Kranz On Copy: Insights and answers on copywriting and writing copy

I'm fascinated by the ways in which messages and symbols morph over time.

Take the ubiquitous ribbon, for example. There are now ribbons for every cause under the sun, from supporting the troops in Iraq to supporting breast cancer research.

But how did all this ribbon stuff get started? With a song: "Tie a Yellow Ribbon (Around the Old Oak Tree)," a big hit for Tony Orlando and Dawn back in the 70's. Allegedly based on a true story, it concerns an ex-con returning home and an agreement he's made with his wife. He's on the way home, but if she doesn't want him back, there'll be no hard feelings -- he'll stay on the bus ("...forget about us...") and keep on going. But if she wants him, she's to tie a yellow ribbon (guess where?) to tell him that she wants him to stay. When the bus approaches the old oak tree, our hero doesn't see one yellow ribbon -- he sees hundreds of them circling the tree.

Okay, pretty corny stuff. Yet powerful. One can imagine just how much that ribbon meant to that man. And the song's success proved that many people did indeed empathize with those feelings.

Fast forward to the first gulf war in the first Bush administration and that administration's confrontation with a major propaganda problem. How do you get a generation of post-Vietnam Americans to support a new foreign invasion? Somewhere in the White House, a light bulb flashed -- reframe the issue by focusing on the troops, instead. And connect that issue with a sentimental symbol people could relate to. Practically overnight, the yellow ribbon moved from oak trees to automobile antennas. From welcoming a returning ex-con to celebrating soldiers. Suddenly, a little piece of yellow ribbon transformed support for the war -- which is controversial and problematic -- into support for the troops, which is safe and politically incontestable.

Over the following decade, the ribbon became a popular lapel pin that changed colors, with each color declaring support for one cause or another. The equation became simple: ribbon equals support.

More recently, the ribbon has become an automobile magnet, once again trotted out to "support the troops" in another gulf war. We've seen the yellow ribbon magnets everywhere. And in their wake, a plethora of copycat ribbons supporting any number of causes.

Hence our photo today. From welcoming a lonely ex-con home to supporting troops threatened with deadly combat to...supporting the Norfolk County Humane Society with its timeless message, "Please spay/neuter."

And in one long arch, the yellow ribbon has traveled from song to symbol to silliness.

I'm not big on technology for its own sake and I'm more likely than not to roll my eyes or even yawn when the discussion turns to Blackberries and podcasts and video downloads, etc.

But, boy, I am impressed when someone applies technology toward ends that would have been inconceivable just a few years earlier.

For instance, consider the new career of my friend and former colleague, Brigid Alverson. (First, consider her old one. I wrote very briefly at a local paper where she served as senior reporter for four years. Get any thoughts of "quaint" out of your mind. When you cover the beat in a small town, you can't help but step on a lot of toes. On a big paper, it's not likely you'll ever meet George W. Bush or Bill Gates at the local supermarket. But with a local paper, you'll constantly run into people you've either written about, contradicted, challenged or simply offended with a contrary opinion or perspective. And these same people will think nothing of suspending the usual rules of civility to button-hole you while you're shopping or picking up the kids from school to give you the scolding they think you deserve. It takes a big person to write for a small paper in a small town. I didn't last long. Brigid was able to hold her ground.)

Anyway, Brigid isn't reporting for the local paper anymore. Instead, she developed an interest in manga, a kind of long-form comic book popular in Japan. Unlike American comics which tend to focus on superheros-in-tights, these Japanese comics are more like surreal novels and cover everything from French cooking to obscure sexual appetites. Now here's the cool technology part: she took her interest and made it the subject a terrific blog, MangaBlog, that's become one of the premier websites covering manga in the English-speaking world. In less than two years, she's gone from small town reporter to international authority. She gets loads of free review copies and is a welcome guest at manga conventions, events, etc.

Thanks to her ability to apply the Web (and blogging) in an intelligent, intriguing way, Brigid has carved a niche for herself that didn't even exist five years ago. And on a scale no one could have anticipated.

Good work, Brigid!

The cartoon strip, Dilbert, frequently expresses the frustration of engineers with marketing types who, invariably in the strip's universe, are ignorant and clueless.

Alas, the frustration swings both ways. Any marketer in a tech industry will have countless war stories about myopic techies who can't see beyond the intricacies of their precious technology to the business issues that really concern their customers.

Perhaps the sharpest battle lines form on the copy front. My friend and fellow copywriter Dianna Huff has a terrific newsletter this month with a feature article that expressly targets this issue: How to Rewrite Copy Without Damaging Frail Egos.

It's well worth a read. She's much more patient than I am and has some helpful, diplomatic advice to offer.

OK, it's "whine fest" time. Two companies have pissed me off this morning, and both illustrate reasons why so many of us hold grudges against those companies who allegedly improve our lives with advanced technology.

First up is Olympus Camera. A year and a half ago, I bought one of their digital cameras and dutifully installed the accompanying software. Since then, however, I've upgraded to a new and better computer -- but I lost the original CD with the software.

Shouldn't be a problem, right? I should be able to go their website and download the software, right? And if I can't find it there, they should be more than happy to send it to me, right?

Wrong on all counts. Visit the site for yourself; even though they have a "support center" with a navigation tab clearly marked "software downloads," you can't actually download the software you need. Instead, after multiple clicks ever deeper into the Olympus mire, you simply get a "description" of your desired software -- a torment of the kind the Olympian gods (hence the brand name, I guess) imposed on Tantalus -- but no download option. And no indication of how to get the damned software.

I wrote to Olympus via e-mail and after a few days, I got a response: I'd have to pay $19.95 to get it. Nice. Stupid, too. The software is worthless to anyone except Olympus camera customers, so why punish them? What a great way to alienate customers.

Now on to my printer, a laser color job, which means that in addition to the drum, it has four expensive color cartridges that regularly need replacing. For some time now, the little LED light has indicated that the yellow cartridge is running low. But my "alert" software said that it was 13% full, so I should have had some time to spare, right? And if I'm going to print black-only pages, it shouldn't matter anyway, right?

Wrong again, dear readers. Oh so very wrong again. I tried to print a simple letter and received an error screen that said my yellow cartridge was empty and that I could not print anything -- and that includes pages without a lick of yellow in them -- until I substituted a new cartridge. To add injury to injury, I checked the alert status and found that I still had 11% of the yellow toner remaining. That means that when I pay close to $70 bucks a pop for the toner cartridge, I get less than 90% of the toner coming to me. By my lights, I should get a discount of around $7, but that ain't going to happen to me any time soon.

What will happen really soon is that I'll have to drop everything and rush to Staples to get a replacement toner cartridge, because I can't get any work done without my #$%^& printer.

There. I feel better now. I really do. The meds are kicking in...