They Shit The Bed

I listen to feedback.

I take criticism.

And I act accordingly, responding with the appropriate adjustments and necessary tweaks to make things right.

I'm not talking about when I was a staff copywriter, I was a holy terror then.
No, I'm referring to how I go about the daily running of R17.

I know, for instance, that readers in general prefer I not talk about religion, international politics, and the machinations of the Islamic Fascist Movement. And so, I make a conscious effort not to dwell on those areas, though I could easily go off on that everyday until the next Ramadan.

I also know that readers enjoy it when I take the pointy pen in my hand and direct it at advertising. There's an insatiable bloodlust about our beloved industry. And I do my best to nurture that beast.

If only the good people at AgencySpy would as well.

Recently, they re-skinned their website in order to please their new corporate masters. They tore a page from the 2003 Interface Best Practices Playbook and fixed something that wasn't broken. The results are less than pleasing.

The new agencyspy.com, how can I put this diplomatically, sucks.

And the readers, never short on opinions or clever ways to voice their displeasure, let them know it. So much so that AgencySpy had to run TWO pieces explaining the incomprehensible design changes. And pleading with their core audience of scarf wearing art directors, beard bauble bearing copywriters, and obfuscating overpaid planners, not to leave the fold.

Good luck with that.

AgencySpy, the site we all hate to love has also become the site we love to hate. I suspect their dwindling readership will dwindle even more.

Maybe that will be good news for ad bloggers like myself. And George Tannenbaum's Adaged.
And Adscam.
And Rotation and Balance.
And Ad Contrarian.

Grumpy old independent guys who are not afraid to take down the digital ninjas, the "storytellers", the Chief Engagement and Activation Officers, and the penny-pinching, picnic table architects who promise to usher in a new age of collaboration and optimal group ideation with their open space jackoffery.

Give me an office where I can speak freely with my doctor about my swollen testicles and swan-diving levels of testosterone, or give me my walking papers.

Well, you can take this to the bank: RoundSeveneteen will remain your untainted source of brutal honesty. We will not yield in our relentless exposition of holding-company corporate bullshit.

There will be no cloogy website redesign or any editorial lowering of the perpetual flame of discontent.

You know, unless Adweek comes sniffing around and offers me enough money so I don't end up in a dirty nursing home.

Then all bets are off.