(Source: Chief Marketer – Click to enlarge dramatically)
Dear Richard H. Levey,
Blogging isn’t easy these days. People discuss the end of traditional Weblogs due to an increasingly growing power of Twitter. The medium is the message and the message is bright and clear: if you want to be heard keep your mental output as short as possible. Best, in not more than 140 digits. Headline and content are put together into Tweet’s most hottest microwaves in order to create verbal steal of an enormous strength; turned into swords of the size of toothpicks, which is quite likely that they will never surrender. So, this is even not the beginning of the end but a smart start: Good morning Mr and Mrs Bravenewshortbreadhead, what would you like for breakfast?
Just to be perfectly honest with you, dear Richard H. Levey, they will definitely not have this kind of Bagel-stuff you’re about to digest day after day after day on your personal Big Fat Marketingblog. A short(breadhead) look at you tells me that you know that this habit is not healthy.
You might wonder what this is all about, and it is good and only fair enough that you do because this is precisely what I did when I became aware of your writings you will easily recognise on the big and large screenshot above. Am I allowed to guess a little bit around? Yes? Cheers, mate!
I suppose March 30th 2007 was a TGIF-day. Was it? Yes, it was. Princess Diana was already on her way to sailing straight into her 10th anniversary of biting the dust; and the idea to write an article about a totally disordered British Monarchy must have come out of nowhere in order to enter your brain cells. Unfortunately, your article seems to suffer a serious lack of research and professionalism. Am I right? Yes, I think I am right.
However, before I will do some analysis on your complete Humpty-Dumpty-King-and-Princess’-Horses-copywork (or whatsoever) I think we should take together a proper look at it first, a look at a version that has been sent through Microsoft’s magic Twitter-look-a-like “Summarize”-filter first. Preference: reduce to 10%:
Cruel Britannia: For all England’s experience with monarchy, the men and women of the royal court simply don’t translate well to television commercials.
The window rises to reveal… that incredibly creepy Burger King character. At least the king is fully clothed, thank goodness. This should culminate with the beheading of all involved. In fact, the whole concept is creepy. Diana herself was not at the wheel of the car, and for several years afterward there was controversy over whether the driver was, in fact drunk.
First, Burger King is not British but American. So we can say that Burger King is, seen from a clear Royal point of view, nothing but fake. Therefore it is insane to say that the American Burger King is to be seen as a member of Royal Court who doesn’t translate well to television commercials. Haha…
Second, you underline that “at least the king is fully clothed, thank goodness.” And your conclusion: “This should culminate with the beheading of all involved.” Well, dear Mr Richard H. Levey, regarding the fact that the entire existence of the advertising testimonial Burger King is of 100% pure American nature, it should be understood that you, Mr Richard H. Levey (as an American citizen as you are) are closer to be found “involved” than any other person claiming a British passport his own. However, I have noticed your latest blog entry is dated from July 22nd 2010 and entitled Marketing With Mrs. Robinson, so I assume that you are still alive and that beheadings are probably not part of your favourite communication methods anymore…
Third, just a couple of days after the tragic car crash it turned out that the driver Henri Paul’s blood alcohol content‘s level was subsequently found to be between 1.73 g/L and 1.75 g/L, (~>0.17% wt/vol. over the limit in the U.S. in most states) which is more than three times the legal drunk-driving limit under French law. Whatever other reasons might have played their unholy parts in this strange happening as well, the driver Henri Paul was definitively drunken quite heavily.
After bringing a bit of light into the whole darkness you have been created three years ago, the only thing I agree with you is that your “whole concept is creepy.”
But why am I so eager to help you out with a modern short hair cut? Well, the guy who is entirely responsible for“Why aren’t you still alive?” is me. And I cannot remember myself that you have tried to get in touch with me or other members of the agency hamster&james to bringing forward some questions, what you better should have done in order to avoid providing your readers with nothing but complete false facts.
I am starting with the basics. Therefore I have to quote you once more: “To the tune of ‘God Save the Queen’ (the traditional arrangement, not the Sex Pistols’ version) with accompanying visuals of… teddy bears at Buckingham Palace, a little girl sings:…”
Buckingham Palace? The teddy bears in the spot were placed in front of Kensington Palace! That’s a difference, you know.
Let’s take a look at the definition of the word “arrangement” to be used in musical context: A composition adapted for performance with different instruments or voices than those originally specified: Mozart’s symphonies in arrangements for cello and piano, for example.
That’s the definition. Now, would you please be so kind to go once more through 41 seconds of pure hell, and click the You Tube button to watch “Why aren’t you still alive?” again?
Did you? Great! So what for a “traditional arrangement” of the British National Anthem became you aware of? As far as I remember there was only 7 year-old Jack singing. C’est tout. However, the traditional arrangement of the British National Anthem works with a fully equipped orchestra plus an impressive chorus. Can you confirm that in “Why aren’t you still alive?” there is only one voice to be heard? And that the earliest version of God Save the Queen that had been brought to our attention was arranged for two voices?
Then you write: “… a little girl sings…”. That’s wrong: it was a boy.
You now quote my lyrics: “I can’t believe it’s true/(…)/Look at the flowers, gee/next time it might be me/why aren’t you still alive/please don’t drink and drive.” Sorry Sir, but you failed again. Jack doesn’t sing “Look at the flowers, gee” instead he sings “Look at the flowery sea” while the audience watches a photograph showing a flowery sea in front of Kensington Palace. What’s so wrong about it? No eyes? No ears?
What’s next? Ah: “These lyrics sound as if they were written in Croatian and run through a rather rudimentary language translator. It’s hard to believe the country that gave us Oscar Wilde and Stella Gibbons coughed up this piece of drivel. ‘I want to comfort you?’ But the kid has already acknowledged that Diana is no more. Children shouldn’t play with dead things.”
Well well, you are positioning the quality of my lyrics on the level of a rudimentary language translator and, however, you are still unable to understand these rudimentary lyrics correctly? Did I get this right? One of the reasons why I kept these lyrics so rudimentarily is to ensure that even Americans who work in the marketing and pr-business will be able to follow. You’ve disappointed me dramatically. And before I allow you to continue reflecting about the world’s most famous advertiser Oscar Wilde I want you to answer me a simple question: “Have you ever been to School?” Or, in other words: It’s hard to believe the country that gave us John Steinbeck and Tennessee Williams coughed up this piece of drivel.
The other reason is that lyrics, in which rudimentary lingual elements have been embedded appear more childishly. By the milky way: how was your own childhood?
Please tick here:
(a) great
(b) not so great
And what, Mr Richard H. Levey, is now even worse? Ah, you name it: “What’s even worse is that the singer’s voice is oddly reminiscent of the little girl from “Poltergeist” – the one who stared into a dead television channel and announced “they’re here!”
Well, all I know right now is that you are mentally not here.
Sorry, but whenever I do have to read the two sophisticated terms Poltergeist and dead television channel I feel myself forced by an invisible power to put your picture once more into my article, so that my readers can develop a firm idea of how such a dead television channel or a Poltergeist, or both could look like…
Is this the end now? Unfortunately, this is not the end because Mr Richard H. Levey is coming up with another uncomfortable idea by quoting my lyrics again: “’I want to comfort you?’ But the kid has already acknowledged that Diana is no more. Children shouldn’t play with dead things.”
Right, the only undead thing children should be allowed to play with is you.
Finally you’re developing an unexplainable amount of self-confidence: “So to our friends in Britain I say: We’re delighted that you have your monarchy. But if you don’t straighten up and learn how to use ’em – at least in commercials – they’ll be taken away from you.”
What do you mean when saying “they‘ll be taken away from” us? All members of the Royal family? Who are you? Or did you mean just the monarchy? In such a case you better should have written “it‘ll be taken away from you”. But even then: who are you? Or did you mean all commercials in general, which will be taken away from us? In such a case I have to remind you that you are about to belittle an important income-factor of America’s ecomony. Again: “Have you ever been to school?”
Mr Richard H Levey, I am running out of energy, which is not good for you. Nevertheless, here comes one last lifetime stretching advice you might find helpful: Do not rely too much on the idea that the British will see you as a friend. You better do not.
In my book you either do it right, or the next pink slip waiting to be handed over shall be yours. Be proud and happy that I am not your boss. Smile!
Sincerely yours
Hamlet Hamster
Links about the author Richard H. Levey:
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