Advertise This

From a smattering of oblique comments peppered throughout my many posts, a few sly references, and subtle jibes at certain targets (not to mention the entire body of my last article), you may have gathered that I have a certain . . . disdain for technology, particularly computers and the Internet.  On second thought, "disdain" may not be quite the right word; instead, let's say, "illogical, messianic loathing."  Funny, isn't it?  I need the Internet to air my grievances about the Internet.  The irony is not lost on me, and it's a bitter pill to swallow, depending on the very thing I rail against.  Which does not make me a hypocrite, by the way, it makes me postmodern.  It's like superstar rappers penning one verse after another about how they despise fame in an unending string of hit songs.

What?  That's a completely apt analogy.  Heavy is the crown and all that.

That being said, I actually spend an unhealthy amount of time on the Web, and not just looking at porn, which my therapist assures me is healthy.  Aside from checking my beloved/detested Facebook profile every ten minutes like a needy girlfriend and trying to edit Wikipedia articles faster than the administrators can "correct" them (I'm right, damn it), I log a significant amount of my life on Thatguywiththeglasses.com.  It's funny stuff you should feel morally-obligated to check out.  Now.  But one thing that may give you an involuntary eye-twitch when watching their videos is the advertisements.  And that brings me full-circle to the real topic of this tirade, online marketing, which I said I would be covering in a series of articles back in the summer.  Nice segue, huh?

What's that?  You don't remember when I made that promise?  Better go back to May 21, 2011, kids.  Sorry I got a little sidetracked these past six months.  Anyway . . .

Internet advertising is a huge market of limitless potential, which I have yet to cash in on, for reasons unknown.  I read somewhere (on the Internet) that revenues from online ads are up umpteen-bajillion percent this year and expected to eclipse the combined wealth of Tiger Woods, Michael Jordan, Bill Gates, Richard Branson, and God by 2013.  It seemed like a reputable site.  But I think the advertising brain-trust has become a little too savvy to their market, a diverse demographic that eats up TMZ, "Hide your kids, hide your wife" guy, Angry Birds, and, um, this:

Oh, I get it!  It's funny because you're all retarded!  Seriously, this video has over half a billion hits on YouTube. Half-a-motherfucking-billion.  That means, if everyone in the world had a computer and only viewed this moment of genius once, 5% of the global population would have seen it.  What.  The.  Hell?  And, since only a small fraction of humanity has computer-access, the horrifying truth becomes apparent - a lot of people are watching this America's Funniest Home Videos reject numerous times.  Unfortunately, the aforementioned advertisers have twigged just how vapid the average consumer is, and adjusted their strategies appropriately.  As a result, when I see ads on the Web, not only is my intelligence being severely sodomized, but half the time I am left wondering if there truly was any semblance of reasoning behind the ad, or if the marketers just threw shit up onscreen.  "Hey, people love babies, right?  They like big, bold words, don't they?  And boobs?  That's our auto insurance ad right there!"

And it's not just the content I am talking about.  Even the formatting is starting to baffle me at times.  The marketing on Thatguywiththeglasses is a perfect example, so let's do a quick analysis, shall we?  I actually remember a time when you could just click on a video link and - no, really, get this - go straight to that video.  No lie.  You clicked, video played.  You know, right after it finished buffering and loading for ten minutes.  Maybe insufferable, seizure-inducing banners crowded out the media-player, or you had to play whack-a-mole with the pop-ups, but the video itself was virginal, pure.

Because if there's one thing we hate, it's adulterated celebrity sex tapes.

Then bandwidth increased, connection-speeds left light in the dust, and websites hosting popular videos realized they could force you to sit through a brief commercial, as long as they dangled the carroty promise of the video you actually wanted to see after it.  Fine.  But then the weird shit started happening.  A bottom-banner would pop up inside the media-window, during the commercial.  An ad for the product you were already watching an ad for would interrupt that ad, as if to say, "Hey!  Hey!  Just in case you forgot, you're watching a commercial for this product!  Don't forget!"  Thanks.  Deciding even that wasn't insistent enough, marketers have recently begun inserting a second pop-up box in the corner of the screen.  Really?  Essentially, this is a tacit acknowledgement that their target audience has a fruit fly's attention-span and the cerebral capacity of a blender.

Must . . . resist . . . urge to . . . click.

It's just redundant and overkill, which I can only explain as a profound but well-earned disrespect for the people watching it.  You want to diagnose yourself ADD, this is what you get, America.  Oh, and the stupid things periodically return during the course of the video, just to remind you their products still exist, like a flashback in a movie that recalls an incident five minutes past.  But I suppose it's better than when they would actually interrupt the 15-minute video to show a commercial, which half the time would result in what I assume to be a glitch: the video wouldn't resume once the ad was over.  Cue my aneurysm.

Then there's my old favorite, the cornucopia of online matchmaking services.  I fondly recall an age when such things were few, laughable, and generally regarded as one step above phone-sex lines.  But, like the HMS Titanic, the lowest common denominator has sunk to abysmal depths, a grim testament to humanity's hubris.  Thus, a secret society of failed 90s dot-commers are churning out dating services as if it's going out of style, which I want to believe, given our goldfish-like level of focus, but I know sheer stupidity always outweighs other deficiencies.  Below is one of their adverts, reproduced perfectly by yours truly.

Let's Date Tonight!
Make it the best night of your
life by finding a beautiful
single women [sic] on
GirlsDateForFree!
Click here to connect for free! 

Yeah . . . anyone remember that Enrique Iglesias song from earlier this year, "Tonight I'm Fucking You"?  Well, I can't blame you if you don't remember it, but it gives off the same kind of creepy vibe as this ad.  I mean, I realize this is an online dating service, the shallow, disposable sort barely subtler than the sidebars on porn sites, and only because Facebook doesn't allow its ads to blatantly say, Get Your Dick Wet Now, but it may as well just come right out and admit it.  It's implied anyway, so why not?  This is the kind of website where I have to imagine the average conversation opens with, "Girl, I'm gonna date you so hard, I'm gonna date your brains out."  Mind you, I do not for an instant believe the bullshit promises made by online purveyors of scintillating flesh, but if they're going to lie to me anyway, they may as well go all in with the bluff.

Like this one:

Be A Music Producer

I mean, you have to admire the testicular fortitude of anyone who dares to put this up in seriousness.  I actually have never clicked this ad, so I'm not sure whether it is for a school of some sort or a tattoo parlor.  Either way, the message is obvious: music producers, all of them, must have detailed ink of unspooled cassette tapes somewhere on their bodies.  It's how you can tell they are music producers, sort of like gang tats or Jews wearing the Star of David on their clothes.  One thing's for sure, I want to learn the art of music production from an institute that clearly recognizes the intelligence of its prospective students.  For once, I could set the grading curve.  Then and only then will I feel I have truly earned my congratulatory identifying brand.

And how about Snorg, Threadless, and Busted Tees, those fine online haberdasheries whose sidebars appear on literally every website targeted toward primates under the age of 40?

Mmm, tee-shirts.

Because nothing sells nerd/pop culture/meme novelty wear like a stacked hottie taking it off.  This just seems to be a case of classic marketing gone wrong, because it confuses its demographic.  Yes, sex sells.  Yes, the probable consumers of these hilariously-relevant shirts are sexually-frustrated males.  However, the garments are really advertisements for themselves; we buy them because they are funny, not because their pithy phrases are stretched to the breaking point across a rack two cup-sizes too large for the shirt in question.  I think I speak for the majority of geekdom when I say we know wearing these clever tees will in no way improve our odds with women like those modeling the goods (double entendre!).  Sure, we secretly want to look like superheroes, but not Wonder Woman.

And so the race to the bottom continues, but the real question remains: is there a bottom?  As we boldly explore the ever-expanding horizons of the digital frontier, will we ever find a level of insipidity that cannot be surpassed?  Will our collective intelligence ever be underestimated, or will the mere act of constant web-surfing gradually erode our neurons so that we are always on par with the expectations of the shadowy forces that control our self-imposed Matrix?  Rest assured, the marketers of the Internet will always be there to push the limits, just as watchdogs like me will be there to ridicule the outcome.

KP, out.

P.S. - Serious bonus points to anyone who can explain this advertisement.  Be sure to state your reasoning and cite examples from the reading.  Points will be awarded for eloquence, creativity, and references to Satanic powers.