Illustration by: Kate Segler
My ten-minute commute is lined with yard signs. It’s that time of year when the leaves are changing. The mornings are crisp and they smell good. There are kids at bus stops and mums on front porches and every yard sports at least one 18-by-24-inch piece of corrugated plastic asking me to vote for somebody.
As a marketer, I have to ask: What’s the point? Has anyone ever been driving to Target, spotted a yard sign and thought: Well, that settles it, STEVE SNODGRASS is the only logical choice. I might actually be more fascinated by the people who put them up.
As Americans, we’ve gone to extraordinary lengths to protect the secrecy of our ballots. Then we drive home and plant an advertisement in our front yard telling the entire neighborhood exactly where we stand. We fought for the secret ballot, then ordered the 36-inch sign or bumper sticker or oversized flag for our jacked up Ram truck or Chrysler minivan.
Now, before you accuse me of being un-American, let me explain something. My wife puts up signs, too. There’s one in my yard right now. I absolutely support her. I faithfully move it, mow under it and replace it every week. It's a fine American tradition. Besides, I'm in advertising, I'm not about to start campaigning against my only religious view.
But that doesn't mean I can't critique it. In fact, Cara and I are vicious critics of political yard signs. Not necessarily the politics. The marketing.
Kerning. Colors. Slogans. Hierarchy. Fonts. Especially fonts. You can lose a vote in our house for bad form. That's probably unreasonable. But you're asking us to trust you with public office, and apparently nobody on your campaign had the courage to tell you that six fonts are at least four too many.
These things matter.
Can I read your last name at 35 miles per hour? Did you really need the flag? And what the hell is that swoosh supposed to mean? What kind of city council member are you going to be if you chose Comic Sans to send your message?
Maybe that's unfair. But you’re the one that chose Comic Sans. You should have known there would be consequences. Public office requires judgment. This is evidence.
And while we're at it, I wish just once these signs would tell me something I actually want to know. You're running for school board? An apple says nothing… but:
I ❤️ HUCK FINN.
Now we're getting somewhere. I want to know what you think about uncomfortable books. Difficult ideas. Things that might make a kid confused, conflicted…or, God forbid, curious.
Because here's the thing about book burners: They don't necessarily look like book burners. They can have nice lawns. Golden retrievers. Sensible shoes. They can look like they just stepped out of a Norman Rockwell painting. They might even be good with type. That's rather the problem.
So tell me something. Take a position. Give me some indication there's an actual human being behind the sign. How about:
I KEEP EXOTIC REPTILES.
Excellent. That tells me something, too. I'll take a closer look at your opponent.
Instead, everybody gives us the same handful of words. Leadership. Community. Common Sense. A Brighter Future. These aren't positions. They're refrigerator magnets. And now, of course, we have AI. I thought AI was going to make it harder to flush out the duds. Turns out it may have done the opposite. Leadership. Integrity. Community. Together. AI can give anybody a slogan. What it can't do is give you something to say. Which brings me back to:
I ❤️ HUCK FINN.
I've spent most of my adult life helping companies decide how to present themselves to the world. And one thing I've learned is that nothing reveals character quite like self-promotion. Your taste. Your judgment. Your restraint. Maybe even your sense of humor. Or your complete lack of one. Every time you advertise yourself, you're answering a question you probably didn't realize anyone was asking:
Is this really how you see yourself?
That's why bad self-promotion bothers me. There's nowhere to hide. You approved it. Your name is right there, in 112-point Papyrus. With a drop shadow. God help us.
The first Tuesday in November is very close. Every morning on my way to work, I notice that another dozen campaign signs have popped up like mushrooms overnight.
It's beautiful. I'm glad people put up signs. Even the ugly ones. It's a small, noisy, occasionally ridiculous expression of a pretty important freedom. I just wish more of them had something to say.
Stay gold… and remember to vote.
— Tom
Free thinking for hire™
