My brain has no business with business

A couple things I shouldn't think, which reveal how little I understand advertising (and, by inference, how little I am like the typical American):

While flipping around the radio dial on a recent morning, on the "oldies" radio station I caught a commercial by the U.S. Department of Agriculture that was actively promoting the use of food stamps. However, it wasn't merely reminding people that, yes, there's still federal funding for the underprivileged--I'm sorry, the alternatively privileged--to get food; it was actively encouraging those who might not think they qualify for the program to look into getting food stamps. It sought to drum up more business (so to speak) for the government to pay for people's groceries.

I could only interpret this as indicating that there's fewer people using food stamps than the program's funding is set up to support, and they need to get their numbers up to keep from getting their allocation reduced. That may or may not have any accuracy; it was merely what came to mind. It could be completely wrong.

I don't think there's much of question about there being at least some stigma associated with the use of food stamps, so it could be that the ad also sought to reduce the shame of admitting one could use help putting food on the table. I won't go so far as to suggest the ad was trying to make food stamps seem cool, but to make it less embarrassing. And in my middle class experience had always tacitly made me think the whole point was for there to be some shame to encourage people to make enough money that they didn't need to use food stamps. It's what allows those who are no longer using food stamps to feel good about themselves. Or at least to feel superior to those who still use food stamps.

There was a bit of shame on my part at admitting there was supposed to be shame on their part. I wouldn't be investigating the promotion (of sorts); I'm not sure whether they take such options at Trader Joe's, but I find it unlikely.

I switched over to listening to a CD.

Then I flipped open the new Esquire and noticed a full-page ad for a watch. Not just any watch, but a waterproof watch. And not just any waterproof watch, but one that was supposedly strong enough for use to a depth of 39,600 feet. In the background of the ad was one of those fish with the jutting jaw and huge teeth that show up in those specials where they drop a camera to the sea floor in depths where the sunlight never reaches.

I'm not a diver, nor a biologist, but I'm reasonable certain that the pressure at nearly 40,000 feet would crush the person wearing the watch, even if the watch itself was fine.

Obviously, the advertisers wanted to imply that the watch was good for diving in general, and to associate the product with daring and adventure, presumably traits that those who dive would fancy themselves to possess.

But this was Esquire, which made me question whether there's enough actual divers reading the magazine to warrant spending the money for the ad rates to solicit it to them alone. It was really directed at those who merely fancy themselves daring and adventurous without actually engaging in activities like putting on scuba gear and a strong watch that one could wear down in the dark waters. Which may be the typical Esquire reader.

(I still don't understand why it is that Esquire wanted Chuck Klosterman to write a column for them. He would only poke fun at the notion of such a watch while making allusions to pop culture. Yet by doing so they got me to read it.)

Anyway, having been shamed by feeling elitist by the radio spot for food stamps and befuddled by feeling non-elitist by the magazine ad, I composed this with some scant hope of proving how I don't fit in to either category, as though that somehow makes any of it better. Obviously, I've proven nothing other than, according to the evidence of how my mind operates, that I don't fit in with any group.

Which was more or less what I proffered in the opening sentence. So, uh, mission accomplished, I guess.