​South Dakota’s new anti-meth campaign is a study in mistaking a would-be clever pun for good advertising—and in wasting close to a half-million bucks.

Far too many people mistake a tagline (another word for slogan) for an advertising strategy. It is not. Most taglines are superfluous, and a good deal of them are stupid.

I’d like to take this opportunity to thank South Dakota for demonstrating as much. Here is their just-rolled out gem of an anti-meth tagline:

​Meth. We’re on it.™

That, folks, is the message into which the Great State of South Dakota is pouring nearly a half-million taxpayer dollars. At that price, it’s a good thing they remembered the TM, which indicates a common-law trademark. Now no other state can rip off their pun. I am sure the other 49 are cursing their ill fortune.

So, South Dakota, you’re “on it.” What does that even mean? Strip away the pun and what remains is no less vague and no more reassuring than “we’re doing, um, er, something.”

I can only imagine how the advertising agency pitched the idea. Chances are the presenter said “the pun will generate buzz,” and heads nodded their enthusiasm. To be sure, it generated instant buzz, almost none of it positive; but I doubt that South Dakota’s objective is to generate buzz about their stupid tagline. Surely the state aims to reduce meth use. Now, if they think that calling attention to the tagline will serve that end, then the ad agency deserves an award for slickness and the decision-makers working for the state deserve a slap for their gullibility. 

Consider the effect that ​Meth. We’re on it.™ is likely to have on meth use:

As effectiveness goes:
​

• Just think how many South Dakota meth kitchens will move to North Dakota the moment they learn their state is “on it.”
• Think how many meth dealers will pack up and move with them.
• Think how many people will stop using the moment they know that South Dakota is “on it.”
• Think how many people about to snort, inject, or smoke for the first time will think, “No, wait, I remember, they’re on it” and stop dead in their tracks.

Call me cynical, but I don’t give any of the above terribly high odds.

​My neighbor asked what I would do if my own state brought me a half-million dollar budget to reduce meth use.

After a moment’s thought, I told him I doubt that an ad campaign can do much good in that regard. I’d tell the state to invest those funds in education and treatment.*

This is one of many reasons why I am not rich.

_____________

*Treatment is a two-edged sword. To a lot of judges, law enforcement agencies, and social service organizations, treatment means 12-step programs. If you look at the real numbers, you’ll see that 12-step programs are no more effective than going it alone.

IN A SPECIALTY store in a nearby mall, I espied a type of product I use. I said to the salesperson, “Your product costs twice as much as [Brand X]. This is your chance to convince me that yours works better.”

He said, “They sell [Brand X] in Walmart, so it’s probably not as good.”

Not as good doesn’t follow from sold in Walmart, and I said so.

“Ours is made locally in small batches,” he continued, “from all natural and organic ingredients.”

I didn’t feel like going into the problem with protectionist economics, much less why the natural-organic craze is not just a scam but socially and economically harmful—that’s for another post—so I contented myself with pointing out that works better doesn’t follow from locally made, small batches, natural, or organic.

He was out of ammunition. Yet he deserves credit. He was polite, didn’t argue, and did his best. Moreover, locally made, small batches, natural, and organic usually make for strong copy—not because they imply real benefits, but because a misinformed public tends to think they do.

It’s an example of a vicious marketing circle. The more the public demands products that are locally made, natural, and organic, the more marketers will supply and promote them; and the more marketers supply and promote them, the more the public will demand them.

Condemn marketers if you wish, however, such trends usually begin with consumers. Marketing more often follows than sets trends.

Sorry, but professional ethics prevent disclosing the company’s name. But I will say this: In print it looked made-up. I couldn’t even tell how to pronounce it. When one of the VPs in the meeting said it aloud, I thought it sounded a lot like what I’d yelled earlier that morning when I stubbed my toe en route to the bathroom.

“It’s a real word,” enthused the above-referenced VP. “It’s in the dictionary. It means [not telling]. Isn’t that cool?” 

I looked it up upon returning to my office. Yep. Real word.

But as for “isn’t it cool,” the answer is no—because it’s waaaaay obscure. Chances are you have never heard or used it. If I disclosed it, you’d probably have to right-click on it for a definition. Assuming you cared enough to bother.

When you must explain what your name means, then no, it isn’t cool. It’s an inside joke. One that only people on the inside will appreciate.

The better bet is to pick a self-explanatory name. It is, for instance, pretty clear what’s for sale at Dressbarn or Burger King. This is not to say that all is lost if your name isn’t self-explanatory. Just be sure never to let it out of the office without a clear descriptive line. It is, for instance, pretty clear what’s for sale at ROSS when it’s followed by DRESS FOR LESS or at Walgreen’s when it’s followed by PHARMACY.

There are exceptions. McDonald’s, Kroger, and Best Buy are neither self-explanatory nor typically accompanied by a descriptive line. If you have in your advertising budget the billions you’ll need to attain their level of awareness, go for it.

The people in the meeting loved their name and, more important, were offering my firm money to handle their direct mail. So I kept my yap shut—no small feat for me.

Obscure name notwithstanding, the direct mail we created and mailed for them was quite successful. Thanks for asking.

And that, folks, is how you make a loyal customer. I might add that Coffee Gator French presses are great. Among their many virtues, they’re indestructible.

Moving though it may be that TIME wants me back, the cold, hard fact is, I don’t care. When it comes to spending decisions, my wants are the only ones that matter.

To be sure, in the body is a can’t-miss-it 92 percent discount offer—but  it remains invisible if no one opens the email. The best way to get someone to open an email? Put something compelling in the subject line. Which, for reasons already discussed, “We Want You Back” isn’t.

One might ask, You obviously opened it. How else would you know about the 92 percent discount offer? Answer: They send it repeatedly, and I have lost count of how many times I have deleted it unopened. I opened their most recent attempt only to blog about how awful their subject line is. 

I’m betting a subject line like “Exclusive resubscription offer: 92% off” would fare better. I am loath to give away free consulting, but then, I doubt anyone at TIME is reading. I doubt they want me back that​ much.

​There’s nothing wrong with treating type as a design element. There is everything wrong with treating it as only a design element. People need to be able to read the damn text.

​I ASKED THE advertising manager of a large organization with a sizable budget to tell me her advertising objective. Believe it or not, that’s something many an ad manager cannot do and has never considered.

“To produce inquiries,” she replied without hesitation. Impressed, I laid out what direct response marketers know, how they know it, and how they would devise a measurable campaign to produce inquiries. 

She heard me out. Well, she awaited her turn to talk. With patent parental pride, she showed me the advertisements that the organization’s outside ad agency created and was running for them. 

This is unusual for me: I found the wherewithal not to say that based on my experience the admittedly clever ads likely had the pulling power of brittle rubber bands. Instead, I asked, “How many inquiries have the ads produced?”

“None,’” she said, shrugging, “but they got noticed, so they did their job, right?

“If the objective was to get noticed, yes, but if the objective was to produce inquiries, no.”

Another shrug. “Yeah, well you can’t expect an ad to do that.” 

Actually, you can and you should. I could have sworn I had gone through that, but, just in case, I went through it again.

”Yeah, I know,” she said, “but the ads got noticed, so they did their job, right?”

Getting noticed requires no expertise. People with a body odor problem get noticed all the time. So do nails on chalkboards, dogs barking next door at midnight, and people who pick their nose in public.

I didn't say any of that. I could tell it was time to shut up. 

​I didn’t walk away with a new client.

​Call me a wimp, but I am not eager to invite a hacker or virus into my computer.

That’s why, when a company I do business with emails me a link to a great offer, I don’t click it. I log on to the company’s website and look for the offer there. 

If the marketer is smart, the offer will be featured prominently on the home page. If the marketer is less smart, I may have to search for it. If I can’t find the offer, it’s possible that I’m dealing with an incompetent marketer, but it’s more likely that I just dodged a phishing bullet.

Which brings me to this suggestion for marketers:

When you email your customers an offer, go ahead and provide a link so don’t lose lazier customers. But for security-minded customers who won’t mind an extra step or two, also provide prominent, easy-to-follow instructions for finding the offer on your website. And briefly explain why going that route is a good safety practice.

You’ll be educating customers on Internet safety, which is a valuable service. And you might just protect a customer or two from the next virus or hacker.