When I Win the Super Biggest Lottery
I think it has been proven more than once we are products and victims of advertising. The experts in the ad-business know how to make things look desirable to us and what buttons to push to make us jump through the hoops and want to be like the image they are selling.
They want us to buy ragged denim with holes in them that a couple of decades ago you would feel sorry for somebody wearing such jeans, now you want your tight-ass jeans to have a hole in the knee and wherever else.
At one time not so long ago it was glamorous to smoke. Madison Avenue and Hollywood made smoking to look sheik... to look debonair, one who smoked looked wise, especially when they took a long draw pondering on a profound subject. We wanted to look like too. Luckily enough, another advertising campaign successfully counteracted and pointed out the dangers of smoking. Some of us felt torn between two forces.
Advertisers know where in the grocery store to place their product, at what height to get it to move to the cash register the best.
They are masters of mind control.
When I win the super giant biggest lottery jackpot ever I will spend the money in a basic way. My needs are simple.
What I will do is to commission several of the best advertisers to make a combined effort to make short, dumpy, and bald men look like men of mystery and intrigue.
I want to see people watching men over 60, with pot bellies, and denim that hang-ass in the back, and bald headed, wearing jeans that show just a hint of plumbers cleavage and sloppy sweatshirts proudly strut down the lighted run-way, table high , in the middle of fashion reporters with their pens, notebooks, and cameras oohing and ahhing over the new image.
I guess I am just a generous guy.