A Watery Mully for Tying Down WiFi
The past two weeks have resembled that scribbly dust cloud that looms around and behind Pigpen (of Charlie Brown fame), except that my personal scribbly dust cloud was composed less of dirt and seeds, and more of wine and crepes. And seriously-- if you're going to have a scribbly dust cloud swarming around, I do suggest that it contains some kind of hot foreign dessert item.
So yea, I went to Paris... and now I have over a week's worth of media news to catch up on. Right, right... woe is me and so on.
Before I dive in, I'd like to remind you that opening day is a mere 4 days away. I can tell because Wally Bobblehead has begun to sway in jittery anticipation. And because Wendy Nicks has already started to annoy me.
The steaming chimichanga on the hot plate tonight is the fact that Google has applied for a patent to ad target wifi consumers. Check out further elaboration via ClickZ and MarketingVox.
What's more is that the ads would be "continually served," regardless of refreshivity. The behavioral targeting folks at Goog are undoubtedly sharpening their sticks and tuning their tuning forks.
::I'm undecided about all of this at the present time, so I'll have to employ the mulligan placeholder technique for now.
I'm also somewhat skeptical about the fact that boxed wine has kinda-sorta gone glam. I'm seriously leaning towards being a hypocritical authenticity caller-outer on this one, even in the face of affordability and preservation. Cardboard boxes are completely unsexy, and that's two-thirds of the appeal. The whole twist-off cap rage was one thing; this is just too much.
::28 fermented crabapples.
Thirdly, to continue my trend of Topps genuflection, I'm loving their push to reinvigorate the Bazooka brand. Their deep, unbending connection to shitty chewing gum is a fine lesson in devotion.
:: 44 pineapples for keeping the faith and wrecking 8-year-old jaws everywhere.
***And, of course, thanks to AdAge and AdRants for the critical boxed wine and 'zooka news. Honestly, just look at what you miss when I'm gone. Truly, truly horrifying.