Sunday, September 03, 2006

Proper marketing solves the world's problems

Poor Iran. They seem to have a bit of an image problem right now. They want to have their uranium cakes, and eat them too. Slagging off Israel, an ugly president, the threat of U.N. sanctions, that pesky "democracy" problem.... What's a country to do?

The answer, of course, is proper marketing and advertising. Now, I know what you're thinking, and yes, it's going to take quite a lot of work. I remember that nasty hostage crisis, and how on earth can they recover from that whole Ayatollah Khomeini funeral procession thing? When the people of your country pull apart your deceased former leader like a bunch of chavs going after a bucket of chicken from KFC, and the video is seen 'round the world; well, let's just say that people are going to remember that.

Proper marketing is really going to cost you, but luckily I work for cheap. So, Iran, take my advice, and you'll be a world leader in no time.

First, you need to change the name of your country. Well, not really change, so much as alter. I mean, you don't want to lose brand identification, but these are much hipper times than when you were first founded. I was thinking of something catchy, like "iRan." You want to jump in and corner the market on this right away, before Iraq scoops you on this one. Strike while the reactor's hot, and all that.

"iRan" is bound to appeal to the youngsters of today, with their music and their jiggy dancing and their burkas-gone-wild. It will especially appeal to the youngsters in iRan, of which you have rather a lot, as they will think it's progressive. This will definitely get their votes. Whatever political party is using this, for whatever purpose, will have the kids behind them. Make it a point to ridicule them if they don't support it, and get it out on T-shirts, quickly. Tell them "It's not your parent's iRan." They'll get the message.

Now, for the outside world. Those pesky infidels. You love them, you hate them, you need to sell them your oil. "iRan" works great for them, too. Fortunately this is a marketing technique known worldwide. Also, you really need to play up the fact that Persian chicks are hot. I know, I know, this may go against the grain, what with that budding Islamofascism and all, but believe me, it will work. You will instantly enjoy a name-brand association that sets you apart in the Muslim world, as a good majority of the Islamic women we infidels see are in veils and burkas.

You don't have to worry about beating Iraq to the punch on this one, as we have all seen Iraqi women on the news and they are fucking ugly. The only thing I can think of to explain the ugliness of Iraqi women is that the Iraqi men got "haram" and "harem" confused. Oh, you like that one, do you, iRan? Dumb fuckers, the Iraqis, but that's how Saddam bred them, so what can you do? You know what I mean, don't you, iRan? Another pint, iRan? No, no, I've got it.

It was great meeting with you, iRan, and I have a lot more tips for you. These are just the teasers, to let you know what I can do for you. Here's my card, iRan. E-mail me when you're ready. I take Pay Pal.

Fat Sparrow

11 comments:

Foot Eater said...

It's a pretty fucking nifty Olympic slogan, though. 'I ran for Iran.'

An historical digression: my mother (who's German) has a cousin who married an Iranian man. He was active in the underground against the Shah in the 1960s and 70s, and fled to Germany eventually to escape persecution by the despicable SAVAK. After the 1979 overthrow of the old regime in Iran, he and his Western German wife visited his home country. They returned to Germany a few days later, cutting their visit abruptly short, after his wife had to flee a squad of fucking deranged Upholders of the Revolution who accosted her in the street and tried to scrape the lipstick off her face with a razor blade, like the bunch of cretinous, mediaeval, fascist pigs that they are.

There. I had to get that off my chest, not least to counterbalance the baleful shadow cast over my family history by my mother's father, who was an officer in the SS.

None of this is bullshit, by the way.

Fat Sparrow said...

Oh, shit, your Mom's German? You may not like the posts I've got coming up.

That's hilarious -- "Fled to Germany to escape persecution." How the world turns, hmmm?

Are you taking the piss? Your Granddad, an SS officer? You are full of shit, Footie. Nice try, but I watch "It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia." Quit stealing plot lines from TV.

Me! said...

Finally, a woman solving the world's ills. I said that's what it would take to bring peace to the middle east and your attempt is a great start. Just a few hints..

Firstly, iRan. Catchy. Could bring in the teenage market but there is one problem. I think iPod might just have an issue. Unless you could arrange for Apple to sponsor the new iRanian regime. Let's say iPods to all the nuclear power plant workers with mind bending anti-Bush phrases as standard on each pod.

Secondly, ugly Iraqi women. I agree. This could be a plus for iRan. Get a few iRanian women in bikinis, posing infront of a mosque or two and hey presto! you have western acceptance.

Foot Eater said...

I consider myself a bullshit artist par excellence, Fat Sparrow, except when it comes to my ancestral history. My maternal granddad was indeed a member of the SS. The family legend has it that he was so appalled by what his unit was forced to do that he quit and was thereafter banished to the Eastern Front, where he died at Stalingrad in 1943.

The family photos are interesting. My late granddad and my grandmother (who's also late, but I remember her clearly) depart from the church on their wedding day under a shower of confetti and a row of Nazi salutes. Stepping back a bit, there's a highly disturbing photo in which they're taking their wedding vows under the gaze of a giant swastika.

I abhor the idea that the sins of the fathers are visited on the descendants. Christianity, Islam and Judaism all peddle this bullshit line. Then again: every so often I get flashes of myself as a four-year-old boy in 1974, obsessed with Dr Who and The Magic Roundabout and The Clangers, all the time unaware that I'm the descendant of a man who a little more than three decades earlier was a part of the most evil regime that has ever existed.

It disturbs the hell out of me.

Me! said...

You disturb the hell out of me. In a nice way.

Fat Sparrow said...

Me! -- Peace in the Middle East? A massive carpet bombing that completely wipes the area clean of all the people might accomplish that. Those buggers have been going at it for 5,000+ years.

Don't worry about the "iPod" thing; everything here in the States is "iSomething." It's so ubiquitous, it's a running joke.


Foot -- Ancestors are funny things. On one side, I'm Native American, and on the other side, I'm Spanish, and I get a lot of fuckwits here in So Cal who can't seem to understand that that doesn't make me Mexican. I use small words while talking to them, but still.

Oh, that Spanish ancestor of mine was in the Spanish Armada (yes, that Spanish Armada), who fought against the English, who are my ancestors on the other side. And then the Spanish one washed up in Ireland, married a local girl, came to America, and killed Native Americans. I've also got Scots (mainly lowland) and Belgian (dirty fuckers) in the mix, too.

It seems all my ancestors end up fighting each other, then fucking each other. Such is America.

Me! said...

It seems all my ancestors end up fighting each other, then fucking each other. Such is America.
Are you sure you aren't croatian or serbian?

Fat Sparrow said...

Me! -- Bite your tongue! I'm not that much of a dirty bugger.

One of my friends is Slovenian, and I didn't even find out until I had known her for a few years. I went over to her house one day, and her grocery list on her fridge was written out in some dirty foreigner tongue. Quite the shock. I shouldn't have been surprised, though, this town's full of 'em.

Foot Eater said...

Well, Sparrow, I don't think we have much of an origins beef. As a mixture of Limey, Taffy and Kraut, I'm simultaneously prejudiced against Scotch haggis-munchers, Irish bog-trotters, French garlic-breathers and German sausage-eaters (go figure that!). Nothing about Native Americans or Hispanics there. Yet I look like a Spaniard or an Italian - I'm swarthy, full-lipped and greasy. Luckily I've married a blonde and blue-eyed South African who's of Scotch descent (ha!), but I still suspect our progeny will have a touch of the darkness.

And why the fuck not, when all's said and done? Who gives a shit?

Me! said...

How did it get from iRan to this?

Fat Sparrow said...

Me! -- Iran started it.

Foot -- You tweaker! What are you doing up? The corpses won't be getting your full attention tomorrow, hmm?

Ha, "Germans are dirty sausage eaters" is the title of the post I've been working on.

I, on the other hand, am glowing white, with red (okay, I have to admit, it's dyed, but it really looks natural; if you didn't see the drapes and the rug together, you'd be fooled) hair and hazel eyes. My mom and brother are quite dark-skinned though, from my Cherokee Grandma. Strangely enough, she looked kind of exotic and Egyptian.

You married Charlize Theron? Good on ya. The husband wants details.