Many of my faithful readers know that I’ve written about commercial advertising, and the seemingly endless bombardment. Back some time ago, I wrote that, if you’re as old as I am, television was essentially free. Of course, the choices were far, far fewer, but it didn’t cost anything beyond bunny ears or an antenna in the attic. If you pointed it in the right direction, you got some sort of reception. Every show had its commercials, and that was ok, because it paid the bills so we didn’t have to. At the end of each show, particularly game shows where prizes were awarded, there would be a list of the advertisers that presumably paid for the prize money. Thank you, corporate contributors, to our entertainment.
There was also a term that developed in advertising called “product placement”. A certain brand of automobile was used because that auto maker wanted their logo to be seen on screen. Much was made, for example, of James Bond’s Aston Martin. Fords on the ancient television series, “Highway Patrol”. Or, if you’re really, really old, the “Dinah Shore Chevy Show.” You’ll never guess who sponsored that one. Camera shots would strategically capture the logo. Ads were almost superfluous, though they did show up. In those days, ads were short – usually no more the 30-60 seconds, and appeared at sporadic intervals throughout the show. Enter the advent of expanded services – the networks, cable, and streaming – which my daughter tells me are not the same. I don’t really know. If I turn on the television and something appears on the screen, I’ll assume it’s one of those. I do know that a number of them charge me a fee above and beyond what I pay my cable “bundle” each month, and more if I want it “commercial-free”. On regular programming, the commercials now go well beyond the previous limits, and they’re clustered together like grapes. Four, six, eight commercials in rapid succession, and sometimes the same commercial will show up a couple of times in the same bunch, or several times in the same show. I have to ask myself if there are consumers out there who will make their final decision after the third viewing of an ad. The first time didn’t do it. The fees from the added “streaming” platforms, usually designated by a “plus”, which I guess is that much better, fly in from all directions, but I don’t add them all up because, well, denial is a powerful incentive to go on living.
Of course, advertising has been with us for ages, or since Messrs. Rolls and Royce put their double R’s on their cars. Some corporate logos are iconic and easily recognizable. And of course, the dealerships where we bought the cars put their own “advertising” on them, and have for years. A small sticker on the back, then it grew to frames for the license plates. Clothing had its identifiers too. Polo shirts that don’t carry a logo – a polo player, a lizard, a swooping check, shouldn’t even waste our time. People will think we bought it at a thrift shop or the dollar store. Some companies have reached the marketing triumph where their name and their product are synonymous. Nobody pulls out a tissue, it’s a Kleenex. When we need a copy, we get a Xerox. Sanitizing something is done with Clorox, not bleach. We treat aches and pains with Tylenol, not ibuprofen. Even if they’re all generic, store-brand stuff, we still use the brand names. Even the generics carry specialty brands – around here, it’s “Signature”, or “Inspirations”. The dairy products are “Lucerne”, like they’ve come especially to me from Switzerland.
The most recent, and I find ludicrous advertising, occurs in sports broadcasting. Baseball is the worst, but other sports are catching up. Naming rights to stadiums, gymnasiums, and soccer fields started long ago, and I don’t think anyone objected. Although I do remember a years ago when Monster.com was interested in naming rights to a local professional sports venue. That left a bit of a residual bad taste in our mouths had it come to pass, which it mercifully didn’t. Our local Red Sox have resisted the urge to rename fabled Fenway Park, and we’re happy about that, despite the beaucoup advertising all around the park. We’ve started seeing holographic images appearing on the pitcher’s mound. Distracting, but not necessarily a deal-breaker. Then we saw corporate logos appearing on uniforms. Stitched patches to the arms. I imagine that, at some point, an advertising image will replace the “B” on the front of their caps. In the latest, and perhaps most intrusive / and laughable development in broadcasting, we’re hearing things like: “The seventh inning is brought to you by . . . . . . “ Fill in a company name. Really? Might the seventh inning been skipped, moving on to the eighth for lack of a sponsor? Or my favorite, and yes, this was actually said: “That home run was brought to you by . . . “ A car company. I’m half expecting now that we’ll see the logo on a close-up of the ball as it sails into the bleachers or over the Green Monster. I would have said that the home run was brought to us by the player that hit it. But, apparently no. Had that advertiser not stepped in, it’s quite possible we’d have had a ground-out, for which nobody would pay advertising dollars. Just a matter of time before we see other sports picking up on this. “That overtime goal was brought to you by . . . . . “ A prominent insurance company. “The touchdown pass you just saw was sponsored by . . . . “ A dog food producer. “Wow, there’s a . . . . . . (insert supermarket chain) three pointer if I ever saw one.”
In an act about which I’ve written before, one of the most ludicrous ideas brought to broadcasting is putting microphones on athletes while they’re actually playing a game. Infielders and outfielders, quarterbacks. Because we’re all too impatient to wait until the end of the inning or the quarter for an on-the-field interview. We want to know their thoughts as they happen. Not far behind that brilliant media strategy, we’ll no doubt hear, “I’m sure glad that . . . .(insert your favorite pain medication) allowed me to start that double play.”
The Super Bowl each year has almost become more about the ads and less about the game, unless your team happens to be in it. Unless your favored team happens to be the Chiefs, the Eagles, the Bills, or recently the Lions, your nachos are consumed more likely while waiting for the ads. Companies spend insane amounts of money on advertising – millions per minute. They create special ads too, with viewers surveyed extensively and even voting for their favorites. They make us sigh with emotion (like the young Clydesdale left out of the parade), some that we watch without overt reaction because they don’t provoke any, to outright giggles (the Dunkin’ ads with prominent New Englanders and their accents).
I have to say that, while I’m overall quite pleased with the numbers of people that read these humble writings, including some professionals that tell me they like them, the numbers aren’t quite enough to generate advertising revenue. No business partners have come forward to sponsor me. Perhaps I need to incorporate more pictures of attractively decorated meals, or puppies. Maybe I need to travel more, inserting myself into doing something heroic, like spearing a fish in the South Pacific, or pictures of myself dangling from the Eiffel Tower, standing on rim of Diamondhead, or waving to King Charles and Queen Camilla from a hill overlooking Balmoral, with a stag I’ve just brought down with a bow and arrow. I’d need to get a couple of spandex outfits though, covered in corporate logos. I’m thinking, . . . . . . nobody wants to see that.
I'm Thinking...No! 