Worst kept secret ever:

I spent all day Wednesday at an epicenter for great advertising.

Speaking of it purely as a field trip, if you will, it was fantastic. I happen to be listening to Soul Singing from the Black Crowes right this second, but that's exactly what the field trip did. I'd been down. Cascading in blue without a sound. Then I traded my black feathers for a crown. You know how it goes.

OK, I guess I wasn't down. I just wasn't totally, completely sure. I'd worked in one honest to goodness, real ad agency in my life. (and a handful of grade A slapdick operations, which bored me to tears and sucked the life out of my soul) And I loved being at the "real" agency. But I had to wonder. How much of that was the people? And the atmosphere? And the clients I was blessed to work with?

I spent Wednesday in my element. Even more than I was at aforementioned "real" agency. It was awesome. It was fantastically fulfilling and envigorating. And, hopefully, profitable. If I never hear another word from them, Wednesday was a resounding success.

They do some great work. Beyond that, they have some brilliant ideas in the works.

And then, there's this douchbaggery. Thanks, assholes for making me so proud of my industry.



You're the ad people Bill Hicks was talking to.