A Votre Sante!

Just because it starts with FUKU doesn't mean... well, whatever.

Forget your troubles! Come on! Get happy!

After decades in the land of Wieden & Kennedy, I find myself in a state of culture shock induced by TV commercials in Detroit.

Wieden & Kennedy, you may recall, is the very creative Portland-based advertising agency which created the 2-minute Chrysler commercial that created all the buzz during Super Bowl this year. It's been said that it was as much an ad for the city of Detroit as it was for Chrysler. Interesting that it took folks from 2500 miles away to polish Detroit to a fancy patina for the ad.

Interesting, that is, until you've suffered through the local commercial fare, one audio-visual assault after another--ugly video, ghastly graphics, pitchmen who YELL AT YOU, and stupid annoying jingles that make you want to blow up your ears. These commercials have the look and feel of the early days of TV... not old-timey enough to be quaint, just old enough to be old.

Deserving of special mention is the ad for a clinic that prescribes "BIO-INDENTICAL" hormones. My special message to them: if you can't even spell it, why would I let you prescribe it for me?

I could go on, I suppose, and I probably should, but TV commercials make me want to go to the kitchen and stare into my refrigerator, so let's just bring this full circle and call it a post. We started with the law, and we'll end it there, with this bit of circular reasoning earnestly stated by Detroit's most flamboyant high-powered attorney at the end of his commercials:



Now, to the fridge... let's see... lemon jello?... nut pie?

Creating Civic Ambiance, Identity, and Pride with Statuary

Creating Ambiance in Detroit:

Unless you've been sleeping under a rock, you got a look at it in this year's much touted Super Bowl ad... Detroit's fist. Well, Joe Louis' fist. Wait, no, not that either. Okay, it's a sculptor's concept of what Joe Louis' fist would look like if it were 24' long, made of metal, and dismembered. And then suspended in the heart (and I use that term loosely) of a large city in the free world. Yes, it looks a lot like the black-power fist, but that's a matter of interpretation. Sculptor Robert Graham said, "People bring their own experiences to the sculpture. I wanted to leave the image open, allowing it to become a symbol rather than make it specific." That the population of Detroit is 81.6% black has nothing to do with it.

I left the metropolitan Detroit area for greener pastures in 1986, when the slogan was "Detroit, where the weak are killed and eaten." Thus I was 2500 miles away (almost as far as you can get without a boat) when the statue was unveiled. That doesn't mean I didn't hear about it... I did. And was glad to be 2500 miles away.

Interestingly, sculptor Graham was a denizen of southern California, not Detroit. Nor was the fist funded by Detroit. Rather, the $350,000 bill was footed by Sports Illustrated. The fist was "a gift." Graham, however, chose the placement: "I don't like the idea of sculpture gardens where the work is isolated," he said. "I wanted Joe to be in the center of the city, right in the middle of the street with people driving and walking by it." Although "Just Say No" was already a popular catch-phrase by then, Detroit didn't. Hmm, shall I leave that image open, and allow it to become a symbol?

Detroit apparently likes its image "gritty." Some Detroiters get a little testy if you call it "violent" though. Sport-pugilism, apparently, is not considered violent despite, say, what Arturo Godoy looked like after his "fight" (a non-violent fight, I'm sure) with Joe Louis. And really, why wouldn't everyone want to glorify the fist that did that?

Personally, I'm not sure how it's any different from dogfights or cockfights or any other forms of illegal animal fighting that I don't happen to know about, except that apparently those who participate in boxing have the technical right to Just Say No but they don't.

What is it about menfolk, anyway, that makes them think they should go around projecting themselves via fists, firearms, or their... you know... their magic wands... onto other inhabitants of the planet? Well, let us not digress into that pit of quicksand today, when the topic is statuary to be proud of. Let's move on to...

Ambiance in Libya:

Huh... what's this? Another dismembered fist? Raise your hand... I mean fist... if you saw that coming. No, don't... I don't want to be responsible for any possible dismemberment.

Mayor Bing, of necessity I recently moved back to the metropolitan Detroit area. I don't live within your city limits, so you don't have to take my advice. But here's a thought, anyhow, just in case. Why don't you sell that damn fist and its ambiance back to Sports Illustrated and let them park it in their own living room, and take the $350K and spend it on demolishing the buildings that make Detroit look like a war zone instead of having Detroit's post-apocalyptic landscape promoted via the movie industry?

Or, what the hell, you could just go with the ambiance and let some more outside gifters put up another statue... say, a Robocop.

I'm Jess sayin'...