Old Ads That I Like #10

This is what I believe they call “High Concept” advertising. Very L.A. Here’s how I see the pitch going down: [Warning, this may contain words that offend.]

“there’s this fucken’ monkey right, really freaky lookin’ thing. He sorta looks like these old chinamen that hang about in those opium dens right? And this monkey is probably stoned, off his fucken’ head or something you know man, real far gone kinda deal. Anyway, this monkey's a bit ropey looking, kinda wrong-side-of-the-tracks. He’s on a downer, seen better days and he knows it. He’s probably stolen the bike and on the lam. Yeah, he’s on the run. That’s why he’s goin’ so fast you see. He’s tearin’ down the mountain out the middle of nowhere off his fucken’ head, not a fucken’ care if he lives or dies.

And get this, man (and this is the killer, man), he’s got this parrot with him. Who knows where he’s got it from, but he’s got this god damned parrot! And this parrot don’t look too happy bein’ there right? She’s old, maybe she’s got mange or somthin’ like that. This is the sort of parrot that’s been around a bit ya see, she’s been around the block a few times see? Maybe she’s been perched up on some sailor’s shoulder, been at sea, somehow she’s ended up stuck in some whore’s parlour, watching the filth and the corruption traipse right on through. And somehow she’s with this monkey right? Right? And we’re not sure if she’s really WITH the monkey, or if he’s just ‘with’ the monkey. Can you see it man? Can you see it? Maybe this monkey makes this parrot do stuff. Maybe this parrot just does it. Who fucken’ knows. THAT’S the point, ya see.

And the tagline man, the tagline’s where we’ll really get ‘em. Get this, “We’re having a heavenly time”! Did you catch that man? “We’re having a heavenly time”! This fucken’ wild, fucken’ crazy monkey on a one way journey to hell and some fucken scabby old whore’s parrot and they’re havin’ a “heavenly time”! Once this hits the streets those fucken’ bikes of yours will be flyin’ off the shelves, mark my fucken’ words, I know what I’m talkin’ about, I’ve been in this business a long time.”

Comments

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral...

Hold me now, oh hold me now, until this hour has gone around. And I'm gone on the rising tide, to face Van Dieman's Land

Theme Thursday again, and this one is rather easy. I am Tasmanian, you see, and aside from being all around general geniuses - as I have amply described previously - we are also very familiar with the concept of WATER. Tasmania is the ONLY island state of an ISLAND continent. That means, we're surrounded by WATER. That should help explain why I take so many photographs of water . Tasmania was for a long time the place where the British (an island race terrified of water) sent their poor people most vile and horrid criminals. The sort of folk who would face the stark choice of a death sentence , or transportation to the other end of the world. Their catalogue of crimes is horrifying : stealing bread assault stealing gentlemen's handkerchiefs drunken assault being poor affray ladies being overly friendly with gentlemen for money hitting people having a drink and a laugh public drunkenness being Irish Fenian terrorist activities being Catholic religious subversion. ...

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke...

This will hurt me...

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