RANDOM THOUGHT ALERTS!!! (Vol. 1, No. 3)

So it's been a while since the last post of this mildly comical series and you're probably thinking, "After this lengthy hiatus, why did Dirk decide to lead off his post with a picture of After 7?"  Some of y'all might even be like, "Who the heck is After 7 anyway?!?!"  Elementary, my dear Not-sons: I uttered the words "after 7" in reference to rush hour being over and traffic dying down and voila...my second favorite song from the R&B trio, "Ready or Not," enters my brain space!  ("Can't Stop" is my favorite.  I know y'all wanted to know that and even if you didn't, now you do.)  Later that evening, I happened to be talking about music from that same period with one of my dear, dear friends and what song got mentioned?  That's right...After 7..."Ready or Not".  Gotta love when randomness abounds and since the song probably won't be stuck in my head enough to make July's "'Get Out of My Brain!' Countdown of the Month", I thought I'd show love to Babyface's actual brothers and L.A. Reid's cousin for marketing purposes only.  (How about that last little fun fact.)  Now that I've unexpectedly taken you back to 1989 and made you want to crate dig for some more slow jams, it's time for the zaniest of the zany.  (QUICK NOTE: the word "zany" doesn't get enough play, so I decided to show it some love today.  See...even my vocab is random.)  Let's get on with it, fellow randomites...

AFLAC, THE F-----G DUCK!!!  Anybody that's as much of a Ghostface Killah fan as I am already knows that reference, but although we're not here to talk about The Pretty Toney Album, we are here to talk about Aflac and hip hop.  So by now, many of you have seen the insurance company's advertisement with a family and a young kid asking his dad why they have both Aflac (cue the "f-----g duck") and major medical insurance represented by a pigeon.  (Interesting choice of bird considering what's about to be described, but I digress for now.)  The pigeon kicks the ballistics in the most old school hip hop voice possible, "MAJOR MEDICAL, BOYYYYYY YEAH!"  Complete with the Biz Markie and Doug E. Fresh of frogs on lily pads, he leads off this "rap battle" followed by a few off-beat rhymes from the dad and the birds being able to better ride the rhythm to explain Aflac being a "safety net".  Of course, the fate of a commercial of this caliber cannot be fulfilled without a turntable scratch effect and a beatboxing sound at the very end as if the duck's name is Peaches, he's the best and all the DJs want to feel his breasts.

So I'm gonna say this about that...I totally understand the appeal of hip hop culture in marketing, but man alive this is a dumb commercial and so are commercials like this.  It's clear that Aflac is not appealing to a Black audience with this because most of us recognize how corny of an attempt at even mildly entertaining hip hop this is.  Let me tell it, White folks don't need rapping pigeons, beatboxing frogs or Jam Master Jay-like ducks to sell them insurance.  Moreover, as much as other commercials get makeovers with more recent musical stylings, there are some advertising "experts" out there who wanna keep hip hop in 1984.  I know, they have plenty of old school-inspired commercials--see the recent Target ads feeding off of Tom Tom Club's "Genius of Love"--but a lot of those either have enough swagger to be palatable or they involve young people--which is always a safe bet against this type of criticism.  It just seemed like the culture vultures were on the loose once again and took an Andy Stitzer from The 40-Year-Old Virgin approach to their marketing strategy: "I'm not trying to be sexy, man!"  Clearly.

FRIENDS...AT WORK...WHAT ARE THOSE?!?!  I get the concept of it, but I've never subscribed to the overall attitude of "no new friends".  It just seems like a way to be exclusive and off-putting to the possibility that someone that they didn't know from a can of paint yesterday could potentially have their best interest at heart just as much as someone they've been riding with for years--if not more in certain cases.  More specifically, there's this pervasive "make money, not friends" attitude swirling around the Interwebs and society--particularly when it comes to the workplace.  First of all, thank you to each and every one of you Captain Obvious impersonators for clearing up any misconception that bills can be paid in hugs, compliments and random acts of kindness.  Second, and less snarky, many of us spend more time around our coworkers than we do our families and friends outside of our jobs, so why not make the best of the situation and make friends there as well?  Third, for those who think that workplace politics should prevent you making friends, look around you, slim...politics are everywhere.  You wouldn't have any friends if that were the case, but then again, many of you don't and wanna act like you don't care.  (You care...I know you care.)  Fourth, if we're making PSAs about the rules of the workplace, then should money be the No. 1 reason why we work in lieu of possibly fulfilling our purpose in life through our career?  News flash: contrary to popular belief, it is entirely possibly to do what you're called to do and make money and friends at work without having to pit one thing against another for the sake of trying to sound pseudo-philosophical.  Bottom line, please miss me with the discouragement of camaraderie, especially with people that haven't been riding with you since the sandbox and just happen to be in the same place where you earn your keep.  Thanks, From the Mail Room...

THE SIGNS OF LIFE.  I believe that the orchestrators of traffic light systems are in cahoots with God to play a perpetual game of "Red Light, Green Light" on motorists that seems to be more like an inside joke.  Whenever I'm in a hurry or just don't want to take a long time to get somewhere, it seems like I get nothing but red lights along the way.  I mean, literally...the second that I get one green light, the next light is turning red and so on and so forth.  On the flip side, let's say that I just stopped at Mickey D's on my way to work to get those breakfast burritos--which were my fast food guilty pleasure in the late morning/early afternoon until recently--and I need just one or two good red lights to have my Willie Jones from Next Friday "hot sauce on my burrito, bay-baaaay" moment.  Maybe I just got a text message and I want to respond real quick so that I don't potentially have Mo County cops on my tail.  As soon as I pick up that packet of hot picante or my phone to type one word, the light turns green...so does every light after that.  In both instances, I either get utterly annoyed or tickled by the irony of it all.  So what does that mean in the grand scheme of things?  Simple: you usually don't get what you want when you want it.  When you're in a hurry, you're forced to stop and smell the roses; when you want to slow down, you get a swift kick in the tokus to keep moving.  Now that's some real philosophy for that you-know-what.  You're welcome...

WHICH WAY IS UP???  Because I know how annoying AF it can be when someone does it to me, I can't tell y'all how many times during the course of a given day where I have to fight the urge to correct people on minutiae (another random "big word" that needed to be used) and one of those instances often has to do with being in tune with one's inner compass.  Specifically, I think it's funny when people say "he went up the street" while pointing south or vice versa--regardless if there's an actual hill or a downward slope going in the opposite direction of the incline.  I know, that's pretty Petty Bruschi of me to even think to fix my lips and be like, "You mean down the street, right?!?!"  Since nobody wants to be friends with that guy, I just giggle to myself and digress like 100 percent of the time.  As long as folks aren't doing like French Montana in the "Sanctuary" video and pointing toward Heaven while saying "tryna make a deal with the devil", then I can deal.  (At least once a year, I throw shade regarding this because a major faux pas like this doesn't help his cause when I already don't fool with him too tough as a rapper.)  Whole time though...unless I'm in Manhattan, New York City is probably the only place on Earth where I lose my vaunted sense of direction.  Hence, I've probably said "up the street" to somebody from the Bronx who took one good look at me and thought, "Silly out-of-towner...he doesn't know whether he's headed toward Yonkers or Harlem."  Touché, mon frere...

You know you've had one or two of them lately...go on and share a few of those random thoughts with a brother and don't let me be the only inmate in the asylum today!  Don't forget to come back soon for another exciting edition of "RANDOM THOUGHT ALERTS!!!"