I Could Write Better Stuff Than That!

I have been watching a lot of ball games lately. It's what I do. And something has been going on during these broadcasts that is driving me absolutely BATTY. So now that I have a bit of rest, it's time for a little post I like to call:

"Fatdaddy's Not So Random Rantin' N' Ravin'!!!"

Sometime around Thanksgiving, advertisers on TV start to flood sports shows with stupid commercials to convince gullible men to buy useless Crapola for their wives or girlfriends for Christmas. The nice thing about being broke is that I don't really care if it is an effective ad or not because I couldn't afford most of their junk anyway.

But there is one group of advertisers that need a really stern talking to. I'm talking about....Jewelers.

WHAT THE HECK?!!! I guarantee you that any human being that has made a jewelry commercial in the last year has, without question, a failing grade on their college transcript right after the words English 1010.

They have all forgotten the most important part of that highly useful course. What is the First Commandment of writing?

KNOW THY AUDIENCE!!

For me this is simple. I may write about Man Police, wrestling matches, and destruction. And I do have devoted male readers. But my audience is CLEARLY the honored, noble, and exalted Housewife (please observe the capital H which is used to denote an additional honorific). Because Housewives are the ones who deal with most of the stuff I deal with. They get me, and I'm learning to get them.

Now guys, if you are not a Housewife, don't go getting all offended on me; you know you still have fun with this stuff. But if you haven't tried this gig, you are missing something. Since I know who I am writing to I can tailor the style of my musings to appeal to MY readers, and they will feel a sense of connection and camaraderie with me. Hence the "Been There/Done That" responses.

Not so with the morons who write Jewelery commercials to run during ball games. They clearly have no idea how to connect to their audience.

There was one particularly bad commercial this year where a dopey-faced yuppie in a scarf is dragging his cutely dressed girl all around a city to visit places where they had their first date, first kiss, blah, blah, blah. They get to a snowy park bench and she purrs, "I don't remember this place" and he quickly drops to a knee and without betraying the slightest hint of "cheese" says, "You will".

Gag! Somebody get me some insulin; stat!!!

In the background, if you look hard enough in the back of the park you can clearly see the shadowy figures of Jerry Sloan and Vince Lombardi waiting to take this dude's Man Card away at the end of the shoot. I hope they roughed him up some.

Then there are the REALLY bad commercials where the girl tries in vain to hide her joy when a friend comes into the room. She fails miserably and then announces "He Went To Jared!" and the two women screech like ten year olds and jump up and down while the unlucky fiancee has the decency to look sheepish in the corner.

That's not firewood he's tossing on the fire, kids. It's his Man Card and the accompanying Manly Manual.

Give me a freaking break. You know why real dudes go to Jared? So they can vomit on the display counters. It's a knee-jerk reaction to the visual ipecac they use as advertisements.

These dopey ad agencies are barking up the wrong tree. They are targeting women, not men, during shows that are blatantly male viewer oriented.

Ladies, I put it to you. Do you attentively watch ball games with your spouse or significant other?

Even my mother and the Boss, two ladies who I believe know as much about sports as most men, are usually knitting, playing Nintendo DS or reading while the game is on. These ads are aimed at single women who aren't watching sports. Period.

(Now that I think of it, why would you market engagement ring commercials to women anyway? How many women buy their own engagement rings?)

But if you want to run these sappy, saccharine ads, do it on Lifetime. People on that network are begging for treacle. Then when the time comes, girls can hint to their fellas that they like what they saw at this place or that.

Otherwise, if you're going to market engagement rings to men watching sports, you need to sit down with the folks who are truly successful at reaching the male 18-35 audience.

The beer commercial guys.

They know how to sell stuff to guys. Heck, I'm a devout, Sunday school teachin' Mormon. But after three Bob Uecker spots and a shot of a freezing can that changes colors, even I'm looking for a cold one (Take it easy, I said looking, not drinking. And it's called poetic exaggeration).

In that spirit, I think I could write at least two commercials this minute that would be more effective to market overpriced, clarified carbon to men watching ball games. Both are Man Card approved for personal use, should you be so inclined.


Commercial One (In the spirit of those awesome Foster's: Australian for Beer ads):

Girl in t-shirt and shorts kneels down in a crowded fast food restaurant. She looks lovingly up at a guy who hasn't shaved in a week. He has unkempt hair and is wearing flip flops.

Girl: "I want to take our relationship to the next level, so I have saved two months salary and just bought us seats at center ice on the glass for game 7 of the Stanley Cup finals!

Guy: Gasping dramatically, raises his hands to cover his open mouth and whispers "Yes, Yes, Yes!"

The scene cuts and the man is now on his knee in a fancy restaurant, cleaned up and in a tux. The woman, in a slinky evening gown, is standing up, showing her giant chunk of rock to the applauding couples in the dining room.

A store logo pops up on the screen and an announcer says: "Diamonds. They're chick-speak for "No way that just freaking happened!!" and the waiter high fives the guy as the scene fades to black.


See? Tell me guys. Was that better than those clowns? You gonna buy your next ring from me, or are you going to Jared? Took me less than 15 minutes to write.


Commercial Two (the k.i.s.s. method. Keep it simple, stupid)

A black screen with an announcer asking dramatically:

"What has two thumbs and can make a girl squeal in public?"

There is a pause, while the viewer ponders this riddle. The announcer, Don Pardo style, shouts:

"This guy!"

And then pops up a photo of a man giving the camera two thumbs up, engagement ring perched on one thumb and a small sign that reads "Marry Me?" tied around the other. He is winking rakishly, and his tongue is roguishly sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

I tell you, sales would double, if not triple.

Do I know my audience or what?

I could make millions in the ad business. But here I am, writing a blog for free.

What's a guy gotta do to get discovered?