Crowley Webb Blog

It’s not a party until you have pancakes.

by Chris Muldoon

I love breakfast. Not only is it the most important meal of the day, it’s also the most delicious. Waffles, omelets – heck, I even crave the generic bags of cereal you find on the floor of the grocery store. So you can imagine my delight when I saw these commercials for Holiday Inn Express, touting their new hot breakfast bar (with the emphasis on bar).

My favorite spot involves a guy helping himself to some yummy-looking eggs, when a coworker reminds him he’s the designated driver for the morning (now do you get the bar thing?). He sheepishly hands over his plate and says, “I don’t need a hot breakfast to have a good time.” Out of nowhere, another one of his apparent friends yells out, “Yeah, but you’re more fun when you do!”

Wow. Someone cut that lady off from the syrup. She’s definitely going to be hurting by lunchtime.

Great spots, Holiday Inn. And if you need extras for your next campaign, I’ve been known to hit the buffet pretty hard myself.

Ads of the World

Look for us on Ads of the World: Advertising Archive & Community. The great folks at adsoftheworld.com have been kind enough to run our feed on their site. Support their project by stopping by, and keep your eyes peeled for CWA work.

Why don’t you write and perform a song of apology?

by matt low

I was going to write about my hatred for the free credit report dot com kid, but then I searched for the spots on YouTube, got disgusted all over again, and decided I just couldn’t. Since then, I’ve reconsidered because they are just so bad.

Let me start by telling you what’s not wrong with these spots. It’s not that the production is so shaky that the lyrics barely match the lip-syncing of the smarmy main character. It’s not the main character’s smarminess. It’s not the singer’s voice that almost brought me to the point of sticking fire in my ears to make it stop.

No, all of this isn’t what’s wrong with these spots.

It’s the situations that I find to be most troublesome. I can almost buy being forced to purchase a piece of garbage car because your credit is less than stellar. But that thing featured in the commercial? Come on. You could acquire that automobile with the change contained in its very own ashtray. Suddenly, it just feels forced and stupid. What’s even more stupid is the premise of this commercial’s stupid cousin. This one features our hero working in a restaurant due to his bad credit.

Let’s take a step back.

This man’s poor credit rating – that existed all along totally unbeknownst to the man because he wasn’t thoughtful enough to visit freecreditreport.com for his free credit report with enrollment in Triple Advantage (sounds scammy!) – forced him to take a job in a seafood eatery. Please don’t ask why. Please don’t ask why. Please don’t ask why.

Fine – I have no idea.

Why would a poor credit rating make you take a job you don’t want? More important, how would knowing about said poor credit rating prevent you from having to take said job? It’s all just gibberish that really isn’t worthy of a blog article in the first place. Sorry.

Talent crush.

by Liz Maimone

Perhaps you’re familiar with the term "talent crush". You know, one of those people who’s so crazy-talented that they could look like Donkey Kong and you’d still want to have their babies. We’ve all been there. (Don’t pretend you weren’t in love with Drew Carey once, too). Working in an industry jam-packed with talented people it’s hard not to have one. Or ten. I’ll admit it, I have my fair share – from Kevin Roberts to Donny Deutsch – although the latter is more of a real crush. He could be good at nothing and I’d still turn into a giddy little schoolgirl at the thought of him. Anyway, I want to hear about yours. Yes you. Go ahead, don’t be shy.

Christopher, my Prius owner is far more obnoxious than your Prius owner.

by matt low

A week ago, the fastest copywriter in Western New York, Mr. Chris Muldoon, went on a semi-rant about an egotistical hybrid owner. My friend argued that if you drove an environmentally friendly car, the car itself lets people know how intelligent you are and you don’t need to brag.

Well, today, I too found myself behind a Prius. Except mine was driven by a man who seemed determined to tout just how unintelligent he is.

First and foremost, the owner of the vehicle had a sticker on the trunk that resembled three claws which looked as if they belonged to some sort of beast contained inside the trunk. Essentially, the man would have you believe he has a polar bear or some other white-pawed creature inside his car and said creature was trying to get out. Why would he want you to think this? Um, yeah, I have no idea.

Next, he had a personalized license plate that said more than just “I’m looking for attention in what may be the most annoying way imaginable” (which is what all personalized plates say). The message was “GOTVOLTS.” This can only be a reference to the now infamous-to-the-point-of-evil “Got Milk?” headline. But considering the “VOLTS” half of it, I’m guessing the guy is an electrician. Right? Who knows?

And finally, the guy had an Opie and Anthony “WOW” bumper sticker in his rear window –which almost certainly stands for “Wow, you are incredibly sad to have placed this item on your automobile.” Now, listening to that mean-spirited frat boy drivel is a sin in and of itself, but placing a sticker supporting it on your car is just deplorable. Having two such stickers is grounds for execution. Having three, well, almost cancels everything else out, as I suddenly feel extremely sorry for the primate operating this motor vehicle. I’m sort of shocked he’s able to drive at all. I’m further shocked he remembers to breathe.

I’ve completely lost my train of thought.

Oh, yeah. I guess my point is that it really doesn’t matter what one’s stance on the environment is or the choice they make regarding their vehicle. Jerks are jerks. So why not go a little easier on the ones trying to guilt others into following their own environmentally-smart lead. Even if they are jerks about it. Or don’t. Who cares?

Damn you ©, damn you.

by Liz Maimone

I get it all the time, “So what do you do for a living.” My reply nine times out ten, “I’m a copywriter.”  One of two reactions follows: a blank stare or “So you, like, trademark stuff?” It’s become rather apparent that most people outside the business have absolutely no idea what a copywriter is, let alone what one does. Therefore, I found this entry necessary. You see we’re not “typical writers.” The thought of penning a novel or even a story over five pages is enough to make most of us want to cut our wrists with a dull butter knife. We’re not awesome at grammar; in fact we like to put periods in the most. Inappropriate. Places. Ironically, the very word to describe what we’re best at – concepting – isn’t even in the dictionary. (Seriously, look it up.) Sure I’m speaking in generalizations here, but the fact is many copywriters don’t consider themselves writers at all, but rather idea people. Yes, we write the words in the ads, but our real craft is thinking of the ideas that deserve words in the first place.

Ah, I feel better already.

Real men of gen… I mean jerkiness.

by Chris Muldoon

Note: Recently, I’ve had a couple hostile encounters with a gentleman in the park near my house. So instead of provoking him further, I’ve decided to vent my frustrations via the internet. And since this technically is a blog about advertising, I’m disguising my anger to the tune of Bud Light’s award-winning radio campaign, “Real Men of Genius”. To refresh your memory, you can listen to a bunch of the ads here.

Crowley Webb presents Real Men of Jerkiness.
(Reaaaaaal men of jerkiness.)

Today we salute you, Mr. Inconsiderate Dog Walker Guy.
(Mr. Inconsiderate Dog Walker Guy!)

You’re a maverick. The world can’t rein you in.
Which must explain why you refuse to keep your canine on a leash.
(Run free little poochie.)

Is it a bullmastiff? Perhaps even a rottweiler?
I don’t know, but it’s huge and running towards me – and it looks pretty hungry.
(Grrrrrrrrrrrr.)

Does it faze you when someone politely asks you to keep your pet under control?
Heck no. You just tell them to mind their own business, and accuse them of being selfish.
(Oh the reverse psychology!)

Some people may call you a bully, a brute, or just plain rude.
But only a class act could eloquently resort to insults only a middle-school boy would be proud of.
(Take that you butt-face.)

So crack open a can of Pedigree, oh Sultan of Self-absorption
Because thanks to you, the park has literally gone to the dogs.
(Mr. Inconsiderate Dog Walker Guy.)

Try to take my Miller High Life, Mr. Heavyset Beer Distributor Guy.

by matt low

Okay, I don’t drink Miller High Life. It’s in a clear bottle, and any beer drinker knows just how easily clear-bottled beer goes skunky. But this hasn’t prevented me from being captivated by the stinky beer’s latest TV campaign.

If you’ve watched any baseball in the last month or so, you’ve no doubt seen the spots in which the Miller High Life man goes to upscale restaurants, clubs, and grocery stores with the mission of retrieving Miller High Life. The presumed motive (ascertained from the gentleman’s mutterings) is the snobby nature of the various establishments. The idea being that these places with their high prices and detached souls don’t deserve to carry a beer intended for regular folk.

Okay, I buy it.

I even find it kind of humorous. Who doesn’t like seeing someone stick it to the upper class? And the main character is very likeable despite his fits of disgust (“For $15, I’ll turn into a macadamia nut!”).

But then I start actually thinking about what’s going on and it all falls apart.

Using the same common sense the beer guy is supposedly knocking into the people he’s for all intents and purposes stealing from, I begin to poke hole after hole into this campaign. For starters, why was Miller High Life brought to any of these establishments in the first place? Why are the proprietors content to just sit idly by as the beer is hauled away? Will they be reimbursed for the product they are losing? Where are the police in all of this? Where is the beer being taken? Does this angry man even work for Miller, or is he just some guy who wants free beer? Etc.

Maybe I’ll get a Coors Light shirt and attempt to remove a case from Wegmans because I don’t like their lighting scheme. How about that? See you in jail!

I’m so green with envy.

by Chris Muldoon

On my way to work yesterday, I pulled up behind a Toyota Prius. And in case I was not aware that such a car is of the hybrid variety, the owner conveniently placed a bumper sticker touting “My car produces 90% less emissions than your car!” Another sticker simply listed the vehicle’s mind-blowing fuel economy, “48 mpg highway. 45 mpg city”.

I guess “Wow, look how great I am” was out of stock.

Just when I was about to spiral into the depths of guilt and self-loathing for destroying the environment, I remembered I was riding a bike. On my way to the subway station. So according to my calculations, I get approximately 10 miles per glass of OJ. Ha! Take that Prius owner. My point is, Going Green is about doing the right thing; it’s not a competition. Thanks for doing your part, but don’t be a snob about it.

Make Me Fall In Love With You And Then Rip My Heart Out With No Explanation Lager.

by matt low

Back in the year of dyslexia, 2002, Molson Canadian introduced what they called “Twin Label Technology.” This essentially consisted of irreverent phrases on the backs of bottles designed to spark conversation and ultimately get people to drink the beer. Well, it worked on me as Mr. Molson intended. Labels such as “I Don’t Live With My Mother, She Lives With Me Lager” not only got me to say, “Hey, look at this!” to friends, but also enticed me to consume Molson.

Now, it’s not unheard of for someone to become emotionally attached to an alcoholic beverage. But a beer label? Well, I have to admit I was. I found myself buying more and more 28-packs of Molson not only for what I convinced myself was a great beer taste, but also for the amusing labels that awaited me inside each. Molson ended up creating more than two hundred and thirty in all. And informal research (I talked to a bartender) revealed that the sale of Molson increased during their run.

And then, without warning, they were gone.

It took some getting used to. Instead of the juvenile wit of sayings like “I’m Trapped In a Beer Bottling Plant Lager” I was just treated to sweaty brown glass. The beer inside suddenly didn’t taste as sweet. Sure the inflated sense of self-worth that comes with the consumption of four to five was still there, but something else was missing.

And now Molson seemingly realizing the error of their ways has returned with new labels that pose such poignant questions as “Would you prefer to never pay for gas or to never pay for beer?” and so on. At first, I thought I’d be into them and my love of white and red beer labels would be ignited once again. But something’s still missing. It’s just not the same. Would I prefer the backs of Molson bottles remained blank or that they contain B-version labels that remind me of what I’ve lost? The former, indeed.