HAIRSHIRT
Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery
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HAIRSHIRT Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery |
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Tuesday, August 09, 2005And Now a Word from Our Sponsors
I just got a fucking spam to my blog comments. What the hell? When the hell is this shit going to stop? When the hell are these assholes going to realize that people don't want to be marketed to every fucking waking minute? I mean Jesus!
It just doesn't make sense to me. How many times have you received an unsolicited e-mail advertising penis cream and thought, "Say...I've never considered buying penis cream before, but now that this golden opportunity has just landed in my lap, why not?" No, it's a nuisance. It's a pain in the ass, not delightful way to be exposed to new products. So who the hell are the marketing people who sit down at their work desk and think up this shit? Are they retarded? 'Cause that would explain it. "I smear dog poo on your face, then you buy my fake Rolex! Yay!!!" Putting ads where people don't want them isn't genius strategy. It doesn't create new selling opportunities. It creates pissed-off consumers. I've known a number of marketers in my life. I haven't liked any of them. One nursing home I worked at hired a marketer for a time. She swanned about the morning meeting in a hideous suit and said annoying things. I don't think she increased the business any, but she did make sure that we all had an endless supply of cheap pens with the business name on them. A few years after I'd stopped working there, I was sitting in the hallway of a Seattle theater complex that rented rehearsal spaces, waiting for my sketch group to arrive. A woman walked by who looked vaguely familiar. She looked at me and I looked at her and we both knew that we should know each other. So we asked the questions required to get to the bottom of such a mystery. We ruled out school or previous shows we'd done. Finally it clicked and I was hit with that disturbing revelation, "Oh, shit! I remember now! I fucking hate you!" Those are the kind of lasting feelings inspired by marketers. So here's my proposal: we should have an open license to kill marketers. If you get spam telling you that you should call now about a graduate degree in plumbing; if you go to a movie theater and have to sit through a commercial telling you about the awesome legacy of the Marine Corps; if you receive a phone call from a recording talking up the merits of time-shares, you should be allowed to hunt the person responsible down and gut them like a trout. Leave my blog alone, you miserable dripping fuck-bags. And hey! Blogger! You had best find a way to stop that shit from happening. Hugs!
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