According to the Center for Science in the Public Interest, nagging works best on four specific classes of parents:
your **** to their shopping list. If mom or dad are employed, pray they can cling to their tech support jobs.
Cartoon characters serving as brand mascots provide a quick and easy band-aid to an otherwise uninspired youth label. Colonel Sanders raps and spits into a drumstick-shaped microphone about eleven herbs and spizices. Ronald McDonald pops and breakdances in circles around a freshly-scrubbed rainbow of multicultural children who sit there lovin' it. An updated, ostensibly "edgier" Bugs Bunny turns his baseball cap inside-out. Fat Albert's ringtone wants to know Where You At. Donald Duck sports ever-blingier ba-bling, and Mickey Mouse looks more and more like those Tasmanian Devil pimps you see in cheap tattoo parlors. Even Apple Computer's operating system is branded with a goddamn smiley face. Kids use icons, SMS shorthand and text messaging in lieu of more complicated concepts like complete words and sentences sculpted into structured conversation, and who better to push that agenda then a Trix rabbit clutching a Twix bar?
lightly tiptoed into teen marketing on a global scale when they designed artwork for a line of Coca-Cola drinks. Named after the most recognized word in any language -- the second being "Coke" -- OK Soda was a short-lived brand keenly aimed at what passed for the "Generation X" demographic in early 1994. The brand was one of the earlie
st to capitalize on the idea that young people were -- what's the word? Disillusioned? Disenfranchised. Disaffected? How about disinterested. The labels were great, the soda was terrible, and less than a year later the cans were yanked from shelves. To this day, The OK Soda legacy remains one of the most transparent, desperate and ridiculous youth campaigns ever made by Big Cola.
keting think tank which has interviewed over a million teenagers. They've conservatively estimated that teens in 2006 would spend upwards of $159 billion of their own money and their parents' money combined. Teens need jobs, but as a result of our upside-down economy, adult workers around the country are clinging desperately to all the decent entry-level service positions. Teenage unemployment is at an all time high, and rising gas prices means that while an unprecedented cache of teen dollars might be temporarily flowing directly into gas tanks, kids can't drive all the way to and from the
Apple store as often as they'd like. Ninety-nine cents for a song? **** that noise, I'll LimeWire it. Christ on the cross, it sucks anyway. Trash can. Weirdly, today's incoming crop of teens are reportedly devoted to bizarre concepts like God and their own mothers -- in that order.
When a clothing company like Diesel embeds anti-advertising messages directly in its print and billboard campaigns, it represents a hackneyed paradoxical chestnut which young people haven't already seen a million times. When Benetton offers yearly catalogs "united in color" featuring cocky, self-confident bumper sticker platitudes about sex, religion, and racism alongside images of death-row inmates or handicapped children, kids don't immediately recognize that their clothing manufacturer is boldly "coming forward" in favor of something nobody ever needs to formulate an opinion about. The screaming scraps of press generated from these early examples of extreme-to-the-max slabs of kiddie content -- especially when a community of uptight parents gangbangs together in protest -- are ten times more valuable than the campaign itself. Gone are the days of adutainment or infomercials, as they've since been replaced by self-aware "controvercials".
semi-naked toddlers posing in tight underwear. Public outcry resulted in then-mayor Rudy Guiliani yanking the ads straight down -- a real triumph in "numerically measurable mainstream accessibility," to quote Channel 101 co-founder Dan Harmon. It's unclear how many toddlers who saw the CK ad were subsequently inspired to tart themselves up a little more.
LEGO bricks contained anywhere from 500 to 1000 pieces. Through sales research, focus groups and peer review, LEGO now believes such a set is way, way too complex. Let's dial it back a bit: not only do children not have the patience to gather together all the required parts for a castle, or boat, or car -- there isn't enough space in their tiny, ridiculous brains to previsualize long-term plans, imagine new forms, or create the requisite custom shapes.
rockets originally subject to interpretation by a kid's imagination. And which set of LEGO is right for you? Choose from styles like Harry Potter, Star Wars, Exoforce, Knight's Kingdom, Bionicle, and numerous other brandy-brands too depressing even to think about. It's only a matter of time before LEGO starts packaging their product directly inside the Happy Meal carton.




