As Ever, I Am a Marketing Whore

I spent some time with Lola's campaign back in Detroit where I learned that the only legitimate answer to any question is, "Snakes on a muthafuckin' plane." Want a beer? Snakes on a muthafuckin' plane. How many volunteers do you guys have? Snakes on a muthafuckin' plane. What do you think of the ceasefire in Israel? Snakes on a muthafuckin' plane. They wore it out. The power of suggestion is too much for me. By the end of the weekend, I was using Snakes on a muthafuckin' plane as a greeting to Lola's new friends.

This movie looks like complete crap. But the marketing is absolute genius. I'm told by people who know this sort of thing that Snakes on a Plane is sort of a Wiki-movie. The producers leaked scenes to the Internet and then asked the public to contribute ideas. Now you can also send people phone and e-mail messages with Samuel L. Jackson talking personalized trash. I spent the first seven innings of a baseball game yesterday sending messages to other people in the press box and then watching them break down laughing. We even sent it to the wife of a colleague. All of this almost makes me want to see the movie. Almost.