Lessons from Zombie Boy: Heart-tugging campaigns--like beauty--are often only skin deep.

"Baby Jesus, please make Zombie Boy
pretty like the rest of us so we can accept
him as he should be, no matter what it does
to his acting career." 

After every outdoor recess my third-grade teacher, Mrs. Yaroschuk, would make us boys wash our hands in the boys’ room and then march single-file past her desk to show her that we got the job done right.

I, unfortunately, had inherited a mild skin condition that would flare up at the most inopportune times—like just before opening day of the 1969 Outdoor Recess Season.

This condition manifested itself as a crescent of very dry skin that ran from the base of my index fingers to the first knuckle of my thumbs. When that skin got dirty—which was always since it was attached to the hands of a nine-year-old boy—it stayed dirty. I couldn’t wash it away no matter how hard I scrubbed.

Mrs. Yaroschuk, even more unfortunately, did not know about this condition and demanded to know why I refused to wash my hands. When I tried to explain sotto voce—since, at this point, we had captured the collective attention of the entire class—she declared to the class that I was lying.

Then, in the middle of hand-inspection time, she grabbed my arm and dragged me into the boys’ room so she could “get that dirt off your hands myself, believe you me!”

She did try, I’ll give her that. But after about two or three minutes of rubbing my hands under hot tap water with coarse brown paper towels slathered in industrial-strength liquid soap, it dawned on her that I was telling the truth.

Today there are a number of products on the market that would prevent such humiliations (mine and Mrs. Yaroschuk’s). And one of those products—Dermablend—is currently taking its turn as an Internet darling with a contrived video campaign called “The Camo Confession,” created by Agence Tuxedo, an ad agency in Montreal.

The premise is clever: A beautiful person sits before a camera, tells you something wonderful about herself, and then makes her “confession” by wiping the Dermablend foundation from her face and revealing a striking skin condition. It’s fascinating, really, when you see that these “normal” people are actually suffering from rather extreme skin conditions caused by things like lupus, severe acne, and vitiligo, a skin disorder that causes the loss of skin color in patches.

The reveal, and each person’s story, makes a powerful case for why some people feel strongly that they need to use Dermablend when they’re out in public, and why—were it not for our reactions—they really wouldn’t have to.

Real feel-good stuff … until you meet Rico. Rico, you see, suffers from … well, let’s let him tell his story.

“Many people would say that I’m different just because of my skin, but I don’t feel that way. In many ways, I’m just the same as anyone else. I am accepted by a lot of people who are … who are different, and in the same position as I am.

“No matter what you’re faced with in life, always feel proud of who you are, for what you are and not to let others’ judgments get in your way. Today, I feel proud. I did what I had to do. And look at me now.”

Yes, Rico is suffering from … tattoos. Hideous, debilitating tattoos that he presumably paid people to etch over his entire body. But did he let that self-inflicted affliction slow him down? Quite the contrary! Rick “Rico” Genest, aka Zombie Boy, is a DJ, an actor, and a model … not in spite of his skin condition, but because of it.

God bless him.

According to Agence Tuxedo, “Above all, you wear a Tuxedo to make an impression.” Well, guys, the impression I get from that video is Rico in a tuxedo T-shirt, because it says, “I want to be pitiable, but I’m here to party.”

The former CEO of the National Association of Broadcasters loved our book. Dig us!

"Upon reflection, I want to add one more
'really' because it really is that good."

If you’ve spent any time in Washington DC, you’ve heard of David Rehr. When he ran the National Beer Wholesalers Association, Fortune Magazine ranked that organization as one of the “top ten most influential lobbying organizations” in America. When he was president and CEO of the National Association of Broadcasters, Radio Ink magazine named him one of the “top 20 most influential people in radio.” And Washington Life magazine put him on their “Power 100” list. Yeah, he’s that good.

But what makes David Rehr so special (besides his eerie resemblance to Matt Damon) is his uncanny ability to identify talent. Take this book review he recently posted on Amazon.com.

“Megan McDonald & John Doyle break through all the communications clutter and treat the reader to the essential "you have to get these right" elements in this easy to read, yet fascinating book. I have been in organizational communications my entire professional career but found myself shaking my head (while reading the book) and saying to myself, "yes, I have to be sure I do that..." This book is a great investment. It's has some lighthearted moments but the content is serious - we do live in a cluttered communications environment and virtually all organizations are terrible in getting their positive messages out to the public. I am certain I will continue to refer back to it on important communication projects. It's that good. No, it's really, really, really good.”

Now the fact that he was talking about our book is just icing on the cake. In fact, I didn’t even realize he was referring The TV Guide to Telling Your Organization’s Story until Megan pointed that out to me.

But it was our book he was talking about. And if a man as busy as David Rehr could find the time to order our book, read it, and post this brutally candid and informative review, you can too.

So go ahead and get yourself a copy. As David said, “It’s really, really, really good.”

A present of the future--The Interactive Age, all boxed up and ready to go

"It's not 'just' a wooden horse. Read the
inscription. It says, 'Your future is in 
this present.' Let it past!"

Everything you need to know about the future of communication is in a small box sitting on the stoop right outside your front door.

And everything you need to know about that box can be found right here in a fascinating article that also describes how the Internet has forever altered the way we interact with each other.

Back in 2010, a New York City start-up called Birchbox offered women cosmetic product samples that were tailored specifically to their tastes and preferences based upon a self-reported “beauty/grooming profile.” Today, Birchbox generates about $40 million in revenue annually, most of it from their 300,000 subscribers who pay $10 a month to receive the boxes.

Since then, the “box service” concept has exploded, particularly among forward-thinking (and frankly desperate) big box retailers who struggle to remain relevant. Box service is brilliant in its simplicity and its effective exploitation of how people think today. And it offers lessons that you need to learn if you want to communicate effectively in the Interactive Age.

Joint venture partnerships magnify success: If the 20th century was a winner-take-all poker game played with a stacked deck, the Interactive Age is parachute day in gym class. You only “win” if everyone plays together.

Success in the box service game starts with a partnership with wholesalers who are willing to provide a steady stream of products “at a discount or free from companies hoping to be introduced to new customers.”

People will give valuable data and honest reviews for trinkets and beads: If the NSA really wanted to learn the most intimate details of our lives, they should have just started a box service. All protests to the contrary, people will gladly share intimate details about their lives and desires for a box of product samples. And we will happily—and honestly—rate those products in service to our community.

“Much of the appeal for retailers is the personal data they collect from customers … Subscribers share tons of personal data to customize their boxes. They also provide retailers valuable feedback on products before they hit store shelves.”

People rely on the advice of peers in newly formed “communities”: Most of us don’t take our lead from four-out-of-five-dentists anymore. Instead, we rely on the advice of friends, even friends we just made by virtue of our shared taste in a particular face moisturizer.

“Subscribers, a vocal and social-media-savvy bunch, have set up blogs and online forums to review the best boxes or swap goodies to fit their tastes.”

Subscriptions—“The real money is in inertia”: I just bought an ASUS 802.11ac wireless-AC1750 router for $190. It is so the sh*t that I haven’t yet figured out how to open the box it came in. As I was concocting ways to justify the expense, I calculated that over the years I have paid Comcast $849,000 in monthly rental fees for a wireless modem that had less range than a thalidomide baby playing shortstop.

“There are downsides to subscription boxes. ... consumers may lose interest but be too harried to take the extra step of canceling their membership. By the time people realize they don’t want [a service] anymore, it takes time for them to cancel it. … The real money is in the inertia.”

Curation is currency: No one actually drinks from a fire hydrant, but when we were kids we’d often try to drink from the garden hose with the nozzle attachment set on “eviscerate.” Not sure why we did that beyond the fact that we were idiots, but I did learn that if I blasted the water into the palm of my hand I could get a drink without boring a hole through my cheek. When I’m looking for information online, the Internet often feels like that high pressure jet of water. Curators, in turn, act as the palm of my hand, providing just enough good information for me to get the job done. The same can be said for the box service.

“Americans … are on the lookout for deals and they are used to the convenience of online purchases. Subscription boxes let ‘experts’ do the research for time-pressed shoppers and send their recommendations to people’s doorsteps.”

Never knock on the door empty-handed: In the 20th century, nobody but bakery shop owners and drug dealers gave away samples of their best products. But in the Interactive Age, it is a mandatory first step in relationship building.

“For retailers, monthly boxes are like offering shoppers a plate of appetizers: Sample what you like, come back for more — and if you don’t like something, give it to your friends."

So next time you’re trying to raise money, sell a product, increase your membership, or build a coalition … just remember, the best lessons come in little boxes.

Houston, we've got a problem: Did NASA knowingly commission a doomsday prophet?

(Emphasis his.)

It’s odd that in all the breathless pronouncements about the “NASA funded study” that predicts the global collapse of modern civilization, there is not one mention of prior bias of the researcher NASA funded. It’s odd because it’s so devastatingly simple to uncover with a quick Google search.

(Emphasis mine.)

Safa Motesharrei has been writing about the collapse of civilization since at least 2011 (and likely a lot earlier, but I gathered all I needed to know in my 10-minute search). What’s fascinating about his writing is his naked disdain for society’s wealthy, whom he calls “free riders,” and his totalitarian recommendations to save us all from this impending doom, including government policies to “stabilize population,” and to “stabilize industrial production per person.” Let the implications of those recommendations sink in.

So the real question becomes since NASA surely vetted Mr. Motesharrei, why did that fund the research of someone with such extreme views on government control? And if they didn't vet him, why not?

You know that look.

C-SPAN may be an entertainment wasteland, but it does have its moments. Here is one of them.

While Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee (D-TX) discusses the US Constitution, her staffer dutifully strikes the “I’m busy reading these documents while my boss talks” pose. Until she says this:

“Maybe I should offer a good thanks to the distinguished members of the majority, the Republicans, my chairman and others, for giving us an opportunity to have a deliberative constitutional discussion that reinforces the sanctity of this nation and how well it is that we have lasted some 400 years, operating under a constitution that clearly defines what is constitutional and what is not.”  

Good stuff.

My work here is almost done ...

Some wonderful person in Zambia is reading FlackOps. Bless you, my fine anonymous friend. You represent the 85 nation to read these posts, and the 24 letter of the alphabet. But I still need someone from an O and W country to step up to fill out the alphabetic dance card. Anybody got connections in Oman or Wallis and Futuna Islands?

(And I'm kidding about being almost done. I'm just warming up.)

Your Mission: Make sure it's about them ... not you.

I love Dilbert. Scott Adams is often frighteningly spot-on about organizational dynamics. He did it again this morning with this strip. It reminded me of a passage from our new book, The TV Guide to Telling Your Organization’s Story.

There are relatively few organizations that are going to publicly advocate for the right to blow birds out of the sky. But a number of different groups— from environmental activists to bird-watching societies—would find the quest to preserve wetlands and waterfowl appealing and a natural fit with their organization.

That’s the magic of Ducks Unlimited—their quest attracts allies and inspires them to act. The sportsmen’s group boasts of being “the world’s leader in wetlands and waterfowl conservation” … “[which] does more than any other organization to put ducks in the sky,” which is true. They also shoot more ducks out of the sky than any other organization.

You could say that making sure there are ducks to kill today and in the future is their true goal—their mission, if you will—given that about 90 percent of their members are hunters. But they (wisely) keep the focus on their quest of wetlands preservation (which just happens to further their goal).

Compare that to the American Dairy Association. Their stated mission is “to economically benefit dairy farmers by encouraging the consumption of milk and dairy products through advertising, education and promotion, to reach consumers with product benefits and advantages.”

"I just wanted you to know before you wrote them another check."

A worthy endeavor if you’re a dairy farmer. But the quest of “economically benefitting dairy farmers” is not likely to convince people to buy more milk. So while the ADA is being candid about their perfectly legitimate mission, they are missing the opportunity to connect with their audience, who might otherwise be persuaded to offer assistance.

And they are not alone. Take a gander at your own mission statement. Is your mission about helping other people or helping yourself?

Was that helpful? There’s more where that came from. You can order your copy here.