One part of the book that always inspires a lot of dialogue is the chapter entitled “When Bad Advertising Is Good And Good Advertising Is Bad. This is where I get into some of the categories that seem to be positively immune to, or at best, highly allergic to anything remotely resembling extraordinary advertising. Car dealership advertising, for example. Jewelry and wristwatch advertising. And a whole lot of retail advertising, period.
And then there’s pharmaceutical advertising, which has always struggled mightily to be the least bit interesting. One reason being the labyrinthine world of regulations it has to navigate. But even the less heavy-handedly overseen world of OTC products has typically produced a pretty dull result. Perhaps because humor–a key component of much extraordinary advertising–rarely seems to work here. Go figure, but people whose asses are on fire, as South Park would put it, or who haven’t slept soundly, breathed deeply or been able to wear black with any degree of insouciance since LBJ was president just don’t seem to find their condition the least bit funny.
A good friend wrote some hysterical commercials for a diet aid years ago. Did wonders for her career, but produced sales increases in sadly round numbers. Like a big fat goose egg. Which brings me to the ad you see here.
Hardly fall-out-of-your-chair funny. But at least a little light-hearted and different. Shades of the old Ted Bates Anacin commercials with their hammers and lightning bolts? Perhaps. But to my migraine-suffering better half (I’m innocent, honest) charmingly noteworthy. Which ain’t bad.
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