Be Joe.

I was saddened to hear about the death of one of boxing's great warriors, Joe Frazier. A lot has been made about how bitter Joe had become about being forgotten by the world of boxing. An HBO documentary profiled how Joe lived in a broken down old gym in South Philly, still grumbling about his past. And much was made of how Joe was still filled with venom and hatred towards his rival Muhammad Ali.

Growing up, I was a Ali fan. My father and I watched all his fights. My father loved Ali's boxing skills. His floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee. I enjoyed that too. But I was more engrossed by Ali's confidence, with his braggadocio - his ability to call the round his opponents would hit the canvas. I was conditioned to see all who opposed the might of the "People's Champ" were villains. The ugly bear Sonny Liston, the gorilla Joe Frazier. I didn't see the sometimes cruel insults that Ali would throw out, like calling Frazier Uncle Tom, as hateful - just hype.

Time has passed. I'm in my 41st year and I've got a confession. It may not be popular. In fact, I'm sure it won't be popular but here it goes.

I'll take Frazier over Ali.

Going back and looking at the fights I've got nothing but admiration for Smokin' Joe. For a number of reasons.

First off, Joe was 5'9. For most of us that's not too big a deal. But for Joe it was an occupational hazard. Most heavyweights are over 6'2. Ali was 6'3 and Forman? 6'4. That meant Joe was always launching his hooks almost off the canvas. But did he quit? Nope. Joe kept' coming.

In the third and final Ali vs. Frazier fight, Joe's eyes are almost completely shut, he's spitting blood into a bucket and shaking his head "NO" when asked if he wants to quit in the 14th round. Now, what I find even more amazing about this is that Joe was 60% blind in one eye before the fight even started. He spent a good part of his career with over half the vision in one eye gone before the opening bell rung. That means when that other eye was swollen and he could barely see through it - Joe was fighting blind.

Another thing dawned on me recently. In the first fight between Ali and Frazier the crowd support was mixed. About half wanted Ali to win. The other half wanted Frazier to knock the hell out of that supposed communist, draft dodger Ali. In the next two fights, Ali was the overwhelming favorite. The Ali hype had gone into overdrive and painted Frazier as a ugly gorilla, stupid and "uncle Tom" etc. Ali was indeed the "People's Champion." The only reason I bring this up is Joe 'kept fighting. It's gotta' be easier to step between the ropes when everyone is cheering your name. He could have packed it in after the first fight. He could have packed it in after the second fight. But no. Even with all the fans in Ali's corner. After being painted the villain for even daring to step in the same ring - Joe kept' coming.

I guess that's where Joe wins me over. People follow the champ, but they love the fighter. Joe was the quintessential fighter. Never backing down. Even when blind and his mouthpiece flew out of his mouth in the middle of the round - he kept' moving forward. Even when George Forman knocked him down six times, he stood up seven. When no one gave him any respect and he was ridiculed, he kept' moving forward. He took the hits and landed some of his own.

That's why I'll take Joe over Ali.

You'll be missed Joe...by fighters everywhere.

Stupid noise.

When Franz Kafka, one of the most influential writers of the twentieth century, was asked how to be creative he said, “You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait, just learn to become quiet, and still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.”

What keeps us from listening? I have a theory. Not a ground shaking one, but a theory none-the-less. We're constantly being interrupted by noise. Noise can be defined as almost anything that distracts you from the task of creating. Some noise is unavoidable. Things like, your job, family etc. The stuff that fills up your day. It seems cold to refer to your family as noise. Heartless. Maybe I should attach a couple of modifiers like, "heartwarmingly valuable noise." Still for the sake of this blog, anything that keeps you from creating will be called noise.

But there's another far more paralyzing noise out there...

The noise I'm talking about is obviously TV, youtube, gaming, tweeting, texting and so on. We do it to ourselves. And don't get me wrong, I'm really guilty of inflicting noise on myself. I like to be entertained. The problem is that I have absolutely no right to complain about why I haven't finished my novel, started my graphic novel or started that business I'm always talking about. I have no one to blame but myself.

So, where do I go from here? I've had this moment of clarity but what do I do with it? Well, armed with the Kafka quote I'm going to try things a little differently. I'm going to find some time in every day to shut myself away and be still. It will have to be either very early in the morning, or late at night, when my heartwarmingly valuable noises are asleep. I'm going to find a place where I can block out the noise and just listen and create. No distractions. Just creativity.

The scary part is, what happens if nothing happens? Well now that I'm in my 40's I need to find out. I've spent a whole lot of time and energy being a critic. But critics seldom achieve anything great. In fact, I can't think of a single critic that has achieved anything of note. Appologies Mr. Ebert.

Let's see what happens when I listen without the distractions of noise. Will the world "freely offer itself to me" or not?

I'll let you know.

I can now add newsman to my resume...

Jay Russell Returns to GSD&M

By Kiran Aditham on July 19, 2011 10:50 AM

Guess there’s no place like home. As wonderfully named commenter BootsyCollins noted in our post on Omid Farhang yesterday, Jay Russell had indeed headed back to Austin to serve as VP/managing group creative director at GSD&M (he is one of four managing GCDs overseeing the creative department at the agency). Actually, it seems like it’s been in the works for quite a while, but nonetheless, the Idea City’s former BMW creative lead harbors no ill will towards his former Boulder-based employer, saying, “Crispin is [an] amazing place, but GSD&M is where my heart is. The agency is putting all of the right pieces in place to really take off in the coming years.”

During his time as a CD at CP+B, Russell managed the Microsoft Windows account and helped launched the Windows Phone internationally. Prior to originally joining GSD&M, Russell worked on Bud Light and other business at DDB, served as a CD at Square One on the Miller Brewing biz and was a CD on Nationwide Insurance at TM Advertising.

http://www.mediabistro.com/agencyspy/

I am Collins. BootsyCollins.

Happy birthday Captain.

In honor of Captain James Tiberius Kirk aka William Shatner's 80th birthday, I present the Top 10 reasons why Kirk is better than Picard.

10. No matter what world Picard goes to, Kirk was there first and probably has an illegitimate child somewhere on the planet.

9. The only Klingon serving on Kirk’s bridge would be a dead one.

8. Kirk does not play the flute.

7. When Picard fought the Borg he got assimilated. When Kirk fought the Borg he blew up their home planet.

6. Kirk collects antique guns. Picard collects antique nesting dolls.

5. Picard’s name is known and respected throughout Klingon space. Kirk’s name is cursed and vilified.

4. Kirk can beat a Vulcan at chess.

3. Kirk’s youth was spent doing back breaking work on a farm in Iowa. Picard’s youth was spent squishing grapes with his toes in France.

2. Kirk faced off against Wyatt Earp at the O.K. Corral and won.

And the number one reason why Kirk is better than Picard…

1. Picard is from France.

Kill "Plan B."

As part of the creative department at KG Partners, I’ve been charged with “doing great work.” I couldn’t be more impressed. Nothing could be more vital. I think an important step in doing great work is killing “Plan B.”

I hate “Plan B.” I wish it would die like it was in a Tarantino movie.

It’s the safe plan. The fallback plan.

In advertising, “Plan B” comes about when someone gets scared and wonders if it wouldn’t be a good idea to give the client what they are expecting – just to have it in their back pocket in case “Plan A” doesn’t go over well.

The problem with that is, why fight to make “Plan A” work if you’ve always got “Plan B” to fall back on?

In the past, I’ve watched as “Plan B” destroys morale, kills brands and eventually forces good agencies to board up their windows. Why? Because “Plan B” is based in fear rather than doing what’s right.

“Plan A” is the good stuff. It’s built on a strategy that has found an insight. An observation. It’s tied to an emotion. It crackles with a creative spark. It’s crafted with care. It speaks to people, not at them. It finds a place in the collective consciousness and stays there – long after the print has faded, or the last of its 30 seconds have run out. It becomes a part of us.

“Plan B” is the opposite. It’s completely sterile. It’s assembled not born - like Frankenstein’s monster. Someone grabs a bigger logo and sticks it over there. Then someone stitches on product attributes – the bigger the better. Then they graft on the copy – most likely from a client-supplied internal memo. Then with a flip of the switch, “It’s alive!”

But, just like the monster, the thing has no soul.

The Karloffian monster shuffles off to the client meeting – lurching, grasping and begging to be loved. And of course, since the “Plan B” monster is created from doing exactly what the client would have done if they had Photoshop, they love it.

But, the horror story doesn’t end there. On a dark and stormy night, someone looks at the shelves and not one unit is sold. The client blames the agency for the abomination they created. And the agency has no one to blame but themselves.

So, I say we grab the pitchforks and torches and chase “Plan B” into the abandoned windmill and burn it to the ground. Fight for “Plan A. Refuse to participate in “Plan B.” Educate the client to recognize the wonder and greatness of “A” and the grotesque, shallow, pale-skinned horror that is “B.”

Or, we could coddle “Plan B.” Blow it kisses and promise to use it at a later date.

See, “Plan Bs” suck. Let’s go with the windmill thing.

Where have all my heroes gone?

It's no secret that I was a big fan of comic books when I was a kid. Truth be told, I'm still a fan of comic books. Ask my wife. I get positively giddy every time a super hero movie opens. I peed my pants, (just a little, I didn't soak them or anything) when Batman Begins hit the theaters. After that movie exploded it seemed like every summer a new hero of my youth made their way on to celluloid. But something had changed. It seemed like these heroes were just a short hair away from their villain counterparts. The line between good and evil was no longer defined. There were gray areas. Now I know some people would say, "have you read a comic book in the last twenty years?" I must admit I have - but they weren't mainstream comics. I've been following Indie stuff, small publishers. So, I picked up a Batman comic book and I have to say I couldn't believe its contents. Here was the proof - in those all too familiar small boxes. This was the format that I remember from my youth - but not the substance. What happened? The mayhem, the brutal psychopathic violence- what were they doing in a medium for kids? What were they doing in comic books? I can just hear those goth teens at the San Diego Comic Con hissing at me and saying "They're not comic books. They're graphic novels!" OK, so maybe I'm just a fuddy-duddy showing my full forty years - but I believe there is a term called "appropriate medium." If there isn't , there should be. Comics are for kids. Aren't they? Shouldn't they be? For me comics were where I learned right from wrong. I may not have been able to fly or lift a car, but I sure knew that using your talents to help mankind was better than using your talents to harm humanity. There were no gray areas. No inner demons to battle. There was only Peter Parker who learned "that with great power comes great responsibility." And there was Superman: An alien from another planet - who disguised as mild mannered Clark Kent, a reporter for a major metropolitan newspaper, fought a never ending battle for truth, justice and the American way. I remember so vividly running around the house with a bath towel pinned around my neck and a masking tape "S" on my chest. I recently found out that since Superman Returns did so poorly at the box office - the Studio thinks a reboot of the franchise is in order. They want to make him a brooding and conflicted Man of Steel... "More like Batman." I cried when I heard that news, (not like Niagara Falls, but I did get misty). It's a sad moment when a literary hero - with all his Christlike light is reduced to a creature of depressed depravity. That's right - Superman is a metaphor for Jesus - deal with it. His father sends him to earth to be a beacon of light, "with powers beyond normal men." Need more proof? "They can be a great people, Kal El, they only lack the light to show them the way. For this reason I have sent them you." But I digress. Now, because of the "success" of The Dark Knight Returns - the studios think that Batman is the new prototype for all heroes. Conflicted, flawed super heroes = box office gold. Bleech! I'm sure that people could make the argument that society creates the demand. As a people we need our characters to have inner conflict, because how can we identify with heroes who don't? After all, we're all hooked on Prozac and need our therapists to soothe our conflicted natures, don't we? Here's a thought, maybe heroes should be above that. Maybe our spandex clad heroes are who our children should aspire to be. Not used as a proof that their angst is acceptable. Our super heroes are meant to soar above the clouds. Not sit in the gutters. Give comic books and their heroes back to kids. They need them.

"Well, we didn't get all dressed up for nothin'..."

So I turned down a job. Huh? I can hear you saying (some of you are screaming), "are you out of your mind?" After your screams have faded you'll say, "so, you turned it down because the money wasn't very good." Nope. The money was very good. In fact, they kept adding money after I told them I wasn't sure. They were ready to give me a signing bonus, a yearly bonus, relocation package and 3 months temporary housing. After you've stopped screaming at me, we'll talk. Done? Good. Pour yourself some sweet tea, or whatever you have in the house, and listen. Yes, it was a good pay check. And yes the people were nice. But here's the thing, it wouldn't have challenged me. Ever since I left my job in Austin, Texas six months ago, I've been on a quest. I'll admit, the word "quest" seems a little too Dungeons and Dragons (or World of Warcraft for those of you born after 1990). But, it truly is a quest. Why? A quest is fueled by lofty goals and nobility. There is a feeling of what one does on a quest will change, strengthen and in some cases save the soul of the adventurer. So, it's not a label that should just be affixed to any task. But, make no mistake about it...I'm on a quest. So, cue the John Williams music and watch me gird my loins, (Uh, don't actually watch me gird my loins - I'm shy). So, now that we're back from our trip to metaphor point, let me tell you why I turned down a good paying job after six months of unemployment in this wretched economy. I'm only interested in work that resonates with people. Work that inspires and has a purpose beyond commerce. I can hear you saying, "Steve, you work in advertising and advertising is commerce." I would argue that the best advertising has a purpose beyond just commerce. I look at the stuff that moves me - the brands that really motivate and inspire - and it sure isn't dictated by price point. The BMW "Joy" stuff is brilliant and inspiring. I've watched that campaign unfold and after about a year I couldn't tell you how much a BMW costs- but man, do I want one. This is the kind of work that I want to be a part of. And I want to help other brands find a voice with purpose. The job that I interviewed for doesn't see that as important. It would be exactly that - a job. A paycheck. So, I turned it down - much to my wife's amazement. But after talking with her and explaining my quest, she understands. This, like most quests will be bloody. But, when the dust settles, we'll both understand why we girded our loins (can women gird their loins?) and pushed foreword. If I may quote the modern day philosopher Rocky Balboa, "Life isn't about how hard you can hit, it's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward...that's how winning is done." So, we move forward...