Marketing gurus are calling this an advertising and content campaign.
They’re calling it “branded music” too.
Calling this content marketing because there’s a Morton’s salt ad at the end and it’s being released on YouTube is about as innovative as every video ever produced. (Remember, they are all created as a content marketing campaign to sell music.)
If a salt company wants to pay for product placement, they can do so, but don’t call it innovative marketing.
On the other hand, the video is spectacularly innovative.
And for the record, I just spent five minutes promoting this to the 12 people who read this blog.
The most brilliant observation of the state of the nation was the SNL Black Jeopardy piece with Tom Hanks. People have described the election as being one of “insiders vs. outsiders” or “urban vs. rural.” There is truth to both of these observations (and the skit captures the urban vs. rural — spot on).
We live in a land of great diversity. It’s our strength. It’s one of the things that makes us special.
But when you live in a land of diversity, it’s far too easy to hang labels on people because of our clichéd perceptions of them based on where they live or what they wear or the lifestyle they exhibit.
If I were running a major political party, I’d be looking at the world through the glasses of the Black Jeopardy / Tom Hanks filter and try to figure out how we can take the strength of America’s diversity to address the negative aspects of that diversity.
Clinton lost the election at the point where her frustration led her to say something that confirmed what the people who ultimately elected Trump believe: She views them as deplorable. (Granted, Trump said more heinous things in a day that most people will in a lifetime.)
Below, is a link to a recent Hammock Idea Email that explains the “backfire effect,” how presenting people with the facts can result in them not only disbelieving the facts, but will cause the result opposite of your intention.
Building firewalls around small groups is never the pathway to success. Finding ways to communicate how we are similar, when everything in our gut tells us we’re not, is the pathway to success.
(Update, November 9, 2017: I have updated this item due to some news I became aware of after it was posted.)
Note: This was written and posted on November 7, 2016, one day before the end of the presidential campaign from Hell. For the record, I voted early for Hillary Clinton and would have voted for Robert Mugabe if my choices were limited to Donald Trump and him. I feel confident about two things: Trump will win Tennessee, so my vote will mean little in the Electoral College.
Ten Ways Trump Will Explain Why He Didn’t Lose After He Loses
I didn’t lose. The Trump brand is yuge. The most valuable brand in the world. More than Coke and Apple put together. I know about these things.
I didn’t lose. The campaign was a yuge profit deal.
I didn’t lose. Historians are already saying I was the best presidential candidate ever.
I didn’t lose. I spent half of what Hillary spent, and I would have won had the election not been rigged, so that’s winning. The Electoral College should consider that — the one who spends the least money should get bonus points from the Electoral College.
I didn’t lose. The election was rigged by the media, the Republican Party insiders, the Clintons, Obamas, and Democrats, the FBI and CIA, ISIS, every newspaper in the U.S. except the one in Las Vegas. Readers Digest screwed us.
I didn’t lose. I ran so that I could mention a Trump property whenever I spoke in a city where one was located. That way I could write off the visit as a marketing expense.
I meant to lose. That’s how I didn’t lose.
I didn’t lose. I’m going to sue everyone who didn’t vote for me and the damages I’ll win are going to be yuge.
I didn’t lose. The Electoral College lost its accreditation, and now the election is decided by Trump University.
I didn’t lose. Every Trump Hotel is booked solid for the next century and a half.
I’ve been fascinated with the challenges Nate Silver & Co. have faced in trying to convince an audience to stay engaged in a process that has been like a year-long version of the two weeks leading up to the Super Bowl.
In addition to trying of make the presidential election a series of daily swings (who’s winning in Hillsborough County, Fla., today?), Silver and those sites that have tried to mimic his approach, all flunked the Republican Primary race–caution now permeates each article and podcast. Every few days, Silver runs a story on why anything that sounds definitive should be taken with a grain of salt.
Silver’s mea culpa after the Republican nominee set the stage for his summer and fall of providing endless butt-covering explanations of the many ways Trump could win, despite having only a 30% chance of doing so.
Silver’s most difficult challenge recently has been crafting new caveats.
It’s difficult to explain the influence of the trusted Uncle Walter to someone too young to remember Walter Cronkite’s tenure as the CBS Evening News’ anchor. In my memory, the two most historic events of my childhood–the assassination of JFK and the moon landing–are as much about Watler Cronkite as they are about the events themselves. In my home, he narrated the Vietnam War each evening right before supper. I don’t know why we didn’t turn the TV off.
The local newspaper, Time magazine and Walter Cronkite, were my family’s consistent news media staple through the 1960s and early 70s.
When we were in our late twenties, my wife and I spent a couple of nights on Martha’s Vineyard. Knowing that Cronkite spent the month of August there, we joked constantly about what we’d say if we ran into him. I recall we agreed that it wouldn’t be anything related to the comment, “and that’s the way it is,” his nightly signoff phrase.
I’ve forgotten what we agreed it would be, but on our last night there, we were walking down a narrow alley to a restaurant and had to squeeze up against a cottage wall to let an approaching car by. As the car crept by in order not to hit us, we looked at the driver and recognized immediately it was Cronkite. Instead of having something pithy to say, all my wife and I could do was laugh at our actual encounter with the icon. I think we said something dumb like, “hey, you’re Walter Cronkite.”
I miss Walter Cronkite. But there’s a part of me that’s glad he’s not having to witness the presidential election of 2016. I’ve done all I can to ignore it.