Wolf and the Owl
Poetry, Lyrics, Translations
and Musings by Alex Etchart


By on Wednesday 23rd November, 2011

Dear ad
“Believe in better”? Your a bloody sports channel… A service people use or dont, and probably doesn’t better their life, you are  not socrates or che.

Dear Mr. Daniels spending the rest of your life telling people about how amazing your whisky blending process is not an admirable nor lucky profession just tedious and, I imagine unfulfilling.

Dear kate and co. It was bad enough having to spend our hard earned tax on your wedding not to have a whole arts council funded display perpetuating the relevance of your class all about a corporatised designer dress you wore for one day in a lifetime (and I’ll kill your children before they wear it at their wedding).

Dear heathrow marketing department, stop telling people the only thing to do with the precious few weeks left to them in the year when they’re not being sedated by timetabled money games (work), is to escape somewhere else instead of seeing a their gran or starting the revolution in their own hood.

Dear brita. Health cannot be brought or sold. The only thing that alerted me to your scam was the £1000 prize draw for downloading your “keep hydrated app” to drink loada water using up your filters quicker making you buy more.

Dear from liverpool tourist board. Yes, by saying its a world class destination your culture cartel makes it so, but no that dont make an industrial shit-hole any nicer, it just second-handedly funds a hegemonic facelift in the name of national relations.

Dear insert popular destination here. Yes I can wait, no I wont book now, why should I hop on the train this very instant – you dont know if I’ve just come out of a coma or from beating my wife. In which case maybe I SHOULD hold out for when I FEEL LIKE IT in the interests of your cabin crew’s safety.

Dear “so you can spend more time with him” car insurance. I dont know what to say to that, the idea of even spending 5 minutes speaking to one of your operatives to arrange that, if my metal box on wheels should crash on the way to seeing my boyfriend, i dont have to worry about money when im in a hospital bed not speaking to my boyfriend anyway because he dumped me given your other lifestyle and fashion ads promote going out with people who still have legs, is just sooo reassuring.

Dear ads how sinister you become when my brain is trained to follow the green rectangular paper trail, or nowadays life or death binary code trail (that is money)

Dear ad, in becoming art to my mind representative of the crumbling of society, you do the opposite of what you set out to do (or do you?).
So dear ad, if your artistic effect is rather to monetise aesthetics, fabricate a monoculture to aspire towards and therefore to switch off the creative side of the brain, wouldn’t a more appropriate term for you be anti-art?

Dear ads, thank you for getting a giggle out of me albeit in sardonic sorrow, but at the end of the day, you win – you DID get through to this member of your target audience on one level. The moment you were in my field of view I was sight and mind raped.

So dear ads, when will we get through to you?

Posted in: Poems

Blog owner, singing/strumming person, word speaker, community arts make-happen-er, eco-baby.


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