Check out the stems on Miss NASA 1968–69 as she herself ogles an RL10 liquid-fuel cryogenic rocket engine. She’s positively dreamy—and so’s Miss NASA.
Check out the stems on Miss NASA 1968–69 as she herself ogles an RL10 liquid-fuel cryogenic rocket engine. She’s positively dreamy—and so’s Miss NASA.
It finally transpired. Over the years, a number of clients have asked us what happens if we don’t create anything they like. It’s a question that typically comes up during logo projects, and my response has always been to tell ’em not to worry. It’s never happened. Ever.
Until now.
After an early discovery phase that included a Q&A session, a competitive review, a clear outline of our logo intent and focus, and two design reviews, we learned that a new client was going to take its business elsewhere (to the RFP runner-up, of course).
What’s even more perplexing, however, is that those two design reviews were successful. We provided a full range of logo ideas during the first meeting, from which five were selected for further development. In the second meeting, we reviewed the refined ideas along with some preliminary colors and applications. The choices were narrowed down to three because, according to our client, it was simply “too difficult” to choose only one or two.
Guess we shouldn’t have taken that as a positive sign. A couple of weeks later, we were told that we just hadn’t solved their design problem; that we needed to explore additional ideas. Now, I recognize that our country is in the throes of a political campaign in which flip-flopping on issues is the norm, but this was really a surprise—given that all involved were quite content with our solutions. (We ought to know, after all. We asked a time or two. Or three.)
No problem, I thought. We simply need to understand the client’s new concerns and continue to develop additional ideas—while not incurring any additional costs. What I didn’t fully grasp was that they were breaking up with us. The qualifications that made us win out over other firms had suddenly, and inexplicably, vanished. Goodbye, AMD.
So now when I’m asked what we do if we don’t create anything a client likes, I have a new response: “Well, that’s never happened in the 32 years I’ve been doing this. Except once. So we don’t expect it to happen again until around…2044.”
Leave it to Randall Munroe to put the proliferating presidential prognostications in perspective. (And if that isn’t the awesomest alliteration ever, it’s at least up there in the top ten.)
Starbucks coffee? Meh. At its worst, it tastes like burnt toast; at its best, it tastes like mostly burnt toast. Either way, it’s still better than Dutch Brothers. Call me ambivalent, then.
As for the company’s rather pretentious naming system—what with its “venti” this and “con panna” that—come on. We’re not in Italy. Know how I can tell? The coffee tastes like toast.
In response, British department store Debenhams, diplomatically citing “cappuccino confusion,” has launched a “plain English” menu at its Oxford Street location in London.
“We’re trialling a redesign of our coffee menu in Oxford Street,” said John Baker, director of food services at Debenhams, “so shoppers spend less time playing coffee Cluedo and more time enjoying their favourite drink.”
Hear, hear.
In just four months, Lorri Johnston has quickly proven her worth to AMD, tackling the issues the rest of us are afraid to address. Just this morning, in fact, between mouthfuls of leftover Halloween candy (thoughtfully provided by our good friends at ILF Media), she contemplated the lowly Milk Dud.
“Why,” she asked, “would you name something so delicious a dud?”
Truly, I felt as if I were in the presence of a Zen master—for this was no simple question, but a kōan meant to provoke the “great doubt.” She was testing me.
A quick glance in my American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language merely reinforced the paradox:
dud n. 1. A bomb, shell, or explosive round that fails to detonate. 2. Informal One that is disappointingly ineffective or unsuccessful.
Clearly, further meditation was needed. On to Wikipedia:
According to the manufacturer, the word “Milk” in the name refers to the large amount of milk in the product; the use of “Dud” came about because the original aim of having a perfectly round piece was found to be impossible.
So the Milk Dud is both a failure and a tasty treat! My analytic intellect is exhausted, my will spent; I am one step closer to enlightenment.
How did I miss this story? A guy on the loose with someone else’s groin in his pants?!?
“A suspect found inside a Les Schwab Tire store in Spokane Valley after an alarm went off told deputies it was neither his groin nor his meth found in his groin area they recovered after arresting him Wednesday.”
It was bad enough we had to worry about our kidneys getting stolen for the Chinese black market; now we have to guard our groins as well?
I’m often asked whether my job is as glamorous as it sounds. “What’s it really like,” people ask, “to be part of a highly creative team that regularly challenges the status quo with arresting design and provocative copy?”
Until alert reader “Spimbi” sent along this Dilbert cartoon, I’ve been unable to adequately answer that.
According to President Obama’s Twitter feed, even the executive branch is having to cut back:
RT if you agree: Mitt Romney’s severely conservative views are a disaster for women that we can’t afford in the White House.
— Barack Obama (@BarackObama) October 25, 2012
No word from the president yet as to whether his economic plan will lead to more affordable women.
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With Halloween just around the corner, I got a little excited when I saw a link to “A Highbrow Halloween Reading List.” It’s a little disappointing, though, not least because there’s no Lovecraft. (Here‘s one of my favorites of his.)
But for a truly horrifying tale—the kind that gives you the heebie-jeebies from the very first word—you can’t go wrong with Algernon Blackwood’s The Willows. Several e-book versions are available (FREE!) at Project Gutenberg. Read it…if you dare.
Feel like you’re geting the rough end of the pineapple? Don’t worry—you may yet land with your bum in the butter. These and other delicious food idioms are chronicled over at The Guardian‘s Word of Mouth blog.
Posting’s been a little light of late, mostly on accounta we’ve been busier than a blind dog in a meat house. Until this caught my eye, anyway: Man with Mahler Photo Complains of Pressure from Schoenbergs. Clearly it was time for a breather.
Turns out that Cliff Fraser, a 35-year-old Los Angeles emergency room technician and college student, has in his possession a signed photograph of Gustav Mahler—and Arnold Schoenberg’s heirs want it. The best part of the story? The very last paragraph:
Mr. Fraser said that since finding the photo he had learned a lot about both Schoenberg and Mahler, and something else as well. “I’m not a very big fan of their music,” he said. “I tried, but it just doesn’t work for me.”
Okay, then. Back to work.
My daughter told me a joke the other day:
“Knock, knock.”
“Who’s there?”
“To.”
“To who?”
“To whom.”
Pretty good, right? Of course, you have to actually care about the distinction between who and whom to think it’s funny. Which brings us to this post over at The Economist‘s website, one of the points of which is that “[t]he unease over whom just makes people avoid it more.”
For you geeks out there, it’s who for subjects, whom for objects. But most of us don’t want to get all that involved with determining subjects and objects—including me. So I just stick to a rule I first learned from William F. Buckley, Jr.: follow a preposition with whom (to whom, by whom, for whom, et al.). Use who everywhere else. Seems to work.
Eager patrons stand in line at the loukoumades truck at the 77th annual Greek Dinner Festival last Friday. Hosted by Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox Church, the event features an incredible menu, bakery items, church tours, dancing, and, of course, the aforementioned loukoumades—little puffs of deep-fried goodness that once were served by the ancient Greeks to Olympic champions.
One more post about Facebook, then I’m done. For reals.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=AkH2coBaQUQ
Try to watch this without laughing. Go on—I dare you. It’s a bit cheeky coming from a company that lost $50 billion in share value in a little over three months, don’t you think?
But what’s worse is the grandiosity of it all. Does Facebook really think it’s the only thing that stands between us and a “vast” and “dark” universe? “We make the tools and services that allow people to feel human, get together, open up,” explains head of consumer marketing Rebecca Van Dyck. C’mon. Who honestly believes that? (Besides Wieden & Kennedy, the ad agency that foisted this bombastic load of navel-gazing codswallop on us.)
The seriousness with which this company takes itself is mind-boggling. But I think it’s really just a larger symptom of the way in which agencies and design firms—and their clients—have come to fetishize brand. It’s not enough to have a billion people actively using your product (which in and of itself is a truly remarkable feat); no, you’ve got to get all metaphysical on us. Hey Facebook: You’re a social networking site. That’s all. Now, go earn your shareholders some money.