Think Chimp

2011-05-11T16:28:00.004+10:00

"All right, this place must be hot. They don't need a big ad or even correct spelling."

(via The Simpsons via Eye On Springfield)

Good Bad Copy

2011-04-08T15:15:00.001+10:00

The details of my life are quite inconsequential... very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds...

- Dr Evil.

Infinite Selleck

2011-04-06T17:33:00.000+10:00

via exaggerated.com

How's your rat? Too chewy?

2011-03-17T16:54:00.001+11:00

Clever insights into why TV makes everything seem so crap nowadays.
Presented with deadpan flair by Charlie Brooker.

A PSA

2011-02-23T09:20:00.001+11:00

Find out more at Stop the Choddy.

Shout out to my mate Diesel for the VO.

Probe

2011-02-11T10:58:00.004+11:00

It's lonely out there in deep space. It's also pretty lonely being a geek (so I hear).

That's why I think it's wonderful that Voyager 2 is on Twitter.

People can follow the interplanetary probe, track its location, send it tweets and receive swift replies. And they're often tinged with an air of smug witticism, just like a geek in real life. For example:

Jesus. Just say yes Voyager 2.
Anyway, if you want follow it (or the dude with a lot of free time tweeting from NASA) you can here.

Man in the window

2011-02-07T10:29:00.002+11:00

Through the glass I see you

suspended

afloat

harnessed to the roof

yet anchored to no man.

Your office is the sky.

Your airconditioner, the breeze.

What is it like

to look in on us mortals,

caged animals in front of our screens?

Do you laugh

or do you feel pity?

Oh, ye lofty washer of windows,

I long for you to take one heaving swing on your harness,

crash through the glass that separates us

and whisk me away, up high

so I may soar with your suds.

But I know you dare not.

For the glass is your world.

And without it there is not clean glass or dirty glass, but nothing at all.

(It's been a slow day)

Merry Xmas

2010-12-23T11:44:00.005+11:00

Read this

2010-12-16T17:16:00.005+11:00

Duped

2010-11-23T14:42:00.003+11:00

Stumbled upon this in Vice the other day.

Well done VB and Droga5. You got me.

Abroad

2010-11-03T04:59:00.005+11:00

I'm in LA. That's right, the city of dreams. Where a gal can really make something of herself.

And the AD and I have been doing just that.

We were flown out here to work in the M&C Saatchi LA office for 2 weeks.

A junket you say?

Well, maybe.

But would junketeers have time to ride bikes along the Venice Beach promenade? Or drink Mexican beer as the sun set over the Pacific? Then eat some tacos? Then drink some more beer?

Exactly.

Anyway, here are some photos:

That pier from Baywatch.

Creatives work differently over here.

Food truck. It's a truck that serves food.

And in case you're wondering, I haven't seen any celebrities yet.

I did see a hobo fight though.

Dolphin Tits

2010-09-07T14:49:00.001+10:00

I don't know why, just go with it.

Enthusiasm

2010-09-02T13:07:00.002+10:00

I have a mate who loves nature.

He's not fanatic about it. He's not obsessed either. He simply gets overly excited every time he sees a natural phenomenon.

For instance, the other day it happened on the way to a movie, when he noticed a full moon.

"Awww. Look at the moon!" he announced in one big exhalation, "Stop the car. You have to stop the car."

"I'm not stopping the car."

"Man, it's huge!"

"It's as big as it's always been. Every day, every month, for millions of years."

"Just pull over for a second."

"We're going to miss the movie."

"We're going to miss the movie of life."

"But it's the new Judd Apatow film."

(Silence)

"Why do you hate beauty, Gavin?"

"I don't hate beauty."

(More silence)

"Fine, I'll pull over."

So we sat there, staring up at the moon through my windscreen, my friend's hard-on almost audible.

And I began thinking. Am I too cynical? Has my short time in advertising destroyed my enthusiasm for everyday things? Supposedly beautiful things, like the moon?

In this industry, it's so easy to become obsessed with originality. If we've seen something before, we immediately dismiss it. Sure, being cynical is important, it lets you siphon out the crap, but maybe it becomes a problem when you can't even appreciate the little things in life.

Then I looked at the time and noticed that we were definitely running late for the movie. It was a shame because it was one that I really wanted to see. One that I would have surely enjoyed.

And that's when I'd realised that actually, no, I'm not overly cynical. I can appreciate things. Things like films and great advertising. Even stuff like the scale of the moon and the science behind it. But frankly, when it comes to merely looking at it, like I've been doing for 23 years, I just don't get excited.

So I started the car and hurriedly sped off, reassuring myself that it wasn't a case of me hating beauty.

Rather, it was a case of my mate being a fucking no-good hippie.

And I let him know that he better buy me a choc-top for making me miss the opening scene. Or some Maltesers.

Neely

2010-08-05T13:59:00.002+10:00

Every now and then, I stumble across something on the net that makes me want to completely re-evaluate my life.

This isn't one of those things.

But it does encourage me to push my creativity further, think beyond convention and possibly start taking acid.

It's the work of Brad Neely. Comic artist, writer and consultant to South Park.

Below is a little sample of his awesomeness:

Mikey J

2010-07-29T16:44:00.000+10:00

Interesting headline

2010-07-22T14:08:00.002+10:00

Saw this ad at lunch today. It's for a phone hub, whatever that is.

Is it a good line?

Well, it caught my attention.

But then again, I can't really judge.

I'm not part of the target audience.

Boots

2010-06-21T15:33:00.006+10:00

Yeah yeah, everyone knows Nike made an incredible ad for the World Cup.
But for me, their marketing master stroke was creating one colour range for all their boots.

If you've watched any game, you'd have undoubtedly seen these bad boys.

Luminous. Incandescent. Fluorescent. Well-shiny.

The beauty is, they've rolled these colours out across their entire elite range, meaning that no matter the model, all sponsored players are running around in highly recognisable orange and purple boots. And with 40% of all footballers wearing Nike, it's a sure fire way to ensure brand ubiquity (yes, I just made that term up).

It's so simple and so brilliant and I'm totally going to go buy a pair when they come out.

Paint

2010-05-24T17:21:00.018+10:00

I never imagined advertising would be like this.

Ok maybe I did, but instead of children it was monkeys, and instead of paint-soaked balls it was faeces. And instead of Australian goal-keeper Mark Schwarzer it was...actually that part is pretty much the same*.

Anyway, the point is that we got an idea up for Cottee's (to promote their Schools 5-a-Side football program) and were flown down to Melbourne to see it come to life.

Pretty cool.

Check out some of our media coverage here.

* My imagination does not reflect my opinion of Mark as a goalkeeper or person. **

** I'm aware that the above disclaimer ruins the original joke, but feel it is necessary for legal/job-saving reasons.

Vote for me

2010-05-17T12:54:00.004+10:00

I've entered the Cannes Young Lions 48 Hours YouTube Ad Contest.

Challenge: develop a short (max 1 minute) film to promote WaterAid's summer campaign "Don't let it drop" – putting pressure on world leaders to seriously address the global water and sanitation crisis.

Check out my entry below:

Like what you saw?
Please go the Cannes Lions YouTube Channel, search for 'Water Pistol' and give my video the 'Thumbs Up' vote.

Muchos gracias.

Guiding Voices

2010-05-06T16:39:00.005+10:00

So it's finally happened.

TomTom have introduced Star Wars voices to their devices.

Now if you ask me, and most people don't, it's an awesome way of getting people to buy sat navs. Or at least want to be in a car with one.

I mean think about it.
You're driving down the street and suddenly you hear Yoda say something like "Turn right, one hundred metres you must".

My stoner friends would go nuts.

And Star Wars voices is just the beginning. I can only wonder what those crazy cats at TomTom headquarters will conjure up next.

A Jennifer Jameson voice?
Barack Obama?
Jesus?
Mr Miyagi?

Yeah, a Mr Miyagi sat nav system would be sweet.

Anyway, it's worth checking out their site, including the cool Star Wars game they created too.

Kenny

2010-03-10T17:44:00.006+11:00

The most bad-ass soprano saxophonist of all time.

The Cat Piano

2010-02-12T16:59:00.005+11:00

I know it's not that new, but this is beautifully written and produced.

Made by the People's Republic of Animation, written by Eddie White, narrated by Nick Cave (genius).

Find more info here

Happy 9.02.10 Day

2010-02-09T15:28:00.004+11:00

(thanks @tommycehak, you're ok)

Victory smells like flowers

2010-02-08T13:31:00.020+11:00

(Our winning Mini Cabrio ad)

Tommy, myself and Mitch (a senior copywriter here at Mark) recently entered the Australian Creative Mini Challenge.

Which we won.

The Brief:

Promote the new MINI Cabrio as a convertible car with no compromise.

Key Message:

True open driving, combined with go-kart handling. The Mini Cabrio is a convertible with a clever use of space and a stylish new look.

Our Rational:

The MINI Cabrio is an experience which activates all the senses. You feel the wind in your face, you taste the moisture in the air, you smell the environment around you.

You discover what true open driving really is.

To highlight this, we have designed a 'scratch and sniff' press ad (see above).

We also entered the idea below. It didn't win but I still dig it.

Get more info here.

Home

2010-01-15T12:11:00.005+11:00

I know I've neglected this blog, right when it needed me the most, but I'm back now.

Ready to nurture it. To hold it in my arms. To let it suckle at my teet once more.

Stay tuned.

Lemon.

2009-12-03T15:28:00.006+11:00

This is/was an HP.

I feel this new logo is more stylish and better captures its true essence.

A MO FABLE (the complete anthology)

2009-12-01T09:51:00.004+11:00

CHAPTER ONE

At the start of November 2009, I decided to grow a moustache for Movember, a charity which aims to raise awareness and funds for men's health - particularly prostate cancer and depression.

After only a few days it became apparent that I had a keen aptitude for upper-lip hair growth. My tache was dense, dark and evenly spread. I looked like a glorious cross between an adolescent Tom Selleck and Habib, a Persian carpet salesman.

A hybrid made in heaven (and MS Paint)

It wasn't long before I began to exalt in my newly acquired manly, and somewhat unsavoury, appearance. I enjoyed the stares from strangers on the train, I smiled proudly as I watched parents hurriedly usher their kids into their houses as I walked past.

And as each hair grew thicker and longer, so too did my arrogance.

One day Tommy confronted me.

"I can't stand looking at you anymore," he said "your Mo is taking over your beautiful face. You have to shape it up."

"Never man," I said as I slammed down a beer, "this bad boy can't be tamed."

But a seed of doubt was planted. A seed that quickly grew into a creeper vine which began to suck the nutrients from my fuzzy facial leaves.

Suddenly I started noticing things. Things which weren't obvious before. The way my girlfriend growled at me when I walked into the house or how my dogs would cringe when I kissed them hello.

Soon I was faced with the stark realisation that having an untamed Mo was more than just Speedos and scared parents. It was a real commitment that involved sacrifice.

And that's when I found myself standing in front of my bathroom mirror - candles lit, The Cure playing in the background and a mach-3 Gillette razor in my hand.

It was time to trim.

CHAPTER TWO

Though I was only a pre-pubescent teenager when the Gillette Mach 3 first came out, and too baby-faced to shave, I still found it utterly enchanting.

The advertisements revealed dazzling jet fighters breaking the sound barrier, shiny sterling razor blades glistening in the sun and state of the art features like anti friction blades, a lubricating strip, and pivoting head.

Yes, shaving had been revolutionised and it was only a matter of time until I was a part of it.

When puberty did finally come around (a lot later than I would have liked) I couldn't wait for the one time a month when a few whiskers would sprout from my pimply face and I'd get the chance to use my Mach-3.

And as the time in between shaves shortened, I became more adept with the razor, shaving my entire face with smooth, quick motions like it were an extension of my body.

But again, my arrogance got the better of me and I was soon to learn that shaving a face is very different to shaping a moustache.

Devastatingly different.

So it was in the second week of November that I found myself armed with my trusty razor, as I stood ready to trim my first ever moustache. One that I had come to love but didn't know how to deal with.

I told myself it would be like neutering a dog - yes, its cruel, but in the scheme of things it's good for it. At least I had my mach-3, I thought to myself, three blades to make the job quicker and easier.

I lifted my hand and felt the cool steel of the blade kiss my face.

The first manoeuvre felt good. Just a little chop off the top left corner. I took a breath, and tried to remember the game plan: nothing too drastic, just neaten the upper corners and take in the handle bars a bit.

I went for the other side. It felt just as good as the first. I examined. At first glance, it looked fine. I was about to continue the trim, when I noticed out of the corner of my eye that my Mo was not as even as I thought. My last effort was, in fact, a bit heavy handed.

My hands moistened, my heart began to beat faster. No worries, no worries - I'll just take a cheeky bit back off the left side. That'll make it right. I lifted the razor, which felt a lot heavier than it did before, and made the adjustment. I went dizzy. I had made it worse.

I suddenly found myself leave my body and hover over the scene, like the smoke over the candles which burned around me. I watched myself spiral into panic and felt helpless to intervene.

Before I knew it, I had gone from a suavely sinister Tom Selleck to a Charlie Chaplin lookalike with down syndrome.

I had blood on my hands, and hair shavings in the sink.

I became aware that I had just tried to perform open heart surgery with a pick-axe and my patient had died on the operating table.

In resignation and rage I shaved the remainder of my tache and threw the Mach-3 to the floor, it's many parts no longer working in synergy, but shattering across the tiles.

It was not that I was embarrassed to walk around looking like a fool, but I was ashamed that I had decided to trim my Mo the first place.

Stressed and deeply depressed, I bought a pack of cigarettes and sat alone by the beach. The cold, salty sea air stung my raw and freshly shaved upper lip and I knew that I deserved the pain.

CHAPTER THREE

From the Ashes, the Phoenix shall rise again.

It was not easy losing a Mo, especially one so young.

There was so much life it hadn't experienced, so much potential unrealised. Never would it have its corners twirled up like a Frenchman. Never would it provide a haven for left-over crumbs. Never would I be able to make a milk moustache moustache.

After the loss, I embarked on my own emotional journey. I first experienced rage - at my own heavy handedness when shaving. Then shame - that I decided to shave in the first place. And finally jealousy - when seeing the beautiful taches of other Movember participants.

Eventually, all emotions passed and I was left apathetic and numb; a shell of a man who didn't care about himself, his Mo, charity organisation and others in general.

Then one day, when I was probably drunk, I looked into the mirror (which I had been avoiding).

To my surprise I saw the tiny sprouting of hair above my lip, like young saplings emerging from a seemingly barren earth.

All of a sudden the sun shone through the clouds, into my bathroom window and on to my face. There it glowed like I were facing the burning bush of Moses - the black hairs now fiery red and ginger. It didn't last long before the clouds passed over again and the only light in the room cam from the buzzing of the bulb above.

And that's when I realised something: Things could be worse. A lot worse. I could have ginger facial hair.

There I was, worried about such trivial things like having an untamed moustache, when there were people out there walking around with chutney coloured moustaches.

And that's when I realised something else: I was actually drunk.

So I sat down on the toilet seat, rested my chin in my hands and rubbed my hands through the course stubble lining my face. And only then did I have the biggest revelation yet:

Movember isn't about about the size, volume, style or colour of your Mo. No, it is just about having a Moustache on your face, no matter what you look like. It's that one time a year when anyone can look like a derelict porn star or junkie carpet salesmen and revel in it.

And give to Charity. Yeah, the charity thing is probably what it's about too.

Energised with this sudden enlightenment I jumped up, took out my razor and shaved my away the fuzz on my cheeks and chin, leaving an infant Moustache sitting above my lip.

CHAPTER FOUR

So as Movember (and November) came to an end, I felt like I had not only learned a lot about myself, but about Mos in general.

The Mo is truly a special thing. You can cut it but it will not bleed, you can make it ugly but it will still sit proudly on your face. You can obliterate it by shaving against the grain, but it will grow back stronger, thicker. Like a Phoenix, the Moustache will always rise from the ashes. And it will soar.

That Movember, I had grown, lost, grown again and was sure to lose once more. But I was not sad. I had raised money for charity and I sported a Moustache on my face.

To all others who had done the same, well done. I am proud of you all.

Especially the gingers.

The End.

Me and Mo no. 2

Live Long and Distribute

2009-11-04T09:28:00.015+11:00

I am honoured to be part of the futsal team the Eastern Distributors.

We have had an exceptional season, losing only one game, scoring an astonishing 90+ goals and finishing on top of the table as minor premiers.

And tonight we face our greatest challenge yet - the grand final against our arch enemies the Wog Boys.

We currently stand like warriors on the front line, readying ourselves for imminent battle, as nerves slowly build and tensions tighten. Sensing this, our captain Adam has decided to send us a message of hope to galvanise and remind us who we are.

I have incuded it below.

Read on, wipe the tears that will surely fall upon your cheeks and be inspired.

Distributors,

The first week in November has always held a special place in the hearts of the Australian public. It is during this week that a single sporting event stops a nation. That offices and schoolyards stir with nervous energy. The entire nation holds its breath in anticipation.

Sydney University Aquatic Centre Division 4 Final.

We are, as Mr Chimes mentioned, much like warriors waiting for a battle to begin. Poised, tense, focused. But instead of spears and shields, we have pass and move. Weapons, which when we use successfully can crush any opposition we face. On our day we are not only the mightiest army in division 4, but able to destroy any team playing on Wednesday night.

For those who have been there before, remember the way we felt after the final whistle blew last season. The disappointment, the heartache. But worst of all, the knowledge that we were the better team. That we didn't show up on the big stage. Channel this frustration into aggression. They may be bigger but 12 weeks on from last season and we are stronger than ever before. No ring ins, no set backs. We have all played almost every game. This consistency has been one of the keys to our success.

Beating us so convincingly was probably the biggest mistake of their season. That crushing defeat drove us to train on Saturdays and pushed us to finish the season so strongly. It taught us not to be complacent, to keep a man back and to tighten up. As was so aptly mentioned last week, there's no other team we'd rather beat in the final.

They will try and rough us up. Throw us off the ball. Just like last week, lets not lose our cool. Lets just play our game, stay focused and keep the energy up. We know this team now, we know what to expect. Its going to be tight, but the goals will come for us, they always do.

The years are passing more quickly now, and as time flies by we may all move on and go our separate ways. Some of us to new jobs, some to new challenges or even some to new countries. This Wednesday we have the opportunity to create something special, something that will transcend all the changes that life holds in store for each of us. Lets make some memories. Lets create some moments. So that no matter where we end up, we will always share those moments together.

It is an honour to play with such a talented group of football players. Each week I strive to achieve the standard that you all set on the court. Lets live up to our name, our creed. Show me your commitment lads, let me see the motherf*cking passion!

Live Long and Distribute,

AR7 (c)

...........................................................................

UPDATED:

CHAMPIONE!

An insight into the Melbourne Cup

2009-11-03T11:29:00.016+11:00

Do you know who the real stakeholders in the Melbourne cup are?

These guys:

Yes, that's right, domesticated pets.

Now, I know you're probably wondering why I would make such an audacious claim, as you stand with your hands on your hips and your head condescendingly tipped to the side.

Well, I'll tell you, you prick.

The Melbourne cup is watched by millions of people around the world and will take in around 23 million dollars worth of bets.

The winning horse will go on to party with beautiful women.

Whilst the losers will experience a fate much worse.

Now, if you are an Australian of any worth, you will surely place a decent amount of money on a horse.

If you happen to be lucky, you will have an instant bonanza of cash - and with the GFC on the decline - you will want to spend it. In any way you can.

Enter the pet:

However, if you had placed a bet on a horse that failed to get a place in the 'race that stops the nation' your situation would be much more dire.

With the GFC still hitting us hard, you will have to continue to budget and find ways to cut down your spending. And the most rational place to start is pet food.

Say goodbye to your guinea fowl and riccotta roast, Fido, and hello to this guy:

So you see? No matter what the result, how much you bet or whether or not you win, you're pets will invariably be effected.

And thus, with an another inarguable chain of logic, I have given you a true insight into what the really Melbourne Cup means.

You can take your hands off your hips now.

Thomas

2009-10-21T10:10:00.006+11:00

This is Tommy. He is my art director.
He wears a giant spike in his ear that pokes into his neck.

I think he's just compensating because deep down he's actually a gentle, fragile boy in need of a hug. Kind of like how the biggest homophobes are actually gay.

Anyway, we are currently interning together at 303 in Pyrmont, Sydney.

Stay tuned.

Short Story Competition

2009-10-15T13:12:00.009+11:00

There's nothing more rewarding for a writer than proving they are better than everyone else.

That's why I'm going to enter the short story competition hosted by Gertrude and Alice, a delightful little cafe and second hand book store down in Bondi Beach.

The winner will receive $1000 in prize money and a specially designed funnel that allows them to directly savour the smell of their own farts.

Refer to image below for details or check out their Facebook event page.

Between Two Ferns

2009-10-12T10:18:00.002+11:00

Zach Galifianakis could very well be my new favourite bearded celebrity-comedian web show interviewer.
I don't know if the celebrities he gets are playing along with him or not, but goddamn, he's funny.

Between Two Ferns with Zach Galifianakis from Between Two Ferns

He even got Natalie Portman!

Between Two Ferns With Zach Galifianakis from Between Two Ferns

The Incredibox

2009-09-30T10:26:00.005+10:00

This site is a genius way of promoting a musician.
The Incredibox, by artist 'The Incredible Polo', allows you to explore his 'musical universe' through listening to and combining his different beatbox samples.

You just click and drag the different symbols onto the cartoon Frenchmen to play the soulful and funky samples.

Here's my favourite one so far:

I also really dig the graphics, especially the singing Iceberg when you click on the anchor in the bonus section.

Bogan Slogan

2009-09-29T12:18:00.006+10:00

Saw this tanning salon in Bondi on the weekend.

"Because you look better brown".

Really?

Sydney Dust Storm. Freak Natural Occurrence or Guerrilla Marketing Stunt?

2009-09-23T11:03:00.015+10:00

Sydney is currently covered in a crimson cloud of dust.

Everyone is talking about it, giving it their own cheeky names, uploading photos they took on their way to work.

There are many different opinions as to what is behind it all.

"Scientists" say its high winds over South Austrlia.
Others - hippies - say it is an effect of Global Warming.
But those of us on the street, in the know, sense something greater and more powerful at play than breezes or balmy weather.

Yes, that's right. The enveloping blanket of dust is due to nothing less than a spectacular guerrilla marketing stunt.

Just think about it for a second. The user generated content, the earned media - its so obvious. If you look at it rationally, all the signs point to an ingenious advertising campaign leveraging the power of social media, word of mouth and weather manipulation.

But who? Which brand has pulled the biggest marketing stunt since The Girl in the Jacket or Clare the Bogan?

Here's a list of possible suspects:

- Clare the Bogan
- Crystal Car Wash
- Godfrey's Vacuum Cleaners
- Telfast
- Greenpeace
- Slim Dusty

Hmmm, there has must be more. Help me crack this conspiracy by adding your suggestions in the comment section.

The Tracy Awards

2009-09-15T15:50:00.012+10:00

You know when you see a really bad advertisement and you want to rub faeces in your eyes and throw yourself into traffic just to forget it?

Well now there's something you can actually do to stop this phenomenon occurring.

The Tracy Awards.
"If you find bad advertising of any kind - a print ad, a website, a TV spot, a billboard, a business card, whatever - enter it in the Tracys. Every ad we receive will be judged. Harshly. And if it's bad enough, it will win a Tracy, which will be sent to the people responsible for creating the abomination in the first place. Plus, all ads that win Tracys will be nationally publicized as The Worst Advertising of 2009."

This is gold. Too many bad ads are swept under the rug, left to ferment and in turn, breed a culture of poor creativity and ideas.
Well, no more I say. No more.
The Tracys are going to pick up that rug, hang it over the balcony of judgement and beat it repeatedly until all the dust of retardartion has dissipated into the evening sky of peace. And if they can't get rid of all the dust, at least a good majority of it will be gone forever. Or until it is beaten again.

Um, anyway, here are some shockers from the cream of the crap:

Element creates skate community, not just campaign

2009-09-03T12:28:00.010+10:00

I skateboard.
I'm not fanatic about it like I used to be, doing it more as a form of transportation than anything else. Yet when I pass a fellow skater in the street or watch it on TV, I still feel a part of the subculture - like there is an unspoken connection, an understanding of sorts. Perhaps this feeling is born from subversive and rebellious nature of skating. Like we have been united in our dodging past security guards, pissing off old ladies and busting ourselves up trying to do tricks that would make our mothers have a stroke. Whatever it is, I cannot deny the persisting communal feeling I have with skateboarding and other skaters.

That's why I love this campaign for Element called 'Claim it!'
They get it.
Merging skating, digital and social media, the campaign creates more than just brand awareness but a global online community for skaters. Something everyone can be a part. Check it:

Sarcasm Font

2009-08-31T21:22:00.009+10:00

I thought I had come up with a cracker of an idea today, until I Googled it.

The official site of the Sarcastic Font Movement uses italics like this, but backwards.
Goddam genius.

Still, it's a good idea and the site even has a manifesto.

I didn't have a manifesto.

Fucking Google.

The Bus Driver Who Wanted To Be God

2009-08-18T15:14:00.005+10:00

Every now and then, for inspiration, I'll pick up this book of short stories by Etgar Keret.

"Brief, intense, painfully funny, and shockingly honest, Keret's stories are snapshots that illuminate with intelligence and wit the hidden truths of life" (from the blurb).

From the first line of each story, Keret sucks you in with his simple, almost child-like writing and powerful ideas. Being an Israeli citizen, he provides a unique insight into what its like growing up and living in the middle-east conflict, yet at the same time shows that there are bigger existential question which plague, and therefore unite, us all.

The only problem with reading Keret is that its so easy to be influenced by his writing, that one will often end up sub-consciously emulating his style. And by 'one' I mean me (I have at least four, really crap and unfinished rip-off short stories on my hard drive).

But that's just the power of his words and the effect he has on people.

The Bus Driver Who Wanted To Be God is a bit old now and may be hard to find in bookstores, so you might have to order it or something. But it is one of my most prized and dog-eared of books, and if you manage to get your hands on one, I'm sure it will be for you too.

Anytime, Anywhere

2009-08-10T12:12:00.004+10:00

I love this campaign for Huggies. Its a strong yet simple idea and because the photos are user generated (from Flickr), its a cheap and effective way to get consumers interacting with the brand (without the usual drawback of getting baby poo on their hands).
And its cute. Really cute. If I had ovaries, I'm sure they'd be tingling.

courtesy of I Believe in Advertising

Crowd Surfing in a Giant Bubble, Squeezed out of a Digital Vagina

2009-08-04T17:17:00.008+10:00

I've always had rock-star dreams but I have to admit (regrettably) that they never involved this:

Screw You Smart Phones

2009-07-30T13:48:00.015+10:00

I don't have an iPhone. I don't have a blackberry. I don't have a phone that has internet, email, gps or camera capabilities.

I have this:

His name is Bruce. He makes and answers calls, sends sms and that's about it. Cost me $49.90 and doesn't break when I drop him(which is often).

Now Bruce is awesome, there's no denying it, but lately I fear that he has fallen behind the technological curve, especially with all those crazy smart phone applications out there.

Though he was originally designed to be a straight-talking, down-the-line kind of phone, I have decided to make some changes, so he can be a more tech-savvy and 'with it' Nokia.

Introducing the world's first analog mobile phone applications:

1. The stAPPler
- This app allows you to bind actual pieces of paper together with actual metal staples. So next time someone at the office asks "where is my stapler?" you can say "don't worry, I have an app for that!"

2. The Water Cooler

-Always be 'in the know' at work with your very own water cooler application. Guaranteed to collate the juiciest of gossip. And serves actual water (luke warm and chilled). Order now and receive free disposable cups.

3. Hank App (coming soon)

- The original office dog app! Now YOU can be the centre of attention, poop in the hallway and lick people's faces without having a lawsuit filed against you. Bow wow indeed.

Got any other Bruce application ideas? Think Chimp would love to hear.

Fight Yourself - A New Golden Advertising Insight?

2009-07-28T15:26:00.010+10:00

Saw this ad for Parkinsons Society Canada today. At first I thought it was kind of funny, then I realised what it was for and felt a bit guilty.

I love the final shot - so haunting and ominous. Yet while watching I had a strange feeling that the idea seemed somewhat familiar. Suddenly I remembered this spot for Time Out Amsterdam:

Pretty funny right? Kinda quirky? I thought so too. Until I recalled seeing a similar insight in this totally messed up ad for Motor Neuron Disease:

... umm, wow. I'm cold too.

I feel so confused. Is the idea of fighting against your own body funny or horrific?

Or perhaps it is a new golden advertising insight, like sex or babies, that can be used to evoke different emotional responses in people, ultimately becoming a powerful tool to control and shape the masses?

Or maybe I'm just overthinking this.

Lies.

2009-07-27T13:21:00.005+10:00

It's clearly bread, not toast.

I'll never trust anything again.

A very short sci-fi story

2009-07-24T17:07:00.018+10:00

In the future, when all the trees are gone, there will be a museum devoted entirely to paper.

Relics and artefacts dating back before the digital age will be on display for the many thousands of visitors who'll flock to see the expensive exhibitions. Some favourites will include the world's largest collection of loose leaf paper, a pile of pencil shavings, a plumber’s business card and most entertaining of all, a recycling bin.

The curator, a bespectacled and charming old man, will come from a long line of paper collectors. He will be one of the few people left in the world in possession of an actual ink pen (his being a red ball-point biro).

One night, just as the curator is leaving the museum, a deranged robot will hold him up in an attempt to steal some artefacts that he could trade in exchange for battery acid. Too proud and passionate to give in to such an act, the curator will resist and try to overpower the robot (by flicking the 'off' switch located at the back of its head). In response, the robot will swiftly and mercilessly kill him.

Having disposed of the curator, the robot will walk into the museum and break the glass of the first display case it sees. But having not been programmed in accordance with any paper or paper-like objects, the robot will be unable to appreciate the delicate frailty of the artefacts and they will crumble and disintegrate in its mechanical hands.

The robot will then be caught by the police, its brain-circuitry destroyed and its body recycled into state-of-the art security gates to be put up at the now understocked museum.

In the future the justice system will have a better sense of irony than it does today.

Le Tour

2009-07-22T09:34:00.011+10:00

(cyclists of yore having a smoke- I'd like to see Contador hit the alps with a pipe)

The Tour De France riders today are a bunch of pansies.

They have all the modern equipment and technology, team cars following them around, years of preparation and training. Yet still they blood dope, wear florescent, skin-hugging lycra and consider the manliest rider of all a guy with only one testicle.

Back in the day, cyclists were real men.

After a day spent climbing mountains on primitive bicycles, they'd spark up a smoke and then go off into the wilderness to hunt for their dinner. With their bare hands. And eat it raw. While doing push-ups. Because that's what real men did.

Oh how things have changed.

Bargain Ideas

2009-07-21T10:02:00.019+10:00

These be hard times. The global financial bitch-slap has affected all industries, especially advertising, with clients cutting down on spending across the board. This has resulted in job losses, insolvency and most alarmingly, the rise of social media campaigns :)

Yet in the midst of all this madness, a bunch of creative Canadians have seemingly found salvation for traditional advertising:

IDEA$4CHEAP claim to offer big ideas for any business, at a fraction of the cost of big agencies. In their own words, they are "just a couple of creative people working on your business in home offices. And rest assured, your advertising dollars are not going to any creative director's luxury yacht or trendy penthouse condo."

They've already got some decent clients and their ideas seem pretty good. Not life-changing, but good.

It'll be interesting to see if this catches on, especially on Aussie shores. I guess it will all come down to whether clients care if a good idea comes from an award winning agency or from the couch in mum's basement.

Lasers.

2009-07-20T21:26:00.002+10:00

I shoot them from my eyes.

Better watch yo' self.

The one time I want to be the jock

2009-07-20T21:23:00.002+10:00

On Wednesday, I have my AWARD School graduation, where we find out if our work got 'on the wall' or if we made the top 10 or 20.

I don't mind being auctioned off like fresh meat. It's kind of funny and it's the key selling point for juniors looking for a job.The strange thing is how AWARD have organised the night. We have no prior knowledge of our results or placings, all will be discovered when we walk in and see if our stuff is on display.

I can't help but feel its going to be like those teenage US movies, where everyone crowds around the notice board in the hallway to see if they got a football/cheerleader position. And there's always that awkward, geeky dude who looks on, hopefully enthusiastic, but we know he has no chance of being selected over the jocks.

Sure, later in the movie we learn that by being different, he is really cool, especially when he forgoes an opportunity with a sexy cheerleader and hooks up with the attractive girl from next door who has been right under his nose the whole time. But on Wednesday, I'm hoping this cliche won't play out for me.

I want to be that Jock on the top of the list. The one who already dates the hot cheerleader. And gets action in the back seat of his convertible at the click of his manly, quarterback fingers.

Ode to Kurt

2009-07-20T21:12:00.003+10:00

Kurt Vonnegut was not only a great ideasman, but a crafty one at that. His novels were geniously written; jumping through space and time, making social commentaries and completely challenging literary boundaries.

But for me, the true depth of his ideas was shown through his creation of the recurring character Kilgore Trout - a prolific science fiction writer, perplexed and amazed with the world at large (think Seinfeld mixed with Einstein and you kind of get the idea). Through most of Vonnegut's novels Trout plays a key role to varying degrees, never the protagonist but always prominent. It is with Trout, that Vonnegut gets away with showing us the amazing ideas he has for stories without ever having to write them himself. For instance, this gem from his book Slaughterhouse Five:

" Trout, incidentally, had written a book about a money tree. It had twenty-dollar bills for leaves. Its flowers were government bonds. Its fruit was diamonds. It attracted human beings who killed each other around the roots and made very good fertilizer. So it goes."

Bang.

Simple, short and deep. Everything a good idea should be.

Or how about this from Breakfast Of Champions:

"A flying saucer creature named Zog arrived on Earth to explain how wars could be prevented and how cancer could be cured. He brought the information from Margo, a planet where the natives conversed by means of farts and tap dancing.
Zog landed at night in Connectitut. He had no sooner touched down than he saw a house on fire. He rushed into the house, farting and tap dancing, warning the people about the terrible danger they were in. The head of the house brained Zog with a golf club."

Vonnegut didn't give a shit about beginnings, middle and ends or any traditional writing conventions. He was a man who was all about the big ideas. About looking at the the things we take and say for granted and shifting our perspectives of them.

And he did it in a fantastic way, an idea in itself. He created a disheveled, awkward and wholly lovable character called Kilgore Trout, who acted as his voice for casting his thoughts out into the world, for whoever wanted to read them.