What’s Wrong With This Advertising Model?

I have been in love with Pandora for a while. It is the ultimate running companion. Since I use the free version, after about 40 minutes an ad comes on. Then my music resumes and all is right with the world. I don’t mind the advertising. I wonder how they know someone listening to Ludacris is also in the market for laundry detergent, but it’s all good. Usually when I run I listen to upbeat pop or rap, but occasionally, when I am feeling extra one-with-nature I’ll turn on the Gregorian Chant channel. I turn the volume down low so I can hear the birds chirping and the wind rustling through the trees along with the voices of the monks (or studio musicians-whatever). I’m peaceful like that.

This morning I got my chant on. After 40 minutes a song ended and my internal reverie was interrupted by this too-cheerful message:

“That one always gets me going!” Followed by some pitch for soap or cleaning products or a nonstick something or other.

Pandora, one word: customization.

Most Dangerous Thing About Hockey: The Ads?

My nine-year-old daughter plays hockey, primarily because her daddy thinks it’s cool. My son has played, taken a break, and plays again, but his heart’s not in it. It’s the girl who lives for the scrape of skate blade on ice, relishes the stink of a closed up bag of gear, shows off her pink tape and socks with Title 9 pride. She’s the only one who looks at the hockey magazine that USA Hockey sends to our house once a month.

Because we’re out of hot pink tape and the socks are full of holes, I decided to flip through the magazine when it arrived last week. After the stories about stick handling, the growth of youth hockey programs, and not one but two stories on the girls’ team going to Vancouver for the Winter Olympics, I flipped to the back cover where was reminded that hockey is all boy.

The ad featured two hot girls in white t-shirts baring perfectly flat and inviting bellies. One is holding a sign over her head with ‘call me’ and a phone number written in curly-cue. The other has her hands pressed against the plexiglass.

The ad is for a glove. It reads: Hyperactive thumb and bone sytem – Who can resist that? I couldn’t, so I checked out the website where a video provided two minutes of the same two girls jumping up and down in their white t-shirts. The only saving grace: the brunette was hotter.

I knew it was dangerous letting my baby play with the boys, but I never figured she’d get slammed into the boards by the advertising.