“They seem to be stuck in a loop, so to speak,” he said as an ad ended in which a candidate for state attorney general promised to destroy the President if elected.
“Yep,” I said as I clipped the unneeded ends of some lines. “There,” I said. We won’t need those any longer.”
“My point exactly,” he said.
“Good.” I said, selecting several objects and moving them to a new location. “We can save them and use them over here.”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” he said.
“It’s always good to reuse old things,” I said, “even old ideas.” I imported a drawing block I had used in a previous project and inserted into my new drawing. “There. Perfect.”
“I thought you would agree,” he said.
“My plan to expand the political ad paradigm to other products.”
“You said it yourself. It’s wise to reuse good ideas.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Just look,” he said, and he produced a portfolio he had brought with him. Gold-embossed lettering on the cover said, “Red States Advertising Group.” He opened it and drew out an ad mockup for me to see. It was a large drawing of a tube of toothpaste. The copy read, “Barack Obama uses Colgate toothpaste. So, choose Crest: White teeth for white folks.”
“Are you out of your fu …?”
A female voice from the next room said, “I can hear you in there.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Don’t like that? How’s this?” He laid the first down and picked up another. It was a photo of a brand new pickup truck with a young Caucasian couple standing alongside and beaming. The copy read, “While Barack rides around in his Lincoln, you’ll enjoy your Chevy pickup, the ride of choice for real Americans.”
I was speechless.
He continued with another. “Here’s one of my more popular ones.” It was a photo of First Lady Michelle Obama with an Aunt Jemima headdress. It read, “Michelle says ‘Eat Healthy.’ Let’s show her. Enjoy a Big Mac, fries, and milkshake with your family. Show that uppity female of the dog or some other carnivorous mammals.
“Uh, you don’t have the exact word and you couldn’t use it if you did.”
“It isn’t fitting and it bodes ill of you. You can't call America's First Lady that.”
“That’s what they call her down at campaign headquarters.”
|My aim is to cleanse the advertising|
industry of old ideas. - C.W.
“Maybe so, but not in this house.”
“Drats,” he said. “You probably won’t like this one either. He held up a shot of the President’s daughters, all dressed up in gorgeous evening wear, under the heading, “These Obama kids may say ‘Black is Beautiful’ We say, ‘White is perfect.’ Ivory flakes, pure and proud.”
“I’m not sure they still make Ivory Flakes.”
“That’s okay. Purex has already put in a bid.” He tossed it aside and flashed an ad for a company called “Nobama Temps: Your source for cheap temporary labor. Low salary, no benefits, no promises, and tax deductible. The next best thing to owning a slave.”
That’s all I could stand. I started to leave the room, but he yelled out behind me. “One more, look at this sure-fire winner.”
I couldn’t help myself. Turning as I reached the door, I saw a poster featuring a huge .45 caliber, semi-automatic pistol beside an open box of cartridges, several of them scattered alongside the box.
The copy read simply, “Obama, Obama, Obama. The worst. Remington guns and ammo. The best.”
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