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Monday, February 07, 2005

Perelman would say it better.

Another year of Super Bowl commercials is, alas, in the can. At a remote location, Britney Spears has had a fresh coat of lacquer applied and is being hermetically sealed in her sarcophagus. Yet, there is little time for the gnomes on Madison Avenue to drink their lattes and bask in the glow of freshly renewed contracts. What follows are the inner workings of one of those many ivory towers, the ad agency of Keebler and Kringle, a firm hard at work on next years campaign.

Scene: A conference room at Keebler and Kringle’s Madison Avenue high rise. Ad writers Squiver, Piquant, and Tink, all of whom are under five foot two and sport festive pointed hats, sit around a table knocking about ideas. Time to time, when one of them chuckles at a particularly clever notion, bells can be heard.

Squiver: O.K. here it is. We show Britney giving a concert on a ship in the Pacific, when suddenly she is washed overboard and has to swim to a tropical island.

Piquant: Is it Temptation Island, because we can definitely get the rights.

Squiver: No! er yes it doesn’t matter, now listen. The island is inhabited by cannibals who capture her and chop off her tongue. Th…

Tink: It’s great, I think we should push it right into production. I know where we can get the ax.

Squiver: I’m not done yet, Ricky Martin then flies in on a jetpack and distributes Pepsi to the savages. He and Britney’s disembodied tongue then sing a duet while the natives and the rest of her body dance in the background. It will fit right in with the new tagline “Pepsi – Give it some tongue”. What do you think?

Tink: I like the tongue cutting off angle, but do you think it’s too Gilligan’s Island?

Piquant: Tink’s right, let’s work on the Budweiser spot. I see a pack of rabid lemurs chewing their way into the “What’s up!” guys apartment and…

Squiver: Oh, shut up. You guys haven’t liked my ideas since that unfortunate Pet.com incident.

Tink: Let’s put the past behind us and move on. Now, my idea is that Cedric gets a dose of gamma radiation which makes him grow to about 200 feet tall. He is so plastered that he tries to get it on with the Statue of Liberty before urinating in New York harbor.

Piquant: A patriotic theme; that’s very big right now.

Squiver: You guys suck.

Tink: Bite me fruitcake.

Piquant: Guys, can’t we all get along? If we keep this up we’ll end up in the “Toy Department” if you know what I mean.

Tink: Who do you think you’re talking to lemur boy?!

Piquant: It’s go time pipsqueak!!!!!!!!

At this point they chase each other around the conference table until they all melt into butter. The boss a rather rotund, jovial sort of fellow with a big white beard comes in the room after hearing the argument. Seeing his ad writers melted on the floor he mops them up and calls in three more for a brainstorming session.

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