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Cody the Cardboard Cowboy

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Cody The Cardboard Cowboy by Photobucket




Let's play a game and in it, you and I are high powered executives
working at a marketing firm on Madison Avenue in New York. I wear $1,200
Italian suits and I send the intern back to Starbucks, three quarters
of a mile away through the pouring rain if my Latte' isn't just quite
right. We stand causally in the paneled board room waiting for the
meeting to begin and we discuss the advantages of the new BMW over a
Mercedes Benz or we complain, because the wife is nagging us to take her
back to Europe again when the house in the Hamptons has just been
remolded and should be good enough.

Then the boss enters and instantly, the atmosphere of the room changes.
The boss looks haggard and worn down by the pressure, and from the looks
of him, he's looking to take it out on some poor unfortunate who dares
to swim against the tide. Attentively, we all take our seats as he put
his briefcase on the table and takes out his battle orders. He looks up
as if he isn't even speaking to us, but speaking to others in another
realm. "Ladies, gentleman" I trust everyone had a good weekend. Our
first order of business today is the Frosty sugar coated cardboard
flakes account, sales are falling and we need to know why and then, we
need to turn it around. Henderson, (Henderson is his favorite
lickspittle from research) what have you found out about the sales
decline?"

"Well sir," he begins cautiously and tentatively. If Henderson were to
find even one testicle hiding somewhere in his body it would only die of
loneliness. As he stood to address us, I wondered how tall he might be
if he had had a spine. Besides, it perfectly acceptable to rip on
imaginary co-workers, but I digress. "Sales are off by 20 percent and
our market research shows that to the average consumer, Frosty sugar
coated cardboard flakes taste like a Himalayan Yak has thrown up in
their cereal bowl."

The boss interrupts, "Recommendations Henderson?"

"A 10 percent increase in the prime demographic television advertising
budget. The addition of a carton character, "Cody the cardboard cowboy"
to the box for the children's market and finally, adding one cup of bone
meal per ton of flakes purchased from the rendering plant then adding a
banner ad to the box, "Now Fortified with Calcium!"

"All too expensive Henderson," the boss says interrupting, "What else have you got?"

Henderson is frightened now; his face looks like he's about to get the
hiccups, "We, we, we sell advertising on the back of the box to offset
the costs sir. We hire an animation company to create a "Cody the
Cardboard Cowboy" cartoon series. We give the series at no cost to a TV
network with three of our Frosty sugar coated cardboard flakes
advertisements already included. The network fills thirty minutes of air
time at no cost. Frosty sugar coated cardboard flakes gets discount
advertisements and best of all sir, if it fails, we can blame it on the
animation company."

The boss is pleased, "Very good Henderson, now run down to the executive washroom and pee for me."

"Yes sir!"

"And Henderson," the boss adds catching him going out the door, "Make
some time in your schedule this afternoon, I'll need my balls polished."

Enthusiastically, Henderson exclaims, "Yes sir!"

"Now," the boss says turning back to us, "the meathead and potatoes of
this meeting. Four years ago"" but he is interrupted by our unbridled
raucous laughter. "Settle down," he says breaking into a smile himself.
He doesn't smile much, so this is a good sign. His colon is filled with
twenty years of rich foods, long nights, good whiskey and
anti-depressants. Maybe we will make it through this meeting without
someone being fired after all.

"Ladies, gentlemen please," he says, "Four years ago, we got our
candidate elected. Running against the most unpopular President in
American history it was a simple matter to find a clean sheet of paper
and fill in the blanks. Voila', a reformer, the polar opposite of the
hated President. Where he was pensive, our reformer was relaxed, where
he was inarticulate, our reformer was articulate. Where he was seen as
short tempered and mean spirited, our reformer was warm and friendly
with a family straight out of central casting. But as you well know, you
can't turn twenty years of marketing around on a dime. We had to make
sure that our reformer faced an opponent just as grumpy and mean
spirited as the President.

We took a poll and found the most unpopular candidate in the Republican
Party. He was sent out on a speaking tour to frighten the party
faithful. He was sent to Florida, to tell a room filled with seniors of
the need to cut Social Security and despite our very best efforts our
reformer could only pull dead even. So we went with the nuclear option,
we found for this grumpy and mean spirited candidate the most idiotic
Vice Presidential candidate in American history. Barely smarter than a
cocker spaniel, she was the anchor tied to the candidates cement
overshoes and ladies and gentleman it worked and it worked well!

But that was then and this is now, today four years later, our reformer
is a popular as yesterday's oatmeal, what are we going to do about that!
We need answers people and we need answers right now!"

I've learned, to keep my head down in these skirmishes until the
artillery stopped falling but Schmidt to my right, well he's a man on
his way up. That is, if he can learn to keep his mouth shut. He blurts
out, "We could run the cocker spaniel woman!"

"Don't be stupid!" The boss thunders at him, "it was all we could do just trying to keep her from falling out of the bus!

Then Mary stood and she's got a good head on her shoulders, "Shouldn't
we concentrate on our own candidate? Couldn't we paper over his failings
and present him to the public as their champion again? A campaign where
he is fighting for the people against the overwhelming might of the
evil corporations. I mean, the people don't seem to notice his campaign
is funded by those corporations. They don't seem to notice that he has
surrounded himself with the very executives from those banks and
corporations. Couldn't we try, "Hope and change again?""

I wanted to duck under the table, the bosses face got red and he began
to tremble with anger. With the crop of white hair on top of his head,
from the shoulders up he took on the appearance of a very angry pimple. I
feared what would happen next, when through tight pursed lips he
answered slowly, filled with invective, "I don't want to ever hear those
words again unless you're telling me, "I hope, I have change for the
bus, now that I've destroyed my career."

I felt sorry for her, but I was in the marketing business not the
kamikaze business, so she was on her own here. I thought he was going to
give her the axe right there and then but instead, he went to the
blackboard at the far end to the boardroom and picked up a piece of
chalk making a small circle on the board. Then he points at her, "You!
Time out! Put your nose in that circle and thank your lucky stars I
didn't make it the brown circle, the one closer to the ground!"

The herd was thinning and I knew I would soon become the object of his
fury. With red beady eyes he looked at me, asking in an accusatory
fashion, "Well, what about you, what have you got?"

It was now or never, so I answered, "Right now in America, the most
loathsome creature out there is the investment banker. He is more
despised than drug dealers, gang members and nearly despised as much as a
pedophile. Now, you find yourself a banker, a really, really rich
banker. You make him unapologetic about his wealth, make him flaunt it.
Dress him up and make him smarmy, almost a caricature of Simon Legree
and when the people ask him for his tax returns, he answers as one from
America's entitled wealthy class and tells them arrogantly, "No!" He is
the epitome of the one percent, he's the one percent of the one percent
and I promise you, your candidate cannot lose.

I was feeling pretty confident about this time, the redness had faded
from him and I could tell he was thinking about my idea. The lines of
tenseness were relaxing from his face. But the boss was not the type to
pass out adda boys, everyone here had to taste the lash. He pondered my
idea for a minute and I could tell I had stunned him with it. Then he
turned on me saying, "Alright smart guy, tell me mister know it all,
since you've got all the answers in your pocket, who should be the Vice
Presidential candidate?

I was pushing my luck and I knew it, but I pushed my chair away from the
table in a relaxed fashion and I crossed my legs. I looked casually
down at my fingernails like I was contemplating my weekly manicure and
answered him as if his question were a no brainer saying, "Paul Ryan."

The boss got this strange look on his face as if he was about to fill
his pants, "all right, he said, humbly this time, "what do you call this
little plan of yours?"

"American democracy sir and tell Mary she can sit down now, will you?
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I who am I? Born at the pinnacle of American prosperity to parents raised during the last great depression. I was the youngest child of the youngest children born almost between the generations and that in fact clouds and obscures who it is that I (more...)
 

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