SEIZURES CAN STRIKE EVERYWHERE
especially in squirrel hill.
So I'm driving down Forbes Avenue in Squirrel Hill
this afternoon, on my way to some fabulously exciting errands like paying the
mortgage and depositing an insurance company reimbursement check before moving
on to the main event of the day, grocery shopping at the Squirrel Hill Geriatric
Giant Eagle, when I realize that trees and light poles and street sign poles and
maybe even a couple of tall men who hadn't moved for the last few minutes were,
on both sides of the street and also around the corner, plastered with white,
big-tortilla-wrap-sized white discs. Once I'd parked and begun the trek to
Dollar Bank -- where, by the way, I have not seen so much as a single employee
crack a smile in the past four years; it's like going to Gringotts,
but with taller tellers -- I stopped for closer inspection and, of course, a
quick click of an iPhone
photo:
They were, as you can (almost) see, some sort of public-awareness-cum-propaganda campaign fueled by the Epilepsy Foundation Western/Central Pennsylvania. They were also supremely annoying. And at least a little offensive.
Because this photograph doesn't begin to do justice to their presence on the streets of the Squirrel Hill business district. You can see, with the help of a few Photoshopped arrows, at least eight in a half-block stretch on the south side of Forbes, but there were more out ahead of the camera's range, still more behind me, and at least twenty on the north side of the street. And this block paled in comparison to the 17- and 1800 blocks of Murray Avenue, where, in some spots, you could have stood still, extended your arms at your sides, and touched at least a dozen if you'd bothered to swivel your hips. If I'd had more time -- by which I mean, if I hadn't been racing an ominous sky and the even more ominous rumblings of thunder on my way home -- I would have stopped and taken a picture on those blocks too. But trust me when I say they were everywhere. And that they were supremely annoying.
(Did I mention they were supremely annoying? And at least a little offensive? Good.)
The Seize Back web site -- please don't go there; I did, if only for a little pre-post-writing research, but I'd hate to reward thiscampaign nuisance with even one more web
hit -- explains what I already expected: that these road signs to hell are paved
with good (if insufferably pretentious)
intentions:
The Epilepsy Foundation Western/Central Pennsylvania has just launched an integrated multi-media advertising campaign to increase awareness and encourage greater involvement from the community. Tagged "Seize Back," the campaign is all about inspiring people with epilepsy to seize control of their lives by not losing another moment to epilepsy.
Of course it's an integrated multimedia campaign. These days, what isn't? It's the new advertising codespeak for grating, intrusive, inescapable presence in your life that wins accolades from other advertising professionals but makes you want to hate us and, in this case, maybe even some otherwise innocent epileptics. It's the self-important, (allegedly) feel-good doublespeak for we're gonna plaster these things in your face and on the street and all over your favorite local neighborhoods, then hide behind the nobility of our cause and the edginess of our guerilla drip marketing plan with a litterbug twist.
One of the campaign's goals is to increase awareness. Of what? Epilepsy? (Raise your hand if, until you read this blog post, you weren't aware of epilepsy. Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?) You'll notice, of course, that the ad copy doesn't even bother to specify of what it wants to raise awareness. Maybe that's edgy, economical prose. Or maybe it's just sloppy writing and even sloppier editing.
And anyway -- now that I'm aware, what am I supposed to do? Just be pissed off? Hope that someone comes along and cleans up my neighborhood? Or should I spring into action? Hang a few signs of my own? (Assholes can strike anywhere. Get pissed. Fightback.com) Start a petition drive to prevent other well-intentioned, ill-mannered people from defacing our neighborhood? (Sign here to tell these foundations that citizens, like seizures, can strike anywhere. Especially at them.) Maybe cover my neighbor's car in epilepsy awareness leaflets? (Oh, come on, Erin. I'm raising awareness!) After all...
...another of the campaign's goals is to encourage greater involvement from the community. Still to be answered is the question of how blighting a community with what amounts to artful litter and well-intentioned graffiti -- maybe the Epilepsy Foundation could employ Daniel Montano on a work-release program; when he's done, they could exhibit his work at The Mattress Factory and Waste Management Facility -- encourages the members of that community to rally behind your cause. If it really does work, I'm afraid they'll start dumping trash on our lawns next. Or maybe setting little Epilepsy-Foundation-branded bags of dog shit aflame on our front porch. That'll get us involved!
Perhaps just participating in some of these mischievous pranks will be enough to inspire those epilepsy-suffering scamps to seize control of their lives and spread some litter on their own. After all, we wouldn't want them to lose another moment to epilepsy when they could be out turning their community into one big integrated collage of multimedia waste paper.
This isn't advertising, folks. It's littering. It's vandalizing. (Excuse me, I mean graffiti artisting.) It's filling a simple, lovely public space with your simple, irritating refuse. And then hiding behind both the alleged nobility of your cause and the alleged creativity of your (ahem) campaign.
Are we supposed to tolerate this affront -- this inconsiderate assault on our streets and our senses -- simply because we pity epileptics? Really? Great. Then I look forward to the day when the Cystic Fybrosis foundation comes to spray paint its propaganda all over the sidewalks of Squirrel Hill. And to that glorious morning when we awaken to find that, if only to increase awareness and encourage greater involvement from a stunned and suddenly stinking community, the Pediatric AIDS foundation has littered the sidewalks and storefronts of Murray Avenue with several hundred shit-filled diapers. (All, of course, from the asses of those poor, suffering little babies, so how could you possibly complain?)
Within days, I am sure, we'd have a cure. For everything. If only to protect the sanctity of our community and the sensibilities of our neighborhood, where rallying cries and mass movements in service to sufferers of seizure disorders do not make us suffer these little aesthetic seizures of our own, much less make us want to strike back, and maybe watch a few Wang Chung videos, while deciding never again to donate our time or money to a cause that, had it stopped short of carpetbombing our business district, would have deserved, and almost certainly would have received, our support.
They were, as you can (almost) see, some sort of public-awareness-cum-propaganda campaign fueled by the Epilepsy Foundation Western/Central Pennsylvania. They were also supremely annoying. And at least a little offensive.
Because this photograph doesn't begin to do justice to their presence on the streets of the Squirrel Hill business district. You can see, with the help of a few Photoshopped arrows, at least eight in a half-block stretch on the south side of Forbes, but there were more out ahead of the camera's range, still more behind me, and at least twenty on the north side of the street. And this block paled in comparison to the 17- and 1800 blocks of Murray Avenue, where, in some spots, you could have stood still, extended your arms at your sides, and touched at least a dozen if you'd bothered to swivel your hips. If I'd had more time -- by which I mean, if I hadn't been racing an ominous sky and the even more ominous rumblings of thunder on my way home -- I would have stopped and taken a picture on those blocks too. But trust me when I say they were everywhere. And that they were supremely annoying.
(Did I mention they were supremely annoying? And at least a little offensive? Good.)
The Seize Back web site -- please don't go there; I did, if only for a little pre-post-writing research, but I'd hate to reward this
The Epilepsy Foundation Western/Central Pennsylvania has just launched an integrated multi-media advertising campaign to increase awareness and encourage greater involvement from the community. Tagged "Seize Back," the campaign is all about inspiring people with epilepsy to seize control of their lives by not losing another moment to epilepsy.
Of course it's an integrated multimedia campaign. These days, what isn't? It's the new advertising codespeak for grating, intrusive, inescapable presence in your life that wins accolades from other advertising professionals but makes you want to hate us and, in this case, maybe even some otherwise innocent epileptics. It's the self-important, (allegedly) feel-good doublespeak for we're gonna plaster these things in your face and on the street and all over your favorite local neighborhoods, then hide behind the nobility of our cause and the edginess of our guerilla drip marketing plan with a litterbug twist.
One of the campaign's goals is to increase awareness. Of what? Epilepsy? (Raise your hand if, until you read this blog post, you weren't aware of epilepsy. Anyone? Anyone? Bueller?) You'll notice, of course, that the ad copy doesn't even bother to specify of what it wants to raise awareness. Maybe that's edgy, economical prose. Or maybe it's just sloppy writing and even sloppier editing.
And anyway -- now that I'm aware, what am I supposed to do? Just be pissed off? Hope that someone comes along and cleans up my neighborhood? Or should I spring into action? Hang a few signs of my own? (Assholes can strike anywhere. Get pissed. Fightback.com) Start a petition drive to prevent other well-intentioned, ill-mannered people from defacing our neighborhood? (Sign here to tell these foundations that citizens, like seizures, can strike anywhere. Especially at them.) Maybe cover my neighbor's car in epilepsy awareness leaflets? (Oh, come on, Erin. I'm raising awareness!) After all...
...another of the campaign's goals is to encourage greater involvement from the community. Still to be answered is the question of how blighting a community with what amounts to artful litter and well-intentioned graffiti -- maybe the Epilepsy Foundation could employ Daniel Montano on a work-release program; when he's done, they could exhibit his work at The Mattress Factory and Waste Management Facility -- encourages the members of that community to rally behind your cause. If it really does work, I'm afraid they'll start dumping trash on our lawns next. Or maybe setting little Epilepsy-Foundation-branded bags of dog shit aflame on our front porch. That'll get us involved!
Perhaps just participating in some of these mischievous pranks will be enough to inspire those epilepsy-suffering scamps to seize control of their lives and spread some litter on their own. After all, we wouldn't want them to lose another moment to epilepsy when they could be out turning their community into one big integrated collage of multimedia waste paper.
This isn't advertising, folks. It's littering. It's vandalizing. (Excuse me, I mean graffiti artisting.) It's filling a simple, lovely public space with your simple, irritating refuse. And then hiding behind both the alleged nobility of your cause and the alleged creativity of your (ahem) campaign.
Are we supposed to tolerate this affront -- this inconsiderate assault on our streets and our senses -- simply because we pity epileptics? Really? Great. Then I look forward to the day when the Cystic Fybrosis foundation comes to spray paint its propaganda all over the sidewalks of Squirrel Hill. And to that glorious morning when we awaken to find that, if only to increase awareness and encourage greater involvement from a stunned and suddenly stinking community, the Pediatric AIDS foundation has littered the sidewalks and storefronts of Murray Avenue with several hundred shit-filled diapers. (All, of course, from the asses of those poor, suffering little babies, so how could you possibly complain?)
Within days, I am sure, we'd have a cure. For everything. If only to protect the sanctity of our community and the sensibilities of our neighborhood, where rallying cries and mass movements in service to sufferers of seizure disorders do not make us suffer these little aesthetic seizures of our own, much less make us want to strike back, and maybe watch a few Wang Chung videos, while deciding never again to donate our time or money to a cause that, had it stopped short of carpetbombing our business district, would have deserved, and almost certainly would have received, our support.
Posted: Mon - July 7, 2008 at 06:59 PM
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Published On: Jan 16, 2009 04:50 PM
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