Personal DNA Personality Quiz

I can't resist a personality quiz, and this was a good one:

According to this quiz, I'm a benevolent director. Doesn't that sound nice?


Mouse over the color bars for results.


It's a pretty good read on me. Want to take the test yourself? Check it out.

If you're into this sort of thing, some months ago I ran across this personality quiz that I thought was especially fun. You're asked to choose from a selection of images to define various characteristics and that's the raw data they turn into what they call your "visual DNA." Hooey? Maybe, but I liked it.

"I think I was always misunderstood," said the wind.

Poetry, Unexpected

There's a bard in my comment section. Here's what he (I'm assuming it's a he from the contents of the poem, but I could be wrong) wrote:

4 June 2007

After the storm, my mind cleared.

And a high wind arose and blew the tropics north.

running quartz crystals through a blender.

sand through your engines.

bubbles in your bays.

estuaries reaching out toward forbidden seas…

sand through your eyes.

5 June 2007

Calm as baby’s breath

as peaceful as the storm’s eye

Clouds spread and drawn with rough strokes of stratospheric winds

a warm and windy tropical day.

7 June 2007

Black water at dusk.

Lighting on the horizon.

Warm winds coming in across the darkening waters.

A flash of white wings as an egret takes flight.

And Thunder like God clearing his throat.

8 June 2007

Morning star in the still of the clear, dark waters.

a sky as clear eyed as a young girl.

bruised and tattered storm remnants limp off in the gathering light.

9 June 2007

Tickled her fancy.

giggling all the day long.

pretty good for a Saturday.

Clouds on the lake floating aimlessly by.

She smiled big–grinned really.

12 JUne 2007

A silver sky

ripe for the mirror.

you can not see yourself in this mirror

you can only see others

moreover, you can only see what others choose to expose.

Their houses, their boats, their sea-doos.

Birds skimming low over the water could

like as not

see them selves if they were to look down

as they skim low over the water

but they never do.

Rather they allow their reflections to chase them

quick and sharp over the still, glistening waters

while the bird’s mind remains ever fixed on

food, or other birds, or escaping those damn noisy humans.

A dense forest impenetrable as a gaze.

13 JUne 2007

Like angry bee’s eyes

the metal screen seen through the bamboo blinds.

A million insects dot the lake spreading micro ripples

14 June 2007

Of Fly Catchers and hidden lakes.

Of sleeping lizards and morning dew.

It is of birdsong and misty dawns

and fleeced clouds floating in a still pool.

The waters ripple awake in the gathering morn.

The first water birds head out for the far shore.






20 June 2007


A garden of elephant ears.

A lake of light.

A furrowed sky.

Warm air, tinged with the coolness of a passing shower.

A swath of short green swords with serrated edges.







22 JUne 2007


Of Stone Poets and shattered wooden quays.

Bolts of clay and carpets of mud.

Footholds on pyrrhic shores.

Fusillades of futilty and wars of choice.



23 June 2007


Wind and water.

Stone glass and stone poets.


Air plants and sudden acts of Feng Shui.











24 June 2007


Seaparate ponds like a string of pearls gleaming in the twilight.


The ages of man, the lovers of a lifetime


bright and shiny thoughts flickering like little fires banked against the great dark.


The toothy smiles of a pretty woman or two.


Events and ages the like of which will not be seen again.

Claim yourself, Poetry! Who you be?

Dylan, Beatles, Jose Feliciano--music to watch letters turn into illustrations by

Typography becomes illustration while you watch. Great soundtracks, too. Don't miss this one.

This woman is incredibly flexible, probably double-jointed

Perfect weirdness.

The networks' web conversion experience has a creepy side

Cynthia Little has written quite the interesting article in last Friday's Variety, "Networks go on blitz for Web hits: CBS, Fox, NBC adopt online syndie strategies."

She runs down the ways the major networks have gone from hand wringing to high fiving the many compliments it's received from the great www. They've realized the sincerity of this particular form of flattery and have moved from litigating to monetizing.

I'm so happy for everyone. Happy. Happy. Happy. But then there was a bit about the depth of demographic information suddenly available to data miners. While I'm always happy for every bit of this kind of data when I'm developing a campaign, as a consumer, it creeped me out.

... CBS brass are as intrigued by how much the electronic connection of the Web will allow them to study their consumers in granular detail. Do "CSI" fans also tend to like Avril Lavigne? Do "America's Next Top Model" viewers spend more time on fashion-oriented Web sites? The marketing and sales potential of the kind of demographic and audience profile data that can be built on the back of every download is astounding, Smith says.

You may look at my chunks, but my grains are private.

High Concept Low Tech: Poetry in Stop Motion

This piece is the visual equivalent of about three good pieces of Godiva chocolate. Not nutritious, but pure sensory joy for the time it takes to watch this bit of magic being made.

It's called "Minilogue: Hitchiker's Choice" by an artist cryptically named "kristoferstrom," via YouTube:

Homeland Security's Sandstone Spy Portal/Porthole

But that's not all! From Roundrock Journal:

Stone Cold, Rock Hard, Hard Rock, Rock Garden

The Times, They Are A'Changin'

The Break Up
Uploaded by geertdesager

Bald Cypress

The next two photos are of the same tree, likely planted for the World's Fair in 1904.

A regal bald cypress, this poor tree has an enormous carbunckle (I'm making things up now, but you know what I mean) at its base, probably three feet square. Like some of your better driftwood.


The next photo was just fine straight from the camera, but I used the Orton Effect in Photoshop. This technique is all over the Internets, it's basically a blurred multiplied layer atop a sharp layer that gives a wonderful glow.












Bald cypress are one of the few deciduous conifers. Like an aspen, its leaves turn a golden yellow and gently fall like so many soft feathers. A noble tree.

Spring Into Spring

I ran Hebrew School carpool for Jonathan yesterday so he could hit a tight deadline. On the way home, I stopped by Forest Park with my new camera.

The shoreline of this little stream is lined with incredible stones, like the kind you see on Peuget Sound or maybe one of the Great Lakes. They're wonderfully round and richly colored. Lots of granite and quartz. I think I even found some very dirty amethyst.

Inklings of a Fine Mind: Walter Bureck

Inklings, the Copywriter's Blog, Walter Bureck's ongoing exploration of the noble and naked truths of copywriting. His quotes from the greats are square meal deals in themselves. Just one a fine example is Bill Bernbach's famous letter, excerpted below:

In the past year I must have interviewed about 80 people – writers and artists. Many of them were from the so-called giants of the agency field. It was appalling to see how few of these people were genuinely creative. Sure, they had advertising know-how. Yes, they were up on advertising technique.

But look beneath the technique and what did you find? A sameness, a mental weariness, a mediocrity of ideas. But they could defend every ad on the basis that it obeyed the rules of advertising. It was like worshipping a ritual instead of the God.

Genuine creativity will never be a commodity. It's damned hard work to do it well, and it makes your brain ache. 90 percent of writing is the not-writing, brain bleeding foreplay. Another gem from Walter's site:

“Writing is easy; all you do is sit staring at a blank sheet of paper until the drops of blood form on your forehead.”

- Gene Fowler



Well done. A new favorite.

Talking Tractors

Business meeting chronicled for posterity. Michael and Jonathan thinking big. A good time was had by all.

Pimp My Ride? No Way. Mom My Ride.

Brilliant viral from Zima: "Don't even think about it, she's a mom."

Cambium Creative's New Camera

The Golden Age of Advertising

Rube Goldberg 2.0

Who thinks up this stuff? One brilliant contraption after another. Watch for the bullseye.


Click Here for more great videos and pictures!

Who are these people?

The Fab Faux

There are a few old saws out there that get swapped around with real authority. I've been told there are two kinds of people, Beatles people, and Elvis people. For the Beatle People, the Fab Faux.


This band formed of erstwhile and employed big time musician's-musicians in NYC. They faithfully reproduce Beatles music (kookookoochoo), live. Between their obvious scholarship, mastery, spookily-skilled voices, and that indefinable energy a live performance delivers, these guys brought it home big in a big way.

Mountain Dew Geriatric Mash Up

Viral video stretching the category:

Oh, my Saddam--Steve Martin

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ Huffington Post, written by that genius, Steve Martin.

Oh, my Saddam, how I loved your funny little ways. The way you held your teacup; the way you enjoyed those who coaxed a smile from you. I love that you found a way to exist in this mixed up world, how you thought, "why be mean when you can be nice?" Saddam, I will miss the way you would point to someone and then they would be dead, the way your puppy Pluto became a rug.

Your loyalty to family is rare in our times. When your half-brother was assassinated, Oh how we wept for you, thinking, what a terrible accident this assassination is. My Saddam, I wish we had more time with you, to find out what makes you tick, tick, tick. How your golden toilet seat will miss you!

You loved to laugh! Not many people know how to do that anymore. Real laughter doesn't come from sit-coms and comedians, real laughter comes when someone bows before you, accidentally stumbles, and then is beheaded. Especially on a staircase. Heads will roll, ha ha! Oh Saddam, if I had you back for just one moment, I would ask, if you could shoot just one person in the back of the head, who would it be? I wish it were me!

Who can deny your gifts? Your novel, so romantic and sweet. I'm sorry it was only published in Arabic and read by your friends. What a waste. And your glorious gesture for peace, the symbolic lighting of the Kuwaiti oil fields!

And now you are in heaven. How the trumpets must be sounding. A life, perhaps imperfect, but pure in motive! The world might have lost one affable curmudgeon, but heaven has received him. Saddam, enjoy the hosts of souls waiting to see you on the other side!

Pulp Fiction Christmas

Thanks, BoingBoing.

Spike Jonz Unmakes and Embooldens Gap Brand

Audacious. Incredible. Perfect. via ifilm, Spike Jonz remakes Gap in 1:30.

Turkey, like business, adheres to natural laws

The key to a moist turkey is to cook within the rules of nature.

Dark meat has much fat, white has little. Dark will be moist when white is dry, unless you bring gravity into the equation.

Figure 20-22 minutes per pound, then start the roasting at 350 degrees with the breast downward. That way the juices above moisten the meat below. After 2/3 of the total time has elapsed,flip the turkey, and brown the breast side.

Another good thing is to stuff the cavity with onions, celery and carrots, cooking dressing on the side. Aromatics plus gravity equals lusciousness.

And that's all I'm gonna say.

Unless you want to make transcendent gravy. That will be another post.

How this pertains to business will be revealed.

Public Relations Now Officially Antique

The press release turns 100, Media Culpa.

huzzah, right?

The Campaign for Dominance

I recently heard a panel of three talking heads lamenting their loss in the recent election. There was one man who several times analyzed the situation by saying, "Our candidates didn't do enough to disqualify their opponents."

I beg to differ. That is exactly the thrust of too much political advertising this season. They beat on dead horses, intoning phrases so dead from over-exposure they became meaningless. Their fingers in the wind, they adjust their message to what they think will win their election.

What about candidates who say what they believe, and believe what they say, letting chips go wherever chips go? I've been involved with two such challengers in the last two years, both with that refreshing point of view. They both lost, coming within mere hairs from unseating their opponents, but they amazed even the most jaded political hacks with their emergence from anonymity into real players.

The first campaign was Jeff Smith's when he ran in a 10-way race for Dick Gephardt's congressional seat. He came within inches of defeating the Missouri brand-name, Russ Carnahan. Jeff is articulate and passionate, well-educated and insightful. He truly listens to people. I'm not surprised that he's now our state's Senator-elect. I expect great things.

The second was Jim Trout. His campaign for state house was waged on a shoestring, and the work of nearly 100 grassroots volunteers. He was adamant that there be no personal attacks. He stuck to his beliefs, and let his opponent's record tell the story. He was more focused on communicating his plans for Missouri.



Jim lost by 183 votes, just 1.1 percent. He nearly unseated an entrenched incumbent, even though his name recognition was likely less than zero. He worked hard, knocking on every door, showing up at every coffee, walking in every parade, and working his shoestrings until they finally snapped the morning after the election, when we finally heard of his loss.

Both these candidates ran on their convictions and made no ad hominem attacks. Neither stooped to intentionally misinterpreting their opponents.

That's the lesson. The big win isn't earned by speciously discrediting your opponent with half-truths and obfuscations, but by being a real person, with real convictions, and an out-of-the can demeanor.

Can Mr. Smith Get to Washington Anymore?

Last night I finally got to see Frank Popper's documentary about Jeff Smith's failed bid for Dick Gephardt's congressional seat. It was just stunning. Jeff surprised anyone who knew him when he decided to run. He was an adjunct professor at Wash U and St. Louis U, didn't even have health insurance. His parents thought he was a bit addlepated, his grandmother told a friend who'd gotten a letter asking for a donation that she ought to save her money. Someone described him as looking like he's 12-years-old, buying his clothes from Garanimals, and sounding like he's castrated.

Undeterred, he began knocking on doors, making calls, and assembling a staff of mostly former students who were absolutely brilliant and absolutely inexperienced, some as young as 20, to help manage his campaign.

Two years ago, I happened on his website. It was a Friday, and on Sunday I was giving a voter registration party. On a whim, I e-mailed him, suggesting he might want to come if he could. Shot in the dark. He came, late, after bowling with rapper Nellie earlier in the afternoon. Within five minutes, every one of us knew this 29-year-old was headed for greatness.

He's charming, funny, articulate, passionate and principled. He spent his childhood playing basketball on a team that was otherwise entirely black kids from the north side. To this day, they remain friends.

That experience was seminal. He majored in black American studies and political science. He worked for the city's school board, which opened his eyes to the entrenched deadwood that cripples the system. He started a charter school focusing on math and science for inner city kids, feeding them breakfast and keeping them two hours longer that anywhere else. He taught in universities.

So when he started the campaign, he knew what he was talking about, was passionate, a perpetual motion machine, and in the end, had amassed 350 volunteers and the reluctant admiration of the cognoscenti.

He came within a hair of upsetting the name-brand candidate, Russ Carnahan, a Casper Milquetoast if ever there was one.

What is most striking about this film is the power of passion in the face of apparent insurmountable obstacles. It puts the lie to most political strategies which hang on touching key phrases that "resonate" with voters, monumental media buys, and often, the most Machiavellian and pernicious schemes they deem palatable to voters.

Ultimately, this is the story of the authentic voice over the well-studied one. This, if you've been noticing, is near and dear to our hearts. It's our presiding principle, our "branding statement," if you will. But unlike many branding statements which seek to paint AnyCorp in its best light, we left that in our past where it belongs. It's a freeing thing, and empowering, too. Just ask Missouri Senator-Elect, Jeff Smith.

An award winning documentary chronicles Jeff Smith's first campaign, Can Mr. Smith Get to Washington Anymore?". It's won the people's choice award at the Silverdoc Festival, and is one of five finalists in the International Documentary Festival. It is in the nomination process for an Academy Award.

Frank Popper was the man behind responsible for every face of the film that wasn't Jeff's. I was blown away, and so proud of of them both. Here's the trailer.

"

How NOT to Celebrate a Merger--Warning, Highly Embarrassing Video

I lurk at By Neddie Jingo from time to time, and find myself often richly rewarded. Tonight was no exception.

This is video from a company meeting, it somehow relates to car sales and MBNA being subsumed into Bank of America. A couple of clueless guys "worked up a little song." If they're not mortified with their lack of good taste, I'll be mortified for them. Absolutely stunning.

Election Day Dance of Relief

It's November 7, 2006. We've been surrounded by hope on the one hand, and on the other, brutal ugliness that would have had my grandad looking for a switch.

Politicians, by nature, have abundant egos. They invest so much in these campaigns, and their everything (or so they think) rides on getting the most votes.

Their desperation means increasingly "creative" methods of slandering an opponent with ridiculous distortions, outright lies, selective and dubious "facts," and a kind of moral absolutism that is nothing but un-thinking. The worst deliberately appeal to the darkest, most ignorant, reptilian vestiges in the human brain. And, too often it works.

Still, voting is all we've got unless you're a lobbyist, and I'm sure you're not. It's the single most patriotic thing we can do. Flags, yellow ribbons, "God Bless America," and country songs are nothing but faint echoes of the real deal.

So, gentle readers, I know you've voted today, because you're that way. In case you know someone who might not bother, bother them till they do.

This might not restore your faith in humanity, but its beauty encouraged me.




The Boddisatva Dance of the Thousand Hands