Archive for the Corporate Letter Campaign Category

“Welcome back to the Asshole’s Club, Mr Smith”

Posted in Clight Paths, Corporate Letter Campaign, irish with tags , , , , , , on 3 December 2011 by clightnirish

Why doesn’t American Airlines just rename the Admiral’s Club as the “Asshole’s Club”?

Despite paying some $7000 for a business class airfare or 25+ flights to qualify for status, the Admiral’s Club (at least at JFK) now started to charge their ‘most valued’ customers for drinks & food… except the self-serve dispenser of stale cracker & pretzel mix, but I don’t really call that food! (To be fair, if you’re really valuable, you might get a voucher for one drink, but after that you’re on your own!)

They’ve also started to charge for wifi, and the furniture is often old and shabby, or high on ‘design’ & low on comfort… less comfortable than on the concourse, in some cases. And despite all this cost-cutting, your airline still just entered Chapter 11?

In some international ACs (like Buenos Aires) you can still serve yourself a beer or scotch (thank goodness for Latin hospitality!!) but you still have to stare down other passengers eyeing off that last slice on the rarely-replenished cheese plate. You can’t get a sandwich, let alone a burger… even if you wanted to pay for it!! You know where they DO have great food to buy, though… out on the concourse.

So if you’re not giving any real ‘privileges’ and passengers would arguably be more comfortable, and certainly better fed, at the “Chilis Too” on the concourse… then what’s the point of an airline lounge? All that is left is some thinly-veiled form of class segregation: there used to be privileges that justified visiting the lounge, but now you’ve made ‘Admirals’ just look like ‘Assholes’ that don’t want to sit with everybody else.

Actually, worse than that… like cheap assholes fighting over the last piece of Gouda.

— Irish

PS… if you happen to fix things up, I’ll be sitting in comfort in Gate Lounge B6, with my Auntie Anne’s pretzel dog and a Cinnabon.

An open letter to the Monkeys in charge of NBC Late Night Programming

Posted in Clights, Camera, Action, Corporate Letter Campaign with tags , , , , , , , , , , on 15 August 2010 by clightnirish

Dear Monkeys,

Well, well, well. Didn’t you just dodge a bullet?!?  Thanks to the comic mastery of Jon Stewart, you avoided what could have gone down as perhaps the most popular decision by Emmy voters since deciding NOT to add an award for “Tartiest Performance in a New Jersey Reality Program”.

When The Tonight Show with Conan O’Brien (You know the show. The one you cancelled to give back to Leno!) was nominated for the Emmy for Comedy/Variety Program (and Leno wasn’t), the execs at TBS must have found it, well… very funny.

Before it’s even started, Coco’s show on TBS is commanding ad revenues equivalent to what you can get for The Old Show with that backstabbing Leno. You see you didn’t just re-launch Conan’s career by igniting a giant fan base for him as you booted him… you also created a villain – “The Chin” – out of a guy that Conan fans used to also love. And all this has custom-made a blockbuster audience for TBS who just sits back and picks up the pieces.

Thanks to your stupidity, Conan could just poop in a paper bag (you monkeys are familiar with the hilarity of poo gags) on the new show, and people will still watch it instead of The Chin.

I look forward to the first comparisons in the ratings from Nielsen. I wonder if GE will keep tolerating your monkeying once those numbers hit the press??

Or will they continue to let you do what you were so well trained to do at the zoo… throw piles of shit at an audience that is looking for entertainment!

Ooh-ooh-ahh-ahh,
Irish

An Open Letter to Paramount Pictures

Posted in Clights, Camera, Action, Corporate Letter Campaign, irish with tags , , , , , on 24 July 2010 by clightnirish

Brad Grey
CEO, Paramount Pictures
5555 Melrose Avenue, Hollywood, CA

Dear Brad,

I am writing to you to ask for an explanation of your studio’s careless and miserly attitude toward providing the proverbial “green light” for the much anticipated sequel to possibly the greatest comedy film that any studio has ever released, which of course is “Anchorman: the legend of Ron Burgundy”.

News abounds across the inter-web-o-sphere that the actors are keen, and in fact willing to work for well below their normal market rates.  Fans are – as they say in the classics – “chomping at the bit”. And yet, Paramount stands between the good people of the world and their one decent chance of good entertainment.

When I ask myself why you might be being such a stubborn prat about making Anchorman 2, a few possible ‘excuses’ that you may offer, do come to mind:

  • Number 1 –  The scuttlebutt is that even though Anchorman was a cult hit grossing $85million in the US, you were not happy with it’s international appeal that only dropped in 5 more. So what you are telling us then is that “Paramount doesn’t care about America“. Got it!
  • Number 2 – you are completely oblivious to the fact that the first movie has become a cult classic. Obviously you have been sleeping under that giant rock in your studio logo. Anchorman has multiple Facebook pages, a million fans spread across them, and has spawned countless applications like “Which Anchorman character are you?”.  Can you say the same about Tropic Thunder? No. But you still made that.
  • Number 3 – you would rather keep making uncreative sequels and threequels of big franchise movies and feeding the masses more of the same crap. Who are you – the Burger King? Maybe Anchorman will get a second installment once you are done making the “Iron Man VI: Revenge of Rust” or your 17th Transformers film.

It just seems entirely crazy that you would be hesitating on Anchorman 2, and whether it will be a box office success, when not so long ago, you decided that “Drillbit Taylor” was a movie that the world needed to see.  Please do not be offended when I state that you are either stupid, sir, or just plain crazy.

And thus, we at Clight’n’Irish are forced to take matters into our own hands. If you are entirely motivated by cash, and not a love for comedy and the cinema, then we will have to deal in your currency. So today we announce the creation of:

The Clight’n’Irish Volunteer Fund for the Production of Anchorman 2

Via reader comments to this open letter, and to the associated Facebook fan page, we will begin collecting pledges from the wise citizens of the world who wish to see the return of classic American comedy to their cinema screens. The suggested pledge from interested fans is $15 – roughly the price of a box office ticket.  Of course, fans are free to pledge whatever it is worth to them to see this masterpiece completed.

We will keep you posted of the total of the above-mentioned pledges, and when they reach an amount that you believe satisfies the beasts in your cavernous money-pit, let us know and we will start calling in the cash.  All we ask is that each of those that donates is then listed in a long list of “Producers” in the credits of the film.

This is our commitment toward seeing this film produced. We look forward to you giving yours.

— Irish

iCaramba!! …an open letter to Steve Jobs

Posted in Corporate Letter Campaign, irish with tags , , , , , , on 26 February 2010 by clightnirish

Mr. Steve Jobs
CEO
Apple, Inc
1 Infinite Loop
Cupertino, CA

Dear Steve,

I’m a Mac. No two ways about it. I write every blog post on my iPhone. I design our Clight’n’Irish merchandise on a MacBook Pro. Once, when seriously asking friends what I should get tattooed, the fastest response from a very good friend was “the Apple logo”.

But, oh, Mr. Jobs — how thou art a cruel and greedy demi-god! Must you constantly put temptation in my way to test me? (“Apple” is such an apt name for your brand.)

Some of your temptations are irresistable – like when you made mouses “Magic” (I knew one day you would reveal your power of sorcery!). But, I must ask you… how many different ‘screens’ do I really need in my life?

I have the 2-inch screen on my iPod photo (plus the discarded Classics in a drawer somewhere). Then there’s the 4-inch screen on my iPhone (x2 actually: 2G and 3G), and I have a 14″ screen on my MacBook (plus an older 13″ iBook still kicking around).

But now you indulge my weakness for silicon (chips, not boobs) further with this additional 9-inch morsel of perfect design and style, which you call “iPad”.

Well, in this case Mr. Jobs, I say ‘nay’. I “pod”. I “phone”. I still “book” and I still “sight”, even. I “life” and I “tune” and I “photo” and I “chat” and I “cal”.

But I choose NOT to “pad”.

It looks cool as all hell, and dead sexy, and I am sure I will recommend it to anyone who is not already weighed down with five connected devices, but for me, enough is enough. My wallet is sore and besides… I have no pockets or electrical sockets left.

I hope I have not disappointed you too much with this decision. Just please, I pray, don’t smite me for my indignance.

— Irish

Cookie Monsters: an open letter to The Delta Gourmet Center

Posted in Clight Paths, Corporate Letter Campaign, irish with tags , , , , on 3 November 2009 by clightnirish

Following is my actual message to Delta Airlines:

“Dear Delta Culinary Gurus,
Recently flying on a Northwest flight to Wisconsin, I was pleased to not only receive some food in coach – these days on domestic airlines, that gets an audible “wow!” – but to get two tiny morsels of sustenance from the kind and gracious hand of Delta.
The peanuts were, well, peanuts – an airline staple. But this other little red pack of “Biscoff” looked like it might actually provide some pleasure to my tastebuds. After all, it was labelled as being from the Delta “Gourmet Center” -a title which is surely reviewed and bestowed by Michelin. (Forgive me – I jest. Let me get to my point.)
Anyway, having just returned from summer vacation with no tan, and five extra pounds, the anal little killjoy in my head suggested I had best check the calorie, fat and sugar information on these delicious smelling little morsels (I had copped a whiff from the guy next to me by now). But there is not a nutritional tidbit to be found. Instead, on the side
of the pack it tells me “Call or write for nutritional information”.

How, pray, tell, should I do that from seat 3D in a CRJ over Lake Michigan?

By aviation rules I am not permitted to email or make a call, so are you telling me that the nuts are for on board, but I am meant to wait to eat the biscuits until we land, and I can wait for an email back?

I notice you have found room on the package to show the words Delta, SkyMiles or your logo 8 times – perhaps thats a bit redundant given I am on your plane, being served by your staff, reading your magazine and have a Delta napkin as a coaster. At this point, your brand is painfully obvious to me. Painfully!! You even to try to sell me more biscuits with a special SkyMiles offer taking up half the back of the pack. I dont think the airline industry’s finances are going to
be turned around on cookie sales alone, so maybe you could give up some of that space to show, oh I don’t know, the calorie count for example?
Or here is a suggestion if you really need all those logos and offers on the pack: take a few column inches of space and add the info to the fine print in the back of your “Sky” magazine. At least I could access that at the time I can consume the cookies.
I look forward to receiving the nutritional information to find out how much damage I did that day, and also to your comments on my suggestions for remedying this embarrassing packaging guffaw.

Sincerely,
Frequent Delta/NorthWest Flyer and Waistline Watcher”

————————————————————————————

So I could leave off here, but the response was even funnier. I received the bizarre response that they needed my flight date, flight number, ticket number — in order to respond to a request about cookie packaging???? WTF?!?!?

But I obliged, and at this point it got really weird! Because of the “unsatisfactory quality of my meal” they sent me a $50 travel voucher. But I never said the meal was unsatisfactory! Just their packaging!! I will not accept payment for my silence… so I had to reply:

> Hi Jenny,
>
> Let me just say firstly, thankyou for the ticket voucher, which was
> not at all required. Very kind of you.
>
> However, I am entirely dissatisfied by this response.
>
> Your message apologizes for the “unsatisfactory quality” of my meal.
> Firstly, you are using the term “meal” very loosely. But more
> importantly, the quality of my “meal” was fine. The information about it
> was the problem. I very clearly asked for some information in my
> response: the nutritional info for the Biscoff biscuits that you
> provide on your flights.
>
> So, voucher or no voucher, I consider this response entirely
> unsatisfactory as you don’t seem to have read my initial request very
> well at all. I am left wondering if Jenny M James is even a real
> person or if this is some computer algorithm looking for certain text
> and responding automatically. Very dissapointing.

Finally, after this email (my fifth back to them), I got a simple, reasonable answer, with the nutrutional info I wanted. It’s a sign of the times that now you have to call into question the humanity of your customer service agent to get a proper answer.

But at least now I know that I can happily eat those cookies when I book a flight with that voucher!! Only 120 calories – nice.

Crayon Madness

Posted in clight, Corporate Letter Campaign with tags on 19 June 2009 by clightnirish

Actual letter to Crayola Crayons:

Crayola, LLC
Attn: Consumer Affairs
P.O. Box 431
Easton, PA   18044-0431
USA

Dear Sirs;

I had a distressing encounter with a box of Crayola crayons. I have serious concerns which I would like addressed.

8 of the 64 colors of crayons in this box were branded “Children’s Choice” and had names such as “Best Friend,”  “Bear Hug” and “Giving tree” (What does that even mean?) A real crayon name at once and explicitly paints a picture of the color: “Magenta,” “Gold” and even “Periwinkle.”

These 8 names are wrong in so many ways. Firstly, crayons are largely sold to children. Well, no 5 year-old child should ever be asked to visualize (or worse, be told) what color “Happy Ever After” is or should look like. The child should be in the backyard playing with their dog, not making subjective evaluations of color in relation to abstract concepts that not even adults understand. It’s absurd. (And It’s true, too. Every single adult I asked to describe what color “Happy Ever After” should be didn’t even come close to your version.)

What makes this doubly disappointing is that Crayola usually gets it so right. Names like “Salmon” are simple, concise, and immediately evocative of the exact color the crayon represents, a sort of dark pink color, like a piece of salmon.

The ridiculous names would be bad enough. But it gets worse. The colors themselves are quite different shades than the normal crayons. They do have one thing in common: Ugliness. They are each vile parodies of a normal color.

“Best Friends”? If my best friend wore this horrible shade of grimy lavender… Well, let’s just say Friends don’t let Friends wear Red Zinfandel, either.

“Happy ever after.” The only thing that’s happy about this color is when I get to stop looking at it. Its like someone took blue, throttled it by the neck until it was pale, and then hurled into it after eating a pound of blueberries.

Here’s another two word color: “Super Happy” I have my own two-word name for this color: “Vitamin Piss.” That’s right. You know the color.

“Fun in the sun.” Maybe if you’re a 60-year old retiree with a bad orange sunburn in palm springs. Painful. How about “Facelift Tan.”

“Bear hug.” Could you be any more touchy-feely? Well, maybe you can (see “Giving Tree” below.) Even so, how on earth did you come up with this name for this color? Do you actually get children to visualize what color a “bear hug” is? If a bear hugs you, I don’t think this dirty shade of grey is the colour you’d be seeing. This is more like “Old New York Sidewalk Slush Grey.” Don’t even get me started on the translations on the crayons, either. The French name for this, literally translated, is “Hug Me Strong.”

“Famous?” This is the obnoxious shade of pink that people like Paris Hilton, Britney Spears and Lindsey Lohan would wear. So, children, if you want to be that kind of famous, then this is the color for you. Here’s a more descriptive name: “No Panties Required.”

“Awesome.” What’s awesome about this color is how you could make a shade of orange that is such an abomination. It doesn’t fit anywhere on the chart that god devised called “color.” It’s basically Satanic. “Devil’s inferno” is more like it.

“Giving tree.”  This is the most offensive, in my opinion. It doesn’t get any more new-age touchy-feely guilty-rich-white-girl Liberal than this. Because let’s face it, Crayola, that’s who came up with these names, isn’t it? Some Sociology major who wants everybody to sit around in a circle holding hands and singing “Kumbaya.” How about “Daddy Never Loved Me Green.”

Lest you think me bitter, I could sing the praises of Crayola’s more aptly-named (and colored) colors. “Olive Green.” Beautiful. I can see the exact shade of the green olive growing from an ancient tree on a hillside in Greece. And so can you. That’s the kind of color pedigree I’m talking about.

These new colors are not only ugly, they’re confusing. The names have absolutely nothing to do with the colors. Maybe a small minority of new-age “it’s not your fault, society is to blame, share how you feel” people want this kind of irreligious uncertainty foisted on the youth of the world. I don’t. I want the Old Testament exactitude of names like “Blue Green,” “Violet” and so on.

In closing, let me say that when I or anyone else use your product, we use it on a coloring book, because we want to color. If I want philosophical speculation, I will read Plato or Descartes, or even Miyamoto Musashi. When I want to color in my favorite Scooby Doo coloring book, that’s when I go for Crayola. But not those 8 colors. I banished them from my palette, and I implore freedom-loving people everywhere to do the same.

My advice to Crayola is simple. Shut down your Abstract Visualization Department. True, you may have to fire the head of the department, who probably has a title like “Director of Introductory Crayons for Kindergartens.”  But frankly, in these economically difficult times, can you truly afford the money you waste on their salary?

Sincerely,

Demon colors.

Demon colors.

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