I'm curious, does anyone else see the humor of someone with 42 years in advertising questioning the motives or veracity of someone else?

And, I thought that I'd seen chutzpah!

:p

BOHICA? BOHICA would definitely describe where I work. I put in approximately 80 hours a week and get yelled out constantly because nothing gets done because they keep piling more and more on me. :eek:

I thought of this as FUBAR.

FUBAR

SNAFU

BOHICA? FUBAR? You're mentioning Paintball teams I am friends with. ha ha Except BOHICA changed their name to BOCHICA (Add a little "cause" in there) lol

Walk a mile in my shoes...or as the old saying goes. For your edification, this ex-ad executive spent 42-years pushing for complete honesty in advertising, arguing that position with the managements of some of the biggest companies--and never wavered in that hard stance. That's why I'm sensitive toward anything that forms a cloud--and the reason I would have offered my recommednation as stated. Take it or leave it!

Walk a mile in my shoes...or as the old saying goes. For your edification, this ex-ad executive spent 42-years pushing for complete honesty in advertising, arguing that position with the managements of some of the biggest companies--and never wavered in that hard stance. That's why I'm sensitive toward anything that forms a cloud--and the reason I would have offered my recommednation as stated. Take it or leave it!

That the above post is in response to my pointing out the implied irony of someone with such a history and career in advertising implying a lack of honesty on the part of FPW and myself?

"Honesty in advertsing," what a novel concept that would be! I imagine that might have been a hard sell on Madison Avenue. That would certainly distinguish you from the rest of the "snake oil merchants" and "patent medicine purveyors" of the 19th and early 20th centuries that were (let's face it) the predecessors of the modern ad industry.

Doubtless, you never stooped to work for an agency that had a tobacco industry client?

Like "Caesar's wife," FPW is beyond reproach. I have met few individuals who have taken as great pains to be as scrupulous in all his dealings as he. Like Ken Valentine (though probably to a lesser degree in my case), FPW has allowed me to offer some constructive advice, for which he has graciously mentioned me in a couple forewords. And, because of this "noblesse oblige," you postulate some favoritism or collusion on our part? I have become inured to the calumnies with which others seek to soil my escutcheon, but when you attempt to cast asparagus upon the good name (or at least, the good initials) of FPW, I must rise in his defense. The thought of anyone showing the least bit of favoritism to someone as muleheaded, antagonistic, caustic, opinionated, overbearing, snide, mocking, and sarcastic as myself is laughable. Frankly, I'm amazed that I haven't been permanently barred from posting on this site, thanks only to the forebearance and patience of Lisa and the other moderators.

Yet, I remain optimistic! I am sure that there are just as many truthful individuals in advertising on Madison Avenue as there are virgins in a brothel! Just kidding, I'm sure that fighting for honesty in advertising was a lonely, thankless, and frustrating fight. I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did. After my comparitively short sojourn writing advertising copy, I had to take a job as a towel boy in a Turkish bath, just until I got my self-respect back!

Though, I may just steal the whole thing and write a story with the basic concept. Since my version would work, there's no threat of copyright infringement. Especially since the "original" idea was derivative to begin with.

I've taken the precaution of sending a copy of my scenario to myself via registered mail. This is known as the "poor man's patent," and is admissable in a court of law, provided the envelope remains sealed until opened by the judge or magistrate of the court. Many writers use this means as a way of safeguarding their ideas from theft when submitting scenarios, treatments, screenplays and the like to the unscrupulous vermin that plague the entertainment industry (i.e., literary agents ).

So, if anyone OTHER than FPW (who has my implicit and explicit permission to use the idea or not in any form he wishes) were to attempt to "steal" my original idea, that person would face the remorseless legal machinations of Schwartz, Schwartz, Schwartz, and Schwartz (and I would pity the fool!).

NewYorkjoe

In the interest of welcoming the Parkster, and my own fascination with seeing my words in e-print, here's my entry.

fyi, I am not living in the US so technically I was not allowed to enter, but since when did Jack obey something as flimsy as a rule.

I also had the impression the idea was to approach Jack with a difficult 'fix-it', rather than put Jack into a difficult situation, that said, I liked NYJ's idea and thought it was presented in a great way.

My entry

- You Jack?

- In the flesh. What’s the job?

- It's delicate, real delicate.

- Just start at the beginning.

- Right. Well, I've fallen in with a bad crowd.

- Bad crowd?

- One of the families. It was quick money. Started with simple courier stuff, nothing dangerous, ask no questions sort of thing. Then they wanted more of me.

- Like what?

- I found myself driving more than packages around. They'd leave the car, have me hang around, and when they returned it was clear what they'd been doing; the weapons, the blood, the excitement in their eyes. I wanted out.

- That's why you're here?

- No. Yes, maybe, but that's not why I called.

- Okay, go on.

- I told them I wanted out. They didn't like it. One morning I found on my bedside table a polaroid of my daughter sleeping. She was okay, I scared the hell out of her running into her room like that, but she was unharmed. My wife doesn't know what I do. She started asking questions, questions I couldn't answer.

- You didn't think about leaving New York?

- All the time, but they'd find us. They have connections. And my wife would have left me if I told her the truth. I stayed in. Months went by, and then they asked me to join them when they left the car. What choice did I have?

- You always have a choice.

- Yeah. That’s why I left my wife and daughter a week later. It was the only way I could keep them out of it, because I had to get out.

- It didn't work.

- No, I woke up one morning in my hotel room with two polaroids beside me, one of my wife, one of my daughter. I hadn't spoken to them in months. I can't get out. And now they've asked me to kill. I can't kill anyone, I need your help.

- I'm not an assassin for hire.

- Sorry, you don't understand. It's you they want me kill, Jack. If you're not dead within three days, they'll kill my family.

Dave

BOHICA
SNAFU

Anyone care to help with an explanation? I know FUBAR all too well, an especially fond memory of high school and my first kegger.

Dave, good situation. I can imagine Jack getting really inventive with punishment fitting the crime on that one.

- You Jack?

- In the flesh. What’s the job?

- It's delicate, real delicate.

- Just start at the beginning.

- Right. Well, I've fallen in with a bad crowd.

- Bad crowd?

- One of the families. It was quick money. Started with simple courier stuff, nothing dangerous, ask no questions sort of thing. Then they wanted more of me.

- Like what?

- I found myself driving more than packages around. They'd leave the car, have me hang around, and when they returned it was clear what they'd been doing; the weapons, the blood, the excitement in their eyes. I wanted out.

- That's why you're here?

- No. Yes, maybe, but that's not why I called.

- Okay, go on.

- I told them I wanted out. They didn't like it. One morning I found on my bedside table a polaroid of my daughter sleeping. She was okay, I scared the hell out of her running into her room like that, but she was unharmed. My wife doesn't know what I do. She started asking questions, questions I couldn't answer.

- You didn't think about leaving New York?

- All the time, but they'd find us. They have connections. And my wife would have left me if I told her the truth. I stayed in. Months went by, and then they asked me to join them when they left the car. What choice did I have?

- You always have a choice.

- Yeah. That’s why I left my wife and daughter a week later. It was the only way I could keep them out of it, because I had to get out.

- It didn't work.

- No, I woke up one morning in my hotel room with two polaroids beside me, one of my wife, one of my daughter. I hadn't spoken to them in months. I can't get out. And now they've asked me to kill. I can't kill anyone, I need your help.

- I'm not an assassin for hire.

- Sorry, you don't understand. It's you they want me kill, Jack. If you're not dead within three days, they'll kill my family.

Dave

:eek: Dave, that's fantastic! I absolutely LOVE it!! The situation probably wouldn't stump Jack - or FPW - for long, but what an outstanding storyline! I really want to know what Jack does to fix this! I mean it - I really want to know!

(Sheesh, did I use enough exclamation points? )

(Sheesh, did I use enough exclamation points? )

Talk to Lisa if you need more; she always has a surplus.

Oh and cool situations to both Dave and WR.Park and a welcome to WR.