This evening, as I watched The Incredibles with my daughter, I was struck by the scene where Bob Parr (Mr. Incredible) is reprimanded by his boss, Mr. Huph. These few moments of dialogue characterize the ongoing struggle between corporations who have no desire to relinquish brand control and consumers who are simply taking more and more of it each and every time they jump online.

Below is the portion of the full-length transcript from imsdb. (©2004 Disney Enterprises, Inc./Pixar Animation Studios).

MR. HUPH
I’m not happy, Bob. Not happy. Ask me why.

BOB
Okay. Why?

MR. HUPH
Why what? Be specific, Bob.

BOB
Why are you unhappy?

MR. HUPH
Your customers make me unhappy.

BOB
What, you’ve gotten complaints?

MR. HUPH
Complaints I can handle. What I can’t handle is your customers’ inexplicable knowledge of lnsuricare’s inner workings! They’re
experts. Experts, Bob! Exploiting every loophole, dodging every obstacle! They’re penetrating the bureaucracy!

BOB
Did I do something illegal?

MR. HUPH
No.

BOB
Are you saying we shouldn’t help our customers?

MR. HUPH
The law requires that I answer no.

BOB
We’re supposed to help people.

MR. HUPH
We’re supposed to help our people! Starting with our stockholders, Bob. Who’s helping them out, huh? You know, Bob, a company…

BOB
Is like an enormous clock.

MR. HUPH
…is like an enormous clo–yes. Precisely. It only works if all the little cogs mesh together. Now, a clock needs to be cleaned,  well-lubricated and wound tight. The best clocks have jewel movements, cogs that fit, that cooperate by design. [chuckling] I’m being metaphorical, Bob. You know what I mean by cooperative cogs? Bob? Bob? Look at me when I’m talking to you, Parr!

Endearing homeless man finds super stardom in a week’s time. Who couldn’t love the story? It’s a testament to everything that’s possible on the internet.

But when I watched the Kraft commercial, all I saw was the story that wasn’t being told on the screen.

As the actors delivered their lines, the commercial seemed more fake than any other commercial in recent memory. It felt like it was written for Ted to read on. It felt like Ted was standing right outside their door. I was thinking, God, I hope they don’t make him pop in to deliver whatever lines they gave him. Would Oprah swoop in to re-save the saved? (Well, apparently, that offer’s already been made.) So what’s in store for Ted tomorrow? The next day? Who’s going to call? And speaking of which, if he had the choice, would he choose an AT&T or a Verizon iPhone?

For the entire thirty seconds, I wasn’t thinking about mac and cheese. I can hardly remember a product shot or the story line. I was thinking about Ted, waiting for his voice. And when it came on, all I could see and hear was the beautiful story of a regular guy and his honey-coated voice, and the extreme generosity and endless opportunities of the world and time we live in.

Not such a bad thing to align yourself with.

I love funk, and I’m a bass player with two kids, which makes me an ideal target for Bootsy’s worthwhile mission: to put an instrument in the hands of every child.

In this particular instance, the long-standing Bootsy brand doesn’t instill confidence, nor does it groove in any way with the tone of the request.

Why not hang up your star glasses for 30 seconds and look me in the eye to make your case? I’m not saying lose your personality (that would be next to impossible), but make a little more of an effort.

Show me some other musicians who have donated. Show me some regular folks who have donated. Show me some kids who have already benefited. Show me that my money’s going directly to the kids, not to the Mothership.

What do you think?

In funk we trust.

The following is an excerpt of an article by Lisa Hickey, CEO of Good Men Media, Inc., posted Monday, November 29, on The Good Men Project Magazine. Read the entire piece here. Lisa and I met via Twitter. Her first blog post was a guest post right here on this blog. She’s been moving countless needles ever since.

I had a conversation with Jesse Dylan, Bob’s son, about poetry. One sleepless morning, I got on Twitter and had conversations about sexism with people from five different countries. One of them translated my tweets into Spanish and retweeted what I said to his followers in South America.

♦◊♦

I formed a theory about where I saw the universe heading:

The old days: Information, news, content was read. Calling someone “well read” was a compliment.

Today: Information, news, content is shared. “Social sharing” is the mantra.

Tomorrow: Information, news, content will be acted on. The people who get shared information and ideas and know how to act on it will change the world.

I was asked to write my first blog post by fellow blogger Michael Calienes, whom I didn’t know very well and had never met. The post is based on the idea that social media is the sharing of ideas that lead people to action. A week later, I started my own blog.

♦◊♦

Twenty-seven days after Sally Hogshead tells me about Twitter, I am in love. With Twitter, and with the network I’d created. I loved the people I was meeting, the depth of information, the ebb and flow of conversations, and the fact that if I said something stupid everyone just ignored me.

I decided to follow at least one person from every country in the world, all 242 of them. I met teenage computer hackers from Singapore. “Digital Femme” from Germany, “Djevers” from Belgium.  Anastasia, an ex-pat in Turkey, and a stay-at-home mom in Mexico made my list. I made some inroads into the African countries, but found I needed to use the right hashtag and introduce myself before they trusted me. I become a big fan of a graphic designer in Egypt. I called myself a “global conversationalist.” My tweets continued to be translated into different languages before they were retweeted and shared around the world.

I started talking about things I didn’t usually talk about, like global macroeconomics. One Saturday night, I had nothing better to do than have conversations with really smart people from around the world. Somebody tweeted a link to a Harvard Business School post called “The Smart Growth Manifesto”:

20th-century growth was dumb … Dumb growth is unsustainable … Dumb growth is unfair: it’s growth that’s an illusion for many; just ask the American middle class. And, ultimately, perhaps most dangerously, dumb growth is brittle: it falls too easily into collapse, reversing many of yesterday’s gains; just ask Iceland.

I read that paragraph and think: “Absolutely. The world should ask Iceland. And Iceland should talk to the world. The same way I am talking to the world. If I can solve my very own micro-economic problems, as an individual, by talking with people from around the world, perhaps Iceland can solve the its more macro-economic problems by talking to people from around the world. Iceland should get on Twitter.”

Social media: sharing ideas that lead people to action.

I knew one person in Iceland: Einar Orn, an advertising creative director at BBDO. Less than 10 minutes after I had the idea, I contacted Einar on Facebook, told him what I had just learned, and said, “Iceland should get on Twitter.”

Einar’s reply was brief: “Let me see if I can make that happen.”

Read the entire article here.

About Lisa Hickey
Lisa Hickey is CEO of Good Men Media Inc. and publisher of The Good Men Project Magazine. She enjoys “creating things that capture the imagination of the general public and become part of the popular culture for years to come.” Connect with her on Facebook or Twitter.

After seeing the headline, “The Beginning of the End of Business as Usual,” on this post from Brian Solis, my eyelids vibrated. I immediately averted my gaze and saw my own shadow.

Business as usual? Dead? Really? I’ve been reading that since I can’t remember when. We — especially you, dear leaders — must be smart enough to admit we’re past the beginning of the end of business as usual. Can we at least admit we’re nearing the middle?

Regurgitating the same Social Media lessons and advice with different themes must be exhausting. Please, let it go. (For the love of @gapingvoid, even the cartoon featured in the post is from March, 2009. It’s a  fossil.)

Imagine what it’s like for us on the receiving end of your feeds. Scrolling through Google Reader makes me feel like I’m strapped to the walls of an echo chamber.

If you need to continue to feed the machine for those late adopters who are just joining us and will continue to do so, consider hiring a writer and starting a different blog. A nice, well thought out sub-brand, perhaps, where you jump out as brand new, thought provoking, awe-inspiring Tabasco Habañero Sauce and let the minions continue to play the part of regular Tabasco. See? Win win.

Help us out here, ladies and gents. We know it’s in you. You’ve brought us this far. Where’s the door to what’s new? Where’s the door to what’s next? Are you pushing toward that? Are you stuck? Can we do anything to help? We’re kinda drowning in a sea of 2007 (or something).

On the other hand, should you choose to continue on this path of unchecked regurgitation, consider throwing in a printable coupon for a bottle of bourbon so we can, at the very least, warm our hearts and quell the disappointment.

Hopeful,
Michael Calienes

Seriously, what’s all the hoopla about Old Spice responding to your tweets via YouTube videos?

Groundbreaking? Really? Haven’t you done that?

Oh come now. You’ve probably even responded to people via video and yet you sit here giving Old Spice all the credit. This isn’t brilliance, this is what we’ve come to expect from global brands. This is the monster every early adopter of social media created. This is what we — ahem, you — asked for. We need to get used to it.

What’s the difference? Timing and scale (aka budget).

If Old Spice hadn’t done it, some other company would have done it a month from now. The simple fact is, you didn’t do it first, and I didn’t do it first; and even if you or I had the idea to do it first, neither of us could have pulled it off and grabbed as much media attention because Barney’s Plumbing Service wouldn’t have had the resources or the volume to do so.

The original positioning, strategy, and commercial were much smarter than the fact that they responded to your tweets via video. Actually, I’d go as far as to label the strategy, positioning, and original commercial brilliant.

But why are you making such a big deal about it?

Because Old Spice responded to you. Personally. Individually. And with a wonderful sense of humor that only gobs of money can buy — which, case in point, is a good reminder that social media that goes huge in a short amount of time is far from free, far from cheap.

That Old Spice guy had millions invested in him before he reached your laptop, desktop, or mobile device.

Think about the commercial that created the Old Spice guy — the commercial that actually made him a likable character we wanted to watch again and again (yes, I love that guy, and I want to smell like that guy). Above all, let’s not forget the account planning department that worked on the the positioning that was handed off to a flock of creative folk chomping at the bit to be the ones who created the next Old Spice campaign.

Killer creative? Hell yeah.

Brilliant social media? Nope — smart and first would be more accurate.

What do you think? And while you’re at it, what do you smell like?

I’m on a horse.

It’s crowded out there, and it’s only getting worse: Join us at to this event, join this group, like this thing, donate here, friend this person — you might know them. Egads! (Yea I wrote, “Egads!”)

The more people jump into and become versed on Facebook and twitter, the worse the epidemic will get, and the more invisible everyone will become, creating a phenomenon only a little more appealing than static.

So, how are you feeling about your growing numbers of requests? How are you coping?

Would love to hear about what you’re doing or not doing. Heck, maybe it’s not even affecting you at all. Would love to know if that’s the case too.

Guests are limited to 10, so please RSVP as soon as possible if you’d like to attend.

Choose One

General $10.00 Student $5.00

WHERE: The Conversation Factory
WHEN: Friday, June 18, 2010; 12pm – 1pm
COST: $10 (includes pizza & beverage); Students: $5 PARKING:
Please park at the BrackenChase parking lot adjacent to our building off Eliza Rd.

This week, I want to try something different. Bring $5 and your lunch (or not) and we’ll talk about whatever’s on our collective Social Media mind.

We won’t be serving pizza and we won’t be offering up a formal topic. Hopefully, you’ll have enough faith in the forum and the people — and the fact that we’re never short on passionate conversation — to show up and give it a shot.

Love it? Hate it? Tell me here or tell me Friday, 12-1 at the Conversation Factory.

(Please note: We will not be holding Conversation Friday on June 12, 2010, as I will be out of town.)

After our Thursday evening festivities (yes, you’re invited, click here for details) we’ll be talking about where you need to go from this point forward on the online side of your business.

What needs doing in terms of creating a space for your brand? Do you have a plan? Is it flexible? Where do you want to be 5 years down the line? What are you doing now to help you get there?

Whether you’re just starting a business, or are well on your way, we’ll cover lots of shoulds and shouldn’ts — of course, those will all be open to interpretation and discussion.

Want in? Let me know.

Hope you’ve been well, and hope to see you here.

Guests are limited to 10, so please RSVP as soon as possible if you’d like to attend.

WHERE: The Conversation Factory
WHEN: Friday, May 21, 2010; 12pm – 1pm
COST: $10 (includes pizza & beverage); Students: $5
PARKING: Please park at the BrackenChase parking lot, adjacent to our building off Eliza Rd.

You’re invited to hang out with us at The Conversation Friday on Thursday, May 20, between 5 and 8pm.

If you’re in the neighborhood and want to finish your Thursday here, come on over anytime after 3pm. Use our Wi-Fi, use our conference room, make some calls, play some pinball, whatever. We’ll be here.

Our friends from the Liquor Loft/ Proof, Byron Burroughs and Angela Harding, will be here between 5 and 6pm to kick things off with a tasting of two unique beverages: the cocoa-infused Alchemia Czekoladowa Vodka from Poland, and the coppery blond beer, Bons Vœux, brewed by the La Brasserie Dupont. If you haven’t been to the Liquor Loft, they’re right on Tennessee Street next to the Starbucks.

At 6pm we’ll tap the Stella Artois barrel, uncork the wines, and hang till 8pm. If there’s anything specific you’d like to drink, bring it with you. We’ve got a thirsty fridge.

Hope you can make it over for a little while — or even a few minutes.

Date: Thursday, May 20, 2010
Time: 5-8pm (Doors open at 3pm)
Address/ Map link: 3033 Powell Road
Parking: Please park at the BrackenChase lot adjacent to the Conversation Factory just off Eliza Rd. If you haven’t been here, please see photos below.

Big and special thanks, as always, go to David Hanselman, owner of BrackenChase Home Builders, who’s been a driving, supportive force behind The Conversation Factory, Conversation Fridays, and transplant.