The Book Matched The Cover

A book titled Iago’s Brain In Igor’s Body Through The Eyes Of Edvard Munch.

Did I mention Mata Hareh probably looks like Mighty Man’s sidekick Yukk inside his doghouse minus the heft and lovableness and decent eyesight and loyalty and inferiority complex?  Well she does. 

In a nutshell, my mother went soft and Mata Hareh pulled a fast one and then we played cops.  I’m still pissed off, generally at everybody involved in the mess.

What have I learned?  I hate lecturing my mother (and my mother hates being lectured by me). I hate employing people (boy, that’s a new way to look at the Big Heads, huh).  I’ll probably ixnay the next personal reference by DSTS’s neighbors.  And we’ll never hire another esthetically-challenged nanny for our kids again.  Hey, if most of them are going to be rotten inside, might as well do the corporate thing and get one who represents well.

It’s Animal Farm, and I’ve just turned Farmer.  Happy holidays.

This Blog Is The Poh Chim Of My Soul

It’s like having someone replying to my blog entries to say I do not have the correct assumption… so is it strange for me to find comfort in every time I am proven wrong in pixels?

It’s uncanny. 

Like in one early entry, I put in a sad note about a response from Friendster admin saying blogs were only available to US and Canada accounts, and phoom.  Weeks later we have blogs from everybody in Asia popping up everywhere, and from this I learned Friendster improves itself based on vox populi — or maybe they really meant to blog everybody, but there was a priority thing.

But I was wrong to limit such happenings to Friendster.  Blogging repercussions transcend Terminals to reality!  And that this kind of thing does not necessarily go my way.  Like the time I was so disappointed when Big Daddy suddenly pulled the plug on an ID development with retired Brit Journalist that I just had to write about it, and phoom.  Retired Brit Journalist turned out to have this pseudo-asking-for-criticisms thing only to spaz out later when I did after the boneheaded Big Heads belatedly admitted they didn’t like his idea, and made me his scapegoat.  It reintroduced me to the concept of be careful what you ask for.

Naturally, I rant an entry about the Big Heads and Retired Brit Journalist being big pains and phoom… the Big Heads receive setbacks in plans one way or another, Retired Brit Journalist fall down the stairs.  Okay, the powers that be may not have the same interpretation of life that I do, but in this space, I get to spin.  Shameless, yes, but… hee.  Sorry.

Anyway, the latest freaky thing happened today; remember two entries ago when I dolefully concluded that it could be the China market isn’t ready for Gilmore Girls?  ‘Cause it’s now in its fifth season and WB to date has released the first three on DVD and still no bootlegs? Well, I was phoomed on that again. 

By some twist of fate, Check talked me to an impromptu errand which included the New Place.  To my dismay, Check neglected to tell me in advance he invited Fancy You, Bigger Head — who’s one of the Big Heads, and token ornamental Vanna Be White, too… if I did, I might’ve found a way to stick to the non-paid overtime program?  Because I kind of get to be wary of mistaken association.  It turned out their tagging along had its purpose to address my recent entry, because these surprise companions’ involvement in the hunt is why I found one pack of GG today.  All.  Three.  Seasons. 

My faith in piracy in China has been restored.  And my blog is a symbiote borne of an alien planet and bonded permanently to my inner psychosis.  We shall live.

They Said Bilog Ang Mundo…

… And that’s supposed to be comforting?

Before the usual whining, I send shout-outs to Delerium and her mom who are in town… way downtown, that is… and shopping for DVDs.  And durnit, I couldn’t leave the poor, poor village and travel about 70 kilometers and back on a school night.  I’m sorry I couldn’t tag along, pal.  As a lame make-it-up-to-you, I feature SHAMELESS PLUGGING. 

Y’all need posters or other stuff designed and printed? Go ahead and send Delerium a message to ask for a quote.  She’s one fine designer with the best trance and urban lounge music CD collection I know of.  Also a good idea: eat at Tasty’s!  Probably the best fried porkchops in the world.  So, Delerium… ever thought of FedEx-ing those porkchops everywhere?  Hope you found your DVDs; I’ll see you in October.

Okay.  Atlas is now making like a Globetrotter, Big Daddy is in town again, he’s itchy and likely to sneeze while I’m juggling and not in my best form.  Now we have a PowerPoint file, the five posters, copy that claim utterly false… I mean, technically correct information for two more ads, a book on sales reports and a web campaign that I should really study for.

What’s with the web campaign?  It’s the thing for the moment.  And Retired Brit Journalist will be back next week to sit down with our happy family ’cause he’s set on making another website, a new one that matches the fugl… I mean, what from now on will be referred to as The Blues.  I’m all a-flutter with anticipation. 

Related to that fun, fun thing to do in the near future, I was forwarded an e-mail regarding the chosen domain name for the new website.  Another company’s got it, and of course they can’t change the name already, what with it plastered all over the umbrellas and The Blues stuff?  So they solve this by adding the word “the” in front of the already registered name, an idea that sounds like… duh.  Back home we wouldn’t have started any marketing mess until we at least had a wicked, one of a kind name down pat, like Aling Tekla’s Ukays.  You won’t be seeing no www.thealingteklasukays.com anywhere… I’m just saying.

In the meantime, I am finding comfort in sappy theme songs like the one from The Poseidon Adventure, so. Sing it again, Maur.

Looping: Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi

Yesterday, Check opened a parcel on my desk.  The ugly brochures have arrived.  And contrary to what retired Brit Journalist said… despite seeing them in glorious CMYK splendor, I still think they’re ugly.  And Pantone 279 C is definitely… not strong — the designer even had the sense to pair it with Pantone Warm Red 2X (2 coats)!  Which is a really strong red. 

I really hope that trade show was no biggie for the Big Heads’ sake.  On the other hand, maybe the Big Heads deserved this. 

Jean-Luc Picard burst forth from his office and gleefully pointed to page two of the Ugly Brochure, which now contained the brief company subsidiary introductions.  “See?  They followed your suggestion and switched.  No matter how much they protested, they think you were right.”  Well, not exactly, Jean-Luc Picard.  I asked them to give me the pictures and new logotype files so we can rework on the whole mess.  Needless to say Retired Brit Journalist was insulted. 

So I asked a compromise, and a few of my suggestions on that were to put the page three fancy story on page two, then put that now page two part on page three.  But as for being right… well, yeah.  Of course I’m right.  Now we wait for Biggest Cheese to react. 

Biggest Cheese is the bad-assed big daddy of big daddies in this chump of a corporate thang.  See, the bit that got bumped off to page six?  That’s his interview with an equally bad-assed publication.  Retired Brit Journalist showed the Ugly Brochure to Biggest Cheese with Biggest Cheese’s jargon-happy interview right smack on page two.  Originally on page six was the text introducing the company and its subsidiaries.  Have you ever?  Hum?

Two weeks ago when I saw the layout for the first time, one of the things I negged was that interview on page two.  I e-mailed something like, Old Man, I know you used to write for some newspapers and all, but I think you haven’t been checking out your editors’ works?  See, they would never do something stupid like open an Apple introductory brochure targeting hardcore DOS PC users with Steve Jobs on page two explaining how the new Sonoma chipset is gonna give his Mac G5 chips the willy-nillies.  Never.

But, Biggest Cheese was probably flattered he’s the star of the brochure.  He’s also Retired Brit Journalist’s friend.  Also, Biggest Cheese is not known for fine esthetic taste, so he approved the Ugly Brochure with the randomly laid out stuff.  Hey, he’s Biggest Cheese.  Whether or not he agrees with me that technical answers dealing with problems in the industry should NOT belong on page two is beside the point; it’s his interview and his pictures I messed with.  I may pay with my firstborn son (I’ve decided to keep all daughters). 

And because Biggest Cheese already approved the Ugly Brochure et al, the old man e-mailed me a hissy fit kind of message that should be more effective aimed at Jean-Luc Picard and upwards.  Dude, I e-mailed you on orders of a chickening Big Daddy who changed his mind because he gave you and Mr. Miyagi the job.  Please don’t do me any more favors.

Anyway… Jean-Luc Picard says he’s talked with Retired Brit Journalist to explain our side in detail.  He says Big Daddy’s e-mailed an apology, taking responsibility for the mucks.  Retired Brit Journalist, as a board member, reportedly declared he was not amused with the Big Heads’ leadership skills.  And in silent mode, Check and I were like, bwa-ha-ha-ha… leadership skillz.  You kill, dude.  ‘Course we don’t know for sure if Jean-Luc Picard’s spiel is for real; it may be another corporate melodrama set in cantata to placate us minions. 

Well, it’s your company, dudes.  Just lay off the hissy fits and I’m good; hissy fits in the office are really annoying.  Hissy fits by self-proclaimed macho men (not to mention old), however, deserve a slingshot pellet or two.

Our coordinator, Curly, noted several contact details were obsolete on the brochure and the calling cards.  So, who proofed them for the old man?  I didn’t.  I am a non-entity.  Curly tells me he’s a non-entity, too, and that the Big Heads proofed them, and Jean-Luc Picard proofed them.  Great job, fellas.  I asked Jean-Luc Picard how many brochures he gave away on his recent trade show.  He said six.  “It wasn’t the right kind of trade show for us.  Lots of household consumer goods.  Like Scotch Brite.” 

And people wonder why I worry about career on some days?

Still perusing through the Ugly Brochure, Curly then tells me, quite indignantly, that Retired Brit Journalist loosely refers to China as the People’s Republic in one sentence.  OF WHAT, he sputters.  Curly demands proper respect for his country.

Well, Curly.  It’s like this.  We’re collecting our daily wages from guys who are going bald from stress ’cause they insist on doing our jobs for us.  Let’s keep our hair on, a’ight?  Save your strength for when malodorous by-products of what they digested hit the fan.

A Headline That Spelled SUCKERS In Strong Pantone 279C

Retired Brit Journalist totally flipped when I e-mailed to say that I think the new marketing materials he wrote look like shit.  I don’t exactly have a choice; it’s true.  And what’s more, the company’s rep is at stake.  Big Daddy, if he remembers it was his idea to job-out the stuff in the first place at all (he usually doesn’t), finally saw the error of letting total strangers (to me, at least) do heinous facelifts.  And times like these, there’s only one thing Big Heads like Big Daddy do when they realize they screwed up big time: they make somebody like me send the e-mail to someone like Retired Brit Journalist.  It has the interesting effect of a red flag waving in front of a bull with a leather thong wedged up his, er… posterior.

Retired Brit Journalist did a good job writing the stuff. The problem is the presentation — how can I put this delicately?  It’s ugly.  One’s egg-yolk yellow, with a thick blue headline running across the top and a body text randomly plunked in the middle to take up all the white space that he said he wanted plenty of.  There’s a red X somewhere and a green check mark, too.  Another one’s exactly same, except the background’s white.  These hardly look like something from a company that’s trying so hard — really, really hard — to benchmark against the big industry players.

On Monday, Check handed me a couple of sheets.  I was like, oh, Retired Brit Journalist’s drafts.  Any updates?  These are the updates, Check said.  The final updates.  I blanked, then jogged my memory.  See, the week before I took my leave to face the Inquisition and threats of purgatory… maybe 360-degree neck turns, too… Retired Brit Journalist came over with a Japanese-looking man who was really a Hong Kong citizen who studied in a New York art school during the late 60s.  He looks exactly like Mr. Miyagi on a good diet. 

Anyway, Mr. Miyagi owns an advertising agency which the company hired to shoulder the corporate revamp thing the company Big Heads were so antsy to get done with.  Check showed me two of Mr. Miyagi’s portfolio booklets, and they featured nicely done ads and marketing stuff.

Retired Brit Journalist and I had a meeting — he wanted to let me know about what they have so far, but he admitted the materials “still needed work.”  Nice humorous copy; the old guy tried a different approach that doesn’t deviate much from the existing voice taken by the materials.  The comps, however, looked very plain.  I assumed he used PowerPoint to show Mr. Miyagi and his associates what needed to be done. 

Actually, plotting out the materials with PowerPoint isn’t out of the ordinary; I used to work for a creative director, Papa Smurf, who preferred to doodle his ideas with sharp Number 1 Mongol pencils on sheets of paper, and after he’s okay with them, he’ll send me a bunch of photocopies to work on the text with and another set to his graphic designers to fuss with a more polished look for the crazy stuff he sketched.

But Jean-Luc Picard said, nope, kiddo… those are the real thing.  I was speechless.  And the Big Heads paid how much for this… gawd.  Get this: about fifty grand. 

Okay, should I say they got robbed?  Nah… yo, Big Heads!  Show me the money!  I never knew you were going for the social studies class report visual aid look.  That’s why we thought we couldn’t spare the time to come up with a corporate extravaganza, silly us.  Give me 15 minutes.  Have a coffee break.  I can do this.  Harold the Accountant can do this.  Heck, my aunt’s sister-in-law’s third-grade nephew could do this. On Etch-A-Sketch. Blindfolded. 

And Jean-Luc Picard advised me to stuff it.  “We tried telling them not to pull the project from us early on, they wouldn’t listen.” The problem was the Big Heads decided they want to do this just in time the new products were about to ship out.  The marketing materials got top priority and everybody in the pen had to follow the orders, Retired Brit Journalist or no Retired Brit Journalist.  The thing I didn’t understand that time was, why pull Retired Brit Journalist into the rush in the first place if we weren’t gonna be allowed to make time for the projects with him?  Geez. 

We were told to stick with the new products, and leave Retired Brit Journalist correspondence to Jean-Luc Picard — though we designed for the corporate things for every minute spared.  After two e-mails, Big Daddy told us he’s gonna let an agency do the corporate thingy with Retired Brit Journalist so everything will make the deadlines.  And on this note, really smart of you to involve the old man in your corporate stuff when you couldn’t even follow through with support, Big Heads.  Leave everything for us to clean up, huh?

Anyway, not knowing when to shut up, I had to tick off the the bad points on the a brochure design and suggest rearrangements in the layouts.  Funny what eventually happens when you start out following orders.  Limited choices, us minions.  Big Daddy told me to ask Retired Brit Journalist, so I did.

His reply accused me of not responding everytime he copied me in his e-mails for feedback, what kind of professionalism is that, missy.  What the hell did he expect?  When the Big Heads say they changed their minds and that they’re gonna tell him about it themselves, do you argue over who’s gonna reply to the guy?   And nice going, Jean-Luc Picard.  You’ll let him know, huh?  And Mr. Miyagi. Last time I checked, when one hired a professional agency, one got professional results.  Who made your janitor creative director?  Wait up, here’s a sample of sophisticated verbal parry:

… Regarding your comment on us using a weak blue color for the logotype, Retired Brit Journalist typed, that color looks weak because of the printer we used!  The printer’s old… doesn’t mean the design’s flawed!  The actual material is a STRONG BLUE!   

Pantone 279C, strong.  Alrighty, then.

Finally, to pacify Retired Brit Journalist (might be prone to the wheezes the way he turned purple), we all ate humble pie.  Politics, said Big Daddy.  Go with the flow.  Yeah, sure, this is your mess.  I wield a saber.  And it’s on with the printing of the Etch-A-Sketch campaign… a thousand copies apiece.  Give ‘em two months, they say.  Then Retired Brit Journalist will speak with me again.  And I’ll look forward to this why? 

Did I remind everybody Retired Brit Journalist is a board member?  He is.  And it looks like I’ll be working with him doing future PR materials. 

Clouded my mind is, Sith be soon I shall.  Henceforth, I shall be addressed as Darth Nulnia XI. In addition, never argue with an old board member who hasn’t quite made up his mind yet on whether or not to retire, whether or not he’s open to comments or not, and whether or not he’s decided it’s you or your bosses who screwed up.  Push him off your transporter instead.