The comb-over. Again.

Today, the comb-over visited once again. I was all smiles as I greeted it partly because I was being polite but more so because, faced with an entity of such comeliness, I couldn’t help but be all smiles. And the smiling continued all through the meeting, during which the organism on which this handsome comb-over was perched gesticulated a bit and said something or other about some copy that needed to be changed. Mere interferences in the cosmic network as far as I was concerned. I had more important matters to consider such as what life must be like, living forever in the shadow of such hirsute perfection. I envied the organism under because to exist in such close proximity to nirvana must be like staying next door to a pub. But then again, the constant stream of men peeing at your door would drive you insane and so on and so forth in an endless battle of good versus evil.

Alas, the meeting ended before I could come to any useful interpretation of this pub analogy. However, before the comb-over vanished once again, I had a chance to surreptitiously point it out to my CD who let out an “Ooooh” of such great intensity that I was inclined to take two steps back. “That IS a comb-over.” he declared after a few appreciative moments. No doubt, the comb-over has gained another convert. A new religion cometh forth.

Just had the juiciest beef burger ever. Every bite obliged me to wipe my face with a towel.

What? You want to know where I had it?

But then I might just see you there one day – munching my cow and then wiping your face. Only I am fit to munch my cow and then wipe my face. That's quite enough of italics for today. Now shove off.

The comb-over of understanding

Yesterday, at a meeting with a client, I witnessed a comb-over of the most awesome majesty. As I shook the proud owner’s hand, I found myself completely mesmerised. An object of utter beauty, the comb-over stretched languidly from the extreme left side of his head all the way to midway down his right ear, each and every strand whipped into total and unquestioning submission. Perfection is rare enough in itself but this was perfection achieved with merely a comb and some gel. The more I stared, the more I understood. The more I understood, the more the inner workings of the Universe became clear to me. Yes, the fabric of space time is indeed curved, much like hair combed over a bald pate. Yes, space is almost completely dark, interspersed only occasionally with little oases of light. Yes, this is why there is something instead of nothing.

Every movement of the owner’s head brought me closer and closer to nirvana. The only thing that could’ve torn my eyes away from such a magnificent entity would’ve been the Big Bang. Which duly happened. Twice. And on the ceiling above my head. And so nirvana was promptly screwed as I scrabbled out of the meeting room, ostensibly to find out what was going on but really to avoid dying. It turned out that a window pane had literally crumbled and fallen on the meeting room roof downstairs. Inexplicable, if you ask me. And so I went back to the comb-over and stared some more.

Just a scribe

I have just gone through the FA of a serviced residence brochure and I don’t mind telling you that as I turned the pages, I wept with complete abandon. Every paragraph just screamed out for structure editing and, in some cases, a total rewrite. And yet I was completely helpless.

To think that it had all started so well with the client making it perfectly clear that we had won the business on the back of some sound copy. Why then did they insist on the tagline equivalent of “Because food is for eating” when we had options which, if not poetic, at least made some sense? And what’s with sentences that go “Stay with us… …and you’ll feel great”? Why have those dots? Are they supposed to keep the reader in suspense thinking “Hmmm, if I stay with them, I’ll (dot, dot, dot, hmmm, dot, dot, dot) feel great!”? Why!

For them to butcher so mercilessly the copy which they proclaimed they adored is like telling a woman you love her and then marrying her brother. It is just stunningly preposterous and yet these fools are perfectly happy about the whole affair. If I had the chutzpah, I would’ve punched them in their respective snivelling faces. Unfortunately, that is not the case. Which is why I am restricted to sitting here and ranting away at my keyboard. Such is the life of us advertising scribes.

Colbert Interview

For Stephen Colbert fans, I richly recommend this interview. The interviewer is a bit stiff though. Shame. 

Pardon this (short) rant

Been busy as a fucking polygamist. No sooner do I have time for the pharma account than the IT account demands some attention and no sooner do I start touch-typing her than the investment account wants a piece of the action as well – at 3 in the morning. The bitches. If I had my way, I’d have them all stoned.

Oh, bugger all this.