The Real Deal

The problem with everything is advertising these days. Where can you go without some huckster or another trying to exchange their goods or services for your hard earned cash?

The answer, of course, is nowhere. Which is a pretty frustrating situation. It is said that once you leave the home, you lose 90% of your ability to control your environment. That is really saying something when you realise just how little control you have over your own home environment. I mean, you can't keep advertising out of your home. In fact, when you think about it, most kinds of advertising are distributed through mediums designed to get into your personal dwelling structure. It has been this way a long time.

It all began way back when newsprint was the hot new thing. Previously, advertising had been limited to outdoor campaigns; giant billboards, people on street corners shouting stuff at you, and such. The advent of the newspaper, however, provided the first opportunity for advertising to come home with you and violate the sanctity of your private domain. It probably began innocuously at first; an ad for ginger beer here, men's hats there. But take a look at your modern newpaper and you'll see it is chalk full o' ads, often where the big stories of the day should be. I mean, who wants to see "diapers half off" right next to the latest political scandal? The answer is pedophiles. But what paper, if it be of of good reputation, caters to such a market?

It only got worse when radio reared it's ugly, talking head. At least with the papers, you could still get the full story even if you were somehow able to pay no heed to the advertisements. But with radio, whole families gathered 'round the noise box to listen to this week's exciting episode of Fibber McGee and Molly. The thing is, you got to sit through all the commercials if you don't want to run the risk of missing the part where stuff falls out of the closet.

Then television came along and took it to a whole other level. Now images and movement could assault you alongside the auditory component. And the worst part is that even though T.V. might be the new principle form of advertising, newpapers and radios are still regularly making their insidious ways into people's abodes.

When Al Gore invented the internets, selfish, forward thinking capitalists rubbed their hands together in the manner of crickets. The chirping could be heard by dogs as much as 15 miles away. They had much to look forward to, as we all now know, as advertising is rampant on the information super highway. Unlike the other mediums, however, you can easily make your own contributions to the internet, and thusly you're making it possible for the problem to get worse. Just look at what happened to me.

Today I come along, looking forward to reading the comments on my blog and maybe composing an update for today. Imagine my horror when I discover that a villain by the name of Waseem Sindhu has left comments on the last six of my updates. The problem is not that his name is Waseem Sindhu, or that he's from Pakistan, or that he left six comments. The problem is that all six were advertisements for his twenty two blogs about money and the internet.

If you look at the comments on my blog now, you won't find any from Mr. Sindhu... I took the liberty of deleting them. It's bad enough when you get so many computer generated advertisements in the guise of "anonymous", but those are okay because they artificially bulk up the number of comments and make you look popular. Also, if they really bug you, then they are easily defeated via the word verification option. I personally do not use the word verification for fear of alienating the lazy and the stupid, which is the demographic I most appeal to. And since I'm just about to slip off the bottom of the "blogs of note" list, I've got to do everything I can to hold on to my audience. I won't go back to single digits... I can't. I'll smash a watermelon first. I'm serious.

But Waseem Sindhu can't be stopped by word verification. He is a man who cannot see that art is taking shape here. He sees only another place to ply his wares and corrode with his capitalism. To you, sir, I say; You offend me. Good Day.

That's the Real Deal.