2.7.01
Tunnel Vision Trainer Makers
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Tanked in the USA
It was game day. Acne-plagued stock boys in Jim Kelly jerseys slathered in anticipation. Front end managers donned dangly Bills helmet earrings in honor of the occasion. On this day, the Buffalo Bills were to battle their arch rivals, the Miami Dolphins. I can still recall the Benedict Arnold accusations struck down by my irate grocery store manager. For I, the unwitting, apron-clad turncoat, wore a pair of Chuck Taylor All-Stars, aqua-hued: the color of the enemy. Hey, this was Bills country, and in Bills country, All-American just doesn't cut the Kielbasa.

Apparently, the "Made in the USA" label ain't cuttin' it for Converse any longer, either. As featured in the 1/23 Wall Street Journal story (Converse's Made in USA Ends Its Long Run, by Frank Byrt), the company has filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection, and "plans to seek court approval to become the licensor of the Converse brand shoes and let others do the manufacturing."

The shoe seller simply couldn't keep up with the times. At least, that's what Rick Burton, director of the University of Oregon's Warsaw Sports Marketing Center thinks. "They clung to 'Made in the USA' while the others were making their stuff offshore and cheaper," he reasons. So, now we can count on Converse chuckin' the Chucks license overseas to manufacturers with lower overhead, and chances are, lower labor standards.

Alluding to the competition, Burton adds, "Nike is always working to reinvent its products and its image, and I'm not sure Converse could keep up with that."

Man, is this news frustrating! The thing is, Converse completely missed the two point shot on this one. The company didn't have to woo overpaid Michael Jordan-wannabes or launch multi-million dollar ad campaigns. Consider the fact that Converse has been gettin' dissed in the b'ball world for decades now. Surely athletes and their devotees were not the target markets for Chuck Taylors in the first place. Think about it: Converse had an established brand, recognized the world over for its classically simple style and American origin. Where was Converse when Nike became the scapegoat of anti-sweatshop protestors? Some strategic PR and a little grassroots organization could have spurred some serious loyalty and respect from our non-violent revolutionary comrades. If coupled with a well-aimed ad campaign placed in liberal-minded pubs like Utne Reader or The Nation, The All-Americans could have been all right. Better yet, Converse could have become the official sponsors of anti-globalization protests across the globe. I can see the new tagline now: Just Bomb It!

Potent Quotables
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Homophone Mishap
How about some fun with typos, folks? The 2/1 edition of Larry Chase's Web Digest For Marketers assures us, "While the world may not throw rose pedals at your feet wherever you roam, it's still fun being an author." Sure, Jim, just make sure you don't rely on spell-check to do your editing.

Doral Wants You
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Amber Waves of Tobacco
Dagnamit -- these kids today, I just don't get 'em! If they ain't playin' that damn Bald Eagle Rescue video game or leavin' their blasted Sacagawea dollars and state quarters scattered all over the living room, they're blarin' that gawdawful ragtime music and gibber-gabberin' on about Thomas Jefferson or this damn Aaron Burr feller. Aw cripes, it's enough to drive ya straight to your grave!

And now we've got this to worry about: the wise guys in marketing over at R.J. Reynolds have devised a collectible trading card promo that's sure to prompt patriotic youngsters to start puffin'. The tobacco tempters are puttin' trading cards with colorful pictures of scenes from all 50 states in packs of Doral cigarettes. And they say they don't wanna entice the wee-ones - ha!

Needless to say, Doral's trading card tactic has brought the anti-tabaccy folks out from the non-smoking section. In a 1/30 article on NewsMax.com, American Lung Association spokesman, Paul Billings bemoans the campaign: "It's despicable…but not surprising, unfortunately."

Jan Smith, RJR spokeswoman retaliates by claiming that the cards "have no connection to youth smoking, period." Apparently, Doral conducted a study of its customers which found that many of them are collectors. (The Lowbrow Lowdown lackeys know that "collection" is just a euphemism for "fire-hazard.") Well, according to the RJR site, this survey strategy is nothing new for Doral marketers; in fact, it's a component of the firm's "award-winning interactive relationship-marketing program." As noted on the site, "Adult smokers come in regular contact with the brand…acting as a large focus group to enhance the brand." It seems as though these cig-promoters go all out for loyal Doral fans. RJR has invited customers "to its 'hometown' the grounds of RJRT's Tobaccoville manufacturing facility" where folks hoe-on-down with casino games, hot-air balloon rides, bowling and live music.

So, this trading card giveaway appears to be an extension of Doral's successful brand immersion techniques. RJR spokes-chick, Smith, insists the cards go "perfectly with [Doral smokers'] general interest in collectibles, plus their interest and pride in the heritage of their hometowns."

John Banzhaf, executive director of Action on Smoking and Health begs to differ. In the NewsMax story he assures, "I know very few people my age who collect cards. I know a lot of teen-age kids who collect cards." Hmmm…let's disregard the fact that Banzhaf hangs with teenagers, and concentrate on the fact that he's missing the point. First of all, countless adults are collectors of everything from baseball cards and vinyl records to Limoges porcelain boxes and T'ang Dynasty vases. The Doral doubters are so focused on the format of the giveaway, they've disregarded its content. These are pictures of scenes from the 50 United States we're talkin' about here, not phallic cartoon camels, bubblegum boy bands or cuddly critters. I dare Banzhaf and the American Lung Association's Billings to find one child who can name all 50 states, much less wants to collect a bunch of cards depicting them. Anyway, any young'un with half a brain knows that Dorals are totally lame; Camels, Newports and Marlboros are what the cool kids smoke.

What Would Jesus Think?
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Promotional Prophets
Every town's got one: you know, the guy in the trench coat who loiters outside the local movie theater, bearing a cardboard sign that reads, "Hollywood Smut: Go Home!" or "Romantic Comedy = Porno in Disguise" or the old standby, "John 3:16." Well, my hometown had one anyway. Hey, you had to give him props for takin' his message to the streets. The thing is, a spooky dude and a sign ain't enough when it comes to counteracting the evil lurking behind the curtains at the Cineplex. Sometimes if you can't beat 'em, it's better to join 'em.

That's what Cloud Ten aims to do. The Toronto film studio has rigged a grass roots marketing campaign for its preachy flick, Left Behind, that would put Al Sharpton and Ralph Nader to shame. Of course, the fact that the movie is based on a best-selling book (also titled Left Behind) gave it a head start. Still, the way in which Cloud Ten was able to rally the troops of Christian soldiers could make a believer out of anyone. With VHS and DVD copies of the film in hand, the movie-makers approached churches, bookstores and Christian groups, calling on them to spread the good word, and raise a buck or two to help promote the $17.4 million picture once it hit the theaters. All in all, about 700 congregations decided to sponsor the film in local movie houses, according to a 1/31 Yahoo! News article.

As noted in another 1/31 Yahoo! story, Cloud Ten's self-proclaimed "crazy visionary," Paul Lalonde "reckons 'Left Behind' has had the equivalent of $50 million in support…and he said he's only spent about $7 million on marketing."

The film, is an apocalyptic tale which revolves around "The Rapture" during which true believers ascend to heaven to escape the wrath of the Antichrist. Baby-faced, 80s sitcom star, Kirk Cameron plays "tough TV journalist Buck Williams." Man, if that doesn't that sound like a porn name, I don't know what does. Come to think of it, isn't Cameron an odd choice for leading man of a family-friendly film such as this? After all, when he starred on Growing Pains, wasn't his character's best friend named Boner? Either way, undisclosed Lowbrow Lowdown sources reveal that the sequel, already in production, will truly rock the ages (working title: Left Behind II: Biblical Boogaloo).

If the popularity of such religion-ridden smut-combatants as 7th Heaven, Touched By an Angel, and South Park's Jesus and Pals is any indication, Left Behind could become a money-maker. The question is, could it be a converter? Just think, if John Travolta's Battleship Earth had actually managed to convert its entire viewing audience, we'd have three or four more Scientologists running around these days. Yikes!

Branding the Bull
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Herd Head Rush
It incites riots. It's been known to harm small children. No, it's not the WTO, but it certainly is controversial. It's the pithy elixir of choice for tongue-pierced teens and easy-ridin' bikers from across the globe. It's Red Bull, and its brute market force is a testament to the fact that substance is…well…secondary.

Never mind what some consider an icky taste, Red Bull has come to be recognized as an invigorating energy drink as well as a love potion and mind sharpener. People dig it; in fact, as featured in the 2/2 Salon.com coverage, since its introduction to the U.S. in 1997, Red Bull's sales have doubled every year. The thing is, as the article insinuates, the li'l silver and blue cans may be filled with nothing more than glorified sugar water spiked with caffeine. Whether the sinewy syrup's popularity is based on psychosomatics or the actual potency of its components, it's got loyal drinkers running their mouths off like so many Spanish bulls.

Consider the fact that some nuts believe there's bull semen in the stuff. According to the story, "Rumors that the energy drink's signature ingredient, "taurine," is produced from bull testes have created a stir around the product." It's also been christened "legal cocaine" by the overgrown frat boys who frequent London's financial district pub, The Pitcher and Piano. Apparently they've grown quite fond of a Red Bull and Vodka cocktail. (Anonymous Lowbrow Lowdown sources report that this particular potion has yet to be named: how about The Date Rapist?) It seems as though the stockbrokers who hit the bar on Fridays appreciate the euphoria induced by the concoction. Quoting a London Times article, the Salon piece notes "that since the Pitcher and Piano opened a year ago, police have reported a sharp rise in violent incidents and have set up a special Bishopsgate patrol to deal with stockbrokers crazed by Red Bull and vodka." One wonders if the stockbrokers would be so stoked on the drink if it were called Red Bear.

Don't be fooled into thinking that Red Bull relies on word-of-mouth marketing and nothing else. Brand interaction is definitely a factor. In conjunction with strategically placed stickers, cross-promotions, oversized Red Bull can displays and contests that award bartenders and wait-staff with prizes and trips, "Marketing geared toward nightclubs and adult drinkers and the extreme-sports events that Red Bull produces…work to cement the association between Red Bull, danger and drug highs."

The Red Bull website highlights two such events: The Red Bull Mountain Mayhem bike race in Britain and The Red Bull Huckfest in Utah during which "The Big Air Gods granted penance and smiled upon Little Cottonwood Canyon with a delightful afternoon of Red Bull and Hucking." I guess "hucking" is "The act of throwing oneself freely without fear or reservation)." Hmmm...I wonder how many Red Bull imbibers hucked themselves towards the toilet bowl after one two many cans.

It amazes me how folks will ingest just about anything, as long it's presented attractively and marketed effectively. I'm still waiting to hear the rumors about Red Bull's ability to ward off Mad Cow disease. Red Bull and Mad Cow: It's what's for dinner.

Merchant Malaise
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Sellin' Out in The Big City
Do you remember that dweeb who decided to change his name to DotComGuy and live in seclusion for a year, his only connection to other life forms being through the Internet? Unnamed Lowbrow Lowdown sources assure us, he ordered Vaseline and tissues by the caseload. Well, if you thought he was pathetic, check out this deluded dolt:

Twenty-three-year-old idealist Michael Mandiberg has been confronted with the disillusionment of reality. As featured in the 2/5 Industry Standard brief, the Web designer is anxious about "selling out" now that he's living in New York City. He whines, "When you come to New York, you have to turn yourself into a commodity." (Hmmm…and all this time I thought you had to turn yourself into a progressive liberal.) Well, now Mandiberg's bought in to the sell out hype.

Although he refers to potential shoppers deridingly as "young fashion fascists," this clothes horse definitely has a penchant for top-of-the-line, brand-names himself. Yes, According to the Shop Mandiberg site, by purchasing items including a Panasonic CD Player, Brooks Brothers plaid summer sport coat, Adrienne Vitadini zebra-print bag, Body Shop ionized mud mask or Frank Eastern ergonomic chair, shoppers can "undo the work [he] did in building [his] object based identity."

Who does this guy think he's fooling with this ascetic shtick, anyway? If he truly believes that these items are worthless, and only hold value in a warped consumer culture such as this, why are they for sale? Wouldn't it be more appropriate to give these things away? In essence, by promoting himself and his personal effects as commodities, isn't Mr. Mandiberg engaging in the crass commercialism that he claims to eschew?

I mean, c'mon, it takes a lot of nerve for a guy who owns mud mask and a zebra striped purse to portray himself as an anti-consumer. Something tells me if and when Mandiberg actually does rid himself of his worldly possessions, he'll be curled up in fetal position and cowering in a corner of the nearest Abercrombie and Fitch within hours.