Ads That Subtract
By Art Bennett
Illustration by Keith Hunwick
Too bad about Twistgrip, The Printed Magazine, huh? We tried to do something a little different than the rest of the monthly glossies. We strived to put out a magazine that was irreverent, informative and entertaining. Each new issue was better than the last, and it seemed we were on the right track. Letters and comments were mainly positive, and a few big players in the motorcycle industry were behind us 100%. Alas, it wasn't enough.
Three major factors caused Printed Twistgrip's demise. The first and worst was lack of advertisers. I'll let Editor Garner explain that one if he hasn't already. The second was a slimy and corrupt system of magazine newsstand distribution. Basically, we didn't pay off the right people, so our magazines sat in boxes in warehouses instead of showing up on newsstands. Thirdly, once Chet, Nick, John and I decided to purchase the magazine from the previous owners... well, let's just say we quickly discovered what an ill-thought decision that was. I guess the first clue came soon after obtaining the rights to the magazine, when we realized we only had enough money left over for a large pizza and a 12-pack. Game over....
So here we are on the Web. Are we bitter? Pissed? Sorry we threw our money down a rat hole? No. We took a chance, and it didn't pan out. So what if kids in their early twenties are becoming fabulously wealthy on the Web while we failed miserably. So what if the other magazines are laughing and pointing at our fizzled flop. So what if the naysayers are giggling with glee at the flaming wreckage of our best efforts. By God, we had a dream. Unfortunately, fate wiped its ass with it. So maybe now, we can indulge in a little fun with our new Cyber-Twistgrip.
While not as exciting to fondle or as cozy to curl up with as a printed magazine, there are a few advantages. My favorite is that we don't have to kiss butt and kowtow to "potential supporters" who later stab us in the back. Maybe I can now say naughty and "commercially incorrect" things without John having to constantly explain that it's only satire. Maybe when something really sucks, like the AMA's despicably-low legal battles with Roger Edmondson, I'll just have to say so. (A tip o' the hat to John Ulrich's Roadracing World for excellent reporting on this last matter.) Why, now I can even say stuff like "...and then, in the filthy confines of the shop's bathroom, I fucked my newfound girlfriend. Yep, I bent her over the grimy sink and slipped her the ol' pink pickle." You know, gratuitous stuff like that.....
That said, now I'll tell you about three currently-featured ad campaigns that piss me off. The first are the ads for Yamaha's cruiser line - the ones with the faux-grainy pictures of the bad-ass Yamaha owners in the background. How those no-nonsense bikers glower. How they scowl. Gosh, don't they look intimidating with those dark glasses, bandannas, tattoos and black leather? Even the women look like they'd put a hurtin' on you should you dis' them. What a joke. Can't a manufacturer sell motorcycles without having to resort to such inane tactics? What's wrong with ads that show beaming, enthusiastic customers who are crazy about the product? Instead, this Yamaha Gang looks pretty miffed to me, like they're all suffering from severe rectal inflammation. What's the matter, don't they like their bikes? Or perhaps they are loyal Yamaha aficionados, but a mirthful bunch, they're not. This is the crowd I'm supposed to be attracted to? Let's get real. I'm sorry, but the tough-guy image just doesn't work with Japanese cruisers. Even a lot of the Harley crowd can't pull it off anymore. We post-adolescent types all recognize that most of today's savage leather 'n' chain clad outlaws are really respectable citizens indulging in a harmless fetish, not unlike men who get a thrill out of wearing women's panties. So unless you're a grizzled old biker on an ancient Panhead, or a steroid-crazed animal on a 125-hp Evo, please try to refrain from menacing the timid folk at the bar - especially the salad bar. And Yamaha, try another tact, would you? While we can't all "Meet the nicest people on a Honda," we shouldn't need to "Rue the day your sorry ass crosses paths with a Yama-Head" either. It's good to see the tuning fork company back on top after several lackluster years -so don't blow it this time with bad Hollywood-inspired promos. Tell your ad agency to contact me for alternative suggestions.
Another ill-conceived ad that irks the shit out of me is Cobra's newest (editor's note, the ad has since been pulled!), showing a smoking freeway-structure ruin with the hilarious caption, "Was it the pipes?" This ad is so vile, so tasteless, so very inappropriate, that it's almost too easy a target. The freeway in question was, of course, a section of I-880 that collapsed during the infamous Bay Area earthquake of 1989. Now, I get a chuckle out of the next guy's misfortune as much as anybody, but Cobra might be going a little too far here -after all, if I'm offended, it's got to be bad. A lot of people died when that freeway collapsed. Some died instantly, some died slowly. Many burned to death. One tractor-trailer rig was crushed to a height of less than three feet. Horrible stuff. Maybe this wasn't the best photo to use in an ad of this type. Which brings up the other thing that really pisses me off here. What exactly is this award-losing ad trying to convey? It seems to be saying, "Our Lo-Boy Shotgun pipes are so motherfucking loud that they're a menace to mankind." What a clever message, huh? See what I mean about it being almost too easy a target? I'd like to think Cobra is pulling our leg, but my experience has been otherwise. I've had the displeasure of installing a set or two of their pipes at the shop where I work, and I'll tell you, they are loud, Loud, LOUD. I've called up Cobra and asked, "What the fuck?!" Their ingenious reply? "That's what people want." Maybe so, but I sure as hell won't install any more pipes that pander to pandemonium.
One other variety of advertisement that fairly commands derision are those lame enticements to, "Train at home to be a Motorcycle Repair Technician." Are these guys stuck in a time warp, or what? I almost miss the earlier ones that pictured Buddy the Biker in his vest (no shirt) and sunglasses, with cranked-out old lady by his side. The current ad depicts some buffoon who isn' t aware that wearing pants tucked into cowboy boots looks ridiculous. And again, in this series of ads too, it seems that dark glasses are an important part of the Motorcycle Repair Technician's ensemble. (Well, actually, they are after a long "lunch.") These ads claim, "You'll be the center of attraction in your circle of friends." Oh boy, now there's something to aspire to. Being the "Center of Attraction" in my circle of friends usually requires supplying the drugs and alcohol. The ad continues, "Be the envy of friends and neighbors as they flock around to watch you tear down and tune up all kinds of motorcycles." Well, when I'm attempting to "tear down and tune up," the only flocking I want is on a Christmas tree. Wrenching is best kept an audience-free endeavor, I've learned -it's much easier to mask incompetency and cover up stupid mistakes when there's no witnesses about. I also love the part about, "Your action-packed career as a Motorcycle Repair Technician." You'd think they were hawking a correspondence course for SWAT-team training. Maybe the factory mechanics at Daytona see some "action," but I'll tell you, most wrenching is pure drudgery - try changing tires on some rancher's cowshit-coated ATV on a hot day. About the only action I've seen as a Motorcycle Repair Technician is when one of my coworkers drops a bike off their lift, or when they check for spark with a pool of gas nearby. Still, I suppose it beats sitting in a cubicle staring at a PC, or testing whoopee cushions for a living. What kind of people would you suppose actually go for this sort of pitch? I mean, these same ads have been around as long as I remember, so somebody must be signing up. I imagine they might appeal to earnest young men living in rural areas, who dream of heading for the Big City with high hopes, a valuable trade, and the box of "Special cycle tools and test instruments" that the course includes. Maybe it's the guy who just got handed a repair bill for $500 and figures it'll be cheaper to do it himself (believe me, it's usually not). Or perhaps these ads are geared toward convicted ax-murderers who are coming up for parole and want to get into a career that's more, uh, mainstream. Considering some of the motorcycle mechanics I've met, I suspect a few respondents may have been misguided extra-terrestrials, hoping to better assimilate with Earthlings.
There's plenty of ads left over to ridicule some other time: Ads for leathers with gel-haired models, chiseled of jaw and smirking of mouth. Motorcycle insurance ads featuring sultry babes, flaxen of tresses and parted of ruby lips. Or ads for newly-minted scale motorcycle models, commemorative knives, pocket watches, dolls and the like, all easy of payment, all copious of kitsch. So beware, friends, the seductive trap of advertising: It's one small mis-step for a man, one giant pile of dog shit for mankind to step in.
PS: As if to further illustrate my point, check out page 9 of the latest (March, 2000) AMA magazine. Only $195 for "Candy," the Biker Tramp! So lifelike, she even has little white "donuts" in her petite nostrils. Hurry, Candy is going to "go fast"! Oh, and don't miss the latest installment of the "Head-busting creeps who prefer Yamaha" ad series in the same magazine.
Copyright Twistgrip Magazine 2000