Not a big fan of blahgs.
Blahg. Blahg Blahg.
“Lots of plates. No food.”
That’s what my Italian immigrant grandfather would tell my mother as they walked past the well groomed mansions of Hibbing, Minnesota in the 1940’s as she would look in wonder at the amazing abodes.
“Lots of plates. No food.”
If anyone can write a blahg is any one blahg worth reading?
Blahg. Blahg. Blahg.
So then why am I writing my own blahg you might ask. (If you’re still with me that is)
Just trying to carve out a little cyber space on the inter-web
To find out for myself why a 30 year Chicago ad vet is still surviving, producing and looking at today’s ad landscape with bemusement instead of jaundice.
To try to understand why after 30 years of meetings to prepare for meetings, inane dictates and count-them-on your-hand victories I still love this biz.
Why?
Well you just have to check in from time.
Welcome to My First Blahg.
Welcome to Notes From the Grave.