4.25.03
Bar Stool Pigeon
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Tie One (Blue Ribbon) on
During my younger years back in Buffalo, six or seven bucks in my pocket on a Thursday night meant I could get tipsy on $1.00 Labatt Blues and maybe even have some change left over the next day. Of course, that was before I began referring to a six pack as a Starter Kit, and before I realized that Tipping is not a city in China (cheesy bar humor).

Had I not lived so close to Canada, that drink special probably would have been for some domestic brand, and in that case, I would have been quaffing that. Cheap beer is cheap beer, right? Maybe not.

Apparently Pabst Blue Ribbon has become a favorite among the stingy slacker set. In fact, according to a 4/20 Washington Post article, "Nationwide, grocery store sales of Pabst Blue Ribbon climbed 12 percent in the 52-week period ending in late November," and "Total sales have increased five percent over the past year."

PBR doesn't owe its recent sales surge to some insipid tagline, nor promo events featuring big breasted brand bimbos. This time the magic trick was making the marketing disappear. A virtually ad-free approach (PBR sticks mainly to local radio spots and alternative paper print ads) seems to have established PBR as the unpretentious brand du jour, especially in "areas popular among the throwback generation: the Pacific Northwest, New York and Midwestern urban centers like St. Louis."

"We want people to discover it," comments Pabst brand manager Neal Stewart. "We allow them to find that it's on the premises, that it's making a comeback. Our marketing is that we really facilitate what the market wants."

One example of that: in response to PBR appreciation among snowboarders, Pabst sponsors snowboarding videos and sells PBR-branded caps and jackets at production cost.

And who could forget the oft-repeated line from David Lynch's Blue Velvet in which Dennis Hopper's Frank Booth character derides his cohort's beer brand of choice by proclaiming, "Heineken? Fuck that shit! Pabst Blue Ribbon!" Surely an overzealous endorsement by a cult-fave like Hopper in a flick by a beloved underground director like Lynch has boosted the PBR panache among the indie faction.

All in all, the Wash Post article chalks up the brand's resurgence to "reverse psychology" by stating, "Young adults have taken to the beer because it wasn't forced down their throats." The author adds, "the materialism of many of today's counterculture youth…is meant to reflect the economics of 'reality,' of working-class thriftiness, of the notion of America at its best, at its most optimistic, at its blue-collar prime."

Awww...how romantic...and overblown. Not everyone chooses to swallow the swill simply to eschew consumer culture or appear down-to-earth. Oftentimes, the choice is based on actual budget constraints more than some desire to achieve pseudo truck driver status. Workin' man punk heroes, The Minutemen, referred to this sort of frugality as jammin' econo. No matter what one calls it, this supposed movement towards acting out Bruce Springsteen song scenarios ain't necessarily a façade. Sometimes folks just wanna get drunk without having to drain their wallets in the process.

To think PBR has a special cachet over any other sub-premium brand is to deny the reality that when it's available, it's usually the only el cheapo offering at the bar (plus, after a knockin' a few back, the aftertaste is barely even noticeable). Add Black Label, Miller High Life, or any other bargain-basement brand to the corner dive's brew menu and see how loyal the Blue Ribbon rebels really are.

Granted, plenty of gen-x subculture types use cans of cheap beer and John Deere ball caps as props to accessorize their carefully-crafted trailer trash costumes. Meanwhile, they can afford to live solo in killer NYC apartments in Park Slope or SOHO.

So much for keepin' it real, though. According to the story, The Pabst Brewing Co. finally got skunked a couple years ago; now PBR is made by Miller which is owned by South African interests. In fact, if Pabst fans tracked down the Milwaukee address featured on the beer's label, they'd end up at a post office box. Hmmm...it turns out the PBR brand might be better-suited for those poseur plebes than for their legitimately broke counterparts afterall.



War Shames
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Over-Iraq-tion
When U.S. General William Wallace admitted earlier this month that the enemy coalition troops were fighting was "a bit different from the one we war-gamed against," it didn't say much for the coalition's military strategy, nor the game developers.

It's too bad Sony has decided against creating a "Shock and Awe" game based on Operation Iraqi Freedom. Maybe a little Playstation rehearsing would have better prepared the Saddamy whammy-ers. According to a 4/10 MediaGuardian.co.uk story, the company filed a U.S. trademark application for the phrase, "Shock and Awe" for computer, video and Internet games.

Then came the tisk, tisk onslaught. As featured in a subsequent 4/16 MediaGuardian.co.uk article, consumers admonished Sony, calling the idea "disgusting and tasteless." One ruffled reactionary announced, "The concept that they've registered [the trademark] before the bodies have even been cleared from the battlefield, or before the war is even over, is out and out disgusting."

Mere days later, Sony rapidly responded to the influx of criticism, announcing it would withdraw the application. Sony called the idea "an exercise of regrettable bad judgment."

So, should Sony be vilified as a crass glorifier of the grave, in the same camp as alleged "war profiteers" such as Halliburton or Boeing? Sadly, before it even began, this war had become a facet of pop-culture, and its images the equivalent of digitized special effects in the minds of the average war watcher. To me, there's no difference between selling a video game that mimics the military maneuvers of the War in Iraq and selling the real thing on CNN. If the television news media stuck to serious coverage of all world events in lieu of their hyper-focused sensationalist celebration of the death and destruction taking place in a single country, maybe I'd think differently.

Come to think of it, when's the last time you heard someone complain that Milton Bradley or Parker Brothers are profiting off the blood of the victims of the Blitzkrieg or Bunker Hill?

It comes as no surprise that the public is up in arms over something they perceive to be so directly relevant to their lives today. The wounds are still fresh. Ask 'em how they feel when we're on to Syria or North Korea or some other military escapade years from now, and chances are they'll respond, "Operation Iraq-ah-wha? Let's play."

Hey, war games are here to stay, as is the reality that's spawned them all these thousands of years. Anyway, if the alternative is leftie anti-war games like Guess the Bush Malapropism, Gas-electric Hybrid Road Blasters and Pin the Tale on the Politician, I'll take the virtual blood and guts any day.



Traffic Spam
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Toll Cajole
The other day I skimmed an article about a veteran toll collector who'd been the victim of angst-ridden rubber-neckers over the years. Some cruel drivers even heated nickels and dimes with their cars' cigarette lighters before passing them on to the unsuspecting coin collector. (I can't resist: the money must have really burned a hole in his pocket.)

If the poor fellow were working in Maryland, though, he may be in favor of dealing with scorched coinage and bare-bottomed exhibitionists as opposed to losing a potential twelve-hour shift. The reason: if The Maryland Transportation Authority's summertime traffic-reduction scheme is a success, advertisers could be paying for car crossings.

As featured in a 4/2 Washington Post story, The MTA hopes advertisers will be willing to pay tolls for vehicles crossing the Chesapeake Bay Bridge between 7 p.m. Fridays and 7 a.m. Saturdays in June, which could convince miserly motorists to crossover during those off-peak hours and help thin out traffic jams which can snake up to 12 miles some weekends. Signs posted at toll plazas and tollbooths during the 12-hour period would alert drivers to the identity of their branding benefactors.

The Chesapeake Bay Bridge toll is $2.50 per vehicle, but interested advertisers will have to shell out $52,500 to $61,300 depending on the weekend. However, some magnanimous marketers need not apply: mainly purveyors of alcohol and tobacco. Oh, and ads depicting "violence, a crime, obscenities or anything offensive to a particular race, ethnicity, religion or sexual orientation" aren't acceptable either.

I guess that leaves out The Olive Garden.

Although the effort is meant to disperse traffic, Rick Huyett, vice president of Georgetown ad and marketing agency, The Ad Agency, admits in the piece that more traffic means more captive eyeballs because advertisers "would get more face time."

Overall, the plan boasts obvious benefits for drivers (who either get a free bridge pass or a less-congested ride) and for the MTA which gets guaranteed toll revenue during hours that otherwise brought in less robust returns. Plus, it's a lot less politically risky for the Maryland Government to raise advertiser fees than actual toll rates paid by constituents.

As for the added ad bombardment, there's a definite exchange of toll crossing for ad exposure here, so consumers will most likely be more than willing to accept the ads.

However, there's no way of knowing what kind of a mood drivers will be in when they associate sponsor brand with toll crossing experience. Adjusting taglines could do the trick:
  • "Got road rage? Thank Starbucks. We fuel your ferocity."
  • "Gotta piss? Thank Coke!"
  • "SUV envy got ya down? Thank Volkswagen. We can relate."


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