Not to change the subject, or anything.
But what say we talk a little about creativity, instead of the screwdrivers, pliers, wrenches, and AI paraphernalia that, in reality, are just means to the ends.
That is to say, tools.
As it happens, this morning I ran across one of Neil French’s more remarkable gems.
Mind you, for all of his checkered reputation, French is almost certainly the dean, GOAT, Michelangelo, and Montana-cum-Nessi-cum-Gretzky-cum-MJ of long copy advertising.
If you doubt, consider how he chose to sell a bottle of beer:
“Feeling A Bit Gloomy this Morning? Read On. By Lunchtime You Can Be Suicidal.”
This was followed by 1,064 perfect words, at least according to my MacBook’s counter, detailing all the considerations that might propel one from Point A, and mild discontent, to Point B, and the hangman’s noose, using a device we now call a listicle.
“Listicle,” of course, being a dog turd of a coinage: step in it and the lingering odor forces you to toss both your boots and your socks.
But that’s neither here nor there, except for two things. Thing one: his ability to convince clients to accept long copy, adorned solely by the writer’s perspicacity and wit, stands as a beacon of enduring luminance.
Thing two: the way French approaches the entire edifice is another demonstration of the unarguable power of clarity in persuasive selling.
Clarity of intent, clarity of message, and clarity of execution.
Forearmed by that forewarning, read the ad using the link below and I’ll wager a few of my shaky U.S. dollars that you’ll be hugely impressed by his unerring ability to tell the tale, product mentions included, without breaking stride.
Not even for the branding, which he manages to weave into the story itself, sans the necessity of putting the logo where convention, custom, and herd-thinking say it Always. Must. Go.
In fact, like the headline, the eye cannot resist tracking the rope down the page to discover who had the wisdom, the sense of humor, some might argue the guts, to let this wonder loose on an unsuspecting-but-delighted public.
P.S. Among its other joys, this more-than-a-decade-old headline doesn't just resonate today — I bet it would have struck Will Shakespeare's fancy five centuries ago when writing "The miserable have no other medicine than hope.”