Git aht!

Dr. Barbara Johnstone is a linguistics professor at Carnegie Mellon University. Of all things, she specializes in Pittsburghese. You might be tempted to say, Git aht! but let me assure you that she does.

Few cities have so notable a concentration of verbal and grammatical peculiarities that an esteemed teacher could find enough to study over the course of a decade or so, let alone with a colleague. Pittsburgh, however, is one of those few. You can read more about Johnstone's observations at The Pittsburgh Speech & Society Project, or read this recent highlight of her work which includes a three-minute video with examples. Or, for plain old fun, visit the informal version at Pittsburghese.com. Type in a note and have it instantly translated into Pittsburghese.

Rosetta Stone, look aht, an I ain't jaggin!

Okay, what's the point? What used to be a normal product of immigrant communication has become an identity marker for natives and non-natives of Pittsburgh alike. I grew up south of the city and yet came to love funny words like nebby and gumbands and yinz. Put me in a room with other Pittsburgh fans and we'll go on with a language all our own. Yet, it isn't our own. The PR magicians didn't launch this. We adopted it. Pittsburgh just kept on being Pittsburgh and friends of the city caught on. It helps that we like the place. A hole in south-western Pennsylvania most likely would have failed to gain attention beyond the locals.

The Post-Gazette article about Johnstone's work struck me because I love language and have an affinity toward Pittsburgh, but also because there's something powerful about having influence in the world that comes simply from being entertained by your own oddities. So here's my invitation to join in the fun:


If yinz ever visit yoor relations near da burgh, git off da caach 'n meet me at Permani Brudders fer a sammitch and pop. Bring yer bumbershoot if it looks like its gonna rain. Meybe we'll even ketch a Stiller game. 
 

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Buckley's Mixture

Happy New Year. In the vein of Canada's cough syrup, Buckley's Mixture, I hope 2011 is a rough one.

I learned about this medicine at Larry Hehn's blog today and was immediately glad to find Buckley's award-winning ad slogans. Here's a favorite: "People swear by it. And at it."

Larry's post is about New Year's resolutions and the tough, often distasteful, discipline it takes to achieve them. Ease and comfort don't produce much in the way of results. Buckley's, however, makes a good point. Besides the honest advertising (see his post for more examples, and others here), which is delightfully refreshing, I'm glad for this reminder that hard times are ahead for those want to grow and heal.

No getting around that. I'm closing in on 40 and feeling the need for worse-tasting medicine, if for no other reason than I simply can't imagine reaching 80 with the same regrets I have now. New medicine is on its way in 2011.

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The Sneetches and Other Branding Stories

I have two resources for you today. One is by Paul Chaplin called "Satisfaction Guaranteed." It's about Trump branding and what's good and bad about associating products with ideas.

From The Sneetches and Other Stories by Dr. Suess
The other is by yours truly called "The Maturing of Brands and Sneetches." Here's a lead in:

Eventually the Sneetches become like those who mature and take pride in being social bridge builders. "He had friends from every walk of life” is pronounced at funerals like a badge of honor. Parents of such teenagers question what their crossover kid might be up to, and Pharisees wash their hands of such mixing, but in the end, embracing a range of brands rewards us.

Here’s the thing about these folks. They find ways to push through the thin layers of brands because they recognize brand value where it counts. They love truth and meaningful expression. In their eyes — and here I’m speaking from the occasional personal experience — the Creator becomes more recognizably creative. God becomes bigger as a Brand Manager who delights in the full-range expression of God’s self.
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Both come from this week's edition of Catapult Magazine. See the table of contents for other good (or better, depending on your tastes) advertising-related reads.

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Black Friday Poll

It's over. You did it. Maybe you took no notice because of the 9 to 5, or maybe you gorged on leftovers and lay-aways (Do they even have those anymore?). Regardless, another Black Friday has come and gone. Stores are richer, Christmas is closer, and if you aren't out in a treestand right now hunting your cares away, let me know how Black Friday went by taking this little poll:

How did you spend your Black Friday?




What did I do? I spent part of the day working. Then the family walked downtown for the Christmas tree lighting (Julie got to decorate it - you'll have to ask her about driving a lift) and caroling. We enjoyed a glow-in-the-dark art exhibit in the local gallery before returning home. After the kids went to bed, the two of us did what all computer-friendly couples do these days: watch comedy on the internet.

At the risk of belaboring this post, I have to let you know about my longer and more polished reflections on Black Friday. They are personal, and personally disturbing, but I'm not sure what to do about that so I'll be grateful for yesterday and hope my mid-life crisis includes a conscientious wake-up. I'm getting lax in my waning 30s. Read the article here:

Black Friday Slip at The High Calling.

The High Calling is a website about work, life and God. Cart photo by Claire Burge

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Pinched: Harris Interactive reveals who's cutting back the most

I knew people had been tightening their financial belts, but the following chart by Harris Interactive surprised me with who's cinching the most.

Either Gen Xers are the wisest or they've been the most careless. (Click on the image for a larger view.)

Advertising, as powerful as it is, can't compete with scarcity (real or perceived). Read more about the poll results here.

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Sons of Martha

I found Rudyard Kipling's "Sons of Martha" last week while reading about the dangers of electricity. I can't quite tell whether the poem is Kipling's jab at Jesus' seemingly unbalanced response to Mary and Martha, or a celebration of work. Either way, it's an interesting take on Luke 10:38-42.

In the story, Mary sits at the Guest's feet to listen while Martha (not unlike a Martha Stewart, I imagine) stays busy with the preparations. Kipling has us realize the true importance of Martha's work. He sides with the laborer. He elevates those who keep the world oiled and moving (read: for the Sons of Mary, those spoiled brats).

Who doesn't feel a little bitterness when team members or office mates or siblings drop the ball and leave us with the weight? Resentment is a common by-product, and this is precisely Martha's problem.

Then she lets it slip. It gets to her enough that she actually tattles to Jesus. Compulsively, she levels the field, and it backfires on her. If only it weren't about fairness and keeping score, Martha and her sons might recognize the special call to work, the risks involved, and the joys it pays out. Maybe then Jesus would say, "Mary and Martha, you have both chosen the good part."

Here's the poem from 1907. See if you can find the electricity reference:

The Sons of Martha

The Sons of Mary seldom bother, for they have inherited that good part;
But the Sons of Martha favour their Mother of the careful soul and troubled heart.
And because she lost her temper once, and because she was rude to the Lord her Guest,
Her Sons must wait upon Mary's Sons, world without end, reprieve, or rest.

It is their care in all the ages to take the buffet and cushion the shock.
It is their care that the gear engages; it is their care that the switches lock.
It is their care that the wheels run truly; it is their care to embark and entrain,
Tally, transport, and deliver duly the Sons of Mary by land and main.

They say to mountains, 'Be ye removed'. They say to the lesser floods, 'Be dry'.
Under their rods are the rocks reproved - they are not afraid of that which is high.
Then do the hill-tops shake to the summit - then is the bed of the deep laid bare,
That the Sons of Mary may overcome it, pleasantly sleeping and unaware.

They finger death at their gloves' end where they piece and repiece the living wires.
He rears against the gates they tend: they feed him hungry behind their fires.
Early at dawn, ere men see clear, they stumble into his terrible stall,
And hale him forth like a haltered steer, and goad and turn him till evenfall.

To these from birth is Belief forbidden; from these till death is Relief afar.
They are concerned with matter hidden - under the earthline their altars are;
The secret fountains to follow up, waters withdrawn to restore to the mouth,
And gather the floods as in a cup, and pour them again at a city drouth.

They do not preach that their God will rouse them a little before the nuts work loose.
They do not teach that His Pity allows them to leave their work when they damn-well choose.
As in the thronged and the lighted ways, so in the dark and the desert they stand.
Wary and watchful all their days that their brethren's days may be long in the land.

Raise ye the stone or cleave the wood to make a path more fair or flat:
Lo, it is black already with blood some Son of Martha spilled for that:
Not as a ladder from earth to Heaven, not as a witness to any creed,
But simple service simply given to his own kind in their common need.

And the Sons of Mary smile and are blessed - they know the angels are on their side.
They know in them is the Grace confessed, and for them are the Mercies multiplied.
They sit at the Feet - they hear the Word - they see how truly the Promise Runs:
They have cast their burden upon the Lord, and - the Lord He lays it on Martha's Sons.

~ Rudyard Kipling

Labor in lunette, by Charles Sprague Pearce. Public Domain.

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Hot coffee and biscuits!

After ten years of playing the critic, I’ve never ceased being a fan of advertising. Too much of the industry frustrates me to no end, but I still love good persuasion. I love witnessing it. I love doing it. Then this week it dawned on me that my family – beginning in 1883 – spent 75 years persuading people to buy from Van Eman Bros. Hardware in Canonsburg, PA. They were the Lowe’s of little town, USA, and it seems they were pretty good at their trade.

Is advertising somehow in my blood? I don’t think so. At least, not simply because retail exists in my ancestry. But when I found the following letter in a box of old family items, I had to admit some excitement.

In short, my great-grandfather Sam and his brother J.J., joint proprietors, had sent their newspaper ad to the Robeson Rochester Corporation to show off the store’s promotion of a new line of coffee percolators and stoves. The salesman from RRC was, needless to say, excited. Here’s his reply:

(Click on the image to see a larger size)


Taking advantage of “women folks” like that. How dare they!  ;)

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H in the bathroom



Not sure what came to mind when you read the title, but it's likely not what I have in mind. So before I disappoint you, let me just say that H stands for Hiny. Okay, maybe that was what you thought. I was in college when I first encountered the H in question (not what you're thinking). It was a conservative Christian college where doing laundry on Sunday was forbidden, which is not such a bad idea considering how overly busy we all are, but our supposedly good morals should give you a reason why there wasn't much to look at in the bathroom stalls. As deplorable as bathroom graffiti can be, you must admit that it is often quite entertaining. Okay, maybe guys in particular must admit this - I don't know what ladies' stalls contain.

Nothing going on in these stalls, however. Except Hiny Hiders, the little etched logo on every aluminum hinge and support holding the structure together. It had no color and was barely noticeable (no pun intended), but it caught my attention long before I cared a professional inch about logos and brand names and the world of advertising because of its clever simplicity. Funny to think that this is one of my earliest brand memories. And, yet, it is.

I recently discovered that Hiny Hiders is now defunct. (Not the stalls, of course, but the brand, although we did have two incorrigible hall mates back then who had such a bad habit of shaking the stalls to scare dwellers that eventually you had to lean sideways to use them. Then one afternoon the janitor, after fixing them one too many times, simply removed all privacy and left four toilets standing there naked. Hiny Exposers if you will.)

The point here isn't any more than I liked the use of H in this logo and still do. Check out LogoDesignLove here and here for more visual creativity like this. Study the first group carefully to appreciate them. 

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Check this out: It's gout...in a jar!

I don't quite feel like exclamation points right now, but humor often rescues me from myself and I really wanted this title to rhyme. I don't even know what gout is. Something to do with feet? That's what usually comes to mind though I'm not sure who gets it, what it affects, or how it goes away (if at all).

Tonight I saw a new commercial for Uloric and according to them, gout is a clear green liquid, not too different in appearance than anti-freeze before you dilute it. Okay, maybe that isn't what swishes around under your toe skin, but it leads me to the first of two points I liked about this advertisement for gout treatment:

Gout is objectified.

I get a kick out of objectification in advertising. Like with Pam and Rollover Minutes, it helps me see the invisible. I can actually imagine how it feels to be burdened by a large beaker full of green fluid (even though our chemistry lab relatives were quite petite in comparison), and it's enough to make me want to get rid of it.

Second, Uloric never promises to eradicate the problem. Even as the retiree heads out for a walk and down to his favorite fishing hole, he carries a smaller version of the beaker with him. "You can live more freely, but we can't give you a whole new life," they seem to say.

Maybe Uloric is junk, I don't know. One of the side effects is "gout flares" which seems counter-productive to me. Still, the ad caught my attention while most pharmaceutical spots simply annoy me. I'm not sure what I think of pain-relieving drugs in general, though I use them on occasion. Suffering, at least to a degree, seems right for the hungry soul, and if it means lugging around a beaker of this or that, than so be it. 

   

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Winter's coming. Better get Belgian Natural Gas.

"Who gives you the very softest heat?" Knitters, it seems in this Belgian Natural Gas commercial. Or, so I wish. Who wouldn't opt for this kind of house warming? We're heading into our first winter season in a 100-year-old house, and I'm not sure how warm the gas bill will make me feel. Perhaps I'll don wool as TBWA did in this exceptional ad from early 2010:


Before you see how it was made, savor those 35 seconds. Brilliant simplicity, conceptual clarity, effectiveness at attention-grabbing and holding. I've watched this commercial innumerable times, now listening to the tune and dance of the whistle, now catching the colors warm progressively in tone, now feeling the house shift from frosty windows and chilly floors to carpet and hot tea. Mesmerizing, really.

Meet the talented hands and minds behind the work: 

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