10.5.01
Cold War Leftovers
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Attack Shack

Your Kevlar suit is expected to arrive any day now. Your gas mask is securely fastened. Your basement larder is stocked with turkey jerky, bottled water, canned veggies and a few cases of Little Debbie Star Crunch Cosmic Snacks. (After all, what's the point of surviving an attack if there are no more Star Crunch treats to be had?) You've even got that generator leftover from the disappointingly insignificant Y2K event. Still, you're missing something. A-ha! You haven't reserved your accommodation at the old Kelvedon Hatch Secret Nuclear Bunker!

There are still over 100 seats available in the Brentwood, England facility, according to 9/26 Yahoo! News coverage. "The 30,000 pound ($44,260) admission fee guarantees you a spot for the next 10 years in a Cold War bunker designed to withstand nuclear, chemical and biological warfare."

The thing is, bunker owner and farmer Mike Parrish won't allow just anybody a spot in his countryside refuge. So, survivalist wannabes will be interviewed to assess compatibility.

"In a tight community for an indeterminate time you need a wide variety of skills -- cook, bottle washer, comedian and electrician," asserts Parrish in the article. "The comedian would be there to keep us all amused. Boredom would weigh heavily on us in the bunker." Anonymous Lowbrow Lowdown sources reveal that Bill Maher and Yakov Smirnov are strictly prohibited from bunker admission. One undercover Lowbrow Lowdown Lackey reports, "Yeah, the farmer guy said something about not wanting any 'goddam pinkos' in his bunker. Then he mumbled something about fat chicks."

Sure, farmer Parrish is picky, but this is a bunker even Robin Leach would be proud to hole up in for awhile. As noted on the official Kelvedon Hatch Secret Nuclear Bunker website, the dormitory of defense was built in 1952 by Britain's Air Ministry. The bunker consists of three "huge" floors, and its walls are "protected from a possible nuclear attack by 10ft thick reinforced concrete walls, not to mention blast doors made from tank metal." Supplies and generator fuel are abundant.

There's no need to wait for nuclear annihilation to visit the bunker, though. This joint's open for business as a tourist attraction year round. It's available for parties, business conferences and as a film location. Plus, there a "dressing up area where you can try on military uniforms and gas masks!"

Hey, advertisers couldn't ask for a more captive audience than the future residents of the Kelvedon Hatch haven. I wonder if any sponsors have expressed interest in branding the bunker. Besides the benefits of having the post-apocalyptic market cornered, the tagline possibilities are endless. Revive an old campaign: "Not goin' anywhere for awhile? Grab a Snickers." Revamp a current one: "At McDonalds, we love to see you survive nuclear holocaust." Or, go for the realistic approach: "Coke -- there are a few cans left intact somewhere."

Potent Quotables
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Capitol Commercialism

Folks who think a U.S. National I.D. card is a scary thought may want to consider what else the feds are considering these days. As featured in a 9/27 Wall Street Journal brief, former IRS commissioner, Daniel Alexander refers to Roth IRAs and Archer Medical Savings Accounts, commenting, "Since we can't keep politicians' names out of the Internal Revenue Code and our surplus is disappearing, how about getting needed revenue by auctioning naming rights to Code provisions? Naming rights might be marketed for five-year terms (or until repeal), and bidding should be brisk for the desirable provisions."

John McCain's neck hair must be bristling.

The question is, why stop at IRS provisions? Why not auction off the names of all bills introduced in congress? Surely when bills like the Merck Prescription Drug Affordability Act, The Coca-Cola Strong Bones, Strong Minds School Lunch Act and the BP Pipeline Safety Act are introduced, there won't be any conflict of interest. Man, I can't wait 'til some senator gets slapped with a "defamation of brand" suit when he announces that the McDonald's Stop Childhood Obesity Act is prejudice against fat kids.

Appellation Saps
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Call Them Crazy

If you're a music fan, there's a good chance that the phrase "that'd be a great name for a band" has crossed your lips many a time. Friends and I used to keep a mental list of potential band names, but sadly, my favorite, John Cougar Concentration Camp, has been taken for quite some time. While bands often come up with their names during drunken discussions of obscure sci-fi flicks or while working day jobs at Kinkos, corporations sometimes go through a much more stringent process of nomenclature determination. It usually costs a lot more, too.

As featured in a September 2001 Business 2.0 piece, there are "dozens" of consulting firms that specialize in name creation, including Landor, A Hundred Monkeys and NameTrade. "Name audits" are performed on the basis of linguistic attributes, sound symbolism, multilingual functionality and potential trademark infringement.

Business names can cost $25,000 to $60,000, or more, depending on the name consulting firm. The naming fee for HP's spin-off, Agilent ran around $1 million. (Something tells me the most agile aspect of that deal was displayed in the naming consultant's invoicing capabilities.)

Although some companies derive names through computer programs, many employ human linguists, a.k.a. "namers." NameTrade's Athol Foden maintains, "Computers don't get the nuances, the subtle connotations of words." He's right. Take the nuances between the words extravagant and unnecessary, for instance.

When Boston office supply company, OfficeTempo realized that "potential customers frequently assumed it was a temp agency," the firm called on NameTrade. The goal was to come up with a name that expresses "ease of use, technical superiority, and quality".

So, what did NameTrade come up with? "Apropri," "Kivero," "Semprio" and "Spirigo" were the four finalists. Semprio was the overwhelming favorite, apparently because its "dactylic rhythm pattern begins with a surge of energy, then continues with two unaccented syllables, suggestive of confident completion or peaceful repose," according to NameTrade's spin.

I chalk this phenomenon up to the Web. Just think of all the companies that have sprung into being whose PR firms can't even clearly communicate their mission. It's no wonder they can't come up with names on their own. Now, thanks to the rise of firms with amorphous titles like Lycos and eBay, companies are bombarding consumers with unmemorable, meaningless names developed by namers, i.e. people who glorify their lack of spelling skills as a marketable talent. I mean, what is with this onslaught of made-up names -- Semprio? Cingular? Verizon? Accenture? It's as if George Bush and Don King compiled a dictionary for chrissakes!

These names may have some benefits, though. NameTrade's Foden suggests that custom-made monikers have no "connotative baggage," thus allowing for wide open business and branding possibilities. Yet, one wonders, now that companies across the globe are tightening their budgetary belts, where will naming consultants find their future clients? My guess is in the obstetrician's office.

Registering High on the P.C. Scale
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Capitalizing or Capitalism?

Suddenly, in the last few weeks, the lives of Americans have become enshrouded in fear: the fear of further attacks against innocent civilians, the fear of weakened civil liberties, the fear of a global recession. Call me misguided, but one of the things I fear most right now is the triumph of politically correctness over honest realism.

Advertisers, PR firms, the media and the mass public all seem to be succumbing to their guilty consciences. Campaigns are being put on hold. PR reps have been rendered speechless. Practically every company that has contact with the public, from the champions of "unreality" at Nick at Nite to sporting goods retailer Modell's is rewrapping its message in the swaddling clothes of sorrow. Still, a handful of firms have disregarded the obligatory decorum of the day, and instead tailored overt marketing messages directly to the events of September 11th and the ensuing "War on Terrorism."

Visionics is one such firm. The facial recognition technology company distributed a press release on 9/24 which the typically irreverent UK pub, The Register, has deemed exploitative.

"We've heard of price gouging by retailers of American flags, 'Infinite Justice' mouse pads, and Bin Laden bin liners," writes the IT-focused e-zine in a 9/26 tirade, "but face recognition outfit Visionics takes the prize for bottom-feeding on America's bereavement, fear and anger."

The Visionics release promotes a white paper entitled, Protecting Civilization from the Faces of Terror: A Primer on the Role Facial Recognition Technology Can Play in Improving Airport Security.

"Terror is not faceless," assures Visionics chairman and CEO Dr. Joseph J. Atick in the release. In order to implement a network of "intelligence-based identification systems," he argues, a "scalable platform which can tie into unlimited number of cameras and into a wide network of intelligence databases" is needed. Atick concludes, "Our Biometric Network Platform does exactly that."

In its disapproving diatribe, The Register condemns Visionics' legitimate marketing/PR effort, lumping it in the same category as the sale of frivolous junk like "'Infinite Justice' mouse pads and Bin Laden bin liners." Yes, it's an opportune moment in history to be in the face recognition technology business, but should that inhibit Visionics from promoting a product that could serve the need for heightened airline security?

There is an array of corporate communications that has appeared during the last few weeks that I find far more offensive. Take MTV's words of regret trickling along the bottom of the television screen as hips gyrate, arses jiggle and gold teeth glimmer above them. Or consider the radio ad that reminds me that the promise of a new tomorrow keeps America strong, and NY Lotto will be there when I'm "ready to dream again." In these cases, and countless others, companies whose products or services have no direct relation to the recent attacks or resulting events, are alluding to them in a thinly veiled attempt to tug the over-exposed heartstrings of a grieving public. There is no comparison between patronizing heightened emotions in order to sell lottery tickets or Yankees jerseys and demonstrating the availability of a product that has an actual purpose relative to the attacks and resulting events.

I'll admit, though, I'm still hoping to see 7-Eleven Uncle Sam Slurpees, Wheaties boxes featuring NYC Firemen and Ben & Jerry's Enduring Freedom Fudge Chunk hit the market soon.

Drug Bust
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Medical Books Get Cooked

Stuttering John letches unashamedly. "She's hot, but she's not P-P-P-Playboy material or anything," he opines. Ralph brings along a laser pointer and grins maliciously as he seeks out minute flaws. Ronnie the Limo Driver remains quiet for most of the session; finally he admits, "Hey, she looks pretty good to me." When Howard Stern and his show regulars gang up to analyze the attractiveness of female guests, they're brutally honest. It's too bad other peer reviews aren't such beacons of truth.

From The Academy Awards to fellow employee assessments, peer reviews are not always free of subjectivity. Unfortunately, the same holds true for clinical trials of drugs. A 9/15 Economist article reveals the corruption that's seeped into the peer review process relied upon by medical journal editors. Normally, journal editors must count on the veracity of the criticism provided by expert reviewers, and in turn, the integrity of the people penning the reports. And what those editors publish can have significant impact on a drug's future. The story states, "If published clinical trials establish a drug's safety and efficacy, doctors will eventually prescribe it. If not, it will be relegated to the laboratory's hazardous waste basket."

The Economist claims that drug companies often employ contract-research firms to perform drug trials. While this is cost efficient compared to academic reviews, it allows for some back-beaker deals. Sometimes agreements stipulate that only favorable results be published. Other times, report authors are not allowed access to full data sets. The thing is, there's an unwritten rule that "authors must genuinely have done the things they claim to have done" and "reviewers must show that they are able to assess the research as objectively as possible."

At a recent conference of medical journalists and researchers in Barcelona, the International Committee of Medical Journal Editors issued a statement saying they would "revise their publication guidelines to require that researchers disclose their sponsors' involvement to editors when they submit articles."

It takes a helluva lot more than a spoonful of sugar to help this news go down. I mean, whatever happened to scruples? Apparently, after countless, expensive in-house trials, drug companies have so few drugs that have market potential, they're willing to jeopardize lives. I mean, I thought it was bad enough when drug companies took doctors on golf outings and out for lunch, but this is too much. Well, I'll start to worry when my local herbologist insists that I take Golden Seal tablets because they're "Little. Yellow. Different."