Another Queer Jewish Buddhist

A Sweet Jewish Buddhist New Year

Rabbi Alan Lew tells the story of how his friend, Norman Fischer came to visit him while Lew was studying at the Jewish Theological Seminary. Fischer had taken the Buddhist path and became the co-abbot of the San Francisco Zen Center. But that day he visited Lew, they went into the Seminary's synagogue and joined in prayer at the morning minyan. Lew was amazed to see the fervor with which Fischer davenned. He asked about it and Fischer replied:

"You know, Alan, now that I've done Zen meditation for twenty years, I could do this — I could practice ordinary Judaism — Torah, Shabbat, and Tefillah — and it would be enough. I wouldn't have to do anything else. But if I hadn't meditated for all those years, I wouldn't even know what this was — I wouldn't know how deep it was. I wouldn't know how utterly gratifying it is."

For those of you, who like me, are on this dual path of non-duality, I wish you the sweetest Jewish Buddhist New Year.

Zoketsu Norman Fischer. Photo by Laura Trippi. Creative commons usage.

WaMu, Obama & McCain, Bailouts and the Depression

Okay, this has been on my mind for months. Those WaMu ads with the cool black guy who isn't at all like those old white guy bankers who are out to take your money. I remember watching them and thinking about the demographic shift in the country. How all these Mr. Monopoly type bankers look like the Republican convention — old, rich and out of touch. And how the WaMu guy looked like "us" -- the average guy. Not so different from the Apple ads of Mac vs. PC really, young, hip, relaxed and oh, if you didn't notice, black. A brilliant execution of a common strategy to differentiate the product.

And then, as the primary season ended it looked like the election was in fact cast by the WaMu ad agency, with Obama as WaMu and McCain as those Mr. Monopoly old white bankers. Well, in some ways, McCain is Mr. Monopoly -- regulation be damned, the little guy be damned, let's take care of Keating, the S&Ls and oh by the way let's not regulate this bailout. Except in the real world, WaMu is a bank like all the others that has jumped off the edge of the building like a lemming following its greed. The campaign was just an advertiser's way of creating a non-bank image for another institution that didn't handle our money well. Still it was a good campaign, and now, both sociologically and historically interesting.

Citi tried to do something similar with their Live Richly campaign, which quite to the contrary of its critics, ran headlines that demonstrated Citi understood that the rich life was not about money, but about love, creativity, connection. They did it with words more than image though, it was an intellectual campaign, a cool campaign, like the client who bought it. I know the agency understood the message of connection and creativity as true wealth. And maybe even the marketing client understood it, but certainly what they also understood was that the creative strategy was a way to say something that differentiated the perception of the bank. However it didn't make a whit of difference to the behavior of the bank as we all know. 

So don't read anything into today's worst bailout of a bank since the last Depression (note I say last Depression because if you don't think we're headed for some seriously bad times, you should get off the Zoloft) with regard to their advertising and the outcome of either the bailout or the election. I simply point out the way race and age were used in the WaMu ads to define a difference. I'm curious to know the demographic of most of the customers those ads brought in as WaMu expanded like so many Duane Reades throughout Manhattan.

Tangentially, Duane Reade is also in trouble and has been for months. Like Starbucks, they have too many locations, paying too much rent, so they cut back service which makes people want to go to them even less. However, we have to go since they killed the small pharmacists. Grumble. Grouse. Curmudge.

I'm an Obama supporter, and a serious Democrat -- after all, I'm a queer Jewish Buddhist, which in Pastor Muthee's eyes makes me a witch and an agent of Satan. Truth is I worry for the country no matter who wins, since après Bush le déluge.

Advertising and the world financial crisis...

I've actually never posted an ad I've done here before. Usually I post ads done by others that I find interesting in one way or another and then write about it. But today I wanted to share an ad I did not so recently. In fact, this was during the last financial crisis, though nowhere near as dire as this one, at the time it looked pretty bad. We were doing a campaign for Citibank, selling credit cards to students — I know, you think that's like setting up a liquor store outside an AA meeting. Well, the idea of the campaign was educational. Students who signed on got a monthly credit education newsletter that taught budgeting, the ABC's of how interest rates work and how you can get in trouble. I wish someone had taught me that when I got my first card in grad school, since like so many others, I found myself in serious trouble in a very short time. After all, isn't a credit card a license to mint money? No. And neither is the U.S. Treasury Department a license for Wall Street to mint money. People keep saying they don't understand how this happened. That's really funny, since it was obvious from the moment the banks and investment houses were deregulated that we were headed for this moment.

Suck on this: Student ad portfolios...

Peter Kehr and Dan Kelly at the Creative Circus created a campaign for DumDums, the lollipops that are not marketed to adults. Except this campaign almost suggests they should be selling the suckers in some adult toy stores. Visually witty work that will never run. But that's not what is important here. It shows the sense of play that is so important in this business. Hat's off. Or Jump suits unzipped.

W.H.Auden, Cute Butts and Bicycle Seats

This TV Spot from the ever amazing team at Euro RSCG Paris brings to mind the couplet by W. H. Auden:

I've often thought that I should like
to be the saddle of a bike.

Exactly.

How to compute your age in ad-years: new site

I am horrified, and not surprised at all, to discover that according to this site I am 133 years old. This very funny quiz is a snobbish look at what makes a career. So that by adding years in direct marketing or in pharma advertising you add on decades to your age. I remember an old colleague saying that pharma is where you go in your career to die. Of course, this was from someone in direct, who hated being looked down on by the snotty boys in brand advertising. Go ahead if you dare, learn you age in ad years.It's the self promotion brainchild of a writer/art director team. Of course. It could only be an inside job.

When I started years ago at Compton (swallowed up by a boutique firm they owned a share in called Saatchi) there was a story about an account guy who had worked on Cunard's Queen Elizabeth cruise ship advertising for 10 years. Then he was transferred to Alpo. When asked how he felt about the switch to dog food, he replied "It's all dog food."

A funny and sad story. But for this copywriter, it's all about play. If you can't approach a creative assignment as a puzzle that's fun to solve, you don't belong in the business. Or that particular piece of business. No matter the discipline or the channel.

Queer Product Watch: Saks Fifth Avenue Ruby Slipper Collection...

Today's New York Times had an ad for a new collection of shoes from Saks: the Ruby Slipper Collection. Yes, you can see one of the original pair of pumps that graced St. Judy's feet in The Wizard of Oz — they're on display tomorrow through Sunday, September 14th.

And you can buy modern "reinterpretations" of this classic by a number of big name fashion folks (see Jimmy Choo's right). I don't think clicking your heels in them will get you anywhere. Well, they won't get you to Kansas, but then, who wants to go there anyway? They might get you onstage at Comix, where last night, along with an excellent set by Keith Price there was a less than excellent set by Hedda Lettuce (drag and volume is not enough, but maybe some red shoes to go with the green dress might have helped, then again, maybe not).

Which leads me to the question, will there be more gay men buying shoes at this show than straight women?

What's a QWERTY keyboard without an Option or Command Key: A Typewriter!

This lovely little ad for M&Ms utilized the ubiquitous qwerty keyboard to sell the candy maker's ability to produce custom candies. Except that the keyboard shown is rather retro — after all, without Control, Option, or Delete we're looking at the keyboard that could only be found on one of those marvelous old Royals, Olivettis, Coronas, not to mention Olivers, Hammonds and Empires. And of course, it will require a new slogan: Melts in your mouth, not on your fingertips.

Comrades: The Gay Chinese Film Festival in NYC this Weekend

One of the finest films on the subject of sexuality and oppression will be shown at the opening of the Chinese LGBT Film Festival, Friday at the LGBT Center in NYC. East Palace West Palace ranks up there with Genet's The Balcony as an examination of how sex, identity and power relationships are expressed not only in personal relationships but in polities. And it is an examination of how the state becomes a presence in the bedroom, and in the fantasies, of its citizens.

The story is simple: a policeman arrests and interogates a man who was cruising in one of Beijing's most notoriously busy public toilets. What happens is anything but simple and delivers an emotionally searing experience. The really amazing thing is that it got past the Chinese censors because they didn't understand how politically subversive the film is.

However, if you tend to like action films, East Palace West Palace is not for you. Like many foreign films, it moves slowly, developing a powerful emotional punch quietly. This is not the American was of film making, and for that reason, it didn't really find an audience when it had its theatrical release in NYC ten years ago.

This is a rare chance to see it again, in a room filled with Chinese gay men (be still my heart) who will no doubt be eager to talk about it afterwards with an intelligence and insight you won't have access to if you watch it at home on DVD alone.

I am only sorry to say that I am out of town this weekend, or I would be there myself to see the film again, and to enjoy the fantasy of finding a Chinese husband (you can apply here by emailing me anyway!).   

The Sexy Men of Venezuela: Are You My Angel?

If you aren't familiar with the annual Mr. Venezuela contest then you are truly missing one of the world's great expositions of male beauty. Here, for your pleasure, and for my hungry ghost, is Angel Casallas from last year's competition.

And as an angel, he brings to mind this beautifully wistful paean to male beauty, Allen Ginsberg's poem, A Supermarket in California:

   

What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for I walked down the streets under the trees with a headache self-conscious looking at the full moon. In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations! What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes! --- and you, Garcia Lorca, what were you doing down by the watermelons? I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber, poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery boys. I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my Angel? I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans following you, and followed in my imagination by the store detective. We strode down the open corridors together in our solitary fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every frozen delicacy, and never passing the cashier. Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in an hour. Which way does your beard point tonight? (I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the supermarket and feel absurd.) Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses, we'll both be lonely. Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage? Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher, what America did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and you got out on a smoking bank and stood watching the boat disappear on the black waters of Lethe.