Loyalty

Throughout my life, I have placed a very high premium on loyalty. Maybe even too high a premium.

If someone displays loyalty to me, there is absolutely nothing I won’t do for them. In my own case, I do not seek out loyalty, but greatly value it when I receive it.

I am loyal to Karen, Notre Dame football, and God.

I can truthfully declare those loyalties are unchangeable.

When I was younger, the list was shorter. I was loyal to: me.

Selfish hedonist idiot.

Even when the Fighting Irish were getting beat by Army and had to suffer through the flailings of a high school coach leading us, when we were getting crushed and humiliated by Alabama, and even after the second ass-whipping at the hands of the Crimson Machine, I remain steadfast in my allegiance. There is always another day, another game, another dream to chase. And another Nick Saban doll to stick pins in.

Now let’s talk about brand loyalty and the semiotics of the constant bombardment to our senses from advertisers.

See how smoothly I transitioned?

You can thank a friend of mine called Lemon Skunk OG coming in at a very respectable 21% THC.

It is another 70 degree day and Arizona sunshine galore, but we are still stoked to move back to Ohio. Our second Pfizer shots are scheduled for three weeks and the next step will be getting a new SUV. See how I just went off on another subject completely? You can thank a friend of mine called Lemon Skunk OG coming in at a very respectable 21% THC.

The branding of America starts earlier every year it seems. Little kids know brand-names and don’t you know the advertisers are salivating gold coins at the prospect of extending the economic life cycles of ALL human beings. Why stop with children? Or human beings for that matter? Dogs? Cats?

If you can corner the insect market, your are home.

“Everyone should buy from us.”

This should be the mission statement of every company that ever filed dba’s.

Unless you’re not selling.

I find that the older I got, the less brand-centric I became. I think the very first “brand” I liked was the two little feet of the “Hang Ten” line. Now, a shirt is a shirt. I don’t care anymore about little feet, alligators or a little guy on a polo pony, or any other name or initials on my clothes.

Does it fit?

Is it clean?

Fine.

Now that might come off as grumpy old man-speak, and I remember the days where my gold tie-bar had to be exactly parallel to my Windsor Knot, but nevertheless, it is so.

Not being blessed with children, I missed the whole Branding of the Children of America thing, but like many things in this world, it also appears inevitable.

So I wish you a very loyal Thursday.

You can thank a friend of mine called Lemon Skunk OG coming in at a very respectable 21% THC.

Stay well.