Introduction:
Today, I present two sketches for production and airing:
· Stella Artois
· Soup ad format as political commercial
I’m trying to encourage you (denizens of the web) to create commercials suitable for promoting the Revolution – (er) I mean, the new politics I’ve been describing on this blog. I hope these two examples stimulate your thinking.
Ms Stella Artois
Disclaimer
There is no such person named Stella Artois, at least not to my knowledge. The following is a rough sketch of what I'm hoping for in a VP running mate. My print ad appeared in Bitch Magazine a few years ago, seeking interested female applicants to join me in running for President in 2008 (which I hope to update for my run in 2012). The ad had a blazing heading: Bitch Wanted. The following text read like a “help wanted” ad. Back then, no one had stepped forward, though my hopes are as high as ever that someone will now. [As the Buddhists are fond of saying, "You know who you are."]
The real Stella Artois
Stella Artois
First, I've seen some of the very fine Stella commercials in theaters while waiting for various movies to start. I hope that some of my campaign commercials approach a similar level of exquisite artistry. One of my favorites (titled "Death Bed Wishes) features a dying Frenchman and a priest falsely assumed to have consumed his last beer.
Second, as a beer, SA has bite and good taste, a rare combination in beer as well as in people.
Third, I remember that scene in "Streetcar Named Desire," where Stan Kowalski is yelling, "Stella! Stella!" My desire for an ideal running mate is just as intense.
Ms. Stella Artois
Excerpts from a fictional encounter:
Stella: Hello, Mr. Searle. I saw your ad and I'm responding: I would love to be your VP running mate. My name is Stella Artois
Steve: Is your name really Stella Artois
Stella: If you mean, was it my birth name, then no. I had my name legally changed.
Steve: Why?
Stella: For much the same reason I crudely scissor-cut my own hair: To make a statement. Also, I happen to like that particular brew. And I did it back when anything that sounded French was suspect in this country. So, I wanted people to hear my "French" name, get to know me, and think to themselves, "Not bad!"
Steve: Here's a simple test. If we were to be running mates and I was to legally change my name, what would you suggest?
Stella [laughs]: That's easy. You should become Jim Beam. The upshot, pun intended: Jim Beam and Stella Artois
Steve: I love your answer. Now let me tell you what I have in mind if you were to be my running mate: You don't have to: laugh at my jokes, agree with all of my policies, seek my permission to speak your mind, be sickeningly polite if you disagree with me, or even sign the same contract as me. I would expect you, though, to commit some of your campaign promises in contract form and sign that.
Stella: Now, can I tell you what I expect from you?
Steve: That's exactly the kind of question I was hoping you'd ask.
[Freeze frame, with these words superimposed: Any "Stellas" out there?]
Soup Ad as Political Commercial
This is yet another ad script I've written (for TV medium) to give an idea of the scope of creativity I'm hoping for in my presidential run's ad campaign.
SCENE: He unveils to Me: A tray bearing 3 bowls of soup, with a soup can by each bowl (labels hidden from view).
Me: We can't promote my candidacy the same way ad men sell soup.
He: Bear with me. Here, try this. [Me sips] What's it taste like?
Me: [Takes another sip and rolls around in mouth] It tastes strong and beefy, too beefy. Too gross and overpowering. Nothing subtle about this at all.
He: Very good. [Shows the label: It's clearly marked GOP] Now, try this one.
Me: [Relishes another sip] Tastes kind of chickeny, but it's very weak, watery, and unsubstantial. Not much spice to it, either. But, yes, tasting this? Chicken comes to mind.
He: Excellent! [Shows the label, which clearly reveals Democrat] Now, try this last one.
Me: [sips] Huh? It tastes just like water, no flavor. What's your point?
He: First point: Nothing had to be killed to make this soup.
Me: Best not to mention that. Not many vegetarians in this country.
He: Second point coming up: Now (ahem) please sign this. [He tears off the label on the soup can to reveal the ICC contract* on its back; Me signs it] Now take another sip.
Me: Wow, this is wonderful...great...awesome.
He: There's another word, go for it.
Me: Magical!
He: E-yes! That's it, exactly. The point? "When candidates start signing contracts, magical things start to happen."
Me: People might string you up for practicing witchcraft. How did you get it to suddenly taste so great?
He: Would you believe I asked the Buddhist gods for some magic?
Me: Right, and the Keebler elves really exist.
He: [indignantly] No, they don't.
Me: Well??
He: When you signed, the pressure of the pen stimulated microchips in the paper causing them to transmit to flavor chips in the soup, releasing this great flavor.
Me (slowly, incredulously): Flavor - chips - in - cans - of - soup? How elaborate!
He: What? You think this is a little over the top?
Me: Well, it does make a point [pause and turns to face the camera] what do you think?
Steven Searle for U.S. President in 2012
Founder of the ICC* - The Independent Contractors' Party
"I am the only presidential candidate in the history of this country to offer a written contract to the voters containing my campaign promises. If I fail to keep any of these promises, I lose my office" - Steve.
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