It seems the very dedicated Al Cabino just might have his way after all. For years, the man has been behind a grassroots effort to get Nike to manufacture the sneakers Michael J. Fox wore in the 1989 movie Back to the Future 2 during the year 2015 scene. A petition site McFly 2015 has been launched to collect signatures and convince Nike there's a market for the shoes. Oh, naturally, there's a MySpace site too.
Google has a lot of fun with easter eggs, probably a big reason why, despite its soul-sucking bulk, it manages to keep the allegiance of Gen-Yers who prefer smoothie options to 401Ks.
While we panicked over a spotty internet connection a friend sent us here, which seemed like a joygasmic option until we read up on installment.
If you want to don the gloves, be our guest. Is this what Google employees spend the allotted 20 percent of their independent project time doing?
The problem with cursing like sailors is when you're actually angry no words seem intense enough, so you just end up sputtering and needlessly flailing your hands. There is nothing worse than having righteous rage confused for epilepsy. For these situations, Cuss Cards come in handy.
Don't just say shit. Say merde. And if French ain't your cup of tea, raise verbal hell a la Madrid, Rome, Amsterdam, Berlin and Stockholm.
Diseases are a popular means of expressing distaste in Dutch, whereas the Italians are fond of blasphemies. Don't you feel smarter now? For more worldly ditties, check out the map.
And yes! There are games, and their names are fun to say.
We've all experienced the heart-crushing feeling of losing the perfect demo because it was too costly, the estate was too stingy or because some crappy local band promised your creative director they'd do a more contemporary cover. With this soul-searing emotion in mind, Taxi New York brings the concept of Hank to life.
In pseudo-disease style a promo video for the site showcases symptoms of demo-longing, performed with impressive desolation by some faces in the ad and marketing world. What does Hank do? Pair the afflicted with the fully-licensable tracks of their dreams, of course.
We considered shedding a tear for the suffering but decided to kick a kitten instead. They're always getting in the way of our feet.
Here's a campaign that's too relevant for comfort. Merkley + Partners get cozy with the Ad Council -- which was recently in bed with the US Army for a grammatically icky and unconvincing get-edumakayted campaign -- to inflict fear upon teens for more conservative internet practices.
Part peer pressure, part plain creepiness and all mortification, the spots are entitled Bulletin Board and Everyone Knows Your Name. A typically over-informative PR tells us it's meant to raise awareness about online sexual exploitation but could just as easily be a cautionary wrist-slap over the ever-growing epidemic of Google-happy employers.
Hmm. Let's think. How can we launch a campaign that celebrates the advancement of women and their transformation from refrigerator advertisement decoration to glass-ceiling breaking CEOs and Presidential hopefuls? Ooo. Ooo...we got it! A campaign that rests solely on hair color and pits blondes against brunettes in an intelligence challenge. Now that's sure to remove any doubt we'd be positioning women as objects of desire, right? Sunsilk thinks so.
An Adrants reader sums up this Northwestern Mutual site perfectly, writing, "It won't make me buy their financial products but it's fun." Visit Wreck Your Worries, type in a worry and choose from four tools you can then use to destroy your worries. It was very theraputic but we'd agree with the reader. After we finished hammering away all our daily worries, we just left. Yup, we didn't buy any life insurance. Not a bit.
Looking over our shoulder as we wrote, our blowup Bob Garfield doll, standing stoically but mildly deflated from all the darts we've tossed while in the corner of our office, was heard saying, "Oh shut up Adrants! You guys are idiots! I know what you're all about! You'll do anything to piss people off with your lame-ass commentary!" OK. Sorry, Bob. We promise we'll read your Chaos Theory piece now. [Ed. To be clear, the real Bob Garfield didn't say this. He gets mad when you put words in his mouth so we thought we'd be clear on that point. OK? Good.]
Since Jurassic Park we are wary of anything involving labs, dinosaurs and the promise of sex. But for some odd reason Schick sees this as the perfect formula for their latest slew of homepage-worthy marketing schemes.
We're experiencing unpleasant early 90's nostalgia with this Dino Hunters thing they're doing. The promo page assures the uncertain that "Comedy, sex and nasty ol' lizards abound in this free game about hunting dinosaurs" - and we don't know how or why that sells razors (the thought of running one blade, much less four, over gigantor scaly skin makes our stomachs clench) but perhaps it does.
The sex component is a burden mainly carried by the token ditzy blonde Candy. In a perfect world hot cartoon characters would be smart and not vapid because the point of being able to create is to correct the shortcomings of reality, yeah? No.
The Silly Girl points to a set of hilarious videos which promote the Harper Collins book The Average American Male by Chad Kultgen. In the videos, the usual scenes between male an female take place (woman tells man she loves him, man shocked at dinner bill, man put in awkward position when girlfriend's Dad wonders when he will propose to his daughter) but rather than the men in the videos responding as one might expect, they respond more truthfully than many might like to think.
Because 50-something Beverly Hills slingback-trollers need constant reminding about their divine responsibility to unwind the threads of age, Restylane releases this viral hopeful about the dangers inherent to having a cougar mom.
Do you really need to get work done to inspire a giddy 20-something to make out with you? Boys have harbored MILF and teacher fantasies since the beginning of time. It's not like little Bennie needed much convincing to fall into the arms of the sultry (and conventionally deformed) Mrs. Robinson.
If 50 is the new 22, does that make 40 the new 16? And if so, where does that put actual 20-somethings? Are they competing with fetuses?