Come On Be Happy
Drink this shit, you idiot!
Remember when I told you about the inventive advertising process of mascotization? That’s where you take your product and turn it into a “character” to appear in your ad campaigns. This is done by adding cartoonish facial features, the magic of animation and cutsey voice overs. I originally introduced this idea in a post entitled “Human spam at home and on the road” back in May of 2010.
If your product is a wrench, you draw a face on it and animate. Voila! Instant mascot. And so creative, too. This is important because it’s an opportunity to show your customers your inventive genius from which, they can infer, you’re a great business person with a great product.
In the four years since, this process has continued. And how.
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Survivor: Abyss Island – Finality and First Meal
This is where tree mail happens. Look! A fresh serving of Survivor poetry awaits.
Day 39 is here! Just in time, too, to help me ring in a new rash. No one can ever accuse me of not doing all that is required. By this same time tomorrow I’ll be on my way back to civilization. So sorry. I lived.
Tonight looms my final immunity challenge and, win or lose, the final tribal council. What horrors, disappointments and further humiliations await? Tune in tomorrow for the recap post.
So it’s the wee hours of the early morn on Day 39 and I’ve just been awakened by my host. There’s bonus tree mail.
Last and Final Tree Mail
Congratulations, you’ve made it to Day 39.
Pack your camp up and get ready to go. Your hostest with the mostest is taking you to a celebratory breakfast this morning at 7 a.m. During breakfast you will honor your fallen teammates … wait … there were no teammates. Well whatever, enjoy your breakfast cause you’ll need your energy for the last and final challenge of Survivor Abyss Island.
May you be crowned the Sole Survivor.
That last sentence almost sounds, dare I say it? Encouraging? Suddenly I’m very afraid.
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Hello in a Restaurant
My wife told me to be short when writing. I told her my height doesn’t change.
When I walk in a restaurant, I don’t expect much. But I do like to be greeted. A little eye contact. The word, “Hello.” This should be from the first person who sees me. If even a single employee walks by and gives me the “I pretend not to see you because greeting customers is not my department” then I become irritated.
I understand that employees in a restaurant may be busy. Hell, they may even not be poised at the ready saying, “Tom should be here any minute. Look alive, people!” All it takes is a second to say, “I’ll be right with you.”
Above all else I’m a reasonable guy.
Without eye contact, a greeting and a friendly “I’ll be right with you” I can wait about two minutes before saying (to myself), “Fuck this place!” For every employee who gives me the “not my department” routine you can take a minute from that time.
If greeted, though, I’ll happily wait five minutes or more.
Then there’s this other guy…
My wife and I were in the restaurant, already at a table, enjoying our lunch. A guy walked in. I’m not sure why but he caught my eye. It might have been the way he bellowed.
He strode in, stopped a few feet inside the door, which had just closed behind him. He then waited 1.5 seconds without being helped. No wait staff was in sight. Then he bellowed, “Hello???”
Every head in the restaurant turned. Forks dropped to plates. Everyone was stunned. What the fuck was going on here? It’s rather unusual to yell like that. Something must be up.
A waitress ran from the back. I watched the whole thing go down. I was zoomed in. I had the tunnel vision.
“What are the hours of the haircut place three doors down?” the man demanded. “Their door is locked.”
Ah. I see. You obviously saw our sign that reads, “We help customers from all businesses that are not are own.” Yeah, why don’t you go fuck yourself?
The waitress, who is naturally a nice person, tried to help. “You see, we don’t know about that. That’s like a whole other business. They don’t check in with us. We have no information.”
The guy angrily strode out.
This is the planet I live on. A planet where people like that exist. Then, as we were leaving, the guy came back in for more! I gave him laser beams of death as we fled the building. What an enjoyable meal. Speaking of meal, I would very much like to feast on his soul.
Hey, look. This was less than 500 words.
Shouts from the Abyss 
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