Uncle Fun and Sparky Land

     This is Sparky and Moose’s contribution to the ongoing effort to raise the wherewithal necessary to secure a pre-sub-prime-crisis standard of living for the next generation of the Cousins family. As the elder generation of Cousinses settles into the routine of caring for a new baby, with its many little concerns such as finding Mrs. Cousins a fashionable sou’wester and slicker mac to repel spit-up milk, we, their cartoon friends, have set ourselves the task of tracking down sources of additional income to provide for the new addition.  

     Milady Madeira M’Dear offered to bring our variation on the old badger game out of retirement as a means of generating cash flow, but ethical qualms voiced in certain quarters (neither hers nor mine, I can tell you) put the kibosh on this scheme. M’Dear and I reserve the right to call on this old reliable method if all else fails.

     In the meantime, we’re pursuing several less promising ventures, all in the interest of an amusingly hypothetical precept called “it wouldn’t kill Mr. Cousins to get a paying job”. While I am an advocate (in theory) of this particular mode of materially supporting one’s loved ones, the particulars of the Cousins work history suggest that matching our subject with a suitable vocation poses something of a challenge. “Like walking backwards up a skyscraper made of oiled glass with banana-peel-soled shoes on” was the specific visual imagery Sparky chose to describe the challenge thus posed.

     Still, where there’s life there’s hope, and maybe even a paycheque into the bargain. M’Dear offered another suggestion, this one based on Mr. Cousins’ sterling career in the halls of ivy. The website for the university Cousins received his M.A. from has published a list of recent successful thesis defenses in his department. Much to everyone’s surprise, it was discovered that the institution which bestowed the title of Master of Arts upon the Cousins lad believes that the focus of his researches was The Gong Show, not, as it actually was, The Goon Show. There’s no point in dwelling too much on what this says about the esteem in which El Cousins, M.A. is held in academic circles, or about the relative merits of Spike Milligan, K.B.E. and Chuck Barris, N.T.T.S.O. (No Title to Speak of). I’ll simply concur with M’Dear, and say that Cousins should strike while the iron is hot, and go on the college lecture circuit, the better to distinguish Goon from Gong.

 

 

     As useful a public service as this is, I can’t help thinking that Arts Master Cousins’ talents would be more profitably directed toward some other field of gainful employment. Take advertising, for instance. With all the money that’s poured into publicity and market research, you’d think that our corporate citizenry would have it all down pat by now. And yet, products are routinely sold using slogans, copy and other bumf that make their writers come across as …how did my friend Frank the Alligator put it…? Oh, yes—dumber than a sack of hammers from the We’re So Dumb We Don’t Even Know What Either a Sack or a Hammer Looks Like Hardware Store.

     I found an example of this while conducting a routine test on the Cousins family shower for consistency of water temperature and pressure (no matter what anybody cares to say, three-quarters of an hour is the standard minimum allowable time to get a baseline on all the relevant parameters). I preface what I’m about to show you by saying that the shower gel I used is a good product—I might even go so far as to call it outstanding. What’s not outstanding is the grasp of…well, the only word I can think of is “reality”—displayed by the shower gel company’s ad department:

     Having spent most of my life at relatively low altitudes, I must confess that I’m not entirely familiar with what constitutes a reasonable demand to make of a mountain. Still, I’m fairly sure that dirt-and-odour-fighting protection wouldn’t rank too high on anybody’s list. Or maybe that is why Sir Edmund Hillary climbed Everest…he just didn’t feel fresh. I couldn’t say for sure.

     Here’s another gem: this one came in the mail two days ago from a theatre company I won’t name because the Cousins Family knows (and what’s more, likes) people associated with it. Behold how they’ve chosen to alert the general public to their upcoming season of thespian excellence:

 

     Very professional-looking…but very open to ridicule. Among the more obvious punchlines this image invites are “another season of bee-grade theatre” and “come listen to our actors drone on and on”. Without naming names, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that the theatre company in question would do better by replacing its ad agency with a think-tank composed of slightly backward six-year-olds. I’ll further propose that Madison Avenue Cousins, Esq. would provide superior ad-making service to the six-year-olds, at no appreciable increase in cost.

     Don’t believe me? I don’t blame you. (For one thing, the backward six-year-olds have the inside track on the ad business. It pays to be as much like the consumer as possible.) Still, in his odd moments when he’s not avoiding work, Mr. Cousins has left examples that he knows how to make an ad. Click on the link that says “Ads” (you just missed it…go back and click before it’s too late) for the audio evidence. If nothing else, they’re funny, which in advertising is half the battle won. I mention this on the off chance that anyone who works in the ad game (or knows someone who does) might meander by during a stroll through the Worldwide Web. Seriously—he has a home studio set-up, does his own production and voices, and he comes cheap…which is more than I can say for body wash that provides the dirt-and-odour-fighting protection of a mountain.

     Besides, his baby’s really quite cute, and could always use new clothes.

Uncle Fun