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.