Sunday, January 4, 2009

Time For A Pimp

Pimp Number FOUR:
PK over at July's Hazy Motives tapped me for the Superior Scribbler award awhile back. After pimping the first three bloggers who nominated me, I'm just now getting around to the Mad Man from New York. Remember how your mother always cautioned you about playing with fire? PK is what she was talking about.

Before continuing, I'm required to give you the Surgeon General's Warning: PK's blog may be hazardous to your health. You brain may seize up trying to unravel his complicated metaphors. His never-ending angst can leave burn marks if you stand too close.

He is currently a VP creative director at an infamous NY ad agency. I was once a VP creative director at the Chicago office of a different NY ad agency. So, in some ways I can feel his pain. In other ways, I'm sure that a chunk of it is self-inflicted.

He's brilliant and insane at the same time. Also, outrageous, creative, spoiled, self indulgent, entertaining, outre, puzzling, insightful, confusing, and clearly marching to an offbeat drummer.

He's got the freewheeling spirit of a toddler in a mansuit. Just be ready to duck when he needs to burp.

6 comments:

Fabiola (or Mary or Both) said...

OMG! PK is fascinating! Where do you find these people?

PK is -- almost -- as delightful as DrHGuy. However, PK looses points for not footnoting.

PK said...

Is outré good?*


*As a medical copywriter, I carry a disdain for footnotes like an eight stone weight. Are they useful? Negligibly. Do they clarify? Somewhat. Do they muddy the stream? Yes, yes, oh a thousand times yes. I prefer parenthetical phrasing. (Acts as a whispered aside without diverting the eye.) That being said, I don’t think anyone would want to be privy to my bibliography, anyway.

BTW, I’m almost positive I have a footnoted entry somewhere. I’ll do the digging. Otherwise, I have a pallet of Irritable Bowel Syndrome brochures from my day job footnoted to the wazoo ready for whoever wants them!

Thank you, Mrs. L (and Fabiola,) for the kind mention. Whenever I’m stranded in O’Hare, I'll wish you were there.

PK said...

I meant that in a nice way.

I will pimp you back soon.

Fabiola (or Mary or Both) said...

PK - outre beats the alternative and talking footnotes are ....

In short - DrHGuy footnoted a post on ketchup decantation. I laughed until I cried. I eventually stopped crying, I never did stop reading.

http://1heckofaguy.com/

PK said...

Well then...I'll just have to start re-patterning myself along the lines of the heartbreakingly missed, ultra-genius of the Midwest, David Foster Wallace. His footnotes are pee-in-your-pants funny. I recommend “A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again” as a morsel to taste his reading.

He hanged himself this past September. I hope it wasn’t about the burden of footnoting.

I do have opinions on ketchup, though. (Why does ketchup have pre-cum? And, assuming they* know about this, why do they now make ketchup-flavored potato chips? Are they now going out of their way to make me throw-up in my mouth as I try to plow my wacky-wheeled cart through the snack section? I can’t wait for them to come out with orgy-flavored Doritos. “An orgasm in every bite!”- ooh yeah, I’ll take a bowl full of those. Can I get some KY-flavored Pepsi to wash them down?)

If my words come across as cross, please understand that they’re not. I have a hideous sarcastic gene wrapped around my brain stem that only makes me seem that way.

*Ketchup United Marketing Manufacturers (KUMM, Inc.)

Fabiola (or Mary or Both) said...

Sorry Mrs. L, it seems that PK and I have momentarily turned your blog comment area into a something of a ... well, I would call it a whoop-de-do (country to city translation: animated gathering of any size where talking and not much else is accomplished) I don't know what the city word is for these social events. Yes, in all sincerity, I have used the phrase whoop-de-do without a trace of irony. Once.

That said. PK -- David Foster Wallace, will do.

YOU don't change a thing. Except wishing time in airports on me. I avoid them entirely. Not because I don't like to fly, but because I live my life wading through diesel fumes and fertilizer. I suspect that I would set off every bomb detection device in the place. I can see the news report now ...