Outdoor Playtime...

If you've been wondering where I've been, I was working on a post about political attack ads. It took me three days of fighting with it to realize I hated it. No matter what I did, how I revised the visual or reworked the copy, it didn't seem to help.

It reminded me of a time a few years ago when a partner in crime and I spent two weeks working on a concept for a full-blown integrated campaign, a direction that was prompted by initial talks we both thought had potential. During the initial stages we both still thought the idea was neat, but the further we got into development the more it became a struggle. Finally we sat across the table, with the pile of mockups spread out on the table in front of us. In almost the same breath we looked at each other and said, "You know what? I don't like this anymore." Turns out we were both sticking with the concept because we both thought the other still loved it. But it became evident to both of us that it didn't work, for much the same reasons. We both sighed in relief and threw everything in the trash. In a few days we had something we both loved. The client loved it too. 

So about what I was originally going to post. Sorry. Suffice to say I had nothing good to say about attack ads, and there appears to be no way for me to say that in a way that satisfies me right now. They say that the difference between a good piece and a bad one is that the good one looks like it belongs on the page. And my attack ad piece just didn't. So I chucked the whole thing. Sometimes you have to do that. So in a few hours I put together these playtime billboards for you. They just sort of flowed out.

Now I feel better. 

Hope you like 'em.

~ Rand

Multiple Personalitudes

"So that's what you think eh oh geez okay go 'head great great go on you'll see okay okay go 'head you'll see you'll see."

"Come on-n-n you want me doncha looking good honey feelin' all juicy for you oh yeah baby want a taste of me come on that's right..."

"Look the fug out comin' through get the frick outta the way stoked here gonna do it do it getter done big fella that's right hoo-hah!"

------------------------

Thoughts and ideas, like blessings, come at us in all sorts of ways and with different kinds of attitudes. Some days you get a crowd and you have to feed and entertain them all; even when they don't agree with each other and you have to jump in to referee. Others come slinking in hoping they won't be noticed. Those we just smile at and let them sulk in the corner. Others are great right off the bat and we celebrate. With balloons. And cake. They like cake. Chocolate. With icing.

Sketchbook Dangerous

Stretching the ol' brain cells in the old fashioned way – via the sketch book – is... well... um...

Let me just say this: if you have been spending thousands of dollars on therapy in order to find out more about your inner self, you may want to consider spending a few bucks on a book of blank pages and a pen that fits easily in your hand instead. Giving yourself some time to play and letting thoughts be transported from one's brain directly through one's hand onto paper can lead to surprising and highly entertaining things. 

But beware. There is a dark side. In fact, doing this can be a dangerous road to travel. Often things will reveal themselves. Things you didn't know existed within you – scary things...

So a word of warning. Before you begin, know that what you are about to reveal about your innermost being may not be something you want to share with young or impressionable members of your family – lest they develop horrible nightmares and/or facial ticks and/or a compulsion to stomp out the alphabet with their left foot. Of course, it would be safer for all concerned if you could stick to drawing unicorns, pictures of dancing fruits and kitties saying hello, but really, what would that say about you? That may be more revealing than you'd care to admit. No, you may be best letting your mind wander onto paper unencumbered in a locked, private room; away from others.

But, of course, I jest. Pick up a pen. Any old paper will do. Loosen those creative spirits within you and let them flow onto the paper. Do it often. You'll feel amazingly refreshed when you're done... and the evidence has been destroyed.

Why are there nice men in white coats at my door?

Let The Begatting Begin

"In the Spring, I have counted 136 different kinds of weather inside of 24 hours."
~ Mark Twain 

My mother used to say, "Enough is enough." She used to say a lot of things actually; some of which I can't include here. But I clearly remember her using the idiom for the same reason I'm thinking of it today. The weather. To be specific – the crappy weather. Of course, it's all part of the natural process of things. Like day becomes night becomes day. I know how things work. Summer begats fall and that begats winter which begats spring and spring begats summer. But I'm thinking we're missing a pretty big begat just about now. Anyone seen the spring into summer thing yet? Because I'm really into begatting that. I'm looking out my window and all I'm seeing is stuff like cold, sideways rain. Squirrels, robins, outdoor patios and crocuses alike are all looking around going, "What's with this pissy weather?"

Wait. Maybe that's it. Maybe there's a significant call of nature thing going on. I'm serious. Like, what could hold anything that important from happening? A sudden urge of the bodily kind, right? Maybe whoever is in control of the warm weather switch was going to make it warm, like it was on their to-do list, but then they had to pee really bad. That would certainly explain all this rain. It's entirely understandable if that's the case. You can't really put off an urge like that, especially if you have an issue with tinkling excessively, which I don't – since I gave up beer – but some people must because adult diapers are flying off the shelves in Japan (according to Bloomberg, they topped the sale of baby diapers last year). And as we all know, along with a fascination with flower arrangements, Karaoke, total quality management, horror films, smartphones, motorcars and non-stick cookware; Japan always leads the pack when it comes to trendsetting. Maybe adult diapers are the coming thing. Maybe Japan knows something that we don't. Maybe people wear them not because they're incontinent but for the convenience: because they prefer going when and where they need to without either interrupting their duties or worrying about filling their shoes. Maybe the stigma is disappearing. This development would surely help if that's what is holding us back from getting some nice, warm, summer-like weather here.

So. Excuses and crossed legs be damned. Whoever is in charge of nice weather has kept everyone waiting long enough. We need some warm weather begatting done here and if Depends are the answer then I say, take the money from petty cash, get a quicky courier going and tell this whoever they are to get on with their job.

I've got some serious vitamin D soaking up to do.

The Beat

                  

            we have a here (now)
                 where
                 what
                 wait

where we pulse
          spreading magic for
               flesh and bones
                        where we cry
   where we laugh
           where we sigh

           fed by the heat
                   below     it
         tip-tops our
     my-mys

           it feeds
                 the new
     --- in you (too)
a place here                    now
    where          the thing is

                        the beat beat beat

Scientific Sh*t

The world of science has given us so much. The thing I enjoy the most is how science has devised ways of defining things like conditions in both a quantitative and a qualitative fashion. Visually. Like charts, graphs and such. They're just so... analytical.

This is an official chart, devised from decades of experience and unbiased clinical observation, that portrays both the quality of shittiness and its severity. Position 1 is where you're at if you're lucky. This is a best case scenario where you are experiencing a mere hint of shitty. Position 2 is where you don't want to be. This is a worse case scenario, possibly the result of a series of events. Anywhere else on the spectrum of things you are able to say, "Well, things could be worse."

It's easy to get confused because there are different varieties of shit:
Nasty Shit is the type that seems to be out for you. Either because you've been a dick (karma's revenge) or someone has decided to put a kibosh on your life. Examples: getting thrown in jail for something you didn't do, throwing up that Chablis on your shoes, anything to do with the Kardashians, getting the bird flu when you're allergic to feathers.  
Normal Shit is stuff that is basically environmental. It comes with life and is the reason you don't drink the water in Mexico. It's an equal opportunity shit; waiting for you, or the next guy or the one after that; it doesn't care. And you don't have to actually do anything in particular to qualify. Examples: sitting in a highway parking lots, holes in condoms, a booger hanging out of someone's nose, some expert trying to tell you how to run your life uninvited.  
Stupid Shit is just the stuff that you know you shouldn't have done, or stuff that someone else should have known better but is done anyway and you have to deal with it. Examples: speeding tickets for anything less than 5 mph over the limit, saying yes when you know you should have said no the moment it comes out of your mouth, someone being lousy to someone, yet another article about that Zuckerberg guy, having to eat brussels sprouts.
Oops Shit has its basis in plain old human fallibility. Mostly harmless, there's still no escaping this type of shit. If you think you're immune, look up "in denial" in the dictionary (or look for your name in the obituaries). Examples: moving a chair and then 5 minutes later stubbing your toe on it, dissing the boss when he or she is within earshot, wearing white after Labor Day, bed head, mismatched socks, food stuck in your teeth, peeing yourself when laughing.

And, of course, there are different levels of severity for each classification. Where an incident falls on the scale is sometimes dependent on how much you're paying attention. For instance, one can be in deep do-do and not know it.

You'll notice there is no place for the lack of shit on this chart. Let us not fool ourselves into thinking this is a possibility. This is science we're talking about. And science doesn't deal in fantasy.

All to say it's not a complete downer thing. After all, even the hardiest of garden flourishes with a bit of fertilizer.


 

His Wife Wanted Him To Win A Wristwatch...

An interstice is a small opening between things. And if we were to look in the space between funny and unbelievable, we'd see a gentleman named Jonathan standing there...

Very few times in your life you might meet someone whose genius takes your face prisoner and to your delight, you find you just can't turn away. Jonathan Winters was such a person: grandmaster of the improv, inspiration to young comedians like Robin Williams and recipient of the 1999 Mark Twain Prize for American Humor, and sadly gone this week at age 87.

How did it all begin? A few months into his marriage he lost his wristwatch and the couple couldn't afford to get him a new one. His wife, hearing of a local talent show where the first prize was a watch, told him to go down and win it.

He did.

Someone Should Get Working On This ASAP

You love your pants. And rightly so. They not only cover everything from the naval to ankles but the right ones set off our lower body attributes in a godlike fashion. And when we get that perfect pair we just love to wear them. Finally, they get worn in perfectly. And then, the horror. They wear out (or you get really wasted one night and wake up the next morning without your pants and you have absolutely no idea where you left them and you're too embarrassed to go looking for them because asking people "Have you seen my pants?" just sounds so lame). It happens to us all. This needn't be the catastrophe it has been until now.

We need a pant registration and retrieval service. You get your pants scanned, store the data and get issued a handy swatch with a personal PANTone number and if something happens to the pants you just let them know and a 3D print of a perfect duplicate happens and you get another pair exactly the same as your old ones shipped to you the very next day. Call it pant replacement insurance.

We need this. We have the technology. Someone should get on it.

Are you a super Sous-Chef? Save your favorite pan as a PANtone file. If the pan disappears in a kitchen nightmare, they shoot you an exact replica. And you're back cookin' again like nothing happened.

Collect rocks? Digital 3D PanSTONE storage and output would allow for limitless rockin' on.  Those gold nuggets you're sitting on? Never lose them down a toilet again.

Note: The 3D Replacement System would not work with living things or body parts. Inanimate objects only. (Cousin Billy-Bob would not qualify as an inanimate object.)

Okay, so someone get on this okay? I need to retire soon. Call me. We'll work out my end.

Aren't Leaders Supposed To Be Good Examples?

Ah geez. It seems the more us common folk follow world leaders, the more we learn that if we're looking for good examples for our children we should stick to Hollywood fiction.

Take the situation in North Korea. Unreal. Here we have a young, twenty-something leader who just took over the store from his dad.

Kim Jong-un was appointed Great Successor following his father's death in 2011. He can't be called President because his late grandfather will hold that title forever more. And Supreme Leader is reportedly out because his late father has that one sewn up for eternity. Still, you'd think Great Successor would be enough. But according to the Christian Science Monitor, he also got Marshal of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea, First Chairman of the National Defense Commission, First secretary of the Worker's Party, Chairman of the party's Central Military Commission, Member of the Presidium of the Party's Political Bureau and Supreme Commander of the Korean People's Army added to his job description. Appears to be over the top with the titles thing, but what do I know? It may be a quaint cultural tradition. If that's all it was, no problem. But he also exhibits several peaks of concern on the weirdness meter.

First, there's the issue of why everything about him is a big secret. Kim Jong-un's whole life is a mystery – he refuses to tell anyone his age, his date of birth, or the fact he's been married for a while to a bombshell, ex-cheerleader, Ri Sol-ju – like what dude wouldn't let the whole world know about a catch like that? And the couple may have given birth to a little girl, a speculation that followed a sudden loss of weight by Ri Sol-ju. Wouldn't you be proud to let folks know you became a father? Like, okay, maybe it's none of our business. But still, where's the harm in showing a little love? And about the rumors that he underwent plastic surgery look more like his grandfather? Really. Maybe he has a negative body image. He remains plump in a country where a third of its population is suffering chronic malnutrition. But hey, maybe it's a gland thing. Something that can only be helped by the installment of a delux spa (which, when you're into late nights with all-girl '80's disco bands, also helps with hangovers from drinking and partying all night).

So what if he has a propensity for American basketball? What's so wrong with that? What's wrong with growing up like many kids, loving Michael Jordon and Nike sneakers? So what if he hangs out with Dennis Rodman? Lots of people have strange friends. Especially rich kids. He's a young guy educated in Sweden, who was reportedly socially awkward, living off the riches possibly siphoned from aid to his country. And to have Dennis tell Obama to give him a call? For what? Obama's folks must have told him by now he shouldn't play with the kid.

Then, there's the thing about his control issues. Jongie hates not to be in control. Of everything. He appears to get off on intimidating others; traveling around with a gang of generals and officials whenever he leaves the house. Plus, he's bossy: having citizens in the thousands either stand and simultaneously pump their fists in the air at the ugly American Imperialists or face the possibility of being banished to political concentration camps. And if he can't control you he calls you names; recently referring to America as a "boiled pumpkin" unable to withstand the military might of North Korea. Boiled pumpkin? Now that's mature. Our children can take a good lesson from that.
  
But I guess what is most alarming is his obstinate behavior. From what I can see he has quite the temper. His petulance is like a child venting over not being able to fill up the cart with candy in a grocery store. Except his tantrums come with threats of nuclear bombs. Even after being warned by his friends, his armed forces successfully conducted a "high-level" nuclear test. Then he gave orders to restart a reactor apparently to develop nuclear arms. So people will be afraid of him and either he'll get what he wants or he'll hurt someone. Even his best friend, China, has been telling him to chill. Still, this guy seems to think that if he is mean enough and acts tough enough that will guarantee his survival and get his country aid. Handouts that he can call a 'victory' over his enemies and proof of his party's superiority. Seems like a nasty way of going about getting help for his folks. One would be forgiven for constantly wondering how or why he is going to strike out next. Like a schoolyard bully.

This is a guy from which theoretically we are supposed to be able to teach our children about things like decency and maturity. But it seems more like the type of behavior we tell our children "This is a good example of how not to act." My mother would have something to say to this person, as he lies on his back on the floor of the world's supermarket having a tantrum.

"Clean up in the East Asia food aisle."

Finally: A Quotient for Creatives

Intelligence quotient, moral quotient, emotional quotient, adversity quotient, social quotient, quotient quotient – we live with a measurement system for just about everything but until now there has been no reliable tool for creativity and how it measures up in the grand scheme of things. Not that we need to measure up. But sometimes it's nice to know just where we are so we know where we're not.

Several very smart people have tried to devise a method of measuring levels of creativity in people, called the Creative Quotient, with no real success. It may be they were just trying to be too intelligent about it. Certainly not a problem here...

Maybe we can only measure our creativity in relation to other things. The Creative Value Quotient (CVQ), takes into account how we've made our way to wherever we are and to what extent what you are good at overlaps with what the world thinks is good. This overlap, for lack of a better phrase, is called what you are good for. It speaks to the product of your creativity and how that relates to the real world. Everything is variable. What is of value to you and the world today may not be tomorrow. Add in the fact that everyone is different and pitfalls for some are nirvana to others and you'll see why an intelligent system of measurement is bound to fall short. The genius of CVQ measurement is that the value of your measurement is simply what it means to you. Not to others. And if the results are surprising or you don't like where your pin is stuck on the chart, then that gives you the reference metric to change that. Or not. It's very much a zen-like thing.

The results from this tool are interesting and equanimous. Because there is no bad or good. Some are very happy doing what we are good at with absolutely no consideration given to how much it fits in with societal values. Others feel the need to contribute to the extent we end up not doing what we are really good at but something else that is of value to others. Like a music composer who writes website code for a living. Or an artist who teaches children with difficulties to paint. There's no losers here. Just an awareness of stuff no one else would bother thinking about. Because that's what creative people do.

You'll get a more meaningful feedback score if you measure your CVQ well into your second childhood and while contributing on some level. Because chances are everything that will gel will have gelled by then. Attempting to get an accurate measurement while still in your Development Stage will see your attention diverted by dodging bright shiny objects that may be pitfalls. And waiting until you're a puddle may be a tad late. Because by then, where you are in relation to how your creativity overlaps with what society finds of value is something that doesn't really matter anymore. Except retrospectively. Not to say that retrospectively isn't interesting.

So there you go. Devise your own CVQ. Then, if someone asks you what you're good for you can whip out the printout and show them. Then you can serve tea. And eat cookies. And be friends. And write naughty limericks together... or watch cartoons...