In Brevity: Starbucks?! Starfucks!!
This week Starbucks announced changes to their rewards program. What does it mean?
Don’t worry. I’m here to break it down brevity-style. No, not breve. Starbucks “baristas” don’t know that word.
Why the change? According to Starbucks Newsroom official website it was done “based on the #1 customer request” to have more stars. In other words, you asked for this. Look what you made us do!
In the way back I’d heard about Starbucks stars. I drank there when it was in my face and I wanted coffee so I enthusiastically figured, “What the hell?” I signed up and gave it a try.
I’m taking a quick blog-break at work so this will be brief. When I saw this steaming pile of horse shit on my screen, I knew I just had to share.
Hey, asshole advertisers! I have a question. Where is that line in the sand you are not willing to cross in order to sacrifice my eyeballs in exchange for profits?
I guess images that have the remotest theoretical relevance to your pitch went the way of the dodo, eh? Now the game is played dead or alive, whatever it takes, no holds barred. Make the kill on those eyeballs using whatever force necessary. Those are the rules of engagement.
My fertile brain can’t help but wonder: What’s next? Images of white mice in microwaves exploding in a gory mess of blood and intestines from the inside out? That might be eye-catching, too.
How about a little movie of someone pulling down their pants, squatting, and taking a dump on an animation of dancing pink elephant? Whatever it takes, right?
Where, oh where, is that line in the sand? Do you have any limits?
Shame on you, WeatherBug.com (in this particular case) for sucking on the teat of these assholes. When the advertising gets too egregious, you leave the humble consumer little choice. I’m blocking your piece of shit website – forever. It’s not like I have limited choices for finding weather on the internets.
Oh yeah, and by the way, if you resort to deceptive and nefarious tactics like this simply to get my attention, how in the name of holy hell do you ever expect me to trust enough to do business with you? I wouldn’t trust you if my life depended on it. I can see you right now, all greasy and shit, in your bathrobe and in a cloud of smoke, sitting in your little boiler room in God-knows-what country lying to people on the phone all day long.
Yeah, I don’t think so.