Walls Left Blank Are Checks Unbanked

Walls left blank are checks unbanked, a waste of sellable space;
Don't let passers-by pass your business by -- shove it in their face.

On planes and cabs and lifts and buses and even in the loo,
Folks with cash are locked in place and want to hear from you.

Be bold, be strong, don't be ashamed to prey upon the stuck -
Make the most of circumstance: we bold make our own luck!

Quiet's dull, serenity trite ... let whiners close their eyes;
The nose is still a port to shill for perfume, steaks and fries.

Captive media is on the rise, so ratchet up your high bids;
Soon we'll have a foolproof way to advertise on eyelids.


Pardon my lazy scansion.

I was driven to this doggerel by the long string of ads that's slowly replacing sitcoms and movies on airliners' tiny TV screens, by the LavaLife posters in public toilets, by the Coke ads that precede the previews if you arrive too early at the movies, by the "skins" that cover buses, by the kitchen exhaust piped out of restaurants to lure walkers, by perfume hawkers at department stores, by the publicity whores who tattoo ads on their skin, and by the unpleasant circumstance of having finished the magazine, forgotten a book, drained my laptop battery, and previously seen the movie.

And the bitter irony? As much as I detest the endless influx of ad messages out in the world, my very own private laptop is host to a promotional tapeworm, a pernicious nugget of code that regularly coughs out popups and resists my efforts to dislodge or contain it.

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