Why does having a random GIANT inflatable animal on the boulevard of your business make you think customers will see that and want to stop by? I have never looked at the giant purple dinosaur outside of Lenscrafters and thought, "Gee, I have not really thought about my eye health in a long time. I think I'll stop in for an eye exam!" Other than randomly surprising my kids in the car with shock value, I think those stupid inflatables are a waste of money.
Who the hell comes up with these creatures? A huge gorilla with marshmallow teeth wearing boxer shorts? Those freak-tard, cylindrical guys that collapse then blow upright, then blow air out of their tentacle head and collapse again? If I was on three hits of acid this might lure my attention. But it really does not make me hungry for your chalupa dinner platter with rice and beans, El Burrito Fresco. Whatever happened to the good old spotlight? Or a billboard or vinyl banner in the window? I don't get it.
In the realm of creepiness in advertising, let's also examine the random Jimmy Dean breakfast product commercials. You know the one, the creepy child molester-looking dude in the neon yellow sun suit, asking his lackluster co-workers if they've had their Jimmy Dean breakfasts today. His co-workers are planets or rainbows or even storm clouds. They spin uncontrollably out of orbit, they can't boom their thunder properly, their rainbow stripes are dull shades of the spectrum. But miraculously, after eating a buttery croissant loaded with sausage, eggs, and gooey cheese, they are vibrant, full of energy, and able to do their proper universe duties. WHAT THE FUCKING HELL IS THIS SHIT?! I won't even imply drugs as the culprit of douche bag creativity on this one. I can tell you that some old, Sansabelt polyester pants-wearing science teacher, fascinated by astronomy, takes a semester off from teaching to dabble in advertising. Some jack-off at Jimmy Dean, who is secretly a science geekoid himself, meets up with Super Solar Stanley. They BOTH share a fondness for high cholesterol breakfast meats--and a size 52 waist band. A match made in heart attack, advertising heaven. Thus, the Jimmy Dean Planet Extravaganza is born. Because nothing says "I forgot to nourish myself with 895 calories on a buttermilk biscuit" like creepy dudes in foam planet suits from the Barney and friends show. I'll stick with my coffee and Kashi cereal, thanks.
What makes you want to buy a product? What makes you step into a store you may have never even considered? If they have the shit you need and a clever way of presenting it, it's a damn simple equation for success. Creepy ads that have NOTHING to do with the product are turn-offs. Like a giant purple ape in his fucking underwear hocking tires. I don't need tires. I don't really enjoy apes, they are stinky and eat bugs off each others' heads and scratch their balls when they're not yelling guttural noises at each other. It's like a bunch of hairy Italian dudes talking smack at a fantasy football draft. Yuck.
If you want me to buy tires, show me your God damn Good Year's. If you want me to get my eyes checked, show me those shiny glasses. If you want me to landscape my yard, show me your sod and flower baskets. But if I need to eat a good breakfast, a Merv The Perv man in yellow tights offering his "sausage treat" is not enticing me. He is making me want to toss my cookies. He would more appropriately advertise plastic barf bowls. Now THAT is accuracy in advertising.
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