They had me at “meow.”
They lost me at “sign up.”

I was flipping through Facebook, unmarking most of the “Top Story” posts (seriously, Zuckerberg, get your algorithm right already). And that’s when it caught my eye — an ad featuring a cat lounging in some Jetsons-age contraption:

Since I’m addicted to furry creatures with pointy ears and tuna breath,  I was hooked. Since I also dig on futuristic design, particularly anything with the word “pod” in it, I clicked…

And that click constituted an act of extreme rarity.

The click-through rates on Facebook ads have plummeted to such abysmal lows, Facebook’s own head of measurement and insights is publicly disavowing them. Instead, he’s hyping the value of “awareness” and other metrics used by old-school media and previously ridiculed by new-media zealots. (For more on the new media flip-flop on metrics, see my post, “And The Standards Go Out The Browser Window: Banner Ad-Nauseum”).

So call CNN and issue a tweet: here was a Facebook user tearing himself away from his friends’ posts to actually click on an ad.

And just as quickly, I clicked away, pausing only long enough to capture the landing page so I could share it here:

The ad took me to some site I’d never heard before, Fab.com, and there was the Cat Pod that had been promised. The problem? I couldn’t learn anything more about the Pod, or the website selling it, since the site is “by invitation only.” Really? They ran an ad on Facebook to take me to a members-only site?

Ah, but I could gain access: I just had to provide my email address first.

Podded Cat Meets Old Dog

Now, when it comes to these here Internets, I’m an old dog who knows some old tricks. Way back when most of us “information-superhighway” travelers had accounts on Prodigy, Earthlink and AOL, I learned that if you give some stranger your email address, you’ll likely get back stuff you don’t really want. So these days, I give out my email address begrudgingly, even if it involves brands I know well. And I still get annoyed. I recently gave my email address to Groupon, and they responded by bombarding me with discounts on tanning sessions, teeth whitening and other offers I usually leave in my spam folder. At least I could trust Groupon to go away once I unsubscribed (which they did).

But who the hell is Fab.com? Would they be sharing my email address with Nigerian princes or the hucksters behind the “congratulations you’ve won an iPod” talking banner ads? Isn’t it customary to get to know someone, or enable them to know you, before asking for their email address?

So I bailed. I figured my cats could live without $79 pods. I’ll console them with some extra turkey and giblets instead.

And that is a classic example of “friction” in e-commerce.

No, not the turkey and giblets. Friction is anything that makes shopping more difficult for customers. That could be a long registration form, a dysfunctional search engine, or simply too many clicks to get to the products they want. In the bricks-and-mortar world, customers have to put up with some friction, such as essentials stashed in the back of the store, or mathematically illiterate cart stuffers in the “12 items or less” line. But on the Internet, friction lets prospective customers slip away. (Get it — “friction” and “slip away”?) Who needs hassle when there are hundreds of other sites that will happily take our money just a click away?

Now I understand any brand wanting to create an exclusive shopping experience. Stringing up that velvet rope, real or virtual, can make a business more enticing, since it keeps out the “riff-raff” and makes those admitted feel “special.” But before it can do that, the business must make sure people want it in the first place. You don’t want to put up a velvet rope and have no one but the bouncer waiting beside it. And creating that desire requires marketing: you must let people know you exist and that you pack a whole lot of awesome before you ask them to jump through hoops.

Fab.com did neither of those things. Now, as far as I know, Fab.com could be an amazing company run by kitten-rescuing Buddhist nuns with immaculate manicures and masters degrees in legal ethics. But prior to spotting this Facebook ad, I had never heard of them before, and since I couldn’t peek inside their site, I had no idea what else they offered beyond the $79 Cat Pods. They just wanted my email address up front for something unknown that’s by invitation only.

Now, that measurement-and-insights dude at Facebook can talk all he wants about how his ads are best used to create impressions. Ironically, the Fab.com Facebook ad was successful in generating a click-through. It was the impression that was far less than impressive.

What were they smoking?

You’ll find lots of articles and editorials skewering Netflix and its CEO Reed Hastings today, including this one in the L.A. Times, “Once High-Flying Netflix Is Now Stumbling,” which describes all the following events of the past few weeks:

• Netflix’s 60% price increase
• the ensuing defection of hundreds-of-thousands of paying customers
• its subscriber-aggravating loss of the Starz distribution deal
• the impending future of higher content-licensing costs
• the entry of other major competitors, such as Amazon
• Hasting’s mea culpa to subscribers via email
• his decision to make the DVD business a separate service called Qwikster
• and the company’s crashing stock price

The key strategic flaw? Not the 60% price increase — Netflix does need to cover its content-licensing costs. The lethal mistake was grossly underpricing its unlimited streaming service in the first place…

Netflix must have known that Hollywood would demand a bigger slice of the pie. Nobody can offer infinite Hollywood content and expect Hollywood to not pull out the forks and knives. The only outsider who has ever successfully negotiated with Hollywood is Steve Jobs, but he’s capable of walking on water. Everyone else, from Starbucks to Vivendi, Matsushita to Coca-Cola, has found that swimming with sharks is exhausting and can eventually cost an arm and a leg.

So why did Netflix underprice?

Companies often do so to penetrate a market and steal market share. That certainly worked for Netflix, as it acquired millions of subscribers and drove Blockbuster and other brick-and-mortar competitors mostly out of business. Once the competition is destroyed, the victor raises its prices. That’s predatory pricing in action.

But as Netflix discovered, if you grossly underprice to land a customer, you’ll find it extremely difficult to significantly jack up prices on them later. Customers will react angrily and vent their fumes on that social media thing. To avoid this, Netflix should have clearly stated that the low-priced unlimited streaming was just a limited-time introductory offer, while also clearly stating the actual price, which is still an awesome deal (all the videos you can watch ad-free for $8.95/month, which won’t buy you a popcorn and a Coke in most movie theaters).

One finance expert commented that Netflix successfully achieved a 60% price increase at a cost of only 2.4% of its customers — the net result being a bottom line gain. But that’s too limited a consideration. The customer attrition hasn’t stopped, yet, and Netflix’s customer acquisition costs are likely to increase now that the service is priced realistically and the company is perceived as having “ripped off” its past customers. Plus, even at just 2.4%, that’s still too many paying customers (and cash flow) to send to your competitors. I’m sure there are a lot of smiles over at Amazon and Hulu today.

What could be worse?

Hastings had also projected subscriber growth to investors, and Netflix’s stock was priced in anticipation of that growth. Where’s the stock price now? The last time I checked, Netflix was trading at $130/share — quite a drop from its 52-week high of $304 just a few months ago. That’s a market cap loss off about $9 billion. Trust me, Netflix will be hearing a lot more from its investors, who are now seeing red (and I’m not referring to the envelopes).

Above all, the previously gleaming Netflix brand has taken a beating. Once celebrated on magazine covers as the unstoppable startup that revolutionized movie rentals, Netflix is now being depicted as the bumbling opportunist that took its customers for granted, miscalculated the cost of Hollywood content, and issued faulty projections to its investors.

That formerly spotless brand wasn’t helped by Hasting’s hasty launch of a new brand, Qwikster. (Note: see update below.) Social mediaphiles quickly identified Qwikster as the Twitter handle of some stoner (see his original Elmo image above). Again, Hastings looks like someone who jumps without looking.

Going forward, Netflix may stabilize its membership base. It may sell off Qwikster to someone who doesn’t mind all the shipping-and-handling hassles of DVD rentals (hello, Amazon, got a sec?). It may negotiate some exclusive deals for prized content and produce its own content to differentiate from a stampede of competitors. Netflix will certainly no longer be the sensation it once was, but it will exist in some form or another. Kind of like that other once high-flying Internet startup that had millions of paying subscribers, fooled around with Hollywood, and miscalculated the future before tanking on its investors. What’s it called? Oh yeah, AOL.

Hello, Netflix, you’ve got fail.

Update 10.10.11: Admitting that the Qwikster move was a mistake (let me guess — they could find no prospective buyers for it), Hastings has dropped the Qwikster name and plans to keep the DVD and streaming services together under the Netflix name. Perhaps the only person bummed about this latest move is the guy who owned the name on Twitter. On that note, here’s a free streaming video for you:

Model behavior at Anthropologie?

Now that I’ve taken a stab at Banana Republic’s Mad Men promotion, time to look at what’s happening in fashion retail for women.

Surprisingly, it ain’t pretty…

My wife LOVES Anthropologie (I should invest in the parent company just to get some cash back), and she follows it with a religious fervor. Her devotion entails keeping tabs on Anthropologie in social media, and from what she tells me, Anthropologie sure knows how to work it.

Sort of.

Enter the Queen B’s (i.e., Bloggers)

Part of Anthropologie’s social media strategy involves bloggers — more like acolytes whose fanaticism makes Apple fanboys look apathetic. The top bloggers include Roxy of Effortless Anthropologie and Tara B of Little Girl Big Closet.

Anthropologie itself doesn’t blog. Why bother, when these third-party die-hards hang on the brand’s every word and whisper, review every product release, and work their networks until EVERYONE knows what’s happening at their favorite cult, er, store.

These bloggers also constitute a continuous focus group of informed and influential top customers. They point out what fits right, what lacks in quality, and most importantly, what’s straying from the brand. Since they don’t have jobs at Anthropologie at stake, these independent bloggers serve as more objective brand watchdogs than Anthropolgie’s internal employees, and their constructive criticism helps the company shape its practices and product lines. According to my wife, this feedback apparently influenced Anthopologie’s coming fall collection.

Other brands can only dream of such social support: despite hiring gurus and drinking Kool-Aid with the Word of Mouth Marketing Association, they’re lucky if anyone gives a tweet.

Photo of Roxy by Roxy of Endless Anthropologie

Fully aware of the value of these faithful fashionistas, Anthropologie hasn’t let their dedication go unrewarded. Indeed, the company recently held a special blogger-only event in NYC dubbed Color + Print. There the bloggers got a first look at Anthropologie’s fall line, met royalty (the design team), and best of all, tried on the clothes. Roxy of Effortless Anthropologie described it in her post:

“… oh yeah, this wasn’t a buyer event, it was a blogger event. Anthropologie rolled out the abstract red print carpet for us. There was clothing and accessories. There were personal stylists on-hand to help us create a look. There were hair artisans and makeup artists to give us a boost. And then there was a photo booth where we could get our picture taken. Those photos will be up on Anthropologie’s Facebook page today…”

You could say that such an “appreciation event” skirts FTC rules about bribing bloggers, but Corporate America has been feting pseudo-journalists for years (see “The Hollywood Foreign Press Association” behind the Golden Globe Awards), so this is just business as usual with a 2.0 twist. It’s a clever way to tap the power of influencers.

So what’s the problem? Well, you know that bit about Facebook up there?

Imagine what happens when a fashion brand favors one group of customers over everyone else in a social medium…

Yes, the claws came out.

While most of the comments on Anthropologie’s Facebook page referred to the fashions, others savaged the bloggers — not about their opinions or privileges, but about the way they looked. Really. As in digs about their weight and facial features. While, sadly, this total lack of civility is almost expected these days in America, what particularly galled my wife and others was that Anthropologie did nothing about it. While the company answered questions about the clothing and its availability, they left the ad hominem insults untouched.

Tara B of Little Girl Big Closet

In an eloquent riposte to Anthropologie, Tara B of Little Girl Big Closet vented her disgust at this cyberbullying — and Anthropolopie’s lack of action:

“I scrolled through the comments and saw some of the most vile, hateful, hurtful words I’ve ever had the misfortune of encountering in all my time as a style blogger. The vast majority of the negative comments were gratuitously malicious, and could in no way be interpreted as constructive criticism. As I kept reading, it felt like someone had just punched me in the gut. People were not only bashing Anthro clothing in general, but tearing down real women who had come out to support your business. It was just disgusting. I can’t begin to understand why you would put all these wonderful women out there and indiscriminately invite the world to comment on them, and not exercise an ounce of moderation. Why didn’t you protect these young women who were kind enough to model your wares for you? Why didn’t you protect the feelings of patrons such as myself who actually happen to like your ‘gross’ ‘grandma clothes’? Why didn’t you delete the comments that were especially vindictive and hateful, with a warning to the authors of those comments (I saw several repeat offenders)? If all you wanted was to run a contest wherein people would vote for their favorites, why didn’t you simply allow Likes, and disallow comments? There are so many different ways in which this could have been handled. I am all for freedom of speech, and think that people who absolutely hate Anthro should have just as loud a voice as those who love it. But free speech mustn’t be confused with abusive rhetoric whose sole discernible purpose is to denigrate.”

She’s completely right.

Censorship and Social Media

There’s this naïve belief pushed by social media gurus that all posts are sacrosanct — that “in the spirit of social media,” censorship is what’s evil, and that neither corporations nor individuals should touch or delete any comment or post, with the exception of spam.

I’ve always responded to this notion with a “B” and a mighty big “S.”

Your social media platform, whether it’s a blog, Facebook page or YouTube video wall, is not democracy square; it’s your island dictatorship. (Or, more exactly, your walled garden within Mark Zuckerberg’s island dictatorship.)

More importantly, it’s part of your brand, and what you allow others to say alongside your brand reflects on it. Would you give your enemies, random trolls, ex-employees and current competitors an open microphone in your physical space? Just as a restaurant owner wouldn’t tolerate a ranting, raving patron for very long, neither should you feel obligated to allow someone on your social turf to rant and rave.

Indeed, as Anthropologie discovered, allowing abusive rhetoric can be far more damaging than blocking it. Allowing cyberbullies to attack your most devoted and influential customers is bad business on many levels — it could even lead to a lawsuit from the victimized.

Although late to this realization, Anthropologie to its credit eventually deleted the offensive comments and issued the following statement on their Facebook page:

“Thanks to those who kindly voted…notice we said ‘kindly.’ We’re disheartened some chose to make unkind comments about the participating bloggers. To not like our fashion is one thing but to be rude to fellow women is uncalled for. (We hold you to higher standards!) One last note: to the 23 gals who gracefully accepted our styling challenge, we say ‘brava!’ Nothing can take away the fun we had, nor inhibit your fearless style!”

The statement worked, eliciting over 420 “likes” and 60 positive comments from devotees (including my wife, who kept me posted on every post). That’s at least 420 customers who were upset by the transgressions.

In sum, social media can effectively and even enjoyably promote a brand, but like any public medium, it must be monitored and moderated. While we marketers love to create edgy, provocative campaigns that “push the envelope,” the presence of malice is never fashionable.

Update 9/15/2011: And the hits just keep a’coming… There’s more tumult in Anthropologie blogger land, as Kim of the once-popular blog Anthroholic has been accused of taking the money of her followers to do “personal shopping” and not fulfilling her end of the deal. Tara B of Little Girl Big Closet describes the incident (and the dark side of shopping addiction) in an article entitled “Breaking the Silence.”  And here’s a related (and useful) article by Roxy of Effortless Anthropologie that’s already generated over 600 comments: “Alert! Protecting yourself from online transaction scams.”

Wishful thinking.

Don Draper would not be pleased.

Don’t get me wrong — basing a fashion line on the TV series Mad Men is brilliant (albeit, about three years overdue). Since I dig the show and midcentury-modern design, I particularly looked forward to this Mad Men line, and a free cocktail launch party sounded like savvy marketing. Draper would have approved, but…

The execution. Oh, the execution…

L.A. Times ad

This past Thursday, fashion retailer Banana Republic ran an ad announcing a “Mad Style” Cocktail Party. So I decided to check out the event, expecting Mad Men décor, swinging sounds, the BR staff decked out in the outfits with period hairdos, and a tux-clad bartender shaking up ice-cold martinis. Maybe I’d add to my skinny-tie collection while I was there.

Not quite.

I was greeted at the door by two BR employees wearing their usual garb. One held a tray of three drinks, including non-alcoholic apple cider, and the other proffered a plate of roasted potatoes in cream sauce. No, really. Not sure what part of the 1960s inspired roasted potatoes in cream sauce, or why Banana Republic would want people eating roasted potatoes in cream sauce as they wandered aisles of new clothing, but I wasn’t tempted, and neither employee seemed enthused about this new wrinkle in their job requirement.

I entered the store, and the interior looked and sounded like Banana Republic as usual: very very quiet. Nothing distinctly 1960s about the place. I walked around seeking a dedicated room or section devoted to Mad Men, but found instead a small island with only a few articles of clothing and copies of the book “The Fashion File” by Mad Men costume designer Jamie Bryant, who also designed the BR line.

That was it. Woohoo, party.

As for the clothes themselves, they looked nice, but the collection over-emphasized sweaters. Sweaters? Maybe there are sweaters in the TV series (perhaps on old man Cooper), but I was anticipating slick suits and cool blazers, particularly anything from the wardrobe of character Pete Campbell (Don Draper’s the man, but Campbell sports the snazzier duds). One standard suit looked like something Draper would wear, but the entire display left me feeling uninspired and, oddly, a bit embarrassed.

And, apparently, so felt the handful of customers in the store, who didn’t exactly mob the display.

Now this was Century City, an intensely-corporate copse of highrises in the middle of L.A.’s Westside, filled to the sky with thousands of lawyers and Hollywood agents. You’d think they’d turn out for the Mad Men collection — or at least a free drink. I guess they didn’t get the memo.

Don Draper would be fuming.

Now, I’ll cut Banana Republic some slack. I did show up “fashionably late” (7 pm instead of the announced 6 pm). And because the Mad Men line is also “fashionably late” (2011 instead of 2008, when Mad Men-inspired fashions were gracing the pages of Esquire and GQ), perhaps BR didn’t want to overdo it. Maybe they spent all their money on just licensing the brand from Lion’s Gate, so they could only afford roasted potatoes with cream sauce. And maybe the other stores (such as the one near Lion’s Gate HQ) boasted more action.

Then again, this is a brand new clothing line supposedly inspired by an ad agency. And this is Banana Republic, which has a lot of money — and even greater needs.

Banana Republic has struggled to find a position (i.e., market niche) since they ditched safari wear decades ago for more mainstream attire. The brand is ostensibly for graduates of their sister store, The Gap, who want more quality and sophistication. But too many BR clothes bear “Made In China” tags, which tend to say the opposite, and the styles look just like what’s hanging in a Macy’s — or even The Gap.

The Mad Men line could reposition the entire BR brand as one that’s Hollywood hip yet New York sophisticated, appealing to young professionals who realize there’s more to work wear than jeans and a graphic T. But if a company goes to all that trouble and expense to license and launch a new line based on a TV series, it needs to go all the way. Or, as “Eating The Big Fish” author Adam Morgan would say, it needs to over commit.

BR needed to blow the the cocktail party up into a movie premiere style event, with the show’s cast making in-store cameos (at least here in L.A.). BR needed to crank the music, bring out the cocktail shakers, put the entire store and crew into character. Sure, all that would cost money, but so does surviving in a highly crowded and competitive fashion marketplace. Done right, it would have generated significantly more coverage than a few photos in a local Patch article.

Instead, the Mad Men effort felt halfhearted, less Madison Avenue and more midtown mall. And as any true Mad Man could tell you, a diluted cocktail won’t generate much buzz.

P.S. I didn’t buy anything in the store, but when I got home and started conducting research for this article, I found a 25% off deal on the BR site. So I scored the Mad Men mac jacket for a discount the same day it was launched. I was happy, but somewhere, Don Draper is shaking his head and pouring another drink.

In 2008, I blogged about upstart electronics brand Skullcandy, which I had encountered at a Vegas convention. Three years later, that article continues to do its deed, turning up Wednesday when reporter Jeff Horwich of public radio’s Marketplace went searching…

Skullcandy went full IPO that day, so Horwich called to get my latest take on the brand. Hence, I scored my 15 seconds of spotlight (if radio has a spotlight). You can read the full Marketplace transcript on Skullcandy here — I’ll just share my bit:

“Today’s IPO values the company at more than $500 million. Freddy Nager talks about Skullcandy with his marketing students at UCLA. Nager says Skullcandy has done a masterful job dressing up decent Chinese headphones. Unfortunately, other people can do that, too.

Freddy Nager: So now any celebrity who considers himself or herself a brand can call up a Chinese factory and say, ‘hey I want my name on a product.’ It really does pose a huge burden on Skullcandy to always be even edgier-than-thou.

Nager says he’s got a new assignment for his class: design a pair of headphones that’s cooler than Skullcandy.”

Sure, that was fun. It also perfectly coincided with my lecture on blogging that night at UCLA Extension. By blogging about an uncommon topic (Skullcandy instead of, say, Apple), I came up on the Google radar. That’s what Wired editor Chris Anderson would describe as a “Long Tail” effect: thanks to the Internet, niche products like Skullcandy articles can get discovered and deliver value for years.

The incident also supported my lessons about the Long Tail, for which I made my students read the comic-book adaptation of Anderson’s work (see excerpt below).

Yes, it’s a multimedia world we live in, where a blog about a convention exhibit leads to a public radio interview that supports an in-class lecture on a comic book by a Wired editor. And just for kicks, I’ll be tweeting this article, too.

Yes, I love what I do.

Excerpt from "The Long Tail," written by Chris Anderson, published by Smarter Comics, and illustrated by my friend Shane Clester.

K-Swiss shows who's boss. Maybe.

So let’s say you start an athletic shoe company specializing in tennis — a sport mostly favored by upper-crust Europeans and the country-club set. You cement your brand image by naming your company after a tiny, extremely civilized European country famous for chocolate, watches, skiing, and an army known more for pocket knives than fighting wars. This Euro image is necessary, not just because you yourself are Swiss, but because you’re launching your company in Los Angeles in 1966, and L.A. in the 60s evokes Helter Skelter and riots, choking smog and Cold War weapons programs.

“K-Swiss has a nice ring to it,” you think. “Let’s hope consumers buy it.”

And they do — to the tune of half-a-billion dollars a year. You’ve successfully established a distinctive brand position in the eyes of consumers, something that takes most companies immense time and effort and money and hope. They try. You succeed.

And now, 45 years later, you want to throw that @#$%@ing position away. Why? Because you want to go to where the money is. Not just millions, but BILLIONS. And traditionally speaking, that means young males. And that means catering to their steroid-fueled fantasies of sweat-and-blood drenched glory on the fields of conquest…

@#$%! Launching a New Brand

Now you could launch another brand that caters just to those young men. Why mess with the good thing you have in K-Swiss? After all, repositioning a brand is extremely difficult once the first position has been established. Look at Walmart’s futile, expensive attempt to reposition itself as “fashionable.” Or Microsoft’s desperate attempts to appear hip and edgy… which just made it look desperate.

Indeed, most marketing experts (myself included) would have suggested, hey, keep K-Swiss the way it is and launch a new brand. Call it something like “Testosterosa” or “Major Huevos.”

But you say repositioning K-Swiss is not impossible. Look at how Hyundai (Hyundai? Yes, Hyundai) repositioned itself from being the butt of late-night talk show jokes to a fast-rising brand that Americans are actually loyal to. Or, in your industry, you noted how a small running shoe company in Oregon came to DOMINATE THE WORLD after hiring some guy named Michael Jordan.

So you refuse to change your name. Rather, you go out and greenlight the ballsiest commercial by a major brand ever (particularly a major brand named after a tiny, extremely civilized European country famous for chocolate, watches, skiing and an army that doesn’t actually fight). While other brands act like nervous prepubescent turtles when it comes to advertising, cowering in their shells lest they remotely possibly offend anyone (even people not in their market), you realize life in general is a risky business, so WTF, let’s… ahem… just do it (warning: NSFW — put your headphones on):

It’s loud. It’s funny. It’s expensive. It’s celebrity driven (but not in the clichéd sports marketing way). It’s suited only for the Web. And it’s irresistibly watchable.

More importantly, it’s what Eating the Big Fish author Adam Morgan would call a “symbol of re-evaluation” — a product or message that cuts through the clutter and makes not just a statement, but a MOTHER@#$@$#! STATEMENT!!!

It’s also the kind of MOTHER@#$@$#! STATEMENT!!! necessary to go viral in an age when 48 hours of video are uploaded to YouTube every minute, and young males can stream much harsher media (like “Spartacus” reruns) on demand at Netflix. To reach your target market, being mild-mannered no longer cuts it (or cuts through).

So you did what it takes. Will it work? Will young males not only watch your video, but also ditch their swooshes and rush out to wear K-Swiss because, you know, they WANT to be associated with the brand? Because they now IDENTIFY with it?

You’ll have to wait and see. In the meantime, it’s definitely fun to watch.

I usually use this space to dissect other people’s projects, so for a change, I decided to eviscerate one of my own. Ladies and gentlemen: introducing the idea that went nowhere, “The Horror Ghetto”…

A few years ago I noticed that horror movies were scoring big at the box office, but unless they featured a celebrity or A-list director, many weren’t getting reviews — even if they opened at #1. In other words, when it came to horror flicks, “At the Movies” was out to lunch.

And that wasn’t fair to the millions of horror fans, or to twisted talent like my friend Jed Rowen, who has appeared in over 70 films, in the pages of The Atlantic Monthly, and on panels at horror and sci-fi conventions. Time to give Jed and other horror aficionados more spotlight. Or moonlight. Or something like that.

Rather than moan and groan like some dyspeptic ghoul, I decided, “Where there’s a void, there’s an opportunity.” After all, isn’t that what every marketing book from “Blue Ocean Strategy” to “Zag” tells us?

Hence, the idea of a TV show that reviews horror movies was spawned.

I pitched the idea to one of my filmmaker buddies, Dane Boedigheimer, who also loves horror flicks and occasionally produces a monster-infested YouTube vid. Since he specializes in humor and sight gags, we decided to throw in comedic skits and raw silliness. After all, others like Fangoria magazine have produced horror review shows, but they’re lethally serious. So like Dr. Frankenstein, we combined horror and humor into one stitched-up beast and yelled, “IT’S ALIIIIIIIIIVE!!!”

We called it “The Horror Ghetto,” which refers to that part of the industry where actors and directors go and are never heard from again.

Ghoulfriends (from left): Alisha Nichols, Juliette Angeli and Meghan McCabe play the Harpettes in The Horror Ghetto.

To accompany Jed — and add a dose of hex appeal — we cast a Greek chorus of femme fatales called the Harpettes, played by Juliette Angeli, Meghan McCabe and Alisha Nichols. We then spent a few hours filming — hours that flew by because we were having too much fun — and Dane worked his editorial magic into a 2-minute trailer (also known as a “sizzle reel”).

Since we feared that others might steal our idea (we were that sold on the show’s genius), we didn’t share it on YouTube, Facebook or any other online medium. We decided to go straight for the prize.

So we set out to feed our baby to Hollywood…

…which didn’t bother tasting it much before spitting it out.

The first meeting was with a television production company famous for its live comedy series featuring video clips. Sounded perfect — yet the meeting lasted a little longer than our video

While friends who had seen our “Horror Ghetto” video had laughed or at least smiled, the production company guy did his best Bela Lugosi impersonation. He just stared, eyes showing not even a flicker of life. The ensuing conversation went something like this:

Him: “Who’s the audience for this?”
Me: “Millions of horror fans, particularly young males, ages 13-29.”
Him: “Hollywood’s not interested in young males.”

Yes, he really said that. I guess we should tell the makers of The Transformers series to stop filming. I responded that even if Hollywood isn’t interested, advertisers of everything from Axe body spray to Mountain Dew and horror films would be. His blank stare gave me the chills.

I handed him a marketing plan I had written to promote “The Horror Ghetto” using social media, a sponsor-friendly website, cross-promotions with potential commercial sponsors (Monster energy drink among them) and live events centered on fanboy conventions. The appendix included Jed’s Atlantic Monthly profile and an article from the L.A. Times about the popularity of horror films. He took a glance at the report cover and handed it back to me.

Him: “If this is such a good idea, why hasn’t anyone else done it yet?”
What I wanted to say: “Because most Hollywood television producers haven’t had an original idea since the doctor held them upside down by the ankles and spanked them to get the amniotic fluid out of their lungs.”
What I did say: “Actually, it’s similar to ‘Talk Soup’ and ‘Elvira’ and ‘SNL’ combined.”
Him: (ignoring me) “What we’re looking for is proven properties. We’re currently developing American versions of several hit Japanese gameshows. If you have anything like that, call us.”

Ah, the notorious Hollywood cryptkee— I mean, gatekeepers. Since it had been years since I worked in television, I had forgotten about them. Like other gatekeepers worldwide (HR managers, admissions officers, script readers and loan officers), their primary job is to say “no.” It’s usually foolhardy to deal with them without arming yourself first with a killer track record or a high-powered connection. Indeed, as I usually advise job applicants concerning HR managers, the best bet is to avoid them altogether, and to go directly to a higher-up.

So after that meeting from the black lagoon, I decided to contact my industry connections: agents, producers, studio executives.

They were far friendlier and encouraging than dead-stare guy, but they also didn’t think the project “had legs.” So I realized I couldn’t blame him for not falling madly in lust with “The Horror Ghetto” and throwing suitcases filled with unmarked bills at our feet.

Some of my friends provided suggestions, like using better music (a great idea) or replacing Jed with a celebrity, which I absolutely refused to do — friendship matters to me, and the whole point was to bring light to the ghetto, not to mimic it with outsiders.

Clearly, even though television regularly spews such toxic dreck as “Bridalplasty” and “Sarah Palin’s Alaska,” it would take a lot more to sell a show than simply cooking up a 2-minute reel with hot girls and horror clips. And I should have known that. I’ve worked in L.A. for over 20 years, and I know that each of the hundreds of staff writers, actors and crew-members currently working on TV has three or four ideas in their back pocket — and they’re the ones already inside the gates.

So where do guys like me and Dane go with our mad creations? Where else, but that great democratizer on the Web: YouTube.

And that’s when Dane struck gold.

Dane Boedigheimer: from Horror Ghetto to bane of all unsuspecting fruit...

No, it wasn’t with “The Horror Ghetto.” As we discussed launching Ghetto into a web series, Dane’s video “The Annoying Orange” took off, scoring nearly 60 million views. Indeed, his entire “Annoying Orange” channel has attracted over half-a-billion views in just over a year.

So guess what’s happening next? That’s right: a TV deal. (Go, Daneboe!)

Now imagine if Dane had tried to pitch “The Annoying Orange” before it became a YouTube sensation: “So I got this idea for a talking orange whose friends get killed by a mysterious knife…”

Rather, he let his talent do the talking, and let the actual viewers decide.

Now, before you go rushing off with your camcorder and a piece of fruit, the odds of getting even a hit video on YouTube, not to mention a TV series based on one, are somewhere between slim and none.

And yet, in this age of hyper-competition, where we’re all competing with professionals across the ocean as well as amateurs across the street, those of us with creative ideas and ambitions need to lay the groundwork first — and I’m talking acres of nice, lush groundwork, redolent with the scent of money — before traipsing off to the gatekeepers. Whether your chosen venue is YouTube or Twitter or Japanese gameshows, gatekeepers want proven concepts first.

And that takes time.

With Dane fully caught up in the demands of producing “Annoying Orange,” and me getting more teaching and client work (i.e., stuff that actually pays), “The Horror Ghetto” was laid to rest. And there it lay interred in the dark forbidding depths of my backup drive for over a year, when it occurred to me the other day to go ahead and upload it to YouTube as an Atomic Tango production sample. You know, just for kicks… and the off chance that it could rise from the dead…

Two steps to infamy: 1. Open mouth. 2. Insert foot.

One reason I don’t assign textbooks to my social media classes is that most are outdated by the time they’re published. Indeed, every time I flip on my computer, it seems like Mark Zuckerberg’s been tooling around with his giant virtual antfarm. (“Ooh, what if I move everything from over here to over there?”)

Plus, real life case studies keep popping up that are so much more relevant and compelling.

This past week — while I was teaching social media at UCLA Extension — something happened on campus that provided great classroom material…
I’m talking about Alexandra Wallace, of course, the UCLA student who decided to do her best Don Imus impersonation and ridicule an entire ethnic group, including their families, their language, and the tragedy in Japan. Most of you have likely seen her rant, so I won’t give it the dignity of reposting it here.

Now Wallace was within her rights to say whatever she wanted, since she didn’t advocate violence or defame any particular individual. Indeed, I’ve heard worse at every comedy club here in the ethnic stew that is Los Angeles.

But I don’t know what narcotic Wallace was on — her own adrenaline, perhaps — that compelled her to flatulate on social media, where the bored inhabitants lie in wait for anything to pounce on, either to celebrate or eviscerate. As reality TV has proven, some people will do anything for their 15 minutes of spotlight, but here on the Interwebs, it can last a lot longer than 15 minutes and that spotlight can turn very hot. (“Ooh, what if I focus my magnifying glass on that one over there?”)

Regardless of what you think of Wallace’s diatribe, it did not do her personal brand a service. She’s already felt compelled to leave UCLA, and she might have to change her name and dye her hair another color to shed this baggage, which will live on the Internet forever. Any prospective employer, even one with racist views of his own, might question her judgment. If Wallace were later upset about her job, would she vent another vitriolic video? (Then again, since she’s also a bikini model with show business aspirations, I wouldn’t be surprised if she lands a gig on Fox News.)

Branding lesson: Any of us can find a receptive audience for any view, no matter how wretched, but we have to consider how the larger community (not just our target markets) will respond.

It’s not just the young-and-the-clueless either: In the past few weeks, both Gilbert Gottfried and an MBA-educated worker on Chrysler’s Twitter account lost their jobs for not looking both ways before crossing social boundaries. AFLAC (for whom Gottfried voiced the famous duck) didn’t want their brand associated with someone laughing at tsunami victims. Chrysler didn’t want their brand associated with an F-bomb user — even if they’ve been trying to reposition themselves as Detroit tough by hiring Eminem as the new face of their brand. (Has no Chrysler executive ever listened to an Eminem album?)

This put UCLA in a bind. It’s a public university bound to the First Amendment more tightly than a private university would be — and even a private university might have a hard time dealing with this case. Although out of her mind, Wallace was within her rights. Yet here was the UCLA brand being dinged by one of its own: the school’s name was prominently used in her rant, and her actions would lead some people (likely USC students and alumni) to poke fun at the UCLA community. (Sadly, it’s also led racists to endorse her on YouTube.)

So UCLA issued a statement condemning the video, but did not take punitive action. Then the entire administration heaved a sigh of relief that could be heard across the city when Wallace decided to pack her bags.

Now here’s my favorite part of the case: the reaction by the Asian-American community.

No, not the ones who responded with threats and rants of their own. While expected, anger just stokes the flames and even rallies support for someone like Wallace.

Rather, I’m loving the reaction of one guy in particular: Jimmy Wong, an improv comic and musician in L.A. Check out his response below, which includes a dose of Wallace for reference:

Sure, Wong rips Wallace, but does so with upbeat humor and talent. How brilliant to pen a “love song” to someone who’s engendered so much hate.

I’m often asked how to make videos go viral — and this one certainly did, with 1.3 million views in three days, a writeup in the New York Observer, radio play in Seattle, and more. Yes, Wong is amazingly talented, but there are a lot of amazingly talented people on YouTube trying to get noticed. (As YouTube claims, 35 hours of video are uploaded to the site every minute. Try getting noticed amidst all that.) In addition to talent, Wong combined several key tactics that work on YouTube.

1. Music. And a really catchy tune at that. (You’ll be hearing it in your head all day.)
2. Humor. If the Flight of the Conchords ever returns to TV (fingers crossed), Wong should get a featured role.
3. Newsworthiness. Tapping into a timely event that stirs up a lot of passion.
4. Responding to another viral video.
5. Integration with his other social media, including Twitter and Facebook.

Then there’s the humanitarian angle. While Wong will no doubt benefit from this exposure, he’s not leveraging it for immediate financial gain. (Note: This is not his first taste of the spotlight — he’s also appeared on the Conan O’Brien show and had other hit videos.) He’s offered this song for sale, and is donating all proceeds to tsunami relief.

So here’s to Jimmy Wong, for showing us how social media should be done. (I guess Wallace deserves some credit, too, for offering herself up as the crashtest dummy.) I doubt that Wong thought through all the possible social media tactics and calculated his creative response using spreadsheets — this is just talent doing what talent does. But it’s real life cases like this that teach us more than all the outdated textbooks combined.

Ching chong!

Teenagers have a reputation for a lot of LOL but not a whole lot of IQ. But what if it’s all a conspiracy? What if the world of fashion is setting up the youth to take the fall? Fashion Real investigates…

Exhibit A: Wet Seal Illiteracy

Exhibit A: Contrary to rumors, the model is not a Palin or Kardashian.

For some ungodly reason that completely eludes me, the general population doesn’t seem to know the difference between “your” and “you’re”. While embarrassing in Facebook posts, this faux pas is completely unacceptable when we’re talking about printed clothing.

Now Wet Seal, I don’t mean to be a wet blanket, but it may be time to say “no” to innuendos and “yes” to hitting the books. It’s one thing to promote clothing for teenage girls that would be better suited for a … um … lady of the night. It’s quite another to sell idiot-wear to the text-addicted youth. Can I get an OMG?!

[Freddy's note: I'm guessing Wet Seal did this on purpose for the publicity and SEO-enhancing backlinks. But that's just me hoping people are being strategic and not MWI (marketing while illiterate).]

Exhibit B: Old Navy Techno Hoodies

Exhibit B: Mark Zuckerberg is reportedly so excited he's buying the entire production run.

Just as the invention of Bluetooth has made it hard to distinguish between crazy people who talk to themselves and savvy business people who talk on their BlackBerry via a tiny earbud, the “Techno Hoodie” has arrived and is causing further confusion, re: insane people VS sane people. There is no confusion however about whether this is something you should be caught dead wearing.

The iPod comes with headphones long enough to reach from your pocket to your ears. And it doesn’t come with an ill-fitting sweatshirt. Just another example of why Apple is the brand to be while Old Navy is the armpit of Gap Inc.

Exhibit C: American Apparel “Soft” Porn

Exhibit C: What's the big idea? Not sure if there is one. Click through for the NSFW version and you tell us.

American Apparel, you’ve been selling sleaze and passing it off as “gymnast from the 80s,” but we’re not buying it anymore (pun intended – sales are down big-time. I’m guessing your customers got tired of being referred to as “The Captains of Cameltoe”).

And as if the gold lamé extravaganza wasn’t bad enough, American Apparel is now showcasing cartoon porn?! Welcome back, Jessica Rabbit, you haven’t aged a bit. MTV’s Skins has been feeling the heat (and the disappearance of advertisers) – does American Apparel really think they’ve found a clever way to fool the public into thinking that it’s acceptable to have our teens dressing for the set of Boogie Nights?

These cases of “questionable clothing choices for the youth” clearly reveal that Miley Cyrus isn’t the only corrupter of today’s teens. Come on now, clothing retailers, your embarrassing yourself.

About Raegan Thurlow: By day, Raegan works in Silicon Valley as a mild-mannered interweb ad sales manager; at night, she dons a 100% cashmere cape and becomes a freelance fashion writer looking to rip into trends for a living. Like her? Then you’ll like her Facebook page, right?

Related articles:

• Fashion Real: I Predict a Trip to Europe / Where Do Fashion Trends Come From?
• SkyMall: I Must Have Been High When I Bought This
• Fashion Real: The Story of What Happens When Bad Clothes Meet Corporate America
• Fashion Real: Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, But Sex Sells

Feeling Buffaloed in Boulder

I had no idea I was leaving so much money on the table.

My agency helps clients develop new brand identities, including logos and look-and-feel guidelines. For this I charge a few thousand dollars, depending on a few variables, but never more than $10K. At least, not until I came across this article about the University of Colorado’s new logo…

University of Colorado officials have unveiled a new logo and branding of the traditional CU logo after a two-year, $780,000 effort. The four-campus system will now use a lighter gold interlocking CU logo, with a consistent typeface instead of the “hundreds” of other logos now in use, according to campus officials. “Everyone has their own look, feel, messages,” university system spokesman Ken McConnellogue said of the various logos used by departments on campus. “It’s inefficient and ineffective.” The project was not paid for with tuition, state or donor funds, according to McConnellogue. Instead, money for hiring an international marketing and design firm came from the president’s initiative fund.

$780,000?!

I knew Pepsi had spent $1 million on its new logo – but PepsiCo had $108 billion in worldwide retail sales in 2009, so putting a new face on their legendary flagship brand cost them less than 5 minutes worth of sales.

The University of Colorado? Well, they just jacked up their undergrad tuition by 9 percent, inspiring one CU student to pay his fees in $1 dollar bills. Here’s how the university justified that tuition hike (quoted from the university’s own website):

Board of Regents Chair Steve Bosley said unprecedented higher education funding challenges are forcing CU and other public universities around the country to explore every option when it comes to providing access to all students and keeping important academic and research programs in place. “CU is a public university. We have to honor our commitment to Colorado citizens by providing access to students of all backgrounds, and by offering them a good education without compromising the quality of our programs and services,” Bosley said. “We have world-class academic and research programs in place that are contributing to Colorado’s economic, social and cultural well-being, and we can’t risk losing them.”

Apparently, a new logo is critical to Colorado’s well-being. And I thought California had problems.

The jaw-dropping part? Check out the difference between the new and old logos:

CU before...

... and CU later!

I can see the improvement (though some see a swastika in the new logo), but I can’t say I see six-figures or two years worth of design. (Pepsi was mocked for spending five months on its new logo.) Even at my greediest, I would have done a little tweak like that in, oh, a day or two for a thousand bucks tops. For $780,000, I would have thrown in an independent film about CU. Clearly, I’m selling my services way short.

A commenter at 9NEWS.com named usapatriotinco had an even better idea:

Couldn’t they have asked their graphic arts students to design a new logo? It would have been a lot cheaper, and allowed the winner to have something to place on a resume.

I second that emotion.

While no tuition, state or donor funds went into this masterpiece, CU’s president could have used his “initiative fund” (whatever that is) for something more useful, like, say, “providing access to all students and keeping important academic and research programs in place.”

The greatest irony? A new logo is supposed to improve one’s brand; instead, this marketing mishap has dinged CU’s reputation. Rather than symbolize university greatness, this new logo has critics seeing nothing but dollar signs.

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