People are simple creatures who do complex things. That’s what makes them so hard to figure out. Working in advertising (or the media, in general) is a great way to observe people in their unnatural habitats and understand what makes them tick.
And when I say tick, I mean that in the time-bomb sense.
This is the divine comedy of being a member of the human race: despite our pallid attempts at dignity, at magnanimity, at accountability and camaraderie, there is no skirting the unavoidable reality that, given the right provocation and resources, we’ll always revert to our baser (and it has to be said, simpler) instincts.
We’re bottom-feeders and just like real bottom-feeders, we don’t know it.
Now, life might be a spiral of activity in search of a purpose, but did you know what the most common spiraling action that takes place in the world on a daily basis?
Flushing your toilet.
Speaking of floaters, let me take you on a short safari to meet the turds in my intellectual toilet bowl; the enemas of the state; the ones who pretend that theirs doesn’t stink.
I hate anyone who encourages any kind of group-think mentality: government, religion, organization, sowing circle, it doesn’t matter. Anyone who advocates the need for everyone to think and believe the same thing isn’t merely a mental midget, they’re a boil on the backside of common sense.
I’ll never forget when McDonald’s opened its first branch in Cairo, in 1994.
At regular intervals, the supervisors would monitor the frontline clerks and let out this gem of a rallying cry: “Counter, smile! And the poor, exhausted, bewildered minimum-wage workers would strain to produce their best smile, just to keep old Ray Kroc’s surviving clan in luxury for all eternity.
Speaking of clans I detest, cronyism and nepotism. The old drinking buddies of any corrupt regime aren’t just the product of third-world faux-democracies, they’re found everywhere from the US House of Representatives to any number of Fortune 500 companies. How else to explain the incidence of retarded siblings who take over from their parents, running companies, countries, country clubs and anything else their parents’ influence can buy. And in the rare event where the siblings are actually competent? Don’t tell me they didn’t get a boost when daddy elbowed a few of the worthy candidates out of the picture.
Good thing we don’t have anything like that in this country.
Record and movie companies who are trying to legislate copyright laws, who try and convince us that the CDs and DVDs we buy aren’t actually ours, they’re only ours to borrow. DRM? Do me a favor: if you want to shake me down, do it properly and join the Mafia.
And speaking of La Cosa Nostra, I hate Disney. Mickey Mouse hasn’t been funny in 30 years and most of Hollywood lives under the thumb of your tired and cynical creative monopoly. A whole generation of viewers and artists are suffocating for someone to light a match in your toilet of a company.
Celebrities, stop adopting pretty babies (am I the only one who feels sorry for all the ugly babies that don’t get picked?) and please stop pretending that all you really want is to be left alone. You’re all addicted to prescription pills and the camera flashes are the only thing that stop you from slipping into a coma. When the revolution comes, I hope you’re all subjected to a new procedure I’ve invented, called reverse-liposuction.
I hate J.K. Rowling. You stole from C.S. Lewis and you think you own fiction. Outing Dumbledore would have been just as objectionable if you’d told us he liked fat chicks. It’s not part of the story!
“Friends? No friends of mine. It’s a nothing show about stupid people who don’t have to pay bills to live in New York. And Jennifer Aniston has the appeal of a whiny wool sock filled with ice (and a special shout out to her grandmother, Meg Ryan).
“Sex and the City is a show about four women who empowered an entire demographic to be just like them: gay men.
Self-help TV gurus. Such a fitting term since all you do is help yourselves.
By mining the bottomless pit of insecurity that afflicts us all, you’ve encouraged a generation of whiners to whine even more. Thanks a lot!Reality TV. If you’re a mirror to what society really looks like, I’m going break mine today. And then I’m going to make sure I find a nice electric lawnmower to shave with.
But most of all, I hate you, the general public, for putting up with the cultural stink we’re all responsible for. You know what they say, whiners: if you smelt it, you dealt it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, “America’s Next Top Model isn’t just going to watch itself.
Mohammed Nassar was kidnapped at birth and forced to work in advertising, in Cairo, New York and London. Today, his main concern is that archaeologists will one day stumble upon his desk, debate the value of his profession and judge him. Feel free to email him at [email protected].
