“I scream at you for sharing
‘n I curse you just for caring
I hate the clothes you’re wearing, they’re so pretty
‘n I tell to not to see me
‘n I tell you not to feel me
‘n I make your life a drag, it’s such a pity
‘n I watch your warm glow palin’
‘n I watch your sparkle fadin’
As you realize you’re failin’, cos you’re so good”

– Ian Hunter/Mott the Hoople

I still don’t completely understand what Ian was talking about in that song. But I guess, knowing Ian the way I don’t, that he would say it’s about what it means to you and I, not him.

So I’m putting them out there for who ever reads this.

Tell me what they mean.

I spent some time with an old and very important friend last night, Tug McTighe. Tug’s an ace copywriter at Sullivan Higdon and Sink. You should note that Tug is responsible for some of the most entertaining and elevating work right now in the advertising business.

Remember when the Lucky Town campaign was running and funny? Although he wouldn’t take all the credit, Tug was the guy behind that. Also, he wrote some GREAT scripts for Gold Bond Medicated Powder ads which never saw the light of day. Which is too bad because damnit, rashes, itch and chaffing ARE funny.

Tug and his buddy John January have a great podcast called American Copywriter. They make some very astute observations of popular culture, advertising, marketing, etc.. It’s not the typical, stodgy “corporate” schtick. These guys knew about Seth Godin’s purple cow before it became a management-by-best-seller stratagem (note my corporate speak; “stratagem”).

Anyway, Tug and I talked about how much better reality is than anything we could concoct. Not the humiliation packaged as “reality” on TV. But people being their selves, read that again, people being their selves. It’s why a day on the streets of new york watching people go on about their lives is infinitely more compelling than going to a play or any of the typical tourist attractions. It’s why talking to friends about their families and lives means more than sitting around watching TV.

And it’s why, in spite of having more beer in one night than I’ve had in the last year, I don’t feel the least bit horrible for having spent time in a bar with my old friend. In fact, I feel better for it.