On reflection, it's probably not quite so bad

Boredom at work is fast replacing incompetent 3-piece excuses for people as the most irritating thing about my days. Despite the constant complaints that protrude from my general work area when busy, I have recently discovered that actually having nothing to do, or at least nothing worth doing, is actually a far worse way to spend your days.

As a hairy faced colleague has just recently pointed out these are the best times in work, the Mackinaw peaches if you will, appearing once a year, for an all too brief visit, before disappearing into a pit of despair and deadlines that will surely envelop your will to live.

The sad thing is that having nothing to do with my day was the absolute best thing in the world six months ago; the highs and lows of daytime television, the giddy thrill of doing your food shopping on a Tuesday and a Wednesday afternoon (why carry a load of heavy shopping bags back when you can go twice and split the load?) and that every elusive hungover DVD day which was shamelessly entered into on a Thursday afternoon.

All this relaxing and experiencing life however took its toll so the weekends were reserved for good old fashioned takeaways and general self destruction on a level that is usually considered to be excessive for a sixth year holiday.

But alas this is no longer the case. The working life has sapped my enthusiasm for boredom and indeed creation. They say you should never make your hobbies your profession since it’ll suck all the fun out of them.

However, I’m not quite sure it’s accurate to list boredom as a hobby, particularly as it’s a metaphysical construct, as opposed to an activity one can actively engage in, but whatever the case doing nothing has lost it’s something special.

This rant will have to be cut short since a staff meeting has been called. It’s still doing nothing but at least there’s pizza.

Every cloud.

Butt out! Day 3

Basically today can be summed up by restlessness and a lack of patience. On the positive side though, replacing cigarettes with tea rather than food, as has been a common refuge in the past, should help keep both my gastric girth and substitute spending under control. Morning runs might even start tomorrow. Unlikely though.

But I like sitting here...

Looking through the eye of an overcast Wednesday afternoon leads you to quite a number of interesting observations, both about yourself and those around you. Is it really necessary to wear a watch on both wrists? Is it really fair to mistake organisation for obliviousness? Should office politics really be this entertaining?

It’s not important to find the answer to these meaningless questions, they are just that; meaningless. The real genius is to keep asking them, and to endlessly speculate on areas in which no man can claim to be an authority, yet should always strive to be one.

These topics are the foundations of all things great – pub chats, conversations on park benches in the middle of the day despite the absence of either sunshine or warmth, or even the fabled rooftop musings that can only accompany the maiden voyage of a Chinese lantern.

This ramble has unexpectedly turned into something of a thematic piece, which due to the beauty of post-rationalisation will be given a snappy title to make it look like it was planned from the very moment my eyes open this morning, but in reality it was conceived, like all great conversations, through a combination of boredom, a wandering mind and the presence of an endlessly interesting parade of people passing by my desk.

And just this minute, another human truth has been revealed. If you want someone to try and do something you don’t want to do yourself; issue him a challenge. Tell him no one has been able to do it so far, stand back and watch his ego wrestle with a photographic tent.

Works every time...

The life of a home shopping catalogue

The anticipation and excitement when the new one arrives, the magic and hope of flicking through it, what do I want, what would look good with what I have, I’ve always wanted one of those and now I can have it. Then as the time passes, the new and exciting becomes mundane and old, the magazine gets passed on to siblings and lower ranking family members and picks up a few tears and dog ears. Now the items have been circled. Something that was earlier coveted since long been forgotten and discarded, as the harsh grips of reality and electricity bills are remembered, and all that is left of that wonderful optimism is the dried ink of a happier time.

God I’m depressed

You may say that I'm a dreamer...

It’s been said before but advertising would be the greatest job in the world if it wasn’t for clients. Obviously it isn’t fair to tar and feather everyone with the same contemptuous brush but it seems to be a pretty accurate summary from what I’ve encountered in my admittedly very brief time as someone who claims to be advertising creative.

How many times does a great idea get shot down in it’s initial stages because of arguments like “the client said they don’t want anything that takes away from the product” or “but people aren’t going to know what we’re selling” or the dreaded “but child labour isn’t funny”.

Obviously this is a business and in a business the bottom line is everything and taking risks is discouraged. That’s fine. I get that. But taking risks is what any great business/company does. You don’t get to the top by playing it safe. You take a risk it may work, it may not, but you’ll never know if you don’t try and the best you can ever hope for is mediocrity.

Some of the best campaigns in history have taken risks. Basically any old Volkswagen ad was risky. People could have hated them and used the ads to bury the brand. But they didn’t. The iconic Economist ads contain no images. Risky. But the risk paid off and they’re amazing.

The industry will admit, especially in Ireland, that a lot of what is produced is shit. There’s no point in denying it. However, there’s unbelievably talented people working everyday trying to do great work. No one sets out to make a shit ad, piece of art or even child. But it happens. And it’s not always within your control how things turn out. However less and less of the control seems to be with agencies and more so with the client.

If people were more willing to take a risk, maybe we would see more good work coming through and encourage others to follow their lead. Then the floodgates would open with the brilliant ideas that are bouncing around every office and every agency everyday, but never see the light.

This is in no way a revelation or anything, just a pleasant little lunchtime rant I felt like having with myself and decided to share. I’m also sure none of you fine people are the ones I’m talking about either since you decided to read this blog, which in itself is a major risk to any real person, living or dead.

Now, back to work

Spills, thrills and cleaning bills

Can you really buy security? Can you put a price on safety? Recently after moving house an issue has arisen involving your humble narrator, an evil over-bearing tyrant and the issue of what is an acceptable condition to leave a house once you’ve resided there.

I think the greater issue at stake here however isn’t a mere matter of someone being a bit irresponsible with the vacuum, but rather the fiscal ownership of intangible concepts.

Who are we to draw up legal documents and claim that we as humans can wield these metaphysical constructs like some sort of powder-headed Jedi to demand compliance from mere couch loafing mortals.

Also if a landlord says he will do something before you move in, and he then does not in fact install said alarm system all year, wouldn’t that make any previously entered upon contract, of which this was a clear conditional clause, null and void?

Very interesting stuff indeed. Although, as I previously stated this isn’t about finding who put the screw in the tuna, but about poor old Plato, whose theory of the forms - which has delighted university types and stoners across the world since they days of Ancient Greece – is being unceremoniously defiled on a daily basis by the lawmakers and the moneylenders, the very sort that young upstart kicked out of his temple all those years ago.

Maybe they didn’t clean the oven either

Plato
Kicking it Circa 400 BC

Cus he's rollin', he's the rollin' stone

Gerry Rafferty died today at the age of 63. Had this album on tape years ago and it used to get me through the dreaded nightshift stacking shelves in Dunnes Stores.

This is one of my favourite songs on the album (and of course have to include Baker Street). Apparently he used to be in a band with BIlly Connolly too, weird.

(Guitar solo at 4:48 deserves it's own national holiday)

Really like the album art too

Gerry Rafferty

1947 - 2011

RIP

Thank F**k it's January

So January has finally figured out how to remove the handbrake and as it begins to coast unconvincingly out of the garage, the grind resumes for all those smug bastards who have jobs to provide them with their daily 8 hour dose of anxiety.

This however, is not something to dispair over, it is in fact a good thing. For beneath this looming storm cloud of greying depression is the shiniest of silver linings for the lovable, carefree group that society has cast aside and branded as 'unemployable'.

Yes, for while the workers among you have been relaxing and getting fat over the past two weeks during the 'much needed' break from work, you fail to appreciate that you have thoughtlessly and unapologetically turned our cosy little jobless worlds upside-down.

We have a daily routine too just so you know, and it largely depended on the fact that the rest of you clowns are at work during the daytime hours.

Your boredom at work leads you to post articles and videos on the world wide webfooted picture box which we can use to help generate a small insincere laugh while we sit on the couch in our pants eating our third bowl of cheerios.

We can journey freely and unemcumbered about the city safe in the knowledge that the busses, trains and coffee shops we lurk in will be free from your smug pinstriped tyranny until at least half past five when it doesn't matter any more.*

But the bitterest of pills to swallow presents itself in the final few days before you have to suit up again and trudge back to your selected methods of exasperation:

"God I'm so bored, there's nothing to do. I dunno how you do this all the time, I'd go mad. Can't wait to get back to work."

We don't do "this" all day. We do many things, but as previously stated, they generally don't involve you moping about, complaining that there's nothing to do as a centre piece. We all want you to go back to work, then life can resume as normal.

We both have our daily routines, ours is just far more entertaining.

I hope this has gone in someway to vaguely entertaining you at work.

I'm off to make pancakes and watch the wire.

* This is due to a recent high court ruling which said that it's ok to start watching films from said time without being branded a lounged lizard

The real reason Lennon was killed...

Thirty years ago today, Mark David Chapman shot John Lennon in the back because he couldn't find anything else to read. If he hadn't been cruelly forced to read Catcher in the Rye over and over again perhaps Lennon might still be alive today, war might have been abolished and the Beatles might have reunited to record England's World Cup song in 1998.

Unfortunately the mischievous book managed to convince Chapman to bring it everywhere with him and finally, after months whispering in Chapman's ear, he got him to carry out the final stages of J.D. Salinger's evil plan: murder John Lennon and elope with Yoko Ono.

Chapman was originally on track to completing this successfully but after the shooting he realised what he had done and decided he couldn't let Salinger complete his evil plan.

However, he feared reprisal from the brutish novelist whose notorious temper was the stuff of legend, so he decided to turn himself in, and feigning instability, cited the book as the reason he did it.

The authorities misinterpreted what he meant by claiming the book was responsible, but one of the arresting officers was on Salinger's payroll so he was unable to explain himself properly.

In the end though, Chapman had done enough. Salinger's name was now permanently linked with Lennon's murder and any attempt of his to try and court Yoko would have caused a media shit storm.

"Catcher in the Rye" continues to sell consistently to this day and up until his death last year Salinger had become rich from his plot to have Lennon assassinated. However despite all his gold chalices and fur coats (which he was known to parade around the bars of New Hampshire in) he was never ever able to befriend Yoko Ono.

He struggled with the past however in his later years, and he began to feel enormous guilt for what he had done to Lennon. On his deathbed, confessed everything to his son Matthew and begged for the world to forgive him.

His estate later officially apologised to Yoko Ono. Chapman had his sentence reviewed after the apology and was released from prison. He went into acting, most notably starring in "The Killing of John Lennon". Danny DeVito was nominated for an Academy Award for best supporting actor for his role as the book.

*It's worrying what can come out of your mind sometimes. By way of an apology for these nonsense ramblings here are some of my of favorite Lennon songs.

John Lennon

9 October 1940 - 8 December 1980

"Cheer up, Ed. This is not goodbye. It's just I won't ever see you again..."

So the news has spread that sadly Leslie Neilsen died this morning at the ripe old age of 84.

Celebrity deaths are all the rage these days an usually don't register on my radar but this is the first one in a while that actually got my attention. This is the man who gave us hours of entertainment as Lt. Frank Drebin and this morning the internet is awash with tributes and memories, and rightly so.

The sheer volume of youtube clips and quotes from Airplane and The Naked Gun series that are all over Facebook and Twitter show just how much people loved this guy and the astonishing level of ridiculousness he could generate in a seemingly innocent and straight forward situation.

You've seen them all before but even after a hundred viewings they're still gold:

One of the funniest men to have ever been called Shirley.

He will definitely be missed.

Leslie Nielsen

February 11, 1926 - November 28, 2010

Television: Teacher, mother, secret lover

After dedicating an entire afternoon on the couch to learning a multitude of various Tv theme songs, an odd trend has emerged. It seems that not only are all themes getting less memorable (that could be down to my own levels of nostalgia/dementia though) but none of them seem to explain the premise of the show any more.

Setting up the following half hour with a simple, twenty second round up of what's going on is the greatest gift any TV show can give to the channel hopping loafer, and while this is probably something considered necessary more with children than with an adult audience, it definitely lends a more grandiose air to things, and ramps up the excitement for the show which follows (although again that might just have been how easily amused I was as a child)

Anyway here's a few of my favorite examples and I challenge anyone to say these aren't classic songs from classic shows, although that may depend on you being the same age as I am...

Couldn't do a post about TV themes without the king of them all though:

Or this for that matter:

Ah, lovely

Rooms without doors are not really rooms...

Today for the first time I ventured over to the international house of pancakes known as IKEA, searching for a cheap table and an answer as to why everyone loves buying furniture they have to make themselves.

It's literally the most insane place I've ever been. Everyone is just walking through these weird little rooms and layouts with the same expression of concern and delight normally reserved for fathers who've just uncovered their son's secret stash of weed.

The fact that I could have skipped the 15 minute amble through the place and just gone straight downstairs was annoying but it alerted me to the sheer volume of people who had nothing better to do on a Wednesday morning than wander around a large warehouse pretending to be several small rooms. I never would have considered the Swedish to be the kind to misdirect intentionally, but this entire company is built around a lie: None of those 'rooms' had doors.

That said though, I managed to put the table together without resorting to swearing (much) or drinking alone and it was only €29 so overall it was a success.

To celebrate, here are some of my favourite IKEA ads.

Frӧjda

I should be more upbeat on a Sunday but...

So once again it's November. It's cold, it's wet, it's depressing and to make things worse, everywhere you look there are Christmas ads and decorations being stuffed down your throat. And while we probably won't get much sympathy from the turkeys of the world, the cantankerous grinches among us have to endure a good seven weeks of this nonsense before it's acceptable to officially embrace the season and go on the piss for 7 days straight.

The right attitude to adopt however, is always a perilous decision; whether to gouge ones eyes out with candy cane or indulge your inner child and get into the spirit of things?

It is undeniable that there are certain moments in the middle of all the Christmas carnage that signify the true arrival of Jesus, Santa and the boys for another one of their annual bachelor parties like no other; the Coca Cola ad and the Kellog's ad being two pretty obvious ones and having Christmas without these moments would be like having a secret Austrian sex basement without the incest.

The flip side of this however, could almost be considered distasteful.

I was in Dunnes about two weeks ago and they were already balls deep in Christmas warfare.

Dining sets with tables and chairs, fancy cutlery, crackers... the works. It's worrying.

Buying stuff that far in advance of Christmas is a pretty high gamble.

You might estimate that you'l have six people for dinner this year and get that upgraded dining table with the fancy chairs, but what happens if the baltic winter that's been forecast takes a hold of Grandpa Joe and he doesn't quite make it to the 25th?

Or if that new friend your wife's been harping on about from her yoga class turns out to be more than just a good friend? Then you'll be left holding the Christmas bag and there won't be any toys in it, just a massive credit card bill and a great big ball of depression.

I'd like to say I'm shocked but...

Surely at some point during the development of this ad, someone must have turned around and said 'seriously guys this is pretty fucking weak'?

Snoop Diggedy Dogg, rapping about Pepsi in an ad? Not even rapping about it actually, just reminding people how to spell it correctly. Didn't there once exist a time when musicians/artists (loose usage here) used to have some vague sense of integrity? When they were in it 'for the music' and selling out was a serious accusation?

Also how much did this fucking cost? Despite being the walking punch line that he is, he's not gonna be cheap and if you're gonna stuff a ludicrous amount of cash into his claw, at least get him to do something entertaining.

Like I'd love to have seen him down 2 litres of Pepsi in one go. Or even make some awful joke about the fact that the sort of coke he likes has no business being brown (Dark brown? What colour would you describe coke as actually?).

Anyway as I said I'd like to say this shocked me but the fact is it didn't. And that makes me sad.

I'm just going to go about my business and by way of my mp3 playing time machine try and revisit a time when artists had integrity and couldn't be bought.

Much better

(Insert witty title here)

Up until about 5 minutes ago, this post was a malignant, 937 word rant denouncing American politics and the utter level of insanity that it manages to conjure up whenever some sort of election or vote rolls around.

However, it is no longer appearing in its original form. Instead it is coming to you in the form of things that I've found over the last few days relating to the level of insanity that American Politics manages to conjure up whenever some sort of election or vote rolls around, that made me laugh.

Some were funny in themselves while others were funny in the kind of way that makes you laugh in disbelief, look at it again, stop laughing for a minute, google the term being used, realise that you've actually become stupider as a result of being exposed to the communication in question, send it on to a close friend, then laugh again at the fact that you've just made them as dumb as you are. *

Enjoy

She's not lying, just ask anyone who works in pubic relations

I wonder where they stand on the subject of pudding?

Who isn't?

Think of seeing your dad storming out of the house with this

Justin Bieber is the matrix

Loves baby killing?

The pride of Reddit

Surprised the art direction on this wasn't more graphic

Really? What?

*This post has definitely impaired your intelligence

Sometimes Satan takes a break...

Despite it's definition advertising can actually have a positive influence from time to time. Here are a couple of ads that, for once, are actually for something worthwhile and not just for the latest brand of industrial strength laxatives