Are you sick and tired of playing victim to Facebook’s nefarious, ever-changing privacy practices? Are you exhausted from all of those hours spent trying to get reoiriented with Facebook’s interface after another zany redesign? Have you had it with those tiny ads on each side of your screen, ruining the serenity of your social networking experience?

Well friends, it’s time to break free from the chains of Facebook and trade that Farmville plantation for emancipation! It’s time to realize your long-oppressed dream of absolute social networking freedom! It’s time to sign up for Unthink!

Then again, maybe not.

Unthink is a newly launched (and horribly named) social network aimed at Facebook haters, Google Plus haters and haters in general. Unthink’s big selling point is that it gives users absolute control over what personal information they share and with whom they share it, so you must no longer withstand those keyword ads mocking you from each side of the screen.

In tune with its theme of “social networking freedom,” Unthink users are given a deed to a profile that consists of three distinct streams, each tailored for different audiences. There’s a stream for the general public, a stream for friends and a stream for businesses and brands. Each stream is closed by default, and users have tight control over who gets access.

Though all of this social-networking-freedom talk is well and good, having spent the past week noodling through the beta, I’ve come to the conclusion that Unthink is well built, well intentioned and well on its way to failure. Why? Because Unthink has positioned its brand based on the falsehood that people hate Facebook when clearly, they don’t.

In fact, when it comes right down to it, people love Facebook. Just think about it: If Facebook shut down tomorrow, there would be panic in the streets, huge lines at gas stations, a run on milk and bread at the local grocery. Hordes of workers would resume being productive at their jobs. Absolute pandemonium!

If upstart Unthink hopes to compete against titans like Facebook and Google Plus, they must portray themselves as the place to be instead of just attacking the competition. Vilifying Facebook simply isn’t going to work. Also, it wouldn’t hurt to Rethink the name.

It’s hard to believe that a whole year has passed since I unveiled my first-annual list of YouTube Faves. Even more astounding is the fact that in 2011, YouTube users sent more than 25 million hours of coning, kitten and crotch-trauma footage out to pasture on the YouTube server farm, nearly doubling the total for 2010.

Needless to say, the flood of new content made it tougher for me to pick my three favorite videos of the year, so to make things a bit easier, I narrowed my focus strictly to vids showing human beings performing extraordinary feats of artistic mastery!

Below I’ve assembled a triumvirate of YouTube awesomeness showcasing some elite talents in the arts of dance, music — and Photoshop. So, without further adieu, let’s burn a few minutes on YouTube!

#3 — Photoshop Ninja

I might be a lowly copywriter, but I can definitely appreciate the mad Photoshop skillz seen here. In this time-lapse video, the artist creates a true-to-life portrait from scratch without a brush in sight. Pump up the volume for a distracting Russian-pop soundtrack!

#2 — Ben Lacy: The best guitar player in Kentucky (and possibly the world).

Ben Lacy has tons of great vids on YT, but this rendition of Queen’s “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” will give you a good idea of what he can do. A guitar player/teacher from Lexington, Ben can play drums, bass, guitar and vocal lines on guitar — all at once.

#1 — “Pumped Up Kicks” Dubstep Dance

By far the most viewed of our trio, this mesmerizing entry features a man who seems to dance in slow motion. While I’m no authority on dubstep dancers, this fellow has to be one of the best. His mastery of rhythm and body control, dare I say, rivals even mine.

So, I hoped you enjoyed perusing my YouTube Faves of 2011. It was tough to pare down the list, but after poring over tens of thousands of videos, I feel confident with my selections. That said, there are many more incredible feats of man documented on YouTube, and I encourage you to forward along a few of your faves!

Until next year!

I recently came across this story about a Canadian man named Harold Hackett who has thrown more than 4,800 message-stuffed, neon-colored juice bottles into the Atlantic Ocean since 1996. Astonishingly, he’s now received more than 3,100 responses from bottle recipients stretching from Africa to Ireland. Even more impressive, all of the replies have been handwritten letters, as Harold doesn’t include his phone number with his messages opting for the more sincere, personal correspondence.

Aside from the fact Harold is felonious polluter, with his phenomenal 63% response rate I couldn’t help but wonder, is there a marketing lesson to be learned here? Then it occurred to me: A good ad is a lot like one of Harold’s messages. Adrift in a boundless ocean of sameness, it sticks out. It floats to the top. It inspires consumers (or beach bums) to investigate, engage and respond in a positive way. So the challenge becomes making one’s advertising seem like a message in a bottle. But aside from bottling it and throwing it into the Pond, how does one accomplish such?

I think Mr. Hackett’s story shows that in order to connect with an audience while floating in vast sea of banality, you need at least three ingredients: surprise, mystery and sincerity. To explain further, outlined below is what I’m deeming the Unauthorized Harold Hackett Guide to Direct-Response Marketing (UHHGDRM). Have a look.

1. Surprise the consumer with the delivery. This doesn’t necessarily mean a fancy package (or juice bottle). It could be as simple as a great visual or a snappy headline. Whatever it is, it must grab the consumer’s attention.

2. Create a sense of mystery. Like Sarah McLachlan, one must build a mystery to arouse the consumer’s curiosity. It needn’t be heavy or convoluted, just something intriguing enough to get the lid off the bottle.

3. Deliver the message with sincerity. Once the consumer has the message in their hands, it’s game time, and an honest, personal tone will score more points than trite, salesy tripe.

While I admit the UHHGDRM is somewhat vague and undeveloped, it’s meant to be more of a compass than a roadmap. Just a basic set of maxims by which to judge an advert before releasing it into the sea. And though the formula isn’t perfect (since I came up with it about two-and-a-half minutes ago), surely it has some merit, right?

Regardless, I think Harold Hackett’s story sends an S.O.S. to the world of marketing, proving that everyone loves a surprise, a mystery and a sincere appeal. When we as marketers inject these elements into every breath we take and every ad we make, only then will we walk in fields of gold.

I remember it like it was yesterday. I can still recount the pride and outright joy of that sunny July afternoon — the day I received my invitation to join Google+.

I can’t really explain my early enthusiasm for G+. Maybe it was the thrill of exploring an uncharted new social space. Maybe it was the appeal of having somewhere to go that wasn’t Facebook. Maybe I’m just a pathetic loser. Whatever the case, my G+ gusto soon fizzled — and apparently I’m not the only one.

According to data from 89n.com, the number of public posts on G+ dropped by 41% from August to September. And even though the “Circles”-based social network encourages private posting, the stat could signal a troubling decline in overall usage.

I find it a little surprising given that the hotly hyped G+ jetted to 25 million users in just its first week (far outpacing the early days of Facebook). And most agree that the platform’s Facebook/Twitter-hybrid model is impeccably designed and easy-to-use — not to mention 100% Farmville free.

Still, if the huge decline in public posts reflects a similar decline in overall usage, I think it’s safe to say that Google’s bouncing baby is destined to spend its life in Facebook’s formidable shadow.

Incidentally, I logged onto G+ today for the first time in weeks to find my newsfeed dominated by several long status updates from a single poster. He wasn’t a close friend or relative. He wasn’t an old classmate. Instead, the prolific public poster was someone I’d known for years, yet never met. He was none other than my first official friend on the Internet: MySpace’s Tom Anderson.

Ironic+?

I used to sell musical instruments for a living. Flutes, violins, accordions — you name it, I sold it. It was a fun gig at first, but it was retail and, well, my enthusiasm eventually succumbed to the daily routine of soul-crushing banality. The job did, however, prove a good learning experience. Namely, it provided a firsthand look into how brand loyalty plays out on the sales floor. And when it comes to musical instruments, in no category will you find fiercer brand loyalists than in electric guitars:

“Got any Gibsons er Fenders?”

“No, sorry. We don’t carry those brands.”

“Well you’d sell a lot more if ya did! Tham guitars is the best!”

It happened every week. Some longhaired know-it-all in a sweat-stained trucker cap would peek his head in, quickly scan the guitar section and then chide me upon discovering that we didn’t carry Gibson or Fender. Sure, we had guitars. We had plenty. But our guitars didn’t have the right name on the headstock, and often, it was a deal breaker.

So many times I wanted to say, “Wake up, Jimmy Bob! It’s not what you play, it’s how you play it! Our guitars are just as good!” But it was a lost cause.

The loyalists could not be reasoned with.

It didn’t matter that our guitars were, in every demonstrable way, made as well as comparable models from the behemoth brands. It didn’t matter that, in many cases they were produced at the very same overseas factories by the same computer-controlled machines. Sometimes our guitars even had the exact pickups and hardware used by the big brands. Still it didn’t matter.

For the loyalists, it was never about the product. It was always about the brand.

A strong brand turns an equal product into a superior product. It makes cola taste better. It makes toothpaste more effective. It makes the diamonds sparkle more brilliantly. It makes vacuum cleaners suck harder. And it even makes guitars sound better.

Logic need not apply.

Like many of us here at CM, I’m a musician. I picked up the bass at 13, and since then I’ve been in and out of about a dozen bands. Most of them never made it out of the basement. A few lucky ensembles, however, managed to escape and venture into that Mecca of every aspiring rock legend — the recording studio.

Until just a few years ago, “going to the studio” was a big (and pricey) deal for most bands. But boy how things have changed. Today, recording studios are fighting to maintain relevance in a world that’s filling up with great, inexpensive home recording gear.

Apple deserves major credit for the proliferation of home recording. In 2004, when the company introduced GarageBand as a pack-in application for all of its computers, the floodgates opened for millions of bedroom balladeers to easily and affordably record and share their music.

Nowadays, you don’t even need a computer. The iPhone and the iPad (as well as the Android market) have hundreds of solid recording apps available such as Amplitube, n-Track Studio and my personal favorite, NanoStudio.

NanoStudio is pretty expensive as apps go, but at 15 bucks, it costs about the same as 15 minutes in a real recording studio. It’s powerful and easy to use, and though my iPhone version is tricky to use because of the screen size, it’s still a beast of an app.

NanoStudio’s strength is in its synth modeling. It has about 130 preset sounds and each is infinitely customizable. It even allows users to sample sounds through the phone’s built-in mic and then manipulate those samples on various keyboard instruments.

In the past few days, I’ve been having a lot of fun noodling around with NanoStudio. I haven’t yet composed my masterpiece, but here’s a little groove that I put together just for the blog. Have a listen!

P.S. In this tune, I lifted a riff from an iconic pop instrumental. If you can name that tune, you’ll win a fantabulous prize!
Latest tracks by StephenDMorgan

Apparently so, according to a recent study by researchers from the marketing departments at Southern Methodist University and the College of William and Mary.

In a simple experiment, 100 undergraduate students were divided into two groups and shown one of two print ads for an imaginary popcorn product from Orville Redenbacher. One version featured imagery of young people enjoying a bowl of popcorn along with a vivid description of its taste. The other was much simpler with only a logo and basic product description. After reading the ads, selected members of each group were then allowed to taste the popcorn.

A week later, the students were asked to report their memories of the popcorn including whether or not they’d eaten it. Surprisingly, students who merely read the more detailed advertisement were just as likely to ‘remember’ having eaten the popcorn as those who actually did. Students who read the basic version were far less likely to have misremembered the experience.

So what’s going on here? Can imagery-evoking advertising really trick us into inventing memories of experiences that didn’t occur? If so, is that okay?

I say yes on both counts. While I’m not sure how accurately this study reflects real-world circumstances (advertising rarely enjoys the luxury of such a captive audience), as a copywriter I find the notion of inspiring false memories in consumers quite compelling. Just like a good book pulls the reader into the story, good advertising should pull the consumer into the experience.

The study has raised some ethical questions as to whether or not this type of advertising can be too manipulative, but I find that a bit silly. After all, the basic purpose of advertising is to claim a lasting space in a consumer’s mind; if that entails creating a false memory or two, then mission accomplished.

Now, please excuse me while I fondly reflect on that time I met “Mean Joe Greene.”

I can’t speak from experience, but from what I’ve heard, one bite of an In-N-Out burger will change your life forever. The relatively small California chain holds a lofty spot in American lore as the preeminent dispensary of ground beef greatness, and every In-N-Out fan I’ve ever met has adamantly sang their praises, often speaking of the burgers as one would a powerful intoxicant or even a deity.

Still, I was taken aback when I saw this video last week of the opening-day drive-thru line at In-N-Out’s first-ever Texas location:

The line, which is nearly 100 cars long, made me think about how a powerful brand can trump one’s logic or rationale. We see it all the time whenever Apple or (insert electronics company here) releases their latest gadget. People line up for hours (sometimes days) on end. I didn’t, however, expect to see it (to such an extent) with a burger joint.

Sure, the line won’t always be so long; opening-day curiosity always bolsters the public’s interest. But as I look at the line (extending all of 2 miles), I get the feeling that these folks, even if they’ve yet to try their first In-N-Out burger, have already decided that it’s worth the wait.

This is the power of a strong brand.

They’re in line for more than just a taste of burger bliss. They’re there to witness and take part in a monumental moment in hamburger history. They’re there to join the ranks of burger-philes across the nation who hold true and espouse the virtues of In-N-Out. They’re there to experience In-N-Out.

Perhaps nothing better illustrates the potency of the brand like this lady’s reaction. A California native who grew up enjoying the burgers, she was so overcome by emotion at the Texas store’s opening, she literally wept with joy as she ate her Double-Double®.

Can you imagine? A hamburger that brings people to tears?

Now that’s a tasty burger.

My 3rd cousin, Jerry, was one of the more colorful characters of my youth. He was loud, drunken and unapologetically vulgar. And each day, he careened up and down the curling roads of Rockhouse Creek in an old pickup with a toolbox full of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

For many years, I avoided Pabst, associating it with images of my distant cousin’s family-reunion tantrums or his violent, uncomfortable outbursts at other family gatherings.

Nowadays, however, I purchase and consume PBR with unabashed vigor, my perception of the brand no longer suffering from the memories of cousin Jerry’s hijinks. So, what changed my mind about PBR?

It all started in 2003. Vacation: New York City.

My beautiful girlfriend (now wife) and I were poking around the Big Apple when we found a little dive called Arlene’s Grocery. We went inside and found a tavern packed with goths, in front of each — a PBR Tall Boy.

The scene stood in refreshing contrast to those of my youth, and the ensuing night of sharing PBRs with tourist-friendly goth-folk went a long way in warming me up to the brand.

The goths didn’t see PBR the way I did. To them, it wasn’t Cousin Jerry’s Yellin’ Juice®, it was the underdog. The anti-establishment beer. The ironic flagship of American B-List brews.

Since then, many more beer buyers have adopted that view, driving a resurgence of the brand which, having suffered a 90% decline in sales from its peak in 1977 to 2001, has been enjoying steady growth. As a matter of fact, PBR experienced a 25% sales increase from 2008 to 2009 alone.

I’m sure if ole cousin Jerry knew his brew of choice had developed such a following among hip, urban sophisticates, he’d curse out his grandmother.

Oh wait. He did that.

The NCAA Basketball Tournament is back, and the nation is once again awash in bracket-picking bliss. But lurking beneath all of the twine-snipping, shining moments lies something far less appealing: the blatant exploitation of student-athletes by the NCAA.

They’re walking billboards for shoe companies and sports drinks. Their likenesses are used to market everything from jerseys to video games. And they draw tens of millions in revenues for the institutions for which they play. Meanwhile, their coaches earn multi-million-dollar salaries and endorsement deals while the NCAA scores billions in licensing and broadcast rights.

Many argue that a free college education is compensation enough for athletic talent, but consider the extraordinary demands placed on student-athletes: Their schedules are consumed by both required and “voluntary” workouts, draining travel schedules and all of the stresses that come with a full-time course load.

Division 1-A college athletics is a multi-billion dollar industry. Isn’t it time the NCAA did right by the players who’ve made it so? Isn’t it time to pay the student-athlete?