I just discovered John Hagel’s Edge Perspectives and promptly subscribed to his feed. He seems like an utterly brilliant frood. Reading the first post I am giddy because I have been unfortunately orotund with all who will listen (or at least feign) on the subject of where I think marketing is inevitably headed. Dr. Hagel’s post (to the likely vexation of my compatriots, no doubt) has me more overwrought than ever. This post by the vampishly astute Strumpette has me additionally lathered (about the content).
So this is a blog. And a rather new one at that. Acting under the assumption that a blog is the proper venue for tempest-in-a-teapot grandiloquence, I intend now to unwind my narrative on new marketing. It will shake out into a number of parts, but I must warn you now, fair reader: I have a penchant for a kind of looping, lateral storytelling which some (the lawyers want me to warn people with epilepsy) might find, well, obnoxious. So you’ve been warned and all that.
I expect this story to have an eccentric orbit. But I intend that it should prefigure and ultimately arrive at a simple focus. It is this: New marketing means authentic human communication. Like all simple summaries, it’s a platitude. Personally, I get sweaty about attempting to describe the historic-philosophic-cultural superstructure of something like this new marketing stuff. But hey, if you wanted platitudes, you’d have given up on this by now.
The name I use as a symbolic link to these ideas is ‘Integral Marketing.’ I think this name pretty much sucks. As a name, it points directly to my thesis (and is something of an homage to some of the thinking that inspired said thesis), but damn if it ain’t lifeless. Here’s to hoping someone can suggest something better, because I will happily adopt it.
This much I know, this story has a curious and varied cast of strange attractors. Hal Riney shows up, which might not seem strange. He’s the consummate ad guy. I’m not ashamed to admit that I got choked up watching the original Saturn spots (can’t find them online anywhere.) Interestingly perhaps, Hal is mashed up in my head with beat author Jack Kerouac, who makes an appearance.
Obviously, I’ll weave it all together at the end with a QED, full gainer, triple salchow, and a rhetorical flourish that will achieve sentience and make you a latte all while you listen to the final 2:30 of the Sinfonia of Guglielmo Tell (Chially, Pavarotti, National Philharmonic). So, y’know, if that doesn’t seem interesting, I can maybe do some sockpuppetry or something.