Free TP!

Go ahead. Wipe your ass with me.

The impending initial public offering of Facebook has quite a few people talking about the company’s viability. Can they make their targeted advertising model a sustainable long term business? What happens if its users vacate the site en masse and head off to the next big thing? Well, if you want my opinion, sorry. I don’t have one. But the whole discussion has got me thinking about advertising in general, and I’ve developed my next brilliant idea in the process.

Here it is: Free TP.

Yep. That’s it. In the future, you can wipe your ass for free. And no more sandpapery one ply TP, either. Two-ply for all! Even the poorest folks will wipe like kings! Everyone will leave the restroom with a broad smile and a reduced fear of potential hemorrhoids.

And how will this be achieved, you ask? Simple. The same way that Facebook does it. Advertising.

That’s right, folks. One ad per square. Think about it. We’re talking about the rebirth of print ads here, a whole new era for old school marketing. After all, who doesn’t want some quality reading material while they’re doing their business? A captive audience of squatters will read more than just the slogan, they’ll read the details. And they’ll read them more than once, because they’ll be back in the same spot tomorrow, and twice on Sunday. What an opportunity to sell!

But wait, you say. What advertiser wants a picture of their product on a square of toilet paper? After all, you know where it’s going. That can’t create a positive image for the consumer. “Yeah right,” companies will argue. “I’m really going to encourage the consumer to wipe their ass with my product. Fat chance!”

You may be right. But I’ll argue that it’ll just take some time to catch on. And it’s not hard to pick the pioneers who will get the party started. Tums. Pepto Bismal. Metamucil. Preparation H. You think they won’t want a piece of this market? You bet your ass they will. From there it’s not a stretch to imagine Activia and Yoplait getting in on the action, too. The ads write themselves. “Having trouble? Try Yoplait and make the move to smooth.”

Grow a Beard, Mr. President

Michelle really likes it.

With the Republican primary voting now underway, it should be becoming more and more evident that the drama being reported by the mainstream media is just its endless attempt to add interesting plot points to the narrative of Mitt Romney’s obvious eventual victory. It should be, but it’s not. Why? Because Americans are all too happy to see a story where there isn’t one. They aren’t interested in politics, they are interested in sideshows.

Michelle Bachmann could be the first woman President! No she can’t. She believes you can cure homosexuality and that it’s OK to ban some books. Herman Cain! He’s the answer. 9-9-9! Yeah, right. Buy one pizza, get one free. What a joker. Newt Gingrich! He’s atoned for his past marital discrepancies and he’s a student of political history! Uhm…yeah. Unfortunately, he’s also a condescending prick. Rick Santorum! He’s surging in Iowa and he’s the social conservative we all need! Sorry. Rick Santorum worries that if we don’t reinstate sodomy laws people all over the country will start having sex with animals. Frankly, the only competing candidate that might have enough of a head on his shoulders to actually form and articulate a reasonable idea is Ron Paul, and the media isn’t even covering him. Why? Because he’s a boring old dude whose chief concern is monetary policy. What a snore!

But what happens when Mitt inevitably wins the nomination, the sideshows are over, and we settle into an actual discussion of the differences between Republicans and Democrats? Our incumbent President won’t have the same benefits that Mitt did leading up to his nomination. He’ll actually have to win on the issues. Unless…

Unless someone has a brilliant idea for how Mr. Obama can steal the scene with an interesting sideshow of his own. Someone who understands that getting elected has less to do with what you believe and more to do with how much attention you’re currently getting when people go to the polls. I’m here to tell you that I have such an idea. It’s an idea that will make the American people shift their focus from the issues directly into the face of our incumbent leader. This idea’s simplicity is its brilliance. Are you ready for this? Here it is: The President should grow a beard.

Now here me out. Don’t dismiss this. Imagine what would happen if the President walked on stage at the first debate with a huge, bushy beard. People would be flabbergasted! You can picture the reporting already:

“From NPR news, this is ‘All Things Considered,’ I’m Melissa Block.”

“And I’m Robert Siegel. We turn now to the presidential debates and political correspondent Cokie Roberts, who was present at last evening’s event. Cokie, let’s get to the most important question first: Just what are people saying about the President’s beard?”

Imagine the hallway conversations at work the next day: “Dude, did you see Barack’s beard last night? That thing is sweet.” It will quickly become a topic all its own. Imagine the newspaper headline and corresponding picture. Do you think the focus will be on clean cut Mitt Romney, or on Barack Obama? Alliteration opportunities alone will favor the incumbent: “Bearded Barack Battles Businessman.”

People will forget about the economy, the need for jobs, and the war in Afghanistan. They’ll just want to know more about the President’s beard. Reporters will ask him: “Mr. President, what inspired you to grow the beard?” And this is where the President can really take advantage of the situation. Here’s what he should do. First, stop for a minute and stroke that thing. Try to look thoughtful and presidential. Then, lean forward to the microphone, and just calmly say, “Well, Michelle really likes it.” Genius! It’s a win-win! Religious and conservative people will quietly commend him for doing something for his wife and marriage despite the pressures of leading the country. The rest of us will quietly assume that Michelle likes the way that thing tickles her thighs when Barack goes downtown. And who doesn’t like a virile President when the other candidate looks like he belongs in a Cialis commercial?

Comics will have a field day. Late night hosts will conduct mock polls asking voters who they would prefer: Mitt Romney or Barack Obama’s Beard? The beard will win in a landslide. Barack’s campaign managers will blanket the nation with fake beards for supporters to where to rallies. Celebrites will have their pictures in People magazine wearing them.

And the beauty of growing a big bushy beard is that you can make the story live on. At the next debate, simply trim it back and go for the goatee. Reporters will focus on it all over again. Imagine the television commentary as Barack enters the building: “And now as the President approaches the stage, one has got to wonder how Mitt Romney will attack him this…wait a second. Is that a goatee? The President has apparently decided to appeal to a younger audience this evening by trimming back his beard into a rather stylish goatee and…can we get a close-up here? Are those sideburns? Yes they are. Long sideburns. I wonder how Michelle feels about that!” The whispering and speculation will begin immediately. Sure, you might get some head shakes from the older crowd, but big deal? At the third debate you can trim it all back again and mount the stage with an old school mustache. You know, a real Wilford Brimley number. The folks down in Florida will love it.

Before long, the focus of everyone’s attention will be the President’s facial hair, and he’ll ride the momentum right into his second term. Mitt Romney will fade back into the shadows, desperately trying to remind everyone that he’s a business man and that the country needs some economic recovery. Perhaps he’ll try in vain to grow a beard of his own, but by then all hope will be lost. He’ll trudge off the stage and on to the speaking circuit, quickly being relegated to a footnote in history. People will forget his name. “Remember that dude that ran against Barack?” people will say years later. “What was his name again? That old dude who tried to grow a beard at the end? What a joker.”

Iowa Has a Huge Caucus

A man listens carefully while Iowa holds its caucus

If you’ve been listening to the news at all lately, then there’s no way you’ve been able to escape the constant stories about Iowa’s caucus. It really is a huge one, and the citizens of Iowa are quite proud of it. “Why shouldn’t we be proud?” asked one swaggering voter. “We have the biggest caucus in the whole nation!” Frankly, I think he’s right. Nevermind the fact that most people can’t even name more than one city in Iowa, when your caucus is this big, you have the right to strut a little.

I think it’s safe to say that no one is more excited about the event than the current field of Republican candidates. Never mind the fact that these conservative hopefuls are anti-gay, pro-abstinence, and focused on the family, they love to work the caucus. And they aren’t shy about it.

Despite some tough competition from dark horse Rick Santorum, Republican hopeful Mitt Romney payed tribute the state’s leadership. “I absolutely love Iowa, and I really have a lot of respect and admiration for its caucus,” he said. “To be honest, as governor of Massachusetts I always wished my caucus was this big.”

Santorum, on the other hand, was more interested in talking about himself. “The cream rises to the top of the caucus,” he said. “And I am the cream.”

Despite a few voters noting concern about his age, elder statesman Ron Paul (76) was please with his results. “The caucus has really been heating up,” he said, “and I think I’ve shown that I have the stamina to continue performing well.”

Other candidates weren’t as pleased. Newt Gingrich admitted to some mistakes: “Frankly, I’m a little embarrassed. I blew the caucus in the early going, and I just haven’t been able to recover for a second round.”

Rick Perry and Michelle Bachmann were also disappointed. In classic Perry style, the governor of Texas leaned on his ah-shucks charm and plain-spoken honesty in an attempt at recovery. “Look,” he said. “I’m not going to beat around the bush. The truth is that despite what you may have seen in Hollywood, us cowboys just aren’t big fans of the caucus.”

Many are wondering if Bachmann’s race may be over. “I’m really disappointed in the way things turned out,” she said. “I really thought I was going to ride the caucus to victory, but it sort of just slapped me around.”

And so the nation patiently awaits the results, hoping that Iowa’s caucus will point to a clear front-runner.

Leave Beer Alone

Solisimo because its beer.

Yesterday I overheard a skier at Steven’s Pass talking to his friend about how he couldn’t believe his friend had just ordered a Bud Light. “How do you drink that piss-water?” he exclaimed. “You need to try the porter I just ordered. It has a really earthy flavor to it.” he said.

As I walked by his table, I caught the eye of the Bud Light drinker as he looked up from adjusting his snowboarding boots. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. He nodded his silent agreement with my assessment and turned to his friend. I heard him respond as I moved past. “Dude,” he said. “Maybe you should order a nice Pinot Noir.” Amen, brother.

Today I was reading my favorite liberal news outlet, Slate.com, when I came across this absolute abomination of an article. I leaned back in my chair and shook my head again. What the hell is the world coming to? Beer sommeliers? Really?

Now I’m not going to tell you that I choose Bud Light when I order a beer. Everyone who reads this blog knows that I truly believe in the healing power of la cerveza mas fin del mundo. But I am going to say that if I hear another skinny little so-called “foodie” seriously discussing the “flavor notes” of his favorite brew, I’m going to be arrested for assault. Good Lord, is nothing sacred?

It’s beer, people. It’s what men drink. Not privileged men with discerning pallets. Not connoisseurs of the finer things. Plain. Simple. Men. We like it after a hard day at work or sitting alongside the remote while we’re watching our favorite sports on the weekend. We don’t debate its merits or its shortcomings, we don’t discuss our disappointment in this year’s harvest of hops, and we certainly don’t, under any circumstances, discuss “the hint of cranberry in the finish.” You know why? Because it’s beer. We celebrate its simple genius. We crack it open loudly and suck the foam off the top of the aluminum can. We drink it alongside pizza. We like it with chips. Mixed nuts. Pretzels.

This doesn’t mean that there isn’t some beer that’s better than others. It doesn’t mean that you aren’t entitled to your preferred brand or type. It doesn’t even mean that you shouldn’t try every tap at the bar in search of the one you like most. Indeed, try them all. Find your favorite. Savor it. Perfect it.

But spare us the thoughtful critiques. Beer is not to be looked down upon. It is not to be correctly “paired” with the catch of the day. Revelers in beer are not to be scolded for their preferences or taught the “proper” way to enjoy it. Do not turn your nose up at the game when Coors Light alone is available for purchase. Order it proudly alongside your hot dog and hoist it high in joy when your team crosses the goal line. Laugh as it sloshes in the cup and spills upon your head.

My friends, I beseech you. Quell this foul trend. Leave beer alone. Do not subscribe to the snob-ridden notion that it needs to be “elevated” in stature. Beer is fine right where it is. Encourage those who make it, regardless of size. But do not bestow upon them the title of “artist” or “craftsman.” Allow them to be what they are. Brewers. Heroic makers of the great equalizing suds, loved by all men, the world over.

It’s already awesome. If you think otherwise, you’ve forgotten its glory. Shame on you.

Freeze Steve Jobs!

Freeze This Man. Now.

This week Apple announced astounding sales numbers for their iPhones and iPads, sending their stock skyrocketing to an all-time high. Nevertheless, no story about their unmitigated success can fail to mention the questions around the health of Steve Jobs. After all, you can talk all you want about how Apple is a big company with many talented employees who work day and night building products and services that evoke religious fervor and dedication, but don’t be ridiculous. You think those engineers are actually designing new products? Everyone with half a brain knows that what Apple’s engineers are really working on is technology to clone the completed products that emerge directly from Steve’s ass.

That’s right folks, every summer Steve Jobs grabs a newspaper, heads into his special bathroom, and comes out a few hours later with the new iPhone. To be fair, the iPad takes a little longer to pass. But the fact is that he literally poops them out into a special toilet filled with foam to prevent the glass from breaking. Now you know the truth about how Apple is so good about keeping the details of each new product secret and preventing leaks (pun intended). The only hints that reporters from Engadget get come from following Steve around Cupertino, hoping to catch a wiff of his gas. The bottom line (again, pun intended) is that nobody knows what might come out until Steve turns on the fan, sprays the Lysol, cleans off the product, and emerges triumphant.

So investors have reason to worry. What happens when Steve dies? Who will poop out the new products? That’s why I have a modest proposal for the engineers at Apple. It’s time to cryogenically freeze Steve Jobs.

Think about it, folks. It’s genius. All you need to do is freeze him now, before it’s too late. Freezing him will halt whatever illness it is that seems to be eating him up. Every year around May, you can defrost him, hand him a San Jose Mercury News, and send him off to do his business. As soon as he’s done, pop him back into the SubZero until product launch time in the summer or fall. Then defrost him again so he can appear at the developer’s conference to unleash his genius and perform the miracle of wowing the crowd with a single picture on a slide.

Hell, if you really want to make a buck and please the shareholders, you can put him in a glass case and tour him across the country to all the Apple stores. The fanboy minions will line up for miles to get a look at an inanimate Steve, standing there in a temperature controlled glass box, right next to the genius bar. You think there are lines now? Imagine the mania that frozen Steven Jobs will inspire.

With that turtleneck that he’s wearing, he’s already dressed for the process.

Older Entries »