A boring "thoughtful" entry about my stupid job
Here's what gripes me about my job, or, I guess I should say field:
Triumphalist Modernity
Every ad is about the with-it present, the omega point of transcendent bitchin'ness that is this moment. We were dopes in the past, the future is nerdy, or perversely, the future is the object of sentimentality in advertising.
"Your most cherished old people-type feelings will come to fruition in the future. Feel good and warm about THAT version of you. The old version of you when you had sideburns and 501s is hopelessly retarded and we join you in mocking your hopes and innocence. You were such a pathetic asshole back then. But now, best beloved, you are in your tent pole-tent, the one you've been scratching toward. You've made it. And soon you'll descend into a weakened, though wiser version of yourself, and you'll look back at this moment of consumption with a twinkly fondness, for this moment is when your life began. Forget the person you were two years ago. You and we both know what a wretched creep you were -- hell, we ALL were. Nope, this is it -- right here, right now as the song you used to like goes."
That's what I hate about my field.
Thank you.
Triumphalist Modernity
Every ad is about the with-it present, the omega point of transcendent bitchin'ness that is this moment. We were dopes in the past, the future is nerdy, or perversely, the future is the object of sentimentality in advertising.
"Your most cherished old people-type feelings will come to fruition in the future. Feel good and warm about THAT version of you. The old version of you when you had sideburns and 501s is hopelessly retarded and we join you in mocking your hopes and innocence. You were such a pathetic asshole back then. But now, best beloved, you are in your tent pole-tent, the one you've been scratching toward. You've made it. And soon you'll descend into a weakened, though wiser version of yourself, and you'll look back at this moment of consumption with a twinkly fondness, for this moment is when your life began. Forget the person you were two years ago. You and we both know what a wretched creep you were -- hell, we ALL were. Nope, this is it -- right here, right now as the song you used to like goes."
That's what I hate about my field.
Thank you.
Labels: My Idiotic Job, Thinking about crap
posted by Greg Mills at 1:53 PM
1 Comments:
Well....if it's any consolation at all...It's Friday?
If that doesn't help, jaunt over to your nearest purveyor of fine liquor and get yourself 2 six packs of Red Stripe. By the time you're done, you won't even be able to say "triumphalist modernity" let alone give a shit about it.
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