SS 002 - The Big Picture
A billion people know this tune intimately. Not just oversized hoodie wearing teens and futbol hooligans.
2014 when spending $1.99 on ringtones was the rage … unknowingly to her … I downloaded this song onto my mom’s iPhone. My mom probably similar to yours leaves her phone volume on BOOM. One day. Friday. Riding the train to work her phone SCREAMMMED, blaring a song some 60 year old woman from midtown Manhattan should know nothing about. A group of local teens stared at her wondering … What the heck?
That was just a memory. It has almost nothing to do with airing my grievances.
With that said …
Off you go!
I. TRADITIONAL BRAND BUILDING = 🤢🤢🤢🤮
I wonder if we missed the golden era of brand building.
Remember when brands had a soul? They got a kick out of making stuff that actually mattered. They had one job: Move Hearts.
Sega Genesis had their jingle.
“Seeeegaaaa”
Taco Bell had their half-pound rat disguised as a grandma-lapdog teaching most of us our first Spanish words.
“Yo Quiero Taco Bell”
Sigh.
Charles Barkley kinda rapped.
I mean, come on.
We learned mustard wasn’t suppose to look like radioactive wee.
You could beatbox with a basketball.
Legacy brands actually pulled it off — they moved into our lives like international distant cousins disguised as immediate family.
The Most Interesting Man in the World. Iconic.
And my fav. Wazzzzzup.
But today?
Brand building feels like pests buzzing around a family picnic. It’s annoying. Creative work is just noise. Bland, uninspired interruptions masquerading as engagement.
Nothing makes me feel. Nothing makes me think. Nothing makes me better.
Nothing makes me want to start a revolution in my underpants. Or sob while choking down rainbow sorbet.
(Except, maybe, Dr. Rick from Progressive. I’d follow that man into war.
But really—why do we keep churning out beige nonsense when we have endless creative muses at our fingertips?
Why do brands act like pumping out more content will suddenly coerce people into giving two cents?
We are flooding the world with zero-calorie marketing, obsessing over engagement metrics instead of human connection.
A billion people hire ad blockers every month.
One billion silent protests against meaningless brand noise.
And yet—here we are.
Adding to the landfill.
Thinking if we just hammer harder, people will feel something.
We are building more forgettable brands than you can say limited-time offer.
II. YOUR JOB IS CULTURE, NOT SHOUTING INTO THE VOID
You know that gut feeling when you buy some cheap San Francisco Pier 49 gift shop souvenir because your cousin flew in for the weekend and you so-happen-to-be-there?
It’s Saturday. A bus full of Chinese tourists stand around. Gawking at Fruit of the Loom hoodies with the Golden Gate Bridge screen-printed across the chest.
"I'm not fighting through all-them," you say.
So you buy two keychains and a shot glass.
Both say SF in Helvetica.
"What am I gonna do with this crap?"you say.
You’re not thrilled.
You don’t love wasting eighteen bucks on tourist tchotchkes.
You’ll chuck it in a drawer and forget it by Tuesday.
C’est la vie.
We buy crap with no meaning.
That’s how most brands operate. No meaning. Just product.
The old brand-building blueprint is clear:
One - Pick a lane. Any lane.
Two - Make a thing. Same as everyone else’s thing.
Three - Throw money at ads. Yell about it. Repeatedly.
Four - Monetize the yelling.
Five - Pay more. Yell louder
Bravo.
You’ve got a shot glass empire nobody cares about.
And when the day comes that your business vanishes like Houdini? "Ah well."
If your brand only exists because you’re holding people hostage with ads, you’re not a brand—you’re a fly-by-night... (Fill in the Blank.)
A billion people—with a B—hire ad blockers every month.
Let me say it again.
People pay money to avoid YOU.
That’s not a flex.
That’s a crisis.
People aren’t buying brands anymore—they’re joining them.
Culture isn’t some buzzword you drop in a random tweet.
It’s the air we breathe.
It’s the stories we tell ourselves about who we are.
The Beyhive doesn’t just like Beyoncé—they’d storm Normandy for their queen.
Aime Leon Dore queues? Street ware fanatics aren’t shopping; they’re bending-tha-knee, swearing allegiance to their fav brand.
Aime Leon Dore doesn’t advertise.
They preach.
Their disciples spread the gospel.
ALD isn’t Banana Republic.
They’re a religion.
So, stop asking, “How do we go viral?”
Start asking, “How do we mean something?”
Because when you’re part of culture, you’re the story people tell themselves.
You don’t need to beg for attention.
If you’re the main character.
