Skip to main content

Ads that I like #66


It is no surprise that people who write advertisements have a tendency to be quite liberal [ahem] with the truth. My experience in researching and writing this series on vintage ads (thousands of hours every single week alone!) tells me that of all the shysters, scammers, tricksters, con artists, deceivers, dissimulators, fablers, fabricators, fabulists, falsifiers, fibbers, phonies, charlatans, double-dealers, four-flushers, griftera, smooth operators and flim flam men that I've seen, those involved in the promulgation on the filthy habit that is cigarette smoking are the most brazen offenders.

Yet it is far worse than a decadent art rolling around in it's own filth. We know the great crimes of the ad man, that is no surprise. But to drag the good name of dentistry through the mud is a bridge too far. I am not sure which of the nineteen thousand, two hundred and ninety three dentists were willing to put their name to the outrageous claims made above, but they have shamed their profession. In much the same way as a previous advertisement made me never trust a woman again, I shall never look at a dentist in the same way from this day forth.

That is a travesty. Thank you faceless ad man, thank you very much.
Labels:

Comments

Miles McClagan said…
Meh, that's nothing, in the 50s they put radiation on peoples face in the name of advertising..

http://www.tvparty.com/emcomm.html
16 November 2008 at 10:23
Debbie Courson Smith said…
Well, no one has ever said an ad has to be true, it's just that the public forgets that.
17 November 2008 at 12:58
Kris McCracken said…
Miles, I swear by Chernobyl dirt myself. I sprinkle it on my Weet Bix.

Boise Diva, buyer beware!
20 November 2008 at 12:25
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

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
5 comments
Read more

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
38 comments
Read more

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.
36 comments
Read more