Ugh. It’s just too hot. I came here to the Rocket Cat Cafe in Fishtown this morning in the hopes of catching some cool, cool, freon breezes, but is it any surprise that it’s as sticky and unforgiving as the summer of 1994 in here? Rocket Cat, man. Don’t even get me started. My point: It is my belief that the same outdated activist-lite braincloud that produced less-than-effective air conditionings in the RC is the same bullshitzeitgeist that is provoking the twin outrages we shall call The Pabstocaust and The One-Year Colt 45 Delayed Reaction. (Holy shit, it really does work every time! Apparently, you just have to wait.) At issue: Loads of ads — most of which I’m guessing have been duly paid-for — all over the city that could maybe sorta look for a second like murals if you were perhaps not very aware of the century-plus old concept and tradition of wall-size advertising in major American cities. SCRUB is upset! (Advice: Start living in the NOW, fools, advertising is as much a part of us as the air we breathe.) The Mural Arts Commission is upset! (Advice/desperate plea: QUALITY OVER QUANTITY, yo.) That’s all well and good, but seriously, it’s just too damn hot. Please. Can we not?
KYW: The Pabstocaust
AP: In The Time Since This Ad Campaign Has Gone Up, Pamela Anderson Has Had Three Different Husbands

This entry was posted on Friday, June 27th, 2008 at 10:40 am.