Pitchers, pastels and purification.

Years ago -- Oh shit, Rich is reminiscing again -- I had the pleasure of working with an obscenely talented young writer named Mikey Collado. He was young (and who isn't?) and rough around the edges. but  Mikey was prolific. Churning out more crerativity in an hour than most do in a week. Or in some cases, a career.

Anyone who was at Chiat Day in the late 1990's knows exactly what I'm talking about. On one less-than-memorable afternoon, we decided to venture to the new Hughes Center Parkway Mall. They had just cut the ribbon and were eager to attract guests to their new Disneyesque monstrosity, wedged between the slogging Sepulveda Blvd. and the always-angry 405.

As we made our way past Sunglass Shack and Chess King, Mikey remarked, "Look at this, it's the kind of place only a _______ person could love." I'm leaving the descriptor blank so as not to attract undue attention from the Community Standards Police. 

What I'm thinking is: Mayonnaise, Curt Schilling, Yacht Rock and SPF 70. That should be all the clues you need.

It was a phrase that had my attention then. And has stuck with me and is part my everyday parlance now.

And I am reminded of where I was about a year ago, while in the employ of one of America's most used online payment systems. They take your money and hand it over, via the ether and high speed internet thigamajgs, to the companies selling you stuff: Crocs, Foam Fan Fingers, Air Fryers and Brazilian Bum Bum Cream. 

They're omnipresent. They're big and bland. And functional in the very least attractive sense of the word. Good for consumers who shop online. Not so good for folks like me trying to build a brand around a personality-devoid yellow and blue button.

Nevertheless, that didn't stop them from trying. 

But trying and succeeding are two different things. Nor did it stop them from getting inordinately excited when the user interface people brought forth their prized Brand Guideline Book.

I'm still surprised it wasn't presented on a velvet pillow accompanied by royal trumpets.

The 1,837 page pdf had covered it all. Which typeface to use. Which design elements were to go on landing pages (they have a shit ton of landing pages) and which ones go on banners. Or referral cards. Or any of the million digital marketing vehicles they spit out with astounding frequency.

If you know me or even if you don't and are reading your first R17 post, there's a good chance you know where I stand on Brand Guideline Books. Or what I like to call the Shoah of Marketing.

My favorite section(s) regard the Brand Tone of Voice, which is so amusingly delusional I hardly know where to begin -- like the folks in charge. Brands, and I'm referring to 99.99999% of them, don't have a tone of voice. Much less a need to guide a newbie on the proper use of one. 

If there was one directive it could be simply be: "Sound more like a ChatBot."

Because that's what Marketing folks are looking for. 

Be friendly, but not overly personal. 

Be whimsical, but not funny. 

Be brief, but include all disclaimers set forth by our legal teams. Cause we don't want anyone suing our billion dollar asses.

Be different, just like everybody else.

This is what what marketing/advertising has come down to these days. We must all follow "Best Practices' and we must kneel at the altar of the almighty Brand Guideline Book. 

It's the kind of shit only Curt Schilling could love.