Not a very good idea

There’s a fundamental flaw with electric/electronic appliances being seen as eco-friendly. Batteries need power. And that energy doesn’t come cheap. Or easy. For every charge, there’s a fossil fuel being combusted somewhere. Nuclear energy isn’t yet feasible. Neither are windmills. Hydro has a problem, plus our rivers aren’t exactly swell. That leaves us with gas turbines that gobble up natural resources, emit exhausts, and basically be not on friendly terms with the environment. It’s a necessary evil, yes. It certainly isn’t the rosy, green, tree-lined, winding-road landscape that the electric car promises to ensure. No. Those batteries need even more charging. And they emit fumes too, invisible ones, but toxic nonetheless. So, for the desired consumer, it’s just a self-gratifying perception that what you can’t see, doesn’t pollute. Some thermodynamics engineer in a sweaty power plant is paying for those sins, not you.

Coming back to battery-operated mobiles saving the planet, now we have this.

Though it doesn't beat Walk & Talk in farfetchedness, it comes pretty close. The campaign started off pretty well, with surreal cheekiness (casteism) and believable CSR (literacy). But then the law of diminishing intelligence set in. And we got Walk & Talk, the 26/11, and so on. To the current one. Use mobiles. Save trees. This is clearly beyond plain overpromise-underdeliver.

Now, I'm a big fan of Balki's work. I like the fact that he snubs at snooty award-friendly creative, instead pushing for old-fashioned effectiveness. For me, his work for ICICI Prudential is still the archetype for insight-driven creative. In one word, brilliant. It's a school of thought that ought to be encouraged more vehemently than succumbing to cute/smart executions that mask the lack of story or research. (You know what I’m talking about, mr. moustached guy).

But here, with the ‘save-trees’ story, you’re just underwhelming your own strategy. All situations depicted can easily and efficiently replace the bloody phone for a laptop (except maybe the boarding pass thing). And these are all high-end phones. And for gastro’s sake, which darshini serves both Utthapam and Chicken Puff? Unless Thom’s buys over Adiga’s.

Bottom line. It’s ok to push your brand message. And ok-er to have a strategy with centipede-worthy legs. But the logic has to fall in place somewhere. If it’s not, then maybe it’s time to say good bye to both the positioning as well as AB Jr. The Sirjee has run his course; hire the big-headed cretins now, but give ‘em some screenplay this time.

Anal Logic

At a briefing session

Client: I need a ‘good looking’ ad.

Account Exec: Erm... I’ll need a more detailed brief than that.

Client: GOOD LOOKING. How hard is that to understand? You know what my product is. Now make an ad that... looks good.

AE: No. Doesn’t help...

Client (Flipping open an Archive mag on his desk): See, look here, I’ll show you what a good ad looks like...

AE (murmuring to himself): Oh dear!

Client: This book’s full of ‘em.

AE: But, looking for a good ad in Archive is like looking for a wife in Playboy.

Long silence.

Client (after pondering over the thought for a few minutes): That’s not an accurate analogy.

AE: Why not?

Client: Because...because... my ad is not the same as my wife...and...

AE: ...and you’d never let us screw up your ad?

Longer silence.

Getting life on line

Created by Randall Munroe at xkcd

Da Vincible Code

Klueless again. And lovin’ it. The 5th edition of the most awesomely cool, mind-numbingly addictive, and kick-assingly challenging quiz is back. Think clues hidden in page sources, in urls, in gif file names. Infinitely geek-worthy, and then some.

It’s built by the folks at IIM-I, as part of their annual fest. Used to be called IRIS for 4 seasons, now they’ve changed it to ‘āhvān’. For me, Klueless is the one thing that reinforces the perception that these business schools have the coolest and smartest minds in the country.

I have been hooked on to this online game since its 1st season, long before internet addiction automatically meant FB status, Tweets, or Reddit browsing. Each level transcends awesomeness exponentially, about 30 of ’em. There are no time constraints. Or any other restrictions. You are free to use google, wiki, or anything you dare to touch or click. And you will still tear you hair apart for days together trying to figure each level out. You need to decipher cryptic source codes, crack a level which has a clue that refers back to a past solved level. Hit back buttons, refresh buttons, hit yourself… you gotta do it all. Like I said, awesomely geeky. And tons of fun, especially the elated feeling you get once you go past a level. You almost raise your hands triumphantly as to say “Eat this Mr. Langdon.” Yeah, it’s that sort of game.

(Side note: Managed to get on their Hall of Fame in the 1st season, back in ’05 (#481). Though cracking each edition hence, haven’t been able to be in the early bird list).

Can’t hardly wait to dig holes again (no you needn’t be an html geek to crack it, just a cipher-junkie). The 5th issue is coming this November 5th; am already rubbing sweaty palms in anticipation. Bring it on.

Klueless 5 link

Earlier editions:

Klueless 1

Klueless 2

Klueless 3

Klueless 4

The K5 facebook page

Update: You can decipher how big a fan I'm of this by the number of times I used the words "cool" and "awesome" in this post. I feel like a kid elephant in a chinese candy shop.

Credits

The car park
Whoa. There’s that Beamer. Used to dream of it. Not anymore. Life’s been good without it.
I can hear the chimes. It’s six already?
Hey! Nice asphalt!


The second floor
This is it.


The third floor
Is that it? Always thought there’d be more to it. Just go with the flow, I guess.


The sixth floor
Friends are great. Friends kick you in the butt when you’re wrong. Or, even, sometimes when you’re not. But that don’t matter. They’re friends, at the end of the day. I still love him.


The ninth floor
I think I know why he did it. I probably deserved it.


The tenth floor
Must’ve been about that night when…But, he got it all wrong. It was just... too… petty. Petty! Ironic.


The twelfth floor
Where are the flashes?


The thirteenth floor
Can’t believe he did it. What was he thinking? I’ll find a way to get back to him. Question is, how?


The sixteenth floor
Gaah, I’m so mad. There’s so much left to do, and now this!


The eighteenth floor
There he is. I can see him standing at the ledge on the top, looking down at me. Is that a look of guilt on his face? It better be. Hah.


The terrace

The rendezvous begins as planned. He charges at me.

“How dare you,” he asks.

“Why not,” I reply.

“You never understood, did you? All you did was run behind riches…

…It’s called running behind your dreams, dude.” I interrupt.

He isn’t budging. “Do you have any idea how pointless this all is?

I don’t like fiddling with safety catches. But that’s what I’m doing now. I shout back first.

“That’s the reason you told on me? Because you couldn’t get the point of it all?”

“Yes. Yes. But you won’t know it. Not till you are nearing the end, anyway.”

“End?” The catch's unlocked now.

"Yeah. You start off disgruntled. But then, you go with the flow, and as it happens, you grow… happier.” Is that an almost-smile I see?

“When WHAT happens?” I have my finger across the business end now.

“The beginning. Of the…

I haven’t noticed he’s moved closed to me. And I, close to the ledge.

“…end.” He finishes with a push.

I can only grab at the thin air. And his watch. It says one minute to six.

----------

My first attempt at fiction. I resisted the temptation for long, but yield happened. So here goes:

Oscar. Sierra Hotel India Tango.

Last week, I was told to go straight to a client’s office in the morning instead of coming to my own office. Was only too happy to avoid another late-register signing. As it happens, the client’s office is a bit off-track from my office. Which basically means the road is common till a point, and then diverges.

So the next morning, I get up. Scavenge through the wardrobe for my least-casual attire. Kick start my bike. Ride for about 15 minutes. And reach the office. My office. All the while, knowing that I’m supposed to go the CLIENT’S office.

Damn.

What happened, I asked myself. You were on friggin’ autopilot, that’s what. If it is a weekday, and if it is 10’o clock in the morning, the god-darned system is programmed to take me there. That’s why, whenever I am riding to the office (mine), I never have to think about where to turn, which pothole to look for, and which ‘awful-driver’ bend to be alert at. Everything happens on autopilot. Which is very different from being sub-lost in your thoughts, and hence being a dangerous driver. No, you are fully aware of the traffic situation on the outside. It’s just the route that’s being, urm, piloted for you.

And the road is not the only place you are thus.

When you come to think of it, it starts right from the beginning. Every morning, you get up from bed with the same bones making the same crackling sounds. The toothbrush goes across precisely in the same order: Maxillary premolar first, mandibular lateral incisor next, then on to the next row. Bathing follows similar pattern, body parts are soaped in the same order, and of course, wiped too in the same precise sequence. (*insert preteen carnal giggle here*). Heck, even the way you eat, shearing the roti piece in the same size, from the same corner, sitting with your lunch box opened in the same layout, everyday. The way you shave. The way you plonk your bag at the desk before turning the comp on. The way you (if you) smoke.

Yeah, you catch the drift. We have the same grind every day, so it’s only natural to be this way. It is the non-unconsciously subconscious way we go about doing it, is what stupefies. And manifests into a joke when there’s a deviation. Like going to the client’s office in the morning.

So, when we say we need a break from the routine, what we really mean is we need to go manual for a while. Which means more work, but more control too. That is what makes a geared vehicle a pleasure to drive. And a manual camera that much more appealing. A get away from the mundane. A departure from the habitual. But that’s only during a break. I wish life was manual.

The Seinfeld Post

I shalt not make light about the Flu.

I shalt resist panning a superstar’s airport adventures.

I shalt not ridicule a certain Swayamwar.

I shalt hold back from being opinionated on 377.

I shalt avert plug-ins.

I shalt avoid template changes.

I shalt fiercely defy the temptation to rant, ramble, or muse.

I shalt keep away from short-storied fiction (as of now) or quasi-poetry.

When I hast nothing to blog about, I won’t.