your city to find these suckers, but not you can fire up Amazon and finish your purchased and have them delivered in a few hours. Amazon is pretty great in that respect. After taking exactly 189 seconds to research, get a proper brand recommendation, select, and purchase my pencils, I surfed around the site and and I stumbled across this first edition classic, "The Agon in Euripides," penned by yours truly. It's brand new and the last one in stock at $73.00. There's also 13 more options starting at $73.37 and some more in the used book bin available from $60.00. I mean why wouldn't you want to purchased this study of the agon, i.e., formal debate, in Euripides' tragedies? Just look at these reviews:

"Lloyd does an excellent job of describing the structure, style and strategies of Euripides' agones, and everyone interested in these rhetorical exchanges will read this book with profit." —Classical Bulletin

"This is a meticulous and scholarly book. It is clear that the author has thought very hard about every sentence, and the result is a careful and highly reasoned discussion of the texts....The analyses of individual speeches are illuminating, and the book is clearly and elegantly written. There is a useful index. Overall, the book is certainly a success, and will undoubtedly be of help to many concerned either with Euripides or with Greek rhetoric." —The Classical Review

Yeah, not for everyone, but for those of you desiring a general account of the formal debate in Euripides, including a contrast with the agon in Sophocles, and contains an extended discussion of Euripides' relationship to fifth-century rhetorical theory and practice, then this is your Holy Grail of agones interpretations.

Speaking of Holy Grails of things, the Emmy nominations came out this week and five ads were nominated for 2019’s Outstanding Commercial Emmy. Apple scored two noms with Nike's "Dream Crazy," "A Great Day in Hollywood from Netflix, and long-form PSA Sandy Hook Promise’s “Point of View,” made the list. See them all in the Adweek story. At the end of the day, we're always working to tell stories that move audiences, you know, those Big Ideas I keep writing about here.

One of the inspiration points I always go to when I'm looking for that Big Idea is the George Carlin comedy bit “Advertising Lullaby.” If you're familiar with Carlin—and you should be—some of his “Seven Dirty Words” are there, so don't watch this at work with your volume up at 10. As a view who has probably watched it a thousand times, this is timeless and genius...

Here's the Full Transcript:

Quality, value, style, service, selection, convenience
Economy, savings, performance, experience, hospitality
Low rates, friendly service, name brands, easy terms
Affordable prices, money-back guarantee, free installation.

Free admission, free appraisal, free alterations,
Free delivery, free estimates, free home trial, and free parking.

No cash? No problem! No kidding! No fuss, no muss,
No risk, no obligation, no red tape, no hidden charges,
No down payment, no entry fee, no purchase necessary,
No one will call on you, no payments or interest till December, and no parking.

Limited time only, though, so act now, order today, send no money,
Offer good while supplies last, two to a customer, each item sold separately,
Batteries not included, mileage may vary, all sales are final,
Allow six weeks for delivery, some items not available,
Some assembly required, some restrictions may apply.

Shop by mail, order by phone.
Try it in your home, get one for your car.
All entries become our properties, employees not eligible,
Entry fees not refundable, local restrictions apply,
Void where prohibited except in Indiana.

So come on in for a free demonstration and a free consultation
With our friendly, professional staff. Our courteous and
Knowledgeable sales representatives will help you make a
Selection that's just right for you and just right for your budget.

And say, don't forget to pick up your free gift: a classic deluxe
Custom designer luxury prestige high-quality premium select
Gourmet pocket flashlight.

And if you act now, we'll include an extra added free complimentary
Bonus gift: a classic deluxe custom designer
Luxury prestige high-quality premium select gourmet leather style wallet.
With detachable keychain, and a pencil holder.
It's our way of saying thank you.

And if you're not completely satisfied, you pay nothing.
Simply return the unused portion for a full refund, no questions asked.
It's our way of saying thank you. Keep your free gift.

Actually, it's our way of saying 'Bend over just a little farther
And let us stick this big dick into your ass a little bit
Deeper.

The Inspiration of Mikey

When I was six and in first grade I used to walk myself home two miles alone, grab the key under the fifth brick from the back row of the orange box that sat on my Inglewood apartment porch, left myself in the house, lock the door behind me and turned on the babysitter known as the television.

In the seventies, the normal fare on my eight channels was reruns (it wasn't called syndication yet)—Bewitched, I Love Lucy, The Original Mickey Mouse Club, I Dream of Jeannie, The Brady Bunch—and it got to the point where I knew the dialog from every show cold. But I didn't watch to see what a moron Darrin Stephens or Major Nelson were or witness Lucille Ball's physical comedy. I watched for the commercials.

I jumped at every opportunity to see more commercials, study the messaging, learn more about the lighting and camera angles. Little did anyone know that the television was more than a mindless brain drain, but rather a series of seminars I built for myself in that empty apartment that would be the backbone of my future career.

My self-educated study of advertising was better than anything I learned at UCLA or any subsequent continuing education classes I still take. When we would visit my uncle, who was in the ad game, I would smuggle extra copies of Advertising Age and (later) Adweek from his office so I could learn even more about the business and the creative process, always looking to get to the next level. I distinctively remember being captivated by Madge, the Palmolive manicurist, who had a gift of the gab and forced her clients to soak their hands in dishwashing liquid while doing their nails.

That advertising was effective and I begged my mom and dad in separate households to buy Palmolive instead of the other Brand X. I had to negotiate for it, even committing to do the dishes at age seven. Did them I did and yes my hands remained soft and I never had "dishpan hands." And then, the commercial that stopped me in my tracks, aired one fateful afternoon.

It was a seminal moment for me. Maybe it was the perfect script or perhaps it was the freckle-faced kid with the same name as me. But whatever it was, I remember exact the time I watching this new spot in an awe-inspired trance in that Inglewood apartment. As an only child, I was captivated by the camaraderie at the breakfast table. As a kid of divorced parents, I was amazed there was time for breakfast debates, or that there was even a breakfast. I loved the announcer's manipulative script and authoritative tone directing parents to manipulate their households that something good for you was actually delicious. I must have watched that commercial 20-30 times that weekend, taking in the nuances of the edit, studying every aspect of it including writing down every word in my black notebook with fresh college-rule paper.

Seeing this spot opened my eyes to the fact that you have to find that amazing idea and drive it with a powerful narrative for anything to truly become special. From a production perspective, I appreciated the meticulously detailed cut and as an ardent viewer, I was convinced that this was one seamless take that built all the way through the debate, the first taste of cereal and climaxing with the "He likes it! Hey Mikey!" What kept me coming back for more was that the momentum didn't ease with the kids. The announcer played us all like puppets with his crafty delivery that drove you to the final framed shot of the cereal box. Brilliance in thirty seconds.

On Monday, I went to school and everyone ruined it. It seems my entire class had seen this commercial and convinced themselves I was the real Mikey. "He likes it! Hey Mikey!" echoed the hallways for a solid month. It was not was I was looking for in life at that time. I never did try Life Cereal but it was that experience that convinced me that it was me who had to craft the commercials. From the writing of the spot to the actual directing of them. It was a must and so I official began my journey.

As I aged and the innocence of the spot gave way to sexier ways to incite a surge of adrenaline that I could encapsulate into my own work became my calling card. Each spot I contrive takes a boutique agency approach working closely with clients to ensure I'm not just checking boxes and running through the motions, but crafting something that will catch the attention of today's constantly changing audiences. Here's the latest series of "Long Man" commercials produced for Sakeru Gummys in Japan...

Who knew that all of this could grow from cereal and dishwashing soap commercials?

The Tortillapocalypse is No Way to Treat a Media Guy

Okay, so where am I?

I'm dealing with Tace Bell's "Tortillapocalypse" and when you're writing late night, what could be worse than not having warm flour tortillas to ease your late night needs to push through your writing block?

Taco Bell is facing a tortilla shortage and it might be time to panic https://t.co/fBFCNEISNc pic.twitter.com/YXkibP1i42

— New York Post (@nypost) July 3, 2019

 

At first I thought I was an advertising ploy, but Taco Bell big wigs say this will impact profits and, I mean, Taco Bello never lies, amirite?

This Fourth of July was a welcome respite watching fireworks at Dodgers Stadium, which happens to be a longstanding Lloyd family tradition Another tradition is fighting the thousands of bad drivers trying to exit en masse from the Dodger Stadium parking lot while traffic control and whomever is helping them watch the anarchy in their lime green neon vests while we kill the environment idling on the asphalt trying to claim every inch of Elysian Park real estate. The entire process to exit was an excruciating one mile, 48-minute debacle.

The whole experienced harshed my mellow and put me into a funk as I mentally dived deeper into the spiral of writer's block that the postgame Independence Day fireworks was supposed to eradicate.

So there I was at two a.m. trying to get the words on the page and wound up going Jack Torrance once again trying to get words on a page and yet going insane with mindless, hypnotic gibberish on the page. Surely this type of work won't get me more Telly Awards (the latest arrival pictured here) to soothe my fragile ego that shiny trophies seem to embolden in one fell swoop at an awards ceremony. There is nothing better than flubbing your way through a speech with a gold or silver trophy in your hand and Kelly Clarkson's "Stronger" song soundtracking your night. Nonetheless, my work resembled something like this:

I'm firmly convinced that if I wasn't in the business of putting words on paper that eventually turn into moving images on screen that I would be twenty pounds lighter which would be a welcome sight to my cardiologist, but I do so one of my challenges is crafting that Big Idea consistently. It's a burden I have embraced, but when the words fail, there's only one solution: Make a Run for the Border. That border is the all night drive thru at Taco Bell. Here's a classic TV spot from 1988.

I actually learned the secret of the Taco Bell Inspiration hour from an old colleague from the New York agency days. Scott Greene (* - names chanced to protect the guilty) was an incredible copywriter who got caught up in office politics after taking the private elevator of an XYZ Advertising Agency's big cheese one late night and the boss had to wait an extra six minutes for his ride and fired Scott on the spot. In the hopes to relieve his elevator PTSD one late night after his firing, he called me and asked me to meet him at a Midtown Taco Bell to talk him down from an impending bender.

So I arrived in the middle of the night and there was Scott in his smokers jacket over pajamas and slippers looking every bit of insane as it sounds. We sat down and ordered from their value menu/dollar menu or whatever it was called racking up thirty-six dollars of meat and cheese filled tortillas and Mountain Dew to keep him on the sobriety wagon.

He said he didn't want to become part of the "Wasteland of Forgotten Men" where old copywriters toil in writing coupons and obituaries late night at some newspaper with their graveyard crew. He told me all of the best Big Ideas can be found in the smooth future heartburn of a Taco Bell quesadilla with fire sauce. He swore by Taco Bell calling it the best Mexican food he ever ate. Being an Angeleno, aka the actual home of the best tacos int he world, I knew factually there is no such thing as "the best tacos in Manhattan." There are only two kinds of tacos in that island: adequate, and whatever passes as a little better than adequate. He seemed to agree with me, but he pointed out that was true, unless you're talking Taco Bell.

He then went on a rant/soliloquy detailing how fast food is unhealthy, how it preys on the poor by offering scientifically-engineered food products that are devoid of nutritional value, yet extremely high on emotional satisfaction. It was the emotional satisfaction that spurred Big Ideas he told me. All of the menu offerings at Taco Bell are extremely tasty, and best of all, cheap. Why spend fiver on groceries, he argued. What do you get for a fiver at the supermarket? A candy bar, a few oranges and a drink? Maybe? At Taco Bell, you can get a meal and hangout with the stoners who are wasting away.

"Taco Bell tacos are crunchy, crispy, meaty banana boats of spicy chemical goodness with the the Taco Bell Cool Ranch Doritos taco shell being the THE most important invention of this century," he boasted. "But the once you sink your mouth into any of the flour tortilla creation, there's an award waiting to be crafted and earned on the other side. These are must haves!"

He continued as to why Taco Bell delivers brilliance to the "Woke," "Parents lie to their children about the cruelties of the world, and children grow up to return the favor to their parents. None of these things were true. Parents lie to their children about the cruelties of the world, and children grow up to return the favor to their parents. There are lies everywhere, except Taco Bell. Taco Bell doesn't care about the fact they deliver heart attacks in a shell. All they want is to deliver you the ultimate food porn emotional satisfaction so you can get on with other satisfactions.

Since they share the same owner, in Manhattan, the Taco Bells and KFCs often share the same storefront. That equals a single "restaurant" that combines two famous brands into one mighty, delicious Frankenstein's monster of empty calories, the Holy Grail of Mexicano and Souther USA blended into some sort of B-movie two-headed snack shack.

And just like that over a constant hum of munching seven-layer burritos—yeah, that not six, not five, but seven unbelievable layers of blended emotional satisfaction—we sketched out a new resume of for Scott that netting him a directors job that guaranteed him access to private executive level elevators. That was also the genesis of my Big Idea hunting that netting me dozens of shiny gold statues.

So today when I drove to my Taco Bell (along the same route that was detailed in Tom Petty's famous "Free Falling" song about the very Valley I've called home since 1979) and they announced they were out of tortillas I was speechless. I was flummoxed to the point I didn't know what to order and as the cars started beeping in a strange karmic payback for all of the ear damage I inflicted on the Dodger Stadium crew I ordered a mountain of food I wasn't prepared for. I just sat in my car slackjawed wondering why the Tortillapocalypse choose to infect my neighborhood.

But you know what? After $14 of emotional satisfaction and a six a.m. five-mile walk to burn off the calories, the words flowed the second I sat down after a warm shower. By 10 a.m., the polished product was complete and emailed to the client. By one p.m., it was approved.

Taco Bell saves the day again...with or without tortillas.

*-Names are changed to protect the guilty.

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Someone in your life, somebody has tried to rule you and told you that you would fail without them. Be inspired and conquer: