Sometimes, late on a hot summer night when everyone is asleep, I sit on my porch with a cold glass of lemonade and look up at the stars. And when I do, invariably my thoughts turn to my brand. Have I done enough to promote my brand? Have I used social media in a way that gets my brand name out there? Am I tweeting out messages consistent with the Patrick McVay brand identity? Is my brand connecting with the right influencers who can create interest in my brand and increase my sales? Do I have any sales? Why am I not hitting you over the head with advertisements? Are you even listening to me?
The answer to all these questions is no. Except the question about hitting you over the head, because “no” is never an answer to a “why” question.
One of the reasons that my brand isn’t succeeding like, say, Nestle, or Canada, is that I don’t have infrastructure in place to run focus groups on my products, and I don’t have a constitution that lacks a second amendment. The Canada brand seems to be doing quite well without a second amendment, but don’t go telling that to Canadians. Before you know it they’ll be whining about needing a well-regulated militia to protect their brand.
To hell with the Canada brand and their meek and mild prime minister!
By the way, Russia says that they didn’t meddle in our elections, so that answers that question.
Have I ever told you about my favorite piece of poetry? Of course I've told you, but I’m not convinced you were listening.
It’s Eunoia, by Christian Bok. But you wouldn’t have needed me to tell you that, because you knew that I’m exactly the kind of person who would love a book in which each chapter contains words using only one specified vowel. Chapter A starts, “Awkward grammar appalls a craftsman,” and goes on from there.
Chapter E: “Jesters express extreme glee.”
These aren’t five line ditties. Each chapter has about 3,000 words, using words that contain only one of the vowels. A slice from chapter O: “Folks who long to prolong moods of torpor do Zoloft or nod off on two drops of chloroform.”
Eunoia the book is comprised of “Eunoia” and “Oiseau,” the former being what I just described above, and the latter being a series of poems that play on words and on vowels. So two excellent and accessible examples of contemporary writing, which you had no idea you liked, in one book.
You probably won’t find it in your local bookstore, alas, but look there first just in case.
I recently had breakfast with several of my lawyers, and one of them informed me that I can totally pardon myself, if, for some reason, I need to.
Not that I need to. Why would I need to pardon myself? Heh heh. Like, what, if I burp? Jim Kong Hun would probably not pardon himself if he burped, but I would. Because that’s what we do in America. We burp in public to indicate to the chef that the food was awesome. Then we officially pardon ourselves.
Because we Americans don’t need a handout when we belch. Having someone else pardon you is like taking charity. Come on, buddy, pardon yourself instead of relying on someone else to pardon you! I pardon myself left and right and really enjoy it. I don’t ask someone else to pardon me when I push past them in a shopping mall or collude with the Russians. I just manage the pardoning on my own.
Believe me, I’m going to trust this one lawyer of mine when it comes to pardoning.
Not that I need lawyers.
And where was I during the Royal Wedding, hmm? It’s a question a lot of people have been asking themselves and each other. The scuttlebutt is that the paparazzi were hounding me and my family, so we went incognito and flew under the radar.
Cut to the Fake News Media, which spreads lies claiming that I wasn’t even invited. Ha, what a laugh! I was invited, but it turns out that, by rule, only a certain number of us Canadians are allowed to attend royal weddings in a given year. That’s the kind of international discrimination we Canadians have to endure. I’d like to see the reaction you Americans would have if a cap were imposed on your numbers at royal weddings. You’d probably invade the wedding with Marines.
Anyway, by now you must know that I’m not really into “the spotlight.” Oh, sure, it might look like I am, the way I beam radiantly whenever the fake news media’s cameras are trained on me, but that’s just a front. Under that thin veneer is a shy fellow who’d prefer to sit in the shadows.
Hanging in the shadows for the next couple of days, if you care to visit.