Palau

Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt, washed the t-shirt 23 times, threw the t-shirt in the ragbag, now I'm polishing furniture with it.

Freedom In A Can

The mass marketers call it for Obama – this illuminating post from Advertising Age, (courtesy of a commenter at the Guardian) lauds his campaign for it’s ‘360-degree strategy’ in selling the candidate to ‘millenials’, ie my kids. The money shot:

[…]

Mr. Obama’s packaging might discomfit older generations, who may think of themselves as immune to mass marketing. But it is “no problem” for millennials, whom Mr. Howe sees as averse to chaos and unpredictability (a trouble spot for both the Hillary Clinton and John McCain campaigns), and are “very comfortable with a very smooth brand that has minimal turmoil.”

[My emphasis]

Those Crystal Pepsi types at the Democratic Convention made an excellent political point.

The time for change is now, and the choice is clear, crystal clear. CRYSTAL PEPSI! It’s like drinking hope. For us, Crystal Pepsi is freedom in a can. Our platform is based on peace, love, and Crystal Pespi. Down with war, up with Crystal Pepsi. For us it’s not about politics, it’s only about Crystal Pepsi. This is a movement that we can all get behind, it unifies us to our very core, Crystal Pepsi. The foundation of America is Crystal Pespi! [sic]

Comment of The Day

Screw Sartre, nuts to Nietztche, I think I may have finally found my philosophical guru in the comments at Sadly No:

Doctorb said,

August 28, 2008 at 23:18

Whatever destroys dignity, and brings down the mighty from their seats, preferably with a bump, or a loud farting sound, or an offscreen clatter of utensils followed by an irritated-sounding cat yowl, is funny.

Also words that sound like bad words but aren’t, like “fricative” and “mukluk”.

Comment of The Day

On Riazat Butt’s Guardian post on responding to vocal bigots:

CritKing

Aug 27 08, 12:25pm (about 20 hours ago)

fight fire with fire I say…

the other day I was out on my race bike training in Amsterdam (CK is a top bike racer) and a group of moroccan teenagars called me a poofter, probably something to do with tight lycra.

As CK is also quite a ladies man I stopped, and asked the ringleader how many women he had been to bed with, also adding, “besides your sisters and cousins”.

That shut him up.