I came across this (I don’t know – ? – manifesto)
from Bansky the other day and it reminded me how much I hate advertising.
My kids are teenagers now. One moving into it, one stuck in the middle and the eldest closer to Adulthood. So Ads aren’t quite the burning issue they once were but just like a pebble that’s stuck in your shoe, Public Advertising still irritates the bejusus out of me.
Look I do understand it. For the most part Ads are an inconsequential but none the less annoying part of modern-day society. Yeah they’re vapid and shallow and banal but aside from being occasionally irritating they have little impact on my day-to-day life. I get that they are part and parcel of our consumerist model of capitalism. I get that they are the price you pay for being able to choose between 500 brands of sneakers or 200 types of toothpaste. I can put up with them when I’m reading a magazine or browsing the web or watching TV because after all I can exercise my choice and turn them off; I can transfer those advertising leaflets straight from the letter box into the bin. What pisses me off though is when the Advertising Industry takes that choice (not to engage) away from me. And that happens more often than not on Billboards.
YTF do I need to be confronted with a 20 foot high hoarding advertising ‘erectile dysfunction’ when I’m out and about on the kings highways. Why do I need to get smacked in the retina by overtly sexual 20 somethings selling me
hedonism (perfume, underwear, jeans, pop music, disposable culture in all it’s permutations). Why should I Have to explain (or try not) to my 5 year old what ‘Holy Sheet’ (spruiking bed linen) means. Or what strippers have to do with Fast Food (flogging chicken).
So yep, I’m in Banksy’s corner;
asking for permission is like asking to keep a rock someone just threw at your head
Gather up those rocks I say and use them to build a cairn over the lard-arsed, ‘not quite talented enough’, corpulence that is the Advertising Creative.
Bury the fuckers!