9.6.02
Legal Lactation
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The Defense Rests (in the Cupboard, not the Fridge)
Remember The Satanic Verses? Not many would if it weren't for Iran's Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini's insistence that the otherwise little known book's author and all those involved with its publication be sentenced to death because of its supposed affront to Islam and the Koran. Instead, thanks to the overblown significance the Ayatollah attributed to Salman Rushdie's novel, it became a world-renowned bestseller. Doh.

Could King VelVeeda be next in line to gain "Man Am I Lucky Somebody Hates Me" celebrity? Chances are, if the risqué and somewhat niche appeal of his creations is any indication, his work won't be embraced on a scale nearly as grand as Rushdie's. Still, if Kraft keeps hounding him with the trademark lawsuit it has against him, he's bound to sell a whole lot more of those dandy "Krapt, Eat Me" T-shirts for sale on his CheesyGraphics.com site.

As featured in The Comics Journal's August State of the Industry issue (Kraft vs. King VelVeeda by Michael Dean), Kraft alleges that lowly comic artist Stuart Helm's use of the King VelVeeda moniker constitutes as dilution of its Velveeta trademark, and a US District Court judge is backing the powdered cheese purveyors all the way. The judge "not only found sufficient merit in Kraft's suit to warrant a trial, he concluded that continued operation of the VelVeeda website would do 'irreparable harm' to the corporate giant and granted Kraft a preliminary injunction forbidding Helm from doing business under the King VelVeeda name while the matter was being resolved."

The thing is, 35-year-old Helm's been going by the VelVeeda name since he was 19. He bemoans, "Many of my comics, original pieces of art for sale, and portfolio can no longer be viewed because pieces were signed with that name."

The hapless Helm, who originally was under the misguided impression that he could defend himself against Kraft's seasoned team of lawyers (the company is owned by Philip Morris for chrissakes), has been saved by the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund*, a non-profit org that defends First Amendment rights of those in the comics industry. As a result of the injunction, Helm has slapped a "Censored by Kraft" banner on every instance of the King VelVeeda name.

The main question is, what constitutes as trademark dilution? According to the article, The recently established Federal Trademark Dilution Act of 1995 describes trademark dilution as "the lessening of the capacity of a famous mark to identify and distinguish goods and services regardless of presence or absence of competition."

From the looks of things, it all comes down to sex and drugs. While in certain cases, courts have deemed PG-rated parodies of trademarks as harmless, those involving sex or illegal substances have garnered dilution status. It turns out, as reported by The Comics Journal, the Velveeta name has been used in all sorts of unsanctioned ways, by rock bands, websites, comedy troupes and even alt.sex.bondage newsgroup regular, Countess Velveeta.

Man, Kraft sure is off the mark with this one. I mean, what a complete waste of time, effort and money! Not only is the company picking on a weakling who's lucky if he makes a poverty-level profit off of his VelVeeda-labeled art work each year, Kraft actually believes that people might be confused into thinking that King VelVeeda has some sort of affiliation with its processed cheese food product. That's like saying the pathetic display of ineptitude perpetrated by Axl Rose and his poseur posse at this year's MTV Music Video Awards had any affiliation with Guns N' Roses.

Rather than simply ignoring Helm's obscure and overwhelmingly inconsequential artwork, the Kraft brand bullies have given the feeble King Velveeda a forceful and influential adversary bent on his destruction. This can only lead to the exact opposite of the desired outcome that prompted Kraft's actions in the first place: The underdog is made effectual, bolstered by this fresh jolt of acknowledgement and invigorated by his otherwise nonexistent supporters. Is it any wonder, according to the story, "Helm's site is up considerably from the approximately 350 hits a day it drew before the suit"?

When you think about it, the situation is a bit ironic, considering the fact that so many companies are actually paying morons to change their names to those of their brands. If Kraft's PR and marketing folks had any ingenuity, they'd embrace King VelVeeda and use his underground credibility to ascend Velveeta to true cult cuisine status. I can see it now: King VelVeeda starring in his own adult-aimed animated Cartoon Network cooking show featuring Velveeta-centric recipes.

Then again, I don't think Velveeta goes too well with humble pie.

*Notice: The author of this column is a financial supporter of the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund.



Advertising. Genius! Thank You.
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Do I Have to Memorize the Registered Trademark, Too?
"I'll be the Mom!" shouted one kid. "I wanna be the son," blurted another.

The swarm of kids at the next table were attempting to occupy their time while waiting for their food to arrive by playing house. I was sorry they hadn't decided to see who could hold his breath the longest, but at least they showed some imagination.

And then one of the little buggers yelled, "I get to be the TV!"

"The TV?" I questioned incredulously. "What the hell? The TV is part of the family now? Nice."

Don't get me wrong. I'm not one of those anti-television zealots, but I like to think that our culture hasn't completely degenerated to the point where the boob tube maintains equal standing with the sibs. Still, I am the same dope whose favorite childhood game required participants to run around the yard while being chased; the only way to escape being tagged the dreaded "It" was to say the name of a television show nobody else had mentioned yet. I showed such prowess at playing TV Tag, I'd even sing the shows' theme songs just to infuriate my opponents. "Come and knock on my door...."

So, while perusing my local paper, I was pleased to see that kids at a summer camp nearby were engaging in something a bit more tasteful: theater. Then I read on. According to The Jersey Journal's 8/15 report (Bayonne campers are real class act), thanks to a "real-life actor" from Jersey City, NJ named Kim Snyder, boys and girls from the Bayonne Jewish Community Center's summer camp got to act out a few lines in front of a camera just like the pros. This time, however, it wasn't a scene from Our Town or A Raisin in the Sun, or even an episode of The Simpsons. It was a Mountain Dew commercial.

Ten-year-old camper Jared Goldberg had the privilege of appearing in the mock spot during which he pretended to be a parched desert wanderer. "Amazingly, a can of soda appears out of nowhere," notes the article. "Jared seizes it, pops it open and downs the contents. 'Yahoo!' he shouts. 'Mountain Dew.'"

I'll admit: that does take talent. Still, it makes sense that camp counselors decided to go with the action-driven Dew ad as opposed to one of those dialogue-heavy Hot Pockets spots.

"Daylon Coles, 11, of the Golden Door Charter School, Jersey City, said he liked reading a commercial for McDonald's, but added that 'acting is hard to do.'"

Yeah, right, kid. Try thinking up ways to dupe people into eating that sludge.

Richard Dwyer, a representative of the workshop's sponsors, Public Service Electric & Gas and the Bayonne Education Foundation, asserts that the program "was offered to 'give students a sense of direction and purpose in exploring careers in the creative arts.'"

Hmmm…I could have sworn it was intended to give students a sense of purpose in exploring their futures as brand loyal consumers of mass marketed pap.

Hey, at least this little foray into commercial acting indicates a trend towards realism in artistic education. It's best to squelch those grandiose dreams of dramatic stardom before delusion takes over completely. After all, the wee thespians ought to resign themselves early on to the fact that the best they can hope for is a role as "Cashier #2" in some locally run cable ad.

My initial reaction is "only in Jersey". To be serious, there are so many things that disturb me about this, I'm not sure where to start. First of all, the fact that this news story was presented without any acknowledgement of the controversy surrounding the events that took place is astounding. Did no one see the inappropriateness of teaching impressionable youth to equate advertisement scripts, the sole purpose of which are to sell products, with emotional, self-expressive, dramatic dialogue?

Could it be that all adults involved place commercial advertisements on the same cultural level as traditional drama? Were no alternatives to this blatant display of consumerism considered?

And let's not forget that at least a couple of the ads used in this supposedly educational workshop were for unhealthy products like sugar-laden soda and high fat McDonald's foods. Apparently camp counselors haven't heard about the growing backlash against marketing this stuff to kids.

My guess is that the folks who developed this program hoped to get the children excited about something vaguely refined or cultured, and the only way the unimaginative clods knew how was to involve two of kids' favorite things: television and junk food. It's no wonder they threw in a little product placement for good measure -- otherwise how could the youngsters relate?

Just think…now all those failed script writers working in advertising can finally see their works come to life onstage.

According to anonymous Lowbrow Lowdown sources, next summer's musical appreciation workshop at the kiddie camp will feature renditions of the Oscar Mayer Bologna Song, Nelly's racy Hot in Herre and the lesser known Let's Get Pregnant by the Dwarves (complimentary condoms will be made available upon request).



Babes in Ployland
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Miscarriage of Marketing
There's so much pressure on parents these days to prepare children for their lives ahead. Often instilled or reinforced by the media and marketers, guilt drives the 'rents to spend on everything from Romance Language flash cards and theremin lessons to exotic fruit tasting classes and mock stock trading sessions.

So, it should come as no surprise that mommies and daddies are now helping to prepare their tots for the commercial world they've been born into.

An 8/19 Advertising Age article reports that "outdoor-media company, Nytmedie, started giving Danish parents of newborns free use of a top-quality baby carriage if they agree to push it around Copenhagen with a corporate sponsor's logo on the buggy's side." Needless to say, the next stop for the baby branding buggy brigade is none other than the commercially crazed US. Nytmedie is setting its sights on Germany, the UK and the rest of Scandanavia, too.

As noted in the piece, mamas and papas are clamoring to get their diaper pin pricked fingers on the carriages. However, the free wheels come with strings attached. "Parents who sign a sponsorship contract also become members of a club, authorizing release of their data to companies that supply baby products and services."

Well, if anything, at least these promotional vehicles are free. Most people are gullible enough to actually shell out hard earned cash for stuff emblazoned with brand logos, like baby clothes and those teensy weensy little swoosh sneakers.

Who knows? Maybe by the time these babies have their own babies, their kids' first words will be brought to the parents by whatever company sponsors Junior's nine months in the womb. Won't those "Baby's First Sponsor" photos be adorable?



The Long Arm of the Logo
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You Have the Right to Remain Signage
Face it. Unless it's a candy sample from the Godiva shop or a cocktail from your favorite bartender, free stuff is usually worth what you paid for it.

Just think of all the "complimentary" junk you've received over the years. It's all garage sale fodder at this point. The picnic cooler you got from the bank as a gift for opening a money market account is this ugly green color and the cover never seems to stay on snugly. Those free drinking glasses the local gas station awarded you with your 100th gallon of gas are already chipping and they've got these stupid flowers all over them. And those free towels you got from the grocery store when you signed up for a shopper club card are covered with icky nubs of lint after just a couple of washes. Sure, you use the freebies from time to time, but they're rarely on par with what you'd choose were you to actually purchase those items.

Of course, when it comes to the more expensive things, you've got to plunk down your own cash for it. Either that, or it could be free and adorned with ads.

Take Springfield, Florida's latest round of cop cars. That's right. They'll soon be plastered with logos as featured in an 8/26 ABCNews.com story, but they'll only cost the city a measly buck each.

According to the article, Charlotte, N.C.-based Government Acquisitions "hopes to provide a new squad car for each of Springfield's 15 officers within the next three years."

Police Chief Sam Slay and Mayor Robert Walker have both touted the program's savings to the city of about $500,000 total. With names like those, one wonders who got these two into office -- Louis L'Amour?

After doing a bit of investigatin' The Lowbrow Lowdown bird dogs discovered that (big surprise) a NASCAR fan is behind this porcine promo experiment. The idea came to Mooresville, N.C. Police Capt. Leon White during a "race week" day dream. As noted in a 6/2 interview for American City & County, he'd just finished reading an article about a race team when he found himself wishing his department had a larger auto fleet. He "thought we could get some of the sponsors for the race cars to get us some cars. We could give every officer a take-home car and put more officers and cars in the communities for quicker response times." Apparently he approached marketing firm Government Acquisitions with his swine ride idea and the rest is history.

Wow! What a concept! Maybe he can get his belly sponsored too. That way he wouldn't have to pay for his morning cruller.

Although it's not clear whether the Florida deal will work the same as White planned for Mooresville, he hoped NASCAR advertisers would donate the vehicle models driven by the racers the advertisers sponsor. And in Mooresville, alcohol and tobacco advertisers are out.

"[If we get M&M, Ken Schrader's sponsor, to donate a car, it would be a Pontiac, and it] would go in the school system for the school resource officers," White gleefully forecasts.

I give 'em a year or two before public school buses get slapped with logos.

He continues, "Can't you just see those kids coming out if you put that M&M car at the door? Those kids will want to see the car and the officer." Hmmm…what was that they used to tell kids about taking candy from strangers?

This sort of government sponsorship deal is an extension of the sorts made between advertisers and public schools, parks and stadiums. Still, this is one that will be made much more conspicuous to all townsfolk, leading to possibly greater implications.

I wonder, for instance, about the contract stipulations. Will a police officer in a Pepsi-sponsored vehicle be penalized for guzzling Coke? Is it really appropriate to have a cop respond to a spousal abuse or rape call in a car plastered with Viagra logos? That's who sponsors racer Mark Martin's Ford.

And just think of how much fuel those car logos will add to the hot rodder instincts of the officers behind the wheel. Why do you think most of these people want to become cops in the first place?

Can you imagine what would happen were a Springfield or Mooresville cop to get caught on camera using excessive force against a citizen? The sponsors of that car would be backing out of the deal faster than a greased pig on a donut run. That way advertisers could go back to slapping their logos on more appropriate places, like the backs of drug-addicted celebrities and criminal sports stars.