A new word for an old failing.

I want to introduce a new word into the vocabulary: onlyism. A person guilty of onlyism is an onlyist. He or she is that incredibly rude person who seems to feel they are the only person in the world or at least the only one that counts. You see these people every day in 10-items-or-less lines with 15 items, illegally parking in handicapped zones, trying to get to the head of a queue, talking or checking their brightly lit cell phones in a movie theater during the film. You see them in increasing numbers every day. The onlyist I saw today was at Starbucks. She sat down in a chair right next to a man who was quietly working on his computer. She immediately telephoned a friend who appeared on her screen and they began a loud conversation which was obviously distracting to her quiet neighbor. I noticed this from across the room. She didn't, of course. How could she? She's an onlyist.

michael c. hall - dodge tent event commercial

No monkey here.

This commercial is only the latest of hundreds of commercials, movies, books and other forms of communication that refers to a chimpanzee as a monkey. A chimp is not a monkey. A chimp is an ape. In fact it's one of the great apes along with gorillas and orangs. I don't understand how a company like Dodge can spend so much money on advertising and add such an uneducated punch line. They stand corrected.

Note: It is now Mid-August and I noticed they have changed the commercial. Now instead of seeing the chimp, the announcer refers to him as "an invisible monkey." Apparently they made the change after a complaint by PETA, not about referring to him as a monkey of course, but I guess they didn't like him playing with dynamite. Invisible or not, it's still obvious that the detonator is a chimp.

What's in the suitcase you're carrying?

From time to time I get bored discussing commercials (which are mostly boring) so I plan to include other cranky copywriter gripes or praise for such things as movies and books. Like the following. I first noticed it in Ingmar Bergman's 1978 film, Autumn Sonata. Since then I have come aware that it is epidemic in movies, even films by the finest directors. It amazes me that it even happens. You think someone would point it out, possibly even the actor. But they don't. And it remains: the empty suitcase syndrome. We all have had to carry suitcases sometime in our life. And usually they're heavy. Why? Because they are packed with things. But not in the movies. When people get off trains in films, or arrive at the airport, or show up at a hotel, their luggage is as light as air. They don't grunt when picking it up; they don't seem eager to put it down. Why? Because it's empty. It is so empty that it spoils the realism of the scene. The same is true of wrapped packages. Not only do they always seem to include many empty boxes, but unlike real-life packages, movie gifts only require you to lift the ribboned lid to reveal the present inside. You would think Hollywood would have noticed this flaw decades ago and changed it. But they haven't. Today, even the newest movies feature the ever-empty suitcase.

Note added October 25. Last night on Boardwalk our fallen heroine was moved from her tacky home into a posh residence by her wealthy protector. The servant who was helping her with this transition was obviously carrying two empty suitcases. Though previously engrossed, this error screamed soundstage!

Morning Drive - Maxwell House Commercial

Warm coffee or cold beer?

Are beer drinkers jerks and coffee drinkers warm, wonderful people? It would seem so from many of today's TV commercials. Beer spots seemed to be directed at post-adolescent, sexually infantile, often selfish young men while coffee commercials reach out to the returning vets, loving parents and families full of generosity and goodwill. I'm not complaining. I've always liked the Folger's commercials where each day starts with hot coffee and people waking to another happy day. When I was a kid Maxwell House began its campaign of warmth by sponsoring Mama, featuring the coffee-loving Norwegian family: the Steiners of San Francisco. A perfect match. It established them as caring and they have kept up that image ever since with their unchanging "Good to the last drop" slogan. I especially like their newest commercial in which a father watches his son prepare to deliver newspapers on a rainy morning and volunteers to drive him on the route without making the kid lose face. Charming. I wonder if beer commercials will ever show really nice people.

Education Video Conferencing - Cisco Telepresence