iComplain: 5 Things Apple Could Do if they Want Me To Buy Their Shit

I can’t be bothered to check, but I may or may not have been vocal in my refusal to buy Apple products. I don’t know why, maybe I’m just set in my ways, maybe I disagree with their holding products hostage for upgrades, maybe I think Steve Jobs is a twat. Because of one or more of those reasons I have never bought or owned an iPod, a Macbook or an iPhone (Or its inbred cousin, the iPad).

But, Jobs, all is not lost! What follows are some things Apple could do that would make me consider buying their products (if they’re not too expensive and/or I feel the need for something).

1)Waterproof iPods. I don’t really care if my iPod has more memory than my laptop. I doubt there’ll ever be that much music recorded that I like (I may harp on about the shockingly low standards of the listening public at a later date). What would be ace, though, is if I could listen to music while surfing or swimming. Just imagine how rad it would be to destroy your spine on a hidden rocky outcrop as Orchid destroy your eardrums. Okay, maybe that’s more of a personal fantasy. That and being eaten by a shark. Which could also benefit from a badass skramz soundtrack. Whoever makes the first waterproof MP3 player will be the people I buy my first MP3 player from.

2)Admit that no-one will ever watch movies on their iPod. If you know anyone who does, slap them. With a book. Then get them to read the book on a train like a normal person, instead of watching a movie on a tiny little screen like a gimp. It’s just sad, and this is coming from someone who watches TV dramas made for teenage girls.

3)Stop with the pisstake ad campaigns. Okay, the days of Mac versus PC are finally, thankfully over. I think the clear winner was iDon’t Give a Fuck. Still, though, Apple’s ad campaigns have an air of obnoxiousness surpassed only by Lynx commercials (and at least those are so retarded they’re funny). Oooh! Look how thin it is! Yeah? That definitely means it’ll be a great laptop then. Why not tell me how good it is at being a laptop, you dicks? I’m gullible, but not that gullible. On a similar note …

4)Accept that using Apple won’t make me cool. Apple, I’m not cool. My collars do not pop. Team sports make me feel ill. I’m more John Nolan than John Mayer (Massive respect to Mr. Nolan). Get the picture? Thing is, I’ve accepted my place at the back of the line and while I’m not cool, I’m also not stupid enough to delude myself into thinking that making my calls on an iPhone as opposed to my (second hand) Sony Ericsson relic will make me cool. So cut it out.

5)Inform half your customer base that they are wankers. This one’s quite extreme, sure, but I can instantly locate the highest concentration of cunts on any high street just by finding the Apple store. Clearly, I’m not as dumb as I thought (assuming ‘dumb’ is measured on a curve), since all these douches fell for the ‘Apple will make you cool’ schtick. Not that everyone who buys and uses Apple is a pretentious dickhead, but if someone says they work in media but is actually on the dole, you can be sure there’s at least one Apple product in their life. Just saying.

So, there’s my roundup of ways Apple could entice me their way. I was also going to mention jailbreaking (and how it shouldn’t be necessary) and bring up ‘apps and mobile Internet—what’s the difference?’. However, those would require a lot of research and would make for a far more serious edition of Woe (which is the last thing I need after all that sXe malarkey).

The tragic part of this is that I’m giving in to the brand-conscious aspect of the technological age by discussing it. Ultimately, it shouldn’t matter what you’re using as long as it works—and I can’t stress this bit enough—for you. Find out as much as you can before you part with your cash, and always assume your source has an agenda.

And really, don’t let an obnoxious ad campaign get in the way of your final verdict; I just have a low threshold for asshole marketing strategies.

iNcidentally, iLoathe iPod puns,
Nick

Seven Fragrance Adverts you Didn't See this Holiday Season

Seriously, fuck perfume ads. Few things fill me quite as much misanthropy. No matter which advert it is, I invariably end up drowning in my own vitriol (a rare phenomenon, the only outward sign of which is a sarcastic remark). If I were Hitler, fragrance adverts would be my teachers in art school. And fragrance marketing executives would be my Jews, travellers, blacks, gays, non-Aryans, people who looked at me funny etc. I’d like to say I won’t do any more genocide jokes, but I’m not going to lie to you. It doesn’t get any better. Not even a little bit.

Anyway, after I’d awoken from a rage-induced coma to find that my pancreas had developed its own sub-pancreas in order to produce twice the bile, I decided that the best way to bring down the perfume advertising industry was to attack from within.

To this end, I created seven new pilot ads for fragrances yet to be created. I hope you enjoy them. At least they can’t be more disturbing or grossly misogynistic than a Lynx/Axe commercial.


1) Gucci Jihad. Interior, night. A boudoir-style apartment, curtains, drapes etc. A woman strikes a ‘come-hither’ pose on a silk-sheeted bed. A man approaches. Close up of their faces about to kiss.
Crash zoom out. The man explodes, killing the woman and taking out a large chunk of the building.
[VOICE OVER]: ‘Jihad. The devastating new fragrance from Gucci.’

2) Republican by Diesel. Interior, night. A well-dressed man acting out of place at a party full of well-dressed people. He moves through a lot of glamorous people, to an antique telephone. He dials a number, and announces in an Irish accent; ‘There will be an explosion on Park Lane at midnight.’
[VOICE OVER]: ‘Republican by Diesel. For independent spirits.’

Bigot, by Nick Griffin. Interior, whatever time. Montage of white dudes applying fragrance. Finally, an Asian dude applies same fragrance and melts, screaming.
[VOICE OVER]: ‘For Aryans only. Bigot, the debut fragrance from Nick Griffin.
Proud sponsors of the BNP.'

Entitlement Complex by Paris Hilton. Everywhere, last Thursday. Close up of a mouth gobbling luxuriant foods and chugging champagne. Strobe-montage of sexualised imagery. Zoom out to Paris Hilton stuffing the planet Earth into her vagina.
[VOICE OVER]: ‘Entitlement Complex. The last-ditch attempt at saving Paris Hilton’s career in fragrance form.’

Melanoma by Calvin Klein. Interior, time is a human concept and has nothing to do with the cold, impersonal drones in the fashion business. A lone woman stands in a spotlight in a dimly lit room. She’s nude, but her modesty is preserved by bits of silk blown around by off-screen fans.
Camera pans around her body.
[VOICE OVER]: ‘Beauty. The final truth. Overcoming time. Breaking the barriers between sight, sound and scent. With it comes conviction. Hope. The promise of a better future.’
Camera stops on an asymmetrical mole.
[VOICE OVER]: ‘Even in the face of the worst thing that can happen. Melanoma, by Calvin Klein.’

Futility by Davidoff. Interior, night. An average-looking young man applies fragrance and leaves a bathroom, entering a fashionable bar. He enters an animated conversation with an attractive young woman. After a short time, a handsome young man joins the conversation, then leaves the bar with the young woman in short order, leaving our hero on his own.
[VOICE OVER]: ‘Futility by Davidoff. Because no matter how nice you smell, she’d rather get ploughed by the cute guy.’


Chloroform by Gary Glitter. Your house, October 1991. A well-dressed man walks through a high class party. People faint in his wake. He climbs some stairs, as people collapse (some plummeting over the side). The man continues, as if drawn by something. He reaches the door to a child’s bedroom. A nanny rushes at him, but collapses when she gets within a yard of him. The man continues towards the child’s bed.
[VOICE OVER]: ‘Chloroform. The incapacitating new fragrance from Gary Glitter.’


So, I hope you enjoyed my take on fragrance marketing. It may be offensive, but I'll come smelling of roses anyway. Or at least of Futility by Davidoff.

Laters,
Nick