Once upon a time, many light years ago in my dim, dark past – I actually liked ads. They were informative, colourful and were generally based on – from a kid’s point of view – something that I either wanted or would like to eat.
As I grew up, so did the technology to impart information and the ways and means a clever marketing campaign could deliver it into the general consciousness – the consumer. After a while things just stuck. Who doesn’t know what the golden arches are or the colour of a coke can is?
Things accelerated with the advent of the Internet and are now moving at warp speed in an effort to keep up with the trends before it’s old news. Something that was in vogue this week will be superseded within one week to six months, depending on the genre and the popularity.
The advertising world is moving with the times and is everywhere – and in my personal opinion has become increasingly annoying – if that is at all possible.
A couple of weeks ago I turned on my computer and there it was, a separate banner of advertising across my screen as soon as I started up my browser. My computer is only a couple of months old but somehow those pesky bits of spyware found me again and had attached themselves to my home page. It took me a while to figure out how to get rid of them – they were like the barnacles on the bottom of a boat – but after a little tweaking and a lot of swearing – I am ad-free on my home page and not attracting any pop-ups for the moment.
Sadly I can’t say the same about Facebook. I logged into my account yesterday and was bombarded with tits and ass. When did this happen? I’d noticed a few double Ds in the background a few weeks ago and thought nothing of it – now they’re everywhere – and jiggling around in little embedded programs. If I wanted a smorgasbord of big breasts and g-strings shoved in my face – dammit – I’d be typing ‘pornography’ into Google and going from there.
And what about television. Don’t start me. I was watching a prime-time show a few nights ago and they managed to squeeze in as many ad minutes as there was television show. I’ve taken to recording the shows I want to watch and zapping those pesky promotional pratts in two seconds to get back to the aforementioned viewing. Cop that you denizens of advertising iniquity, I can fast forward your ass in to oblivion any time I want.
Not even the sanctity of the public toilet is safe anymore. I was recently the victim of two large and gaudy advertisements about the dangers of drinking alcohol at nightclubs and solutions for erectile dysfunction on the back of my cubicle door. My question to the first advertiser would be why does an occupant of a women’s toilet in a nursing home need to know – and for the second advertiser – why does an occupant of a women’s toilet need to know?
Sadly, as long as there’s a dollar to be earned, there will always be somebody trying to find a way to sell something to earn it. I’m starting to think about ways to make some money myself but it won’t need much advertising. Just as soon as I can invent the personal ‘off’ microchip that you can insert under your skin that banishes conscious advertising within a one mile radius from your personal space with one click – they’ll walk out the door.