August 24, 2010
In our last ad for Old Hickory, they’ve moved from Lincoln, to Leary, to just leering. Blunt like the beard on a creepy old man, there’s no patter and no palaver. Old Hickory just wants to get you drunk and put on old Bad Company records. Or, just wants to wear the Harbor Master jacket, lean up against his dingy, and mutter nasties under his breath as 18-year-olds walk past with horrified looks. Because (and this is no joke) the Harbor Master ad was right under this particular Old Hickory ad. A fitting end to the demise and decline of Old Hickory (which can’t be found any more, though I think pal Juan Shoreleave is going state-to-state trying. Watch for him).
And if you’ve wondered what to wear:
August 20, 2010
This is the second in our series of Old Hickory ads (for the first, look below, or click this Old Hickey link), where Old Hickory decided one month after being more in the lineage of Lincoln (thanks Nicole for showing me that, um, obvious connection) that they wanted to become a bit more in the lineage of Leary. But use exactly the same graphics. So c’mon, join the trip, man (and woman).
August 17, 2010
Okay, this is the first of a three-part series of Old Hickory ads, charting the brand’s movement from somewhat reserved and reticent tipple probably most utilized by small town citizens who like to spend time on the front porch in a rocking chair talking about the goodness in populations under 1500, from that to a wilder and crazier far out swiller most consumed by brightly-colored college denizens out for a night of mind-bending free spirited alcohol and drug use, from that to a pretty twisted gulper utilized by boozed-up party boys on the make to entice those young ladies who don’t know any better to do things they shouldn’t probably do, with a smile. So, basically, charting the exact same trajectory as most men I knew growing up as they moved from seniors in high school to seniors in college. The strange thing, though, is that Old Hickory ran these ads in three consecutive months in a particular magazine. That’s re-branding at light speed people.
August 10, 2010
I (as demonstrated before) love me some Miller High Life. One summer, my pal Joel and I used to have a 12-pack chilled for us to drink on the porch every night at 2 am once home from the bars. One other summer (this was before High Life had a little hipster resurgence, too), my pal Erik and I drove up from Chicago to the Miller Brewing Company in Milwaukee and forced some sadsack salesperson to go into a back room and bring out a dusty box of High Life merch for us to wade through (we did buy a lot, admittedly). So, me and High Life have had a long and fruitful drunken relationship. And I’ve always referred to it, bottle, can, or keg, as the Champagne of beers. Now, the below ad is telling me that only bottles fit that description, and only uptight Wall Street types can drink said bottles, while working class chums are stuck with stinky ol’ cans and looking sadly at the privileged others. Damn, is even High Life stuck within some class-conscious vortex of suck? Or am I over-reacting? Should I just get a beer and go outside far away from corporate living and drink it and fill my talk hole with its golden goodness?
July 9, 2010
I’ll drink up some brandy, winter, spring, summer, fall, you name it. I like it most often in cocktails, but have been known to go sniftering with the straight stuff on occasion (mostly often with dolled-up brandies Cognac and Armagnac, and fruit brandies, sure). However, I didn’t until I saw the below ad realize that I was in danger of being beheaded, and then having my head turned into a snifter, when drinking brandy. And being happy about said beheading. Want to keep your own head? Stay away from even serving Coronet VSQ (cause even the smiling serving butler man’s head has been leveled off in a way that has to hurt, even if it was done with a brandy laser). Though, thinking about it from another angle, both heads/faces looks awfully happy. And it is the before and after dinner drink. Though how you’d enjoy dinner without a body is sorta beyond me. But what the heck, it is Friday. I need some laughs. Bring me the brandy.
