6.6.03
Mickey Diety's
-- OR --
We Love to See You Genuflect
His hair wafts about his skull like scorching flames of hellfire. His vapid grin is demonic. The gilded prongs of a pitchfork pierce the earth in his honor. Even spookier: he dresses like a clown.

He may not seem like the most saintly sort, but believe it or not, McDonald's Minion of Meat, Ronald McDonald, has become Pope John Paul II's new sidekick. Well, sort of.

According to Tim Nudd's May 19 Shop Talk column in AdWeek (also available on Yahoo), the disciples of deep fried got together with Spain's Roman Catholic Church to sponsor the Pope's visit to the country, and in the process, thousands of souls were saved from gastronomical anguish (a.k.a. "That Yucky Tapas Stuff").

More than half a million worshippers shelled out $11 to $45 each to attend a "massive pray-in" with the Pope. Sure, the pontiff's entourage had come to bask in the Lord's healing light, accept the Lamb of God into their hearts, open their souls to the spirit, blah, blah, blah…but the swank "pilgrim's bags" distributed at the event made the arduous journey to the Madrid aerodrome truly worthwhile. The backpacks were stuffed with churchly tchotchkes including a CD, prayer book, rosary, a "You Will Be My Witness" tour cap and, you guessed it, "vouchers for dinner (a burger, fries, soft drink and an ice cream or baked apple pie) at McDonald's."

This sort of alignment is downright disillusioning, but to me, no more than the church has been in general. The thing is, while sanctimonious types readily condemn partnerships such as this one, between a profit-minded corporate entity and a non-profit religious institution, the truth is the Catholic Church is a business, too. The Pope wouldn't be traveling the world, essentially entertaining (OK -- enlightening -- whatever) stadiums full of followers if it weren't necessary to market Catholicism to rejuvenate its besmirched brand. In a sense, The Pope's a mascot just like Ronald McDonald.

In fact, it seems to me that the Church has long forgotten the wrathful response Christ had when he discovered his temple, or "house of prayer" had been turned into a "den of thieves" by moneychangers and dove hawkers. The next time you make a pilgrimage to NY's St. Patrick's Cathedral and walk out with a holy water filled snow globe and a sack of St. Patrick brand plastic snakes purchased at the gift shop located RIGHT THERE IN THE CHURCH, you'll see what I mean. That hypocrisy doesn't seem to keep the knee benders away, though.

At this point, the Church may as well seal the deal. After all, if you can't open your heart to a little arterial plaque, how can you expect to open it to Christ?

The possibilities are endless. First off, a few updates to that stale 'ol bible are in order:
  • Let's start with the ultra-antiquated creation story as told in Genesis: "And on the seventh day God ended his work which he had made; and he deserved a break that day at McDonald's."

  • The Gospels could use a jolt of modern day marketing, too. Take Mark Chapter 6: "Taking the five sesame seed buns and the two Filet-O-Fishes and looking up to heaven, he gave thanks and broke the buns. Then he gave them to his disciples to set before the people….They all ate and were satisfied."

  • Moving on to Exodus: "Thus says the Lord: Let my people go, so that they may worship me. If you refuse to let them go, I will plague your whole country with flame broiled Whoppers."

  • Chances are McDonald's will kill the idea about the Israelites worshipping false idols like the golden arches for fear of negative brand association.

    The bible is one thing, but in Catholicism, it's the religious rules and ritual that really count. How to excite parishioners? Why not spice up that bland unleavened wafer with a trinity of special sauces?
  • Newman's Own Balsamic VinRegret
  • Berry Blastism
  • Classic McMyrrh

    Then again, maybe aligning the church with a single man who spends most of his time hanging out with little children isn't exactly the best way to get back on track.

    (Not Poped-out yet? Check out The Lowbrow Lowdown coverage of how the Pope became an honorary Harlem Globetrotter!)



    Potent Quotables
    -- OR --
    Mascot Mutiny
    Like Churchill once said of Russia, Ronald McDonald is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigmatic beef-like substance. A May 29     Wall Street Journal feature (Ronald McDonald Is So Busy, But Just How Does He Do It? by Shirley Leung and Suzanne Vranica) shone the spotlight on the fast feeder front-man, but in the face of the Journal's dogged inquisition, his handlers defiantly kept Ronald's secrets under wraps.

    In fact, it seems no matter what they attempted to coax out of Ronald reps, the reporters were met with cryptic responses and canned Kroc-speak. How's this for McSpin? "Asked about Ronald's salary, McDonald's ducks the question. 'Ronald doesn't go out to work,' says Amy Murray, a director in U.S. marketing. 'He goes out to have fun.'"

    Hey, Ronald's such a douche, I almost believe that line.

    But I wanna know about his comrades -- you know -- the workin' stiffs like Grimace, Hamburglar, Mayor McCheese and that stupid bird thing. What's up with those guys? Somethin' tells me they're not too thrilled with peon pay and the occasional McNugget scrap. Pretty soon, those lowly workers just might strike. Then will come the demands: equal pay for equal hugs, guarantees of a grease-free work environment, and protections from work hazards like obesity, heart disease and stress injuries resulting from repetitive smiling.

    I'm not so sure, though. I mean, what good is an anti-corporate protest without any destruction of McDonald's property?



    Winter Blame Games
    -- OR --
    Fox Guards the Smokehouse
    Now that NYC Mayor Mike Bloomberg's controversial anti-smoking legislation has gone into effect, it's resulting in some unintended consequences: some folks are firing up the ol' cancer sticks even more. Chalk it up to reverse-psychology, spite, or the "Well, I'm already outside. I might as well have another smoke before I go back in" mentality. Either way, the ban may be influencing some New Yorkers to embrace the habit rather than kick it.

    Could it be that getting people to smoke more and therefore increase cigarette tax revenue was Bloomberg's intention all along? It seems about as far-fetched a conspiracy theory as one could come up with. That is, until you find out what the National Center for Tobacco-Free Kids is up to.

    The preachy anti-puffers are accusing The Lorillard Tobacco Company of purposely promoting teen smoking through Lorillard's youth smoking prevention program sponsorship of ESPN's Winter X Games.

    "Big Tobacco is at it again and we need your help to stop them," proclaims the group's website,     SmokeOutESPN.com. I stumbled across it through a SmokeOutESPN.com banner ad running on Thesaurus.com. (How's this for coincidence: I happened to be searching on synonyms for the word "patronizing" when the banner appeared!)

    Also featured on the site is a form letter which addresses ESPN's president, George Bodenheimer, contending that Lorillard's anti-smoking program and its "ridiculous" tagline, Tobacco is Whacko, If You're a Teen, "makes smoking more attractive to teens striving to rebel and appear more mature."

    The letter goes on to state, "Recent studies have shown that tobacco industry 'anti-youth smoking programs' may actually encourage kids to smoke." Yeah, but the Hugs Not Drugs and Just Say No campaigns were so much more convincing.

    It adds, "Did you know that Lorillard is the manufacturer of Newport cigarettes, the brand preferred by a whopping 70% of African-American youth smokers? Now this is pushing it. Clearly if Lorillard aimed to target black kids, the X Games would not be the place to do it. Everybody knows you can't skate in Timberlands. Plus, that statistic seems wrong anyway; all the black kids in my neighborhood smoke Kools.

    Concludes the SmokeOutESPN.com plea, "Please don't be a party to this blatant ploy by Lorillard to reach kids." Man, you've gotta love this attitude. Imagine a campaign designed to attract kids that blatantly targets them. What a concept!

    Lorrilard's ButtOutNow site spotlights its youth smoking prevention program, including the TeenH.I.P. Grant Program which helps teens develop anti-smoking efforts. The site also offers games and ecards featuring copy such as "No thanks. I like my teeth pearly white not dingy yellow. Tobacco is whacko if you're a teen" and "If you start using cigarettes you'll wonder where the money for your stuff went."

    Ya know, it's organizations like the National Center for Tobacco-Free Kids that used to whine about the industry's sly marketing tactics influencing kids to try cigarettes. Now that big tobacco companies are doing what the anti-smokers demanded, they're accused of underhandedness again. Sure, Lorrilard's youth smoking prevention tagline may come off a bit more like an anti-smoking campaign parody than one actually intended to curb tobacco use, but it's no more lame than most of the other anti-drug, -tobacco, -unprotected sex, -whatever campaigns out there.

    Slogans and taglines must encapsulate ideas in a generalized manner and must do so with pith and zip. So, by nature, they're prone to being somewhat glib and lacking in nuance. Granted, the Tobacco is whacko tag is not only unimaginative; it diminishes the issue's gravity. But then, so does thinking an anti-smoking campaign can combat the daily onslaught of peer pressures, smoking parents or other personalized influences.

    Oh, and printing an American flag on a pizza box will help fight terrorism, too.

    In essence, the tobacco industry has been compelled by the courts to condemn the very product that enables its existence. That alone defies logic. It's like hiring The Hulk to teach a course in anger management and then complaining that his heart's not in it. Duh. What it comes down to is it's not easy to coax kids not to do harmful things -- period. If it were, the marketing wizards at National Center for Tobacco-Free Kids would have done it already.


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