WAL MART – THE NEW TOWN SQUARE

 

I just got back from my daily pilgrimage to the holy Mecca of small-town capitalism. In other words, I just got back from Wal-Mart. As I walked into the store I saw a live blue grass band in the parking lot fronted by at least two dozen “70 something” square dancers in full square-dancing attire (there is something about a 75 year old woman wearing what is basically a frilly miniskirt that is just wrong. It could be worse, though. Square dancing could involve the use of tube tops). Also out front, was a group raffling off someone’s very-used 1972 Corvette, some kids collecting money for a mission trip, and at least three different girl scouts troops selling cookies. Once inside, people had their carts pulled aside while they chatted with their friends, a young guy with more acne pocks than teeth was trying to score with a girl in the jewelry department, and two-middle aged guys with beer guts and breath to match were standing in sporting goods having an intense debate over the merits of a new fishing lure.

 

Wal Mart has become what the town square used to be. It’s no longer just a place to go shopping….it’s a social event.  In some towns, going to Wal Mart is the most exciting event of the week. Shopping disguised as entertainment is sheer brilliance and you can be quite certain that every facet of it has been researched and orchestrated by the folks in Bentonville.

 

I know of what I speak, because Wal Mart is one of my customers. I do AV work in their corporate offices, Information Services Division, and in their distribution centers around the U.S.  I’ve spent a lot of time in Bentonville and I never cease to be amazed at the strategy that goes into their business plan. There is one building I’ve been in that is about the size of three football fields. Inside this building is row after row of displays like you would see in any Wal Mart.  There are hundreds of people in this building meticulously determining how to arrange products in these displays so that when you and I visit our neighborhood Wal Mart, we will leave with as little money in our pockets as possible.

 

That kind of strategizing has made them a behemoth that will pass 500 billion in sales this year. This means that almost a nickel of every dollar spent in the U.S. is spent in a Wal Mart.  I remember telling them during one meeting that my company does about 50 million a year in business. I felt pretty smug about that number until I went home and did the math. Wal-Mart does 50 million in sales every hour.

 

My prediction is that “Wal Mart as a social phenomenon” will continue to evolve. Pretty soon people will be getting married at their local Wal Mart in the Chapel section, and you’ll be able to stop in for open heart surgery right before they wheel you over to the in-store McDonalds for an ice-cream sundae.  You’ll be able to pay for it all, because your bank will make you a loan next to frozen foods, and if the marriage that took place at the chapel doesn’t work out, just stop by the divorce court located right next to the automotive department.

 

Even though Wal Mart is one of my best customers, I refuse to be manipulated by their mamoth marketing machine. But right now I’ve got to get down to the super-center because they are putting up a new lawn mower display and I don’t want to miss it.

NEW WEB SITE

Just for grins, I decided to register marklabouff.com. and put together a simple web site. It’s basically the same content as here, but with several other pages of family, work, and links.  Take a look and let me know what you think     

http://www.marklabouff.com

I’ll be posting in both places from now on.

CELEBRITY VOYEURISM

 

Virtually every week I find myself in an airport somewhere headed someplace for work. I always stop at a magazine stand on the way to my gate so I’ll have something to read other than the dog-eared, Fabio-emblazoned, romance novel that the person who had my seat before me left behind.  As I glance across the covers of the magazines all lined up neatly on their shelves, I can almost immediately get a sense of what the most immediate issue is on the minds of Americans.  This week the issue wasn’t Condoleezza Rice’s first trip abroad as Secretary of State, it wasn’t the refusal of North Korea to enter into talks with the U.S. about their nuclear program, and it wasn’t even the ratification of the election results in Iraq. The burning issue that was on the minds of most Americans seemed to be: Will Brad and Jen get back together?

 

I know that I’ve personally had some sleepless nights over this issue. I mean who wouldn’t root for them?  Have you ever seen a more All-American couple; a couple with better press agents; or a couple with jaw lines so impossibly square that they look like they just came back from posing for a Rodin sculpture?

 

  

I’ll admit that I watch “Entertainment Tonight” and “Access Hollywood“ with as much wide-eyed celebrity awe as the next person. I will sit, completely enthralled by back-to-back VH1 “Behind the Music” episodes until I find out the answer to the burning question of why the band members from White Snake just couldn’t get along.  In fact, my biggest claim to fame in life is that I once sat next to Garth Brooks on a flight from Tulsa to Nashville. It does make me wonder, though, why we seem to be so unapologetically voyeuristic when it comes to the drama in the lives of celebrities.

 

I’ve heard it said that magazines like “US”, “Star”, and “National Enquirer” exist only to feed the drama appetite of bored housewives. First of all, I’ve never met a single housewife who would define herself as bored. Secondly, I don’t think it has anything to do with an appetite for drama. As I think about my friends and co-workers, I can point right now to a friend who’s father is hanging on to life by a thread after a heart attack, to another friend who’s husband is headed tomorrow to rehab because of a methamphetamine habit that has forced them into bankruptcy, and to a co-worker who is going through an ugly divorce. I think the vast majority of us have all of the drama in life we want or need.

 

So, why then are we so entranced by the trials and tribulations in the lives of the rich and famous?  I think it’s because in a small way it makes us feel better about ourselves. Whether or not Condoleezza Rice made head way into our diplomatic issues with Syria will probably not have a huge impact on the daily life of most of us, at least not in the short term. But if Brad and Jen, with all of their money, their good looks, and the adoration of millions can’t keep their marriage together, then maybe it’s ok if we have some problems in our own.

 

So even though I’d like to know if the Sunni Muslims will try to thwart attempts to write a new constitution in Iraq, and if the latest tape shown on Alzazeera is really from Bin Laden, what I really want to know is if J-Lo’s marriage is going to last this time.

My son received a letter from Columbia yesterday indicating that he was not selected for admission to the doctoral program this fall. This is a goal he has been working toward for a long time. You can read his post about the letter here:  boofshavik

 

A note to my son:

 

Dear Jordan,

 

I am heartbroken with you about the letter from Columbia. I know how hard you’ve worked toward that goal. I wish there was something I could say to take all of the hurt and disappointment away, but, of course, there isn’t.

 

I wish I could be one of those “everything happens for a reason” people, but I think the reality is that sometimes life sucks like a cosmic vacuum and there isn’t a whole hell of a lot we can do about it.

 

My best guess is that the fact you received the letter two months ahead of schedule indicates that your application was summarily dismissed without a legitimate review of your credentials simply because you didn’t fit their “profile.” Some academic consultant somewhere is advising them not to invest in you because “statistically” your age, or some other completely irrelevant factor, might make you a risk. Since your GPA, test scores, and all other measurable academic achievements vastly exceeds that of the typical candidate, that is the only plausible explanation. For all of the forward thinking that universities encourage in their students; as an institution, academia is often the least capable of thinking outside the box.

 

Although every paternal instinct in me makes me want to find some way to fix this and make it better, I know I can’t. Despite that frustration, there is something I want you to know.

 

Over the last several years I’ve learned something that most people figure out much earlier in life. There is a line in Proverbs that reads “A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favor rather than silver and gold.” I didn’t understand the value of the love and respect of family and friends that goes into being able to claim a “good name” until I lost most of that twelve years ago. The lack of a good name is the very definition of failure. Now that I’ve had the incredible opportunity to have a second chance at having these things in my life, I finally understand that I’m the richest person in the world despite what my bank balance might indicate, or whether I have a shelves full of sales trophies on my office wall.

 

This is what I know about you: Every friend that you’ve ever had counts themselves lucky to have known you. Every teacher/professor that you’ve ever had holds you in high regard and has great respect for you. You have the love of a wonderful woman who has promised to spend her life with you. And you have parents, grandparents, and other family members that would die for you without a moment’s hesitation.

 

Even though you may feel like you have failed, by every measure that is eternally important, your life is the very definition of success.

 

There is something else that sets you apart. Some people can claim the good name spoken of in Proverbs. Some people can claim an incredibly impressive resume. Very, very few people can claim both. I am completely confident that there is a graduate school in NYC that is smart enough to recognize this in you.

 

So….my thought is; “If Columbia can’t pull its head out of its arse, them f*#k them. (To be perfectly honest, I’ve always thought the program at John Jay sounded more interesting.)

 

I know that this is supposed to be the other way around, but there is no one in the world that I admire and respect more than you.

 

I told you four years ago when you started at Baylor that by the time you graduated you would own the place. That has certainly come to pass. I have no doubt that very soon you’re going to own NYC as well. It’s just a little bit bigger, so it might take a tad longer, but I have no doubt it will happen.

 

Love,

Dad.

What rights does little bunny foo-foo have?

 

As I was driving down the interstate today I spotted a billboard which featured a huge picture of Pamela Anderson next to a quotation that proclaimed “Boycott Kentucky Fried Chicken.”  Additional text on the billboard explained that the reason for the proposed boycott was that KFC was guilty of such crimes against chickens as “live scalding” and “painful de-beaking.” For a brief moment I pondered why the group responsible for the billboard would pick Pamela Anderson as the spokesperson. Suddenly the “succulent white breast meat” correlation became glaringly obvious.  I then began to wonder if Tyson or other poultry processing companies have ever secretly experimented with silicone enhanced chickens. (In honor of my hero, Dave Barry, I would like to note that “Silicone Chickens” would be a great name for a rock band).

 

Despite the fact that chickens, as a species, do not immediately evoke a sense of empathy and that “de-beaking” sounds suspiciously like a frat house hazing ritual, I hate to see chickens, or any other creature for that matter, treated with cruelty.

 

Animal rights groups, as a whole, tend to annoy me, however. This is primarily because they tend to be made up of self-righteous, new-wave blithering, weenies. There are other reasons though:

 

• They ignore basic science.   Some groups like Vegans (which sounds like a cheesy alien character from a bad Star Trek episode) espouse the philosophy that animals should never be used for food and that we all should be vegetarians.  If God had intended for us to be strictly vegetarian he would have given us teeth that are all broad and flat like those of a cow. That is because those types of teeth are better suited for grinding plant material. Instead, he gave us canines which are specifically designed to tear and shred meat. This is so we can easily digest enough Big Macs so that we have asses that are large enough to make us look like cows.
  
• They aren’t consistent about what they protect.   Animal rights groups are quick to point out the clubbing of baby seals, the netting of dolphins in the tuna industry, and the skinning of fuzzy woodland creatures for the occasional handbag. They don’t seem to be quite so up in arms about creatures that don’t have such a high “cuddle factor.” The French have been serving escargot for centuries and you never hear about a campaign to wipe out cruelty to slugs. (Besides, we all know that God made slugs so that 12 year old boys would have something to pour salt on.)
  
• Their priorities seem just a tad misguided.  They are passionate about preventing cruelty to animals. Passionate enough to throw buckets of fake blood on runway models wearing furs. However, the human race seems to still be several millennia away from eradicating the horrific cruelty we perpetuate on each other. I simply wish we could all show some passion about changing that.

Despite my misgivings, I am against needlessly inflicting pain on animals. I think our Native American brothers and sisters are probably one of the few groups that have ever really gotten the animal thing right. Historically, they would find the concept of not using animals for food, shelter, and other essentials completely laughable. Yet they are the one group of people that show the greatest respect and reverence for the animals they use.

 

For those of you who think I’m a monster because I don’t actively promote the agenda of animal rights groups I would like to post the following picture of the animals that rule my house in hopes that I can prove that I’m actually an animal lover.

 

 

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some veal cutlets in the oven and I need to check on them.

WELCOME TO THE FREAK SHOW

 

The popularity of the bearded lady at the circus and the trailer-trash, halter-top-wearing, bitch-slap-fest that makes up every Jerry Springer episode proves that everybody loves a freak show.  So grab a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon, a bag of pork-rinds, and adjust the rabbit ears on the TV, cause the ultimate freak show is about to begin.

 

I’m referring, of course, to this year’s “trial of the century”; the case against Michael Jackson. Michael and I were born within a month of each other so I can actually remember him when he was a black man instead of a white woman.  Don’t get me wrong, I think he is a brilliant musician. At least I used to think so. I would rank his “Thriller” album as one of the greatest albums ever recorded. Lately, though, his singing reminds me more of someone attempting to hiccup on pitch.  I’m also a firm believer in “innocent until proven guilty” so I won’t make any assumptions about his quilt or innocence until the jury renders a verdict. You’ll have to admit though, that even if he isn’t guilty of molestation, he is guilty of showing what is arguably the worst judgment in the history of the universe.  He stated in an interview that he saw nothing at all wrong with sharing his bed with pre-teen boys.  Michael, if you’re not a child molester, then what the f*#k were you THINKING?!?

 

What I dread most about the upcoming trial is the media frenzy that has already started and that will only escalate until it resembles a biblical plague of locusts.  The media could use the trial to foster serious discussion on the subject of child victimization. If you think that’s going to happen, then you have seriously taken up residence in la-la land.  Instead, it will be a freak show staged as entertainment and played for ratings and market share.  I say, if it’s going to be spun as entertainment, do it right. Here is what I suggest:

 

1.         Forget Rodney Melville as the judge. Use Judge Judy.    By the time she was done with his ass, he’d be moon walking in a whole new way.

 

2.         Once the case has been presented, take the jurors to a remote island and drop them off.   They could vote each other off, and the last one standing gets to choose the verdict.

 

3.         Let the Lawyers from “Boston Legal” try the case.   They may actually be sleazier than Michael is.

 

4.         Do it “American Idol” style.   Let Simon Cowell rate the closing arguments.

 

 

Those suggestions might be a bit over the top, but not by much.

 

So forget serious dialogue, forget in-depth analysis of the issues, and forget the actual pursuit of justice.

 

Let the freak show begin.

HOORAH FOR US OLD FOLKS

 

The Fox Network (best known for such quality programming as “My Big Fat Obnoxious Fiancé” and “When Babies Attack”) was so afraid of the moral repercussions of another wardrobe malfunction that they chose to abandon the typical Super Bowl Halftime line up of 16 year old pop-divas and “bling” encrusted rappers for much “safer” faire. 

 

And what was the safer faire they chose?…..none other than a 62 year-old icon of Rock and Roll; the immortal, Sir Paul McCartney.

 

For those of you who might be disappointed that Britney didn’t bare a midriff, that P.Diddy didn’t “get his freak on”, or even that Shania Twain didn’t make us all “feel like a woman”, I would like to point out what Mr. McCartney did manage to do.

 

First of all, he performed live. This is unheard of at the Super Bowl. Trust me on this. I’m in the commercial sound, video, and lighting business and NO ONE performs live at the Super Bowl. Everyone lip-syncs to a track. Even if there are musicians on stage playing instruments, they are playing to a click-track and you aren’t actually hearing them. This is because there is too much at stake and they can’t risk doing it live.  I sat there watching drop-jawed at the fact that he was playing every note and singing every word (it’s easy to see if you know what to look for). That requires a level of musicianship that is utterly amazing. It also require balls the size of Volkswagens.

 

Secondly, he was performing music that was 35 years old or older, and still so timeless that you could hear everyone in the stadium singing every word along with him. I’m curious if everyone will know all of the lyrics to “Notorious B.I.G. (remix)” 35 years from now.

 

Finally, he didn’t have to do elaborate choreography with a troupe of 30 dancers, or show us a little nipple to be entertaining. He simply sang and played the piano (although, I’ll have to admit, the video-cube stage and the pyrotechnics were very cool.)  There aren’t that many performers who can pull that level of simplicity off.

 

I know I sound like an old fart. That’s because I am an old fart. I was just excited and proud to see an entertainer of my generation do such a spectacular job at the Super-Bowl. Hoorah for us old folks.

MONEY CHANGERS IN THE TEMPLE

 

Sex sells!

 

Celebrity and Athlete endorsements sell!

 

Religion Sells?!?

 

I live in Tulsa, OK; home of Oral Roberts University, Rhema Bible College, and numerous independent, multi-thousand member, mega-churches such as Victory Christian, Grace Fellowship, and Church on the Move.  There is a running joke here; “When Charismatics die they come to Tulsa.”

 

We see all of the typical Madison Avenue adds here in Tulsa showing busty young women offering to immediately rip off all their clothes for any man who drinks Michelob lite, and Michael Jordan standing around with daffy duck in his BVD’s.  However, due to Tulsa demographics, one unusual advertising trend that we see is religion being used as the pitch. In fact, if I hear one more body shop or hair salon advertise that they are “Christian owned and operated” I’m going to rip the radio right out of my dashboard.

 

I’ve asked people at some of these businesses why they advertise with Christianity. The response is always the same; it’s like the sign of the fish during times of Christian persecution, it’s a way to identify yourself as a Christian, because Christians prefer to do business with other Christians.

 

I’m not buying it.

 

You wouldn’t spend thousands of dollars on radio or TV spots suggesting that people should patronize your business because you’re a Christian if you didn’t think it was going to add to your bottom line. To suggest otherwise is blatant hypocrisy.

 

There is a difference between expressing your Christianity for the purpose of sharing your faith, and expressing your Christianity for profit.  The first is the mandate of the Great Commission, the second is offensive, opportunistic, and in incredibly poor taste.

 

If you want your business to be known as a Christian business, then offer exemplary customer service, give the customer more than they expected, and treat them with respect and dignity.  Don’t hang a neon fish in your window and offer “Good Friday two-for-ones.”

 

Go ahead and defend “Christian Advertising” if you wish, but if I remember my bible stories correctly, religion-for-profit was the one issue that made Jesus break out a whip.