Truth in advertising

I have a 24-pack of Charmin double-roll toilet paper stocked away in the bathroom. In theory, the double-roll variety should last twice as long and save me the trouble of having to replace the roll every two days. This, of course, does not happen, and so I find myself digging into the cabinet time and again to get out yet another roll to satisfy my house's insatiable appetite for tissue.

And what do I see every time? A goddamn baby. They've plastered every side of my Charmin 24-pack with the face of some drooling infant.

Babies are wonderful things, I suppose, especially when you've had the nine months of anticipation and inconvenience beforehand. But I don't have a baby. I don't want a baby. And to hit the crux of the problem, I don't feel the need to think about babies every time I go to the bathroom. My toilet paper isn't used for any baby-related activities. My Charmin has nothing to do with babies at all. So why should there be babies on the package?

Go ahead, trot out the "soft as a baby's bottom" argument. I don't see Hanes putting pictures of babies on packages of undershirts or socks in an attempt to let us know that cotton is soft, too. And what about facial tissues? I think they should be even softer than toilet paper, but there aren't any babies on those boxes.

So here I am, an unmarried, twentysomething man, and the best that the Charmin marketing department can come up with is an anonymous, androgynous baby? What happened to logical advertising? And if we're going to be illogical, what happened to "sex sells" and women in bikinis? I'd think that would capture a bigger section of the young, male, toilet-using segment of the population. To me, babies are neutral at best, but 100 million Victoria's Secret readers can tell you that skimpy outfits are overwhelmingly positive.

There's nothing wrong with this, of course. Probably a lot of people associate babies with soft cuddliness, and the babies don't offend me. But when was the last time that you looked at a package of toilet paper and really thought about the imagery that you saw there? Or at anything else? Why should a giant, anthropomorphic tiger make you want to eat cereal?

Sure, advertising works in odd ways, but it's also so ubiquitous that you stop questioning it. I think you need to keep questioning it. It's fun, and it keeps your mind sharp. It never hurts to be more aware of your environment, to be more conscious of the reasons and assumptions behind everyday life. And, to reiterate, it can be pretty amusing.

And the corporate imagery out there gets ridiculous at times. Why should a talking bear with curly, white fur convince you that a certain brand of fabric softener is particularly effective? Was no one else terrified of Snuggle when they were younger? Maybe Snuggle (the company, not the bear) should wise up to the fact that Snuggle (the bear, not the company) has prevented me from buying their product, possibly forever.

People respond well to repeated themes and imagery. Ad campaigns are just that _ campaigns, rather than standalone spots. "Can you hear me now?" "True." "Kid-Tested, Mother-Approved!" Slogans, logos, voices, music, even colors _ they all reinforce your memory of the product and company. It's just entertaining to recognize the ridiculous ways that advertisers do it sometimes.

Want more nonsensical advertising? Here's some homework for you. Go buy a box of Wheaties (be sure to pick your favorite athlete-emblazoned box, because you're probably going to stop eating it and then hang on to the half-eaten box for six months or so). Open the box flaps and you'll find a nice blue-on-yellow message from the people at General Mills:

"YOU BETTER EAT YOUR WHEATIES!"

So what is General Mills trying to do here? You've already purchased the box of Wheaties, right? Convincing you of the value and necessity of Wheaties should be irrelevant. And if you're just some crank who opens boxes of cereal in the supermarket and eats them for free, this will only encourage you further _ a real concern when you clearly steal and eat Wheaties compulsively anyway.

Sure, there's nothing wrong with it _ I doubt that many people get upset at being told by their cereal to eat their cereal. Maybe they should. But name recognition is the first step towards success, and advertisers know it. Reminding people that they are eating Wheaties and reinforcing that idea with a snappy, uninventive slogan can only help sales. And considering that General Mills relies on professional golfers to hawk Wheaties (and that Wheaties are overrated anyway). I guess any help is valuable.

Cereal boxes are funny things, anyway. The back of the Cocoa Puffs box hasn't changed in at least five years; Cinnamon Life has resorted to a long line of gap-toothed urchins; Quaker Oatmeal keeps changing around the box design for no apparent reason.

But keep your eyes open for the funny little things. The little fruits on Fruit of the Loom clothing? The smiley-face sun on Raisin Bran? The sphere-headed man on Bic pens _ especially the more detailed version that's on the boxes? Don't forget how much money corporations spend on graphic design, logo design, name design. And then people spend their lives ignoring all the hard work that these poor, forgotten designers put in. I'm sure making distinctive products helps sales and customer loyalty, but the entertainment value is worth far more to me.

I just hope that I never start seeing babies on my cereal boxes.