If there’s one thing I learned at the home, I’d be surprised. Actually, I didn’t start learning stuff until my lawyer convinced a judge I wasn’t really crazy as a bed bug.
My lawyer: Your honor, have you ever seen a bed bug?
His honor: When I came back from my trip to Vegas, several bugs jumped out of my suitcase. I tried to get an injunction on the grounds that what bugs people in Vegas stays in Vegas. But they had a pretty slick lawyer, who also jumped out of the suitcase.
My lawyer: On that occasion, could you tell which of those bed bugs were clinically crazy and which were just bugging you–which is both their job and God-given vocation in life?
His honor: Um…gosh…I just assumed….
My lawyer: The last time I checked, the Second Amendment says “…the right of the people to openly carry nuclear weapons (if they should ever be invented) and to bug their fellow peeps shall not be infringed, except in the event of a nationwide fringe shortage.”
His honor: Hummida hummida hummida…
Anyway, upon my release, the first thing I learned—from a guy selling nukes outside the home–was this: you’ll never make it in life or death without a brand that stands out like a sore thumb or, preferably, a baboon’s bright ass.
Truer words were never spoken, except for the time Alexander the Great said “An army can conquer the world, but I tell you it is nothing without a rag time band.”
How do you go about getting a brand? Repeat this mantra several times a day, (although not out loud):
My brand is my name; my name is my brand, do da do da day.
You can see how essential it is to have a unique name. Take Freakin’ Phil Fronk.®© Not literally, though. Freakin’ Phil has registered and copyrighted his name and he likes to sue. Or, let’s say your name is Skippy. Too bad because there’s already a Skippy peanut butter. But there’s no Skippy’s Pink Catawba. Hurry while supplies last!
When I was a kid, my mother demonstrated the power of a name brand with her frequent quip “Church: the best seat in the house.” I thought it was a religious reference until she pointed out the manufacturer’s name on the lid of the family’s porcelain chariot. I have never felt the same about church since, though ironically, I go to church almost religiously, several times a day. Talk about brand awareness.
What does my own name brand stand for? I stand for the national anthem. I stand for the seventh inning stretch. I stand for the fast approaching foul ball. I stand and scream “Oh crap!” whenever I spill a beer in my lap. Fearful of a CTE-causing noodgie, I stand for nuns on the subway. I stand and deliver for I am your bold deceiver, mush-a-ring and a do rum dar (clap, clap, clap, clap) whack for the laddie-oh, there’s whiskey in the jar.
Whenever I am so worked up that I am literally beside myself, I stand by me. I can’t stand six string banjos, roofing salesmen at dinner time and the heresy that you can take seventy-five steps with a basketball and not be called for traveling. One of my favorite songs contains the lyric “Don’t stand, don’t stand so, don’t stand so close to me, or at least brush your teeth every now and then for Pete’s sake.”
My brand screams that I am a stand-up kind of guy, especially when there are no chairs or Church seats around. Just remember this important truth:a brand is only a perception.
Steers, of course, would disagree.
©Patrick A. McGuire and A Hint of Light 2013-2016, all rights reserved.