Airheads

I see the Swedish airbag helmet company, Hövding, has gone under. Count me not surprised.

(Let me say at this point that I’m not gloating over the closure of a company. People’s who didn’t make any of the decisions had their lives affected, and that’s sad. I’m just pointing out that it was bound to happen, since it was always a terrifically dumb idea. And here, my dears, is why.)

The Hövding helmet was trying to “fix” a problem that didn’t exist. We already invented bicycle helmets. They work. But Hövding decided it was time to “disrupt the space” and make them sexy, and managed to convince some investor that this was an idea with wings. So they came up with a personal airbag for your head that you wear around your neck as an ugly, sweaty collar, which will explode into existence whenever needed, and then pitched that concept with a straight face.

So .. why? So you don’t mess your hair up when cycling! Let me repeat that: so you don’t mess up your hair. While cycling. An activity in which you proceed at speed through moving air. And also, apparently, Hövding offers slightly better protection in some – but not all – collisions.

You also have to keep the stupid thing charged, and trust that its cheap electronics will work as advertised that one time you need it to (and in some cases, they haven’t). Also, after it triggers, you’ll have to throw the whole thing away and pay for a new one. I’ve seen a couple of them in my building’s garbage room, like used head condoms. They’re big. All that material, sent off to be incinerated.

But Paddy, it offers better protection than a helmet, haven’t you seen the research?

Sure it does. In a few chosen situations. And in others, it causes no protection at all. Such as when you cycle at speed into a low sign, or tree branch, or bus mirror. When something falls onto your head from above. When someone swings a baseball bat at you (hey, it happens). A friend told me a story where they were about to cross the street and saw two (male) bicyclists stopped at the lights, having an argument. One shoved the other, triggering his Hövding, which them popped out, leaving him standing there like a bird doing some kind of mating display, while the victor rode away, laughing.

Design should move on and up. Of course it should. But not at the cost of more resources, and increased stupidity in the world. The airbag helmet was a dumb (and expensive) idea, and now it’s gone. Occasionally, just occasionally, capitalism works as intended. And I guess we should be glad for that.

(For those who speak Swedish, there’s a great Flashback thread with some amazing quotes. Some so good they should have been on the product. “A helmet for idiots who fall off their bike for no reason.” They should have gone with that, it could have saved them. But now, alas, we will never know.)

/ Paddy

Bad ad tropes

Ads are basically evil poetry. We put up with them because they are everywhere and we don’t have a choice, but we don’t ever really want them, do we? And that is particularly true for me.

There’s some ad tropes I hate extra much. Things that, if they appear, have the opposite effect than the one intended, making me want to fling the product into a lake of fire instead of buying it. And if you want to know what those things are, well, I have you covered. Let’s take them to the next level and show them to the person who matters most – you. Because you, my friend, are so very worth it.

Handmade: When something is described as handmade, it is usually trying to invoke the image of a jolly old lady, a grandma of some sort, possibly Italian, in a kitchen making traditional food. You see it, don’t you? The chickens pecking outside. The cat, probably. Then, when the dish is served, there will be laughter and fiddle music. It all makes me shiver. Because when I hear “handmade” in connection to food all I see is that Italian granny poking it with her sweaty hands, the ash tumbling from her cigg. There’s an ad for chocolate here in Sweden where we see the “artisan” in his chef’s hat pick up the chocolate to admire it, using his hands, the same hands that have just been scratching his knob, or picking his nose. Please, stop it with the handmade. I want my ultra-processed shit food prepared by nice, clean robots. “Made in a sterile and ethnic stereotype free environment”. Now that will get me to buy your product. Handmade … nah, not so much.

Most sold: You see this a lot here in Sweden. “The nordic’s most sold sexual lubricant!” is assumed to be something that shift units. I guess it’s the “A million rats can’t be wrong” school of logic. But, honestly, why should I care that something has been bought loads of times? Is it suddenly more appealing just because all those saps fell for your advertising? You show me a thing that’s “most sold” I will sniff at it and go elsewhere. I am, after all — or have been constantly told by ads that I am — an individual and a free-thinker who knows what he wants. So get your story straight.

“Sweden’s most sold single malt whiskey” as if that were a good thing.

Designed in Sweden: This bugs me immensely. What this means in reality is that a Swedish company, who used to push the “We are Swedish” angle, has moved their manufacturing to a cheap country but still want to harp on about their product’s quality. “Made in Slovenia!” doesn’t shift many units (except perhaps in Slovenia) so instead they tell us it was designed here, in Sweden, by clever proper people, you know, people like you, but better. People wearing beanies that don’t quite cover their ears. Because, clearly, those Swedish designers have a bigger affect on the quality of the product that the people who actually make the thing. Do fuck off. If it’s made in Sweden, tell us that. Otherwise, put a sock in it.

Cutting-edge science: What other kind of science would you use? Old science? Second-hand science? New-age science (bring me the crystals and the brass gong, Jasmine). Again, begone. It’s a non-claim, a phrase put in an ad just to have the s-word appear somewhere. And it annoys me.

Exclusive: People rarely seem to think about what this actually means. An exclusive product is one that only some people can have. That’s what it means, you see: to exclude some group. Generally, those without money. These days, though, we’re being lead to believe that it just means “good”. I’ve even seen “Exclusive and affordable” used in ads. Nope, sorry, it can’t be both. Pick one.

Ukulele music / whistling: Ever since I saw this hilarious video by Irish music youtuber tanatcrul I’ve been aware of these massively irritating audio tropes. Clapping also fits into this category. If your ad soundscape includes any of these, you can be sure I’ll promptly close my ear-holes.

You are unique: And here it is, the most cynical of all “Buy this!” tropes. Here you’re being told that nobody else is like you, therefore you should buy this thing (maybe it’s exclusive?) that everybody else has, because you are so special. Go on, love yourself! Marketers, I beg you, please stop doing this. It’s mind-numbingly dumb. And no, I don’t love myself. Only awful people do that.

So, to summarise, if you want me to buy your shit, try something else in your ads. Maybe something funny or weird. Or how about truthful? “We’re destroying the natural world to create this thing you don’t need, which will end up in a landfill, or wrapped around a turtle, but which makes your life a tad easier.” Or: “Fuck biodiversity, here’s a barely edible industrial product made from amazon rainforest beef and palm oil.” I mean, I probably won’t buy it, but it might make me love myself a bit more.

You know, like a psychopath.

/ Paddy

A burger too far

An article in this free Stockholm newspaper informs us that the gourmet burger, at least in Stockholm, is no longer trendy. Count me unsurprised. I mean, it was only a matter of time before we realised the emperor had no buns, lettuce or cheese. “But he’s just a piece of burnt meat!” the villagers all shouted, pointing and laughing, before they headed off for a poké bowl and a tasty spirulina shake.

This whole burgers-are-fancy thing kicked off about ten years ago in Stockholm, or at least that’s when I started noticing it. I assume some Swede had been to New York and got the idea there, since that’s where most Stockholm trends tend to come from (bonus points if it was stolen from a cool area like Brooklyn). One of Stockholm’s loudest gourmet burger chains (yes, we’re now using the words “gourmet” and “chain” in the same sentence) slammed open their doors in Stockholm in 2018. These people with the name “Bastard Burgers” – oh dear – had an extremely tiring “We’re no-nonsense proper men from the north of Sweden!” aesthetic. They’ve also used a slogan which said, in English, “Treat yo’self like a bastard” the stupidness of which still boggles my mind. 

Since then, more chains have followed, so many more, with different (but aggressively cool) names. If you ask me, all of them could have the same name: Overpriced Burger. Because that’s what they did – taking something that we’ve all agreed is cheap and trashy, then making it “gourmet” and charging twice as much for it is little more than a cynical marketing ploy, and is not going to last.

And, according to the article above, it hasn’t. Bastard Burgers and others are closing many of their Stockholm outlets. They’re all blaming the pandemic, inflation and changed food habits, but to me it’s pretty obvious the burger bubble has just burst. We’ve done this, we’re bored with it, we’re moving on.

I’m not that sorry to see it go. Besides being food for children, and horrendous for the environment at a time when keeping our gasping planet alive needs to be our primary focus, burgers just aren’t my thing. Not for any health reasons, I’ve just never liked them. Too much meat, too much grease, the whole eating-with-your-hands thing, all the slopping … I just find them kind of gross. And whenever I’ve convinced myself to have one, I always feel a bit ill and bloated afterwards. Added to this is the requirement to add fries so it feels somewhat like a meal, further caking my arteries. Hey, I’m old, I have to think about shit like this. Don’t worry, you’ll get there too, trust me.

If you like a burger, good for you, don’t let my whining put you off. Keep on doing your thing and be happy. In fact I’ve heard the Bastard people are quite approachable and friendly. Good for them. But for the rest of us, it can’t be denied that the gourmet burger is on the way out. We’ve all seen through the ruse — paying twice as much for impractical, slightly more cool and manly junk food — and we’re done with it. Or, more likely, we’re all just jaded and are moving on to Stockholm’s next food trend. And whatever that is, I can predict the following: it will be stolen from New York, it will be marketed to us in some embarrassing way, and it’ll be horribly destructive to the environment. I’m thinking rhino-horn flapjacks. Or amazon rainforest deep fried parrots. Or maybe New York pizza rat pizza, with extra whale liver and panda fries.

And trendsetters, if you need a sad slogan in English for your new Stockholm eating experience, do call me. I’m cheap* and very, very good at bullshit. 

/ Paddy

*Actually, I’m not that cheap…

Totally Not Gay

Advertisers (may the good Lord have mercy on them) are skilled at creating need where no need exists, and will spin the most incredible lies to make it happen. I’m particularly interested in how they pretend to “break taboos” to make new markets for their shiny bullshit trinkets. Like, oh let’s say, cosmetics aimed at men.

Razors and shaving gels are basically cosmetics and are sold in a very specific way. Which is the following. Show a rugged NOT GAY man in his clean and shiny AND NOT GAY bathroom. He’ll be shaving and – NOT GAY! – moisturizing and occasionally slapping himself in the face in a very NOT GAY manner. Probably while thinking of fighter planes or racing cars or horses – NO, NOT HORSES! GAY! – sorry, sailing ships, all while wearing a self-satisfied grin. Maybe some teeth will be broken. You know, from all that manly fighting.

And then – and here’s the crucial part – a hot chick will appear in time to smile and kiss him and rub a very definitely feminine hand across his clean manly jaw. This scene is vital just to dispel the final shreds of doubt about this guy POSSIBLY BEING GAY. And then maybe an explosion, just for good measure. A good orange and red and pi – NOT PINK! – explosion. Yeah. Yeah! Fuck it YEAH!

But now these ads have been vastly out-manned by the manly, masculine, macho, straight and quite definitely hard ad for this new product – nail varnish for men. Here’s the ad. It pretty much speaks for itself. Drop your jaw now, it’s easier that way.

(If the link’s broken, just do a search for Alpha Nail. Yes, you heard me. Alpha fucking Nail.)

What an utter and total cock. He’s NOT GAY though, as shown by, oh, pretty much everything in that ad. Now I’ve been dabbling with using nail varnish for years, for special occasions. I quite like it. I know other men who do too. And we don’t require a 5o-megaton high-octane flesh-neck-screaming moron to get us to do it.

I hope this product fails. Because buying a ballsy for-men product isn’t “hard” or “manly”. You know what’s ballsy? Walking into a shop and buying “ladies” nail varnish just because you want to. And putting it on, just because you want to. And ignoring what rugged insecure nitwits on TV are telling you about how and in what way you should “be a man”.

And hey, why not finish off with this, which sums up marvelously how ads aimed at men and women are different.

/ paddy (as gay as the next man)

Stupid Razor Names

I hate it when I give away all the tension directly in the title of the blog. Like I just did now. Damn it. So, yeah, men’s razors have daft names. Really incredibly daft. As if all the meetings take place in day-care centres and involve Duplo and modelling clay. Examples? Oh you betcha.

• Fusion ProGlide Power
• Fusion Power Phenom
• Mach3 Turbo Champion
• Quattro Titanium Precision

See? Now Dara O’Briain below says it rather better than me. Note there are Greek subtitles because some kind moron removed the swear words in the English version. Because we are so delicate. (For the sake of completion, here’s what they removed: shit, fuck, fuck, fucking, Christ, shit, Jesus Christ, fuck, Pope Rat’s Arse).

The reason, I imagine, is because advertisers are idiots. Yeah, actually, that’s it right there, dans une nutshell. Advertisers are complete fucking morons who should be whipped to within an inch of their lives, and regularly. That’s been established by me, Bill Hicks and pretty much fucking everybody. QED. From the Latin: Quadvertisers Er Diotes.

And what do I shave with? A simple honest Protector. Twelve years old and still going strong. And therefore to the advertisers I say – shove THAT in your arse and smoke it. Or shave it. Whatever.

/ paddy (Turbo Laser Ultra 4)

Swedish Anal Energy Burst

So this little doozy turned up on the vending machines in the Stockholm subway during the week.

Is it just me who finds this hilarious? Is mine the only twisted mind to have picked up on the obvious rude joke that the Swedish lay-outers seem to have completely missed?

And the follow-up question occurs: just what do they want us to do with this stuff anyway?

I will avoid the obvious smutty gay innuendo here; it’s just far too easy. My readers are more than welcome to fill in that part for themselves if they so desire.

Heh heh, fill in… fnarr…

/ paddy

Words of Fuzzy Wisdom

I purchased a certain product last week and upon this product I found a text.

The text was warm and sweet and diffuse and said nothing whatsoever about the actual product. Classic copy. It also confused the hell out of me. And here, for your delight, it is.

The one who dares to dream, dares to live. Dreams keep us going, dreams have the power to change the world. So go ahead and jump into the river of dreams, dive deep away from the greyness of everyday and free yourself. Remember: you’re innocent when you dream.

Still there? Good. Give your head a shake and read the thing again, if you want. It won’t help.

I won’t go on about the morons who sit around and brainstorm stuff like this for a living. I could, but I won’t.

And I won’t spit fire about said morons stealing a song title from Tom Waits to boost their fucking incomes.

I will just leave it up to you, my dear readers (yes you there, get out from behind that hedge, I see you) to guess on which product I found this text. And WITHOUT googling it, I may add. Or iPhoning it or whatever it is you kids do these days on your fancy compamuters.

So off you go then. There’s no hurry. I’ll be here, quietly fuming.

/ paddy

—————————————————————

Okay then, it’s time to reveal that the product is….

Toilet paper. Nice one Jack!

Here is the website, which make it all perfectly clear…
http://www.lambi.com/unlimiteddreams/

It’s nice to see that toilet paper has nothing to do with arses any more.

—————————————————————

Broadband to Heaven

Because the Swedish Lutheran church isn’t as intrusive and pompous as other churches, and tends to keep its nose out of most affairs of state, one stops noticing it very much or even taking it seriously.

But now it has brought the full attention of the country back to the fact that it is a Christian church and actually does believe in an immortal entity and his zombie demigod son and all the rest of that inane twaddle, and it wants nothing more that to have the rest of us believe it too.

And it has done this in style with a new ad campaign, visible now in Stockholm’s subways and newspapers.

WIRELESS. Prayer is free; a permanent connection; pray when, where and how you want. Free support in all parishes.

When I see this I have to sit back, take a deep breath and wonder if this can have been designed by adults – actual conscious thinking people – or by a daycare class on a bored Tuesday afternoon. Because this is just bizarre and troubling on so many levels.

The biggest mistake that Svenska Kyrkan have made here is to actual point out the inconsistencies of “prayer” by relating it to actual technology in this way. And so it starts us thinking and drawing parallels. Such as:

Is the flow of prayer constrained in some way? What medium does it use? What if too many people pray, what happens then? Does god stop listening? Is there a celestial server outage?

And do the prayers go into a cache? Is there a prayer browser? Can we save prayers on a flash-drive and retransmit them later? And what file format would they be in? .pry? Or maybe .god?

Prayer, if it needs to be repeated, does not, and never has, actually worked, beyond the personal comfort it might give to some people. It has no effect on the actual material world, as all serious studies to date have shown. You’d be better off taking a walk, or making a cup of tea, or buying a dog.

All we can conclude from this is that Christians are severely deluded individuals, people who would be considered slightly insane, or at least very unstable, if their ramblings were not classed as “religion” and were therefore exempt from any and all rules of logic and behaviour.

The upshot of all this is that because the Swedish church now has to advertise, it means that it is in trouble and can’t get new members. And this cheers me up immensely.

As I have repeated on many an occasion, I don’t have much argument with personal religion or spirituality (other than thinking that you are a bit weird). You can do whatever you want in the privacy of your own head (a courtesy that many religions do not give to us non-believers, may I add). But when you start imposing your power structures and your whiny morals on me, and start interfering with the running of the world because some magic book and/or voice in your head told you to, well, that’s where I draw the line.

So, to summarise: You have an invisible broadband connection to your god? Yes, yes, of course you do. Now just take your pills and everything will be fine.

/ paddy