Vote for Frozen Peas!

July 13th, 2006

In an effort to boost sagging voter turnout, the Ad Council is backing the political campaign of Old Relish Packet. And Wacky Ceramic Rooster. And Side of Hashbrowns.

Wait… what? What does this mean?

Well, the Ad Council wants you to go out and vote. They want you to leave the house and pull the lever and have a say in the future of our nation. To show how non-voters harm the voting process, they have created a series of television and radio spots that mimic the typical election advertisement, right down to the exaggerated head nod and eagle profile. The only difference? There’s no candidate. It’s just a random item.

The purpose? Non-voters don’t pay attention to the myriad of political ads that flash across the screen. They don’t know the candidates. Apathy sets in, which leads to a lower voter turnout. Their message is this: If you are not voting, then whom are you electing? In other words, apathy towards the election process is as good as voting for an unwanted candidate.

Personally, I think the spots are clever – funny, both for content and for the parody of it all. But I think the message is lost. It’s bogged down in cuteness. Does a viewer look at these ads and think, “boy, I need to go out and vote?” Or do they feel like they’re being talked down to, leaving them just as apathetic, except this time, they’ve got a chip on their shoulder – they don’t want to be told what to do, especially in such a condescending manner.

Or, is this a subtle knock on the generic style of political advertisements – the ones we see over and over again for months at a time, and the ones we eventually tune out, blurring them together until the election is over and we can go back to admiring the usual automobile and cereal spots. Is this a call to action for the advertising world to change? Or is it a call to action for voters? Or, could it be a little of both?

Do these ads work? What do you think?

Check out the campaign here: Payattention.org. Then, post a response.


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Issues Considered: Marketing

Swedish footstools

July 11th, 2006

I should talk about the World Cup. But I can’t. I’m a little demoralized. First, the hated Miami Heat, and now, the despised Italians? If this keeps going on, we’re going to run into a whole spattering of Vilhauer-hated teams winning championships – Yankees, Cowboys, Knicks.

Well, maybe not the Knicks.

Oh well, World Cup was fun while it lasted. Kerrie’s already taken the St. George Cross down, and now we’re back to real life, where our attic is still a mess and we have carpet on the way.

What I do want to discuss is a wonderland of marketing brilliance – a shiny new way of selling, promoting, and creating a buzz that, for the most part, everyone loves. It’s a foreign way of thinking, literally.

It’s Ikea.

I love the store. I love how they market themselves. I love how they set the displays up, and how they cater to yuppies (and pseudo-yuppies) like me, because I understand that we’re the market that is interested in furnishing a room that looks great with as little money as possible.

This past Sunday, I visited Ikea – both on reconnaissance and as a ready-to-spend shopper. We needed some things now, and we needed measurements for some things later. And I don’t think I’ve ever had more fun shopping for anything (aside from books, of course) in my life.

It started with Ikea’s 9:30 am breakfast – 99 cents for coffee, scrambled eggs, potatoes (with peppers), and bacon. Even though I didn’t eat the bacon, I was filled with Swedish breakfast for just 99 cents. On top of that, they had at least ten little extras that could be added on – Danishes, cereal, milk, sausages, etc. Who thinks of serving breakfast – food at all, if you think about it – at a furniture store? And who makes it an event?

After filling up on my dollar breakfast, I started shuttling around the store. The single most important thing that Ikea does is present each piece of furniture in the most attractive light possible. Every display room is filled with Ikea items – everything can be bought, from the book on the shelves to the napkins in the drawers – and everything is shown in it’s best light. You can shop two different ways – by finding a room you like and replicating it, or by going to the individual sections and mix/matching your favorites.

Everything is fully interactive. Plan a room on the computer over there. Search for your items in the catalog over here. Grab a ruler, an Ikea pencil, and your planning sheet. The catalog comes with graph paper and stickers for easy room planning. Things are labeled, located, and packaged for the easiest in carrying and planning.

Throughout the store, products are being tested. In order to prove that the furniture is inexpensive, not cheap, Ikea has set up displays with drawers being opened and closed 24 hours a day. Their flooring covers every landing so you can see that 15,000 people walk on them every day and they’re still in great shape. In fact, the one blemish on their wood floors is pointed out and championed – it did, after all, take the constant footsteps of 1.9 million people to create the hole.

Ikea is clean. It’s organized. It makes shopping for furniture an experience because you can imagine each and every room in your own house someday. It’s a designer’s dream and a frugal shopper’s heaven. And they don’t just rely on inexpensive pricing. No, Ikea explains in great detail why their furniture prices are so low, so to not give any indication that it’s cheaply made with horrible materials.

The mission at Ikea is to target a very specific group of people – adults who want furniture that looks good but doesn’t cost a fortune. They have grasped onto the people that want clean lines and functionality. Ikea pulls together a feeling of frugalness with the enjoyment of a fun shopping experience, catering to those who enjoy creating rooms and like the feel of a great decorating job with little out of pocket expense. It’s the self serve version of your typical furniture store – the Hinky Dinky of the industry.

What Ikea has done is create a brand that, while large and overbearing and horribly foreign, is positive and easily accessible. You know exactly what you’re going to get when you hear “Ikea.” Inexpensive. Fun. Trusted. This ad sums it all up – their items are always on sale. So when there’s a sale, you put the Sale on sale.

Ikea is a marketing masterpiece. It’s a brilliant display of efficient shopping, of furniture shopping gone global. The stores work together like a massive machine, churning out happy customers and wonderful pieces of household merchandise.

I love Ikea. It’s true. From a professional standpoint, and as a consumer, there’s nothing better.


Comments: 7

Issues Considered: Marketing

The Corey Vilhauer Book of the Month Club — July

July 10th, 2006

The Corey Vilhauer Book of the Month Club is up at The Millions (A Blog About Books).

So go. Enjoy. Read a slightly different clump of copy about my favorite book of the past month — The Thinking Fan’s Guide to the World Cup.


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Issues Considered: Books, Literature

Simpsons live!

July 8th, 2006

This YouTube is old news, but I just realized I hadn’t posted it yet. It’s a live-action The Simpson’s intro — I believe from England (check out Marge as she’s driving — she’s on the right side of the car.)

Now that I’m caught up, you can expect Steinbeck on Random again next Friday, and the Random YouTube is back to the old schedule. Meanwhile, as this posts, I’ll hopefully be with Doug getting ready to watch Zidane go out on top as France beats Italy. Of course, we’ll probably see Italy pull an Eddie Guererro and “Cheat To Win!”


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Issues Considered: Videos

Steinbeck on Random — 7.7.06

July 7th, 2006

It’s been too long, my friends.

I missed last week’s Steinbeck on Random – we’re still trying to put our house back together after the “Grand Floor Refinishing Project” while preparing for painting, carpeting, and furniture arrival for our basement. We’ll also be having a rummage sale next weekend. Stop by, if you want – it’ll be huge event. Our trash, hopefully, can someday be your treasure.

Of course, this means nothing to you. All you want is my iPod. Well, Steinbeck is ready to shuffle again.

1. “Couples Only” – Recess Theory
They Would Walk Into the Picture

During my time as a Resident Advisor (Assistant? I never knew the actual job title, and it differs from university to university) I fell in love with this little program called “Napster.” You may have heard of it. It was great. Any music you could want – and I mean anything – was available. The usual big name stuff. Indie rock. Unknown artists will little airplay. Everything.

Recess Theory was one of the bands I discovered through Napster. I downloaded their album, and then promptly forgot about them. It ended up on my iPod because, well, I put everything on there. Including a few songs off of all of those emo-indie bands I never got a chance to soak in.

This song sounds just like every other emo song – very Get Up Kids-esque, almost too much so. Yet, it’s not bad. So it’s worth listening to once out of every 6661 songs.

2. “I Bet They Won’t Play This Song On The Radio” – Monty Python
The Final Rip Off

NOFX tried to do a song similar to this once (“Please Play This Song On the Radio”) but it’s nowhere near the original. You need the dulcet tones of Eric Idle to make it worthwhile.

I love this Monty Python album – a two-disk greatest hits collection that I’ve owned three separate times. I finally had to order it again from half.com – just for skits like “The Cheese Shop” and “The Book Shop.” If you don’t know Monty Python, then there’s nothing I can say to convince you to listen/watch than to say “you’re dumb” if you don’t.

3. “For Tomorrow” – Blur
The Best Of
Another Brit-pop song from the band that created Brit-pop. This is a long song – over six minutes – but I’m not sure why. The original (on Modern Life is Rubbish) is only four and a half minutes long, and there isn’t any mention of this being an “extended, Best Of only version.” Regardless, it is one of their best songs.

4. “Upon This Title Wave Of Young Blood” – Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah
Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah

Imagine you were a band with no label, no means of producing and promoting albums without doing it yourself. Now imagine you become one of the biggest things in indie rock, plastered all over the Internet and on Sirius 26 (Left of Center). That’s Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah – a great band – and that’s this song. I first heard this through Sirius, liking it upon first listen. It’s a different sound, yet something basic enough to grasp on first listen, catchy and subdued. A true success story by word of mouth.

5. “Suffragette City” – David Bowie
Best of Bowie

My interest in Bowie, I will admit, is purely soundtrack-oriented. I only discovered that I liked David Bowie after seeing The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou and hearing Seu Jorge play numerous Bowie songs in Portuguese aboard Zissou’s boat. Really, I only know the better-known stuff, and that’s fine with me. Bowie has a lot of good songs, but he has an equally numerous collection of horrible songs. “Let’s Dance?” No thanks.

6. “Abusing of the Rib” — Atmosphere
Headshots:Se7en

If there’s anything I enjoy about Atmosphere, it’s the brutal truths, the opening up and pouring out of his heart. It’s his calling card. It’s what makes him different. It’s especially true on the Headshots material – his low-production-value demos that reek with personal triumph and terror. It’s self-absorbed but self-conscience. Slug looks for answers without blurring the questions with beats and samples. His new stuff is more accessible, more friendly – still as potent, but not as raw – but these demos are wonderfully open and untouched.

7. “Carry the Zero” – Built To Spill
Keep It Like A Secret

Hands down, this is one of my five favorite Built To Spill songs. I don’t know why it took me until college to discover them, but really – there are few bands better. It’s in my top ten because it features some great lyrics:

“Took it with you/When you moved and got it broke
Found the pieces/We counted them all alone
Didn’t add up/Forgot to carry a zero”

I sometimes think that Built To Spill gets caught up in the “indie jam-band” label too much. They’re more than that – they’re able to throw together short and long songs of increasingly complex nature, but they’re also able to crank out some poppy little numbers, the kind that end up on “Good Morning” mix tapes.

8. “St. Swithin’s Day” – Billy Bragg
Back to Basics

A folk ballad by the most British of folk balladeers. “St. Swithin’s Day” is another song about loss. Bragg either writes songs about politics or about losing a love. This is of the second camp.

According to an Internet site I found, “St. Swithin’s Day is 15th July, a day on which people watch the weather (because) tradition says that what ever the weather is like on St. Swithin’s Day, it will continue so for the next forty days.” So now you know.

9. “Jesus Are You Real” – Mason Jennings
Boneclouds

I’m very glad that this song came up, not for the song itself but for the fact that this is the newest cd we’ve purchased and it’s really good. Mason Jennings, for those who don’t know, is a semi-local (Minneapolis) artist who should be a lot bigger than he is. He’s got a very distinct voice and is a hell of a songwriter. This album, while not his best, is still a great major-label debut and should hopefully get the word out that Mason Jennings is wonderful and deserves piles of success and praise. If he’s doesn’t receive those things, you’ll answer to me. Listen to him. You’ll love him. Or else.

“Jesus” is about as sincere sounding as you can get – a struggle between religion and politics, about how “our life is not ours to keep but ours to give.”

10. “Nebraska” – Bruce Springsteen
The Essential Bruce Springsteen

I can’t think of a better song to leave off with as I prepare to travel this weekend. Bruce is a master of delivering songs that sound great while driving along the interstate through the Plains region, as if the songs were sprouting from the ground like wheat or barley. Every song is a rest stop, an exit sign, a turning lane. He’s as middle America as anyone has ever been, more than Mellencamp and more than Willie.


Comments: 3

Issues Considered: Music, Steinbeck on Random

On fishing

July 6th, 2006

If anything came from our vacation this past weekend, it’s the rediscovery of fishing – as sport and as pastime. It used to be boring. But now, in my introspectively directed mind, it’s a time to think. A time to reminisce and enjoy life, watching for every small detail that I understandably miss while rushing through the day.

Fishing is relaxation. It’s the thrill of the hunt. There’s a pull of both chance and circumstance. The fisherperson is not in control. On the contrary, the fish is in charge of the situation. We’re the one throwing a line out, reeling it back in, and repeating, while the fish sits back and idly watches, nibbling at the scraps and trying not to get caught. Each throw is like a lottery ticket, each cast representing the ultimate in hope and belief.

“Just one more toss. I know I’ll get something. I’ll stick with this rig because I know it will create good luck.” Optimism at it’s highest. It’s worked before, so maybe there’s some magic left. It’s addicting; a drug for the wilderness lover, a narcotic in an ecosystem-saving vein, with worms as junk and a fish hook as applicator.

What started as a quiet day fishing quickly became a momentous outpouring of feeling, of relaxation and nostalgia. I used my grandfather’s old fishing pole all weekend, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see some significance in the act. I never really understood the idea of fishing, but I learned it – second hand, at least – through this fishing pole that still had lures ready. For all I know, it was the last lure he ever used. I didn’t see the pole as mine. There was too much history wrapped up in the line, too much dedication attached to the hook.

That is, until I caught a fish. It was nothing special, a rainbow trout from the middle of the lake. It was one part grandfather and one part father – the Rappala I used was a gift from an overzealous father, one who loves fishing more than nearly anything else. It will take along time to shake my grandfather’s name from the title, but the fishing pole became mine – if just a little – the second I caught something on it, my first fish worth keeping. Maybe it’s the start of a new legacy.

Did my grandfather – a great fisherman and an avid sportsman – know that his final fishing excursion was truly his last? I wondered that when I was out on Bismarck Lake this weekend. I wondered if he realized that he’d never be able to do it again – the sport that had become his personal pastime over the past 65 years of his life. Did he catch anything? My rainbow trough was good enough for me. But was it ultimately meant for him? Could he have left some of his magic – his fishing “spectacle” on the pole – enough to make one of my few bites good enough to keep?

Would he have fished any differently if he knew it was his last shot? Would he use different lures? Or would he be too wrapped up in the act of fishing, the beauty of the lake and the rush of the catch, the patience and reward, the variety of lures and techniques and the trials and tribulations of new styles? Would he have even cared?

I did. I learned to fish this weekend. I always had known how to throw the line in the water and reel it back in. But this weekend, I picked up the mindset that’s always been missing.


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Issues Considered: Grandpa Boyer, On..., Outdoors

Bringing the contours to rest

July 5th, 2006

I never thought I could find such philosophy – so much thoughtful exchange – in the world of vehicles. But it’s there. Don’t worry, I’ve found it. All in the span of a month, I’ve found the answers to life, folded into a glove compartment, next to a handful of ketchup packets and a couple of plastic sporks.

Our last month, vehicle-wise, has been a series of trials, from not-at-fault accidents to the sudden passing of an old stand-by. And lessons have been there to learn, each and every time. We no longer need sappy, over produced garbage like Chicken Soup for the Soul. We just need the personal experience that comes from gaining and losing a group of cars and trucks.

We’ve learned that it’s best to be thankful of what didn’t happen – as was the case when a 14-year-old girl smashed into the side of our Jetta with no helmet and little common sense. We’ve learned that even if it wasn’t our fault, we should be happy things didn’t turn out any worse, that no one was hurt in the slightest. Of course, that doesn’t mean letting it all go. $1800 is a lot of damage. Yet, at the same time, it does mean letting it all go – right into the hands of the people who are better equipped to handle the problem. The insurance agency.

We’ve learned that we shouldn’t take anything for granted. We wanted to hold onto our Ford Contour until the Jetta’s payments were up. We couldn’t. In fact, we missed it by a little less than two years. Now, we’re wishing we had taken better care of the car, that we hadn’t driven it unnecessarily. That we had noticed the temperature light far before $1700-3000 worth of damage rendered it useless, too expensive to fix.

We’ve learned that balance is as natural as breathing. For the past two weeks, we’ve been bouncing between a series of vehicles. We made the decision to purchase from an out of town, small dealership. We took the Jetta in to get body work done. And from these two seemingly unrelated tasks, we learned the true meaning of balance. As one car died, we found another beautiful prospect. As one car was in to get fixed, we borrowed a loaner. As we purchased the “beautiful prospect,” our loaner (in)conveniently burned out on us. Everything led to another, and here we are – just hours after purchasing our new vehicle – still with just one car.

Maybe the most important lesson we learned was one of loss. It’s weird to think of the memories that are wrapped up inside of a vehicle, a machine built out of glass and metal and grease. But they’re there. We found them as we cleaned out the Contour tonight, discovering Christmas cards from years ago, a fistful of coins, and a tape given to us when we were still in college.

Our Ford Contour brought us together. I had no vehicle, so as we grew together, the car brought us closer. We traveled to discover music, art, and a college lifestyle that included the free reign to see friends in other towns, to see how they lived and smell the fresh air after a morning of drinking and sleeping on a couch. It delivered us home to Sioux Falls – many times, actually – and it dropped us off for good when we moved back just three and a half years ago.

The Contour took me to St. Cloud after I had made the decision to transfer and be closer to Kerrie. The Contour, in some small way, traveled with us (in spirit, even) to London, to Paris, to Seattle, as it waited in the parking lot, or in our driveway, for us to return. The Contour took us to the movies, to the store, filled our lives with necessities and wants, cost us a few bucks every now and then, but eventually connected us with the outside world that we couldn’t quite grasp from a balcony overlooking a church parking lot in Sauk Rapids, Minnesota.

That Ford Contour, while taking a dump much earlier than it should, gave us a lot of great times. It was a tool. It was a need. But above all this, I dare say, it was a friend.

So if anything, we have left one friend behind and met another in the distance. Our Ford Contour can be fixed – it can be resold for a very low price. It may be someone’s first car. Quite possibly, someone without the financial means to buy a more expensive car can do a little connecting of his or her own. If anything, it will be stripped down and used as it’s needed. Kind of like it always had been. As needed.

Everything is in balance. Things happen for a reason. Is it a coincidence that this Ford Contour – a machine built in 1996, a car that transferred through three owners and was driven nearly 94 thousand miles – was meant to finally leave our lives when it did? At a time when a nearly perfect Subaru Outback – a car that Kerrie’s always dreamt of having – becomes available at a steal of a price?

We’ve replaced one car with another. The physical bonds are now gone. But the memories, as they say in the movies, will always remain.


Comments: 4

Issues Considered: Vilhauer