It has recently come to my attention that I have not told you the M&M story.
Unfortunately I have lost the original e-mails but what follows is the most faithful retelling I can remember:
The saga of Reverend Willie B. Morgan and the M&M Mars Company
It was a while back in the late 1990’s or early 2000’s when they started the animated anthropomorphic M&Ms campaign. At the time, there were three of us at work that were really active on a local news web-forum. Whenever the local “big name” preacher made the news we’d go over to the board and shoot fish in the barrel. We got to the point where we competed amongst ourselves for “most believable outrageous post” on the forum boards.
Some of us were sitting in our cube farm at work one day and got into a discussion about the M&M personalities. I think it was mostly about how they were really pouring on the sex appeal with the Green M&M… They just brought in the Orange M&M and I started to wonder why every color M&M was represented but the brown ones.
This was too good for a local forum board. I wrote an e-mail to the M&M Mars Company claiming to be a Rev. Willie B. Morgan of the Third Street Baptist Church.
I expressed concern about the exclusion the African-American community felt when enjoying their fine candies. I went on and on about the absence of the negro M&Ms in the animated mascot realm. I remember working on the letter to get it just right. Not too long but more than just a simple paragraph. Not too comedic but not an obvious joke. It was finely-polished, hand-crafted, grade-A bullshit.
And they responded to me.
They thanked me for my letter and my interest in the M&M mascots. They appreciated my concern but assured me there was no such thing as race in the candy universe.
I wrote back. I asked them, if there was no racism, how come 29% of the candy is brown (2 out of 7 colors. I hadn’t realized they discontinued the Tan color at this point) but as yet there has not been a single brown M&M on screen?
They replied again, very much the same response.
I tried once more. I knew they were either on to me or sick of me. So at this point I remember writing some outlandish shit, but can’t honestly remember all of what actually got sent. I remember thinking this would at least make the mail room guy smile…
I claimed to know Jessie Jackson and together with him, the power of my congregation and the sweeping might of the Lord, we would MAKE them give the black community our Brown M&M.
At one point in the letter I started making concessions. I asked if they would consider giving the light-skinned M&Ms their spokesman and we can leave the darker Brown M&Ms alone for now. Maybe America wasn’t ready for the Brown M&Ms but maybe we can work together to bring about change by introducing the light-skinned Tan M&M. Somehow there was something about the Tan M&M’s being “house slaves” and the darker M&M’s being field hands.
The list goes on and on. I got carried away on this third letter because I knew it was a dead end.
As expected, I did not get a third response…
I know this was ten years ago and I was only making a joke but really, think about that. They have an animated mascot and corresponding plush doll merchandise for every color M&M except brown. Still to this day! You can claim there is no race among the M&Ms but if that’s true, why the obvious absence of only one color? BROWN! There is race in the M&Ms and it is the conspicuous absence of the Brown M&M that serves as proof. If they were to introduce a new Brown M&M character, how would he speak? What would he wear? He’d have to be the “whitest” M&M of them all. The Carlton Banks of the M&M world. Because if he slipped up and made one utterance of anything resembling the African-American stereotypes, the real Reverend Willie B. Morgans of the world would climb all over the M&M Mars Company. We’ve come a long way from the exploitation of race to sell products but now we’re bending over backward to make sure there is no chance of perceived exploitation. It’s 2010, where the hell is my Brown M&M?!
It’s simple. They refuse to introduce a Brown M&M character because they are afraid of the black community’s expected backlash and THAT, is racism.
If I’m missing any of the great details or if you don’t believe a word of what I’m saying hopefully the two of you who were around then will comment here and back me up…
I had two posts written up for today. I deleted one of them because there was no good way to say what I wanted. In face to face communications it would have been difficult to get the intonation right, in e-comm it would have been impossible.
The second post was a rewrite of the original, leaving out the parts that were hard to explain. It was about 75% completed when John and I went to lunch and I figured I’d post it when I get back.
Instead, I have to tell you what I heard at lunch today…
It’s a small family restaurant in Folkston, Ga. We sat down just about the same time the three guys at the next table sat down. They were loud and tried their best to look important. I imagine they were car salesmen or something. They made a big production about saying the blessing before the meal using their loud commanding voice to make sure everyone in the room took note. That’s just how it started. Then they went on and on about some crap that just sounded like talking just to hear themselves talk. Then they got on to the subject of St. Patrick’s Day. There was a lot of bullshit floating around and John knew to distract me before I leaned over and got involved in the conversation. Among all the crap about politics and religion I heard the following gem:
“To truly be Irish, you have to be Catholic.”
We had just finished our meal and I looked over at John and gave the signal, “Let’s get the fuck out of here…”
I don’t know if these two things are related or not, but they seem to be.
I’ve been cruising around the local musician websites and forums lately looking for an opportunity to play with someone else. I’m not looking to be in a full-time band, I’m just looking for a couple of people that want to play music on a semi-regular basis. Playing my drums to my headphones just has no love in it. I want to play live music again.
I have no illusions about myself. There are has-beens and there are never-was’. I’m neither, I’m a never-tried. But I still like to play and if I may say so myself, I’m still decent enough to put on a good show. But the local on-line scene seems to be full of people looking for instant stardom or nasty people looking to start flame wars and piss on others dreams. So I’m still looking but I’m kind of giving up hope.
I’ve also been looking at a lot of pictures and reading comments on Facebook groups dedicated to the “good old days” when we were just out of high school and I spent more time out at Jax Beach than I did at home. Everyone was in a band or between bands or helping their friend’s band. Poor Teresa, she spent many a weekend on Peeler’s deck and at John’s Garage just because she wanted to be with me and I wanted to be around the music scene… So a lot of those old memories are coming back to me now.
And then last night I had a dream.
We stopped in to a small convenience store to buy some drinks. I had Becca with me and in the dream she was still about six or seven years old. She picked out her soda bottle and I let her carry it to the register. She could barely see over the counter top. About that time I heard music coming from the back room of the convenience store. The door opened and I saw a recording studio in the back. I was about to ask the cashier about it when the front door jingled and in walked a dozen rock-n-roll idols from my childhood. They were older but still recognizable. As they walked past us they were rough and loud, sometimes brushing me and Becca hard up against the counter. I was getting angry and one of them recognized me as if I used to be one of them. They asked what I was doing now and all of them turned and laughed at me. They pointed at Becca and yelled, “Ha! Look what you’ve become. A fat, corporate, family man!” I told them that I was happy with who I was and they laughed louder.
I paid for the drinks and we walked out of the store hearing the laughter fade as we closed the doors. Becca asked, “Who were they Daddy?” I said, “Ghosts baby. Just ghosts.” I locked the door from the outside and put a railroad tie across the doors (these things just make sense in dreams). Then I leaned down and produced a box of old fashioned stick matches. I pulled one out and taught Becca how to light it. She got it lit on the third try and we brought it over to the locked doors. The whole interior of the store instantly went up in flames.
Becca and I sat down on the curb with our backs to the door. We smiled and drank our soda pop through bendy straws while everyone inside screamed and banged on the doors trying to get out.
Two thoughts went through my mind;
1: I love my family and I wouldn’t trade a minute with them for any amount of stardom.
2: This image would make a great album cover.
All the Oscar talk (BTW, I cheated and looked up the winners after yesterday’s post, I was almost right. ‘Inglorious Basterds’ is not exactly an emotional movie but I got the rest of them right…) got me thinking about what makes someone famous. I’ve bitched about that before so I won’t go into that right here. But then I listened to a podcast that mentioned how Johnny Depp can’t go to Disneyland with his kids because he gets mobbed. That must suck. I’m sure it’s great to be Johnny Depp, except for shit like that…
If you were famous, how much interaction would you want with your fans?
I’ve met a few famous people and I always downplay it so I don’t bother the person. Sometimes I won’t even go over to the person (which is not technically meeting them then is it?) At a meet/greet I’m there shaking hands, whatever. But if no one else is bothering them, I’ll just nod and smile. Acknowledging that I recognize them and that I appreciate their work. If I do actually “meet” them, I keep it calm and brief. If it’s a lesser known celebrity and they don’t appear busy, I might talk for a few seconds but then I get out of there. These people have lives too. Many of them have things to do. And honestly, what are the odds you say something they don’t always hear? It has to suck being uber-famous.
I mean really, which of these scenarios is more reasonable behavior?
- “Holy shit! It’s Ron Jeremy!” [runs over to him, panting and gasping] “Golly Mr. Jeremy I sure do love your work. The first porno I remember seeing is an old VHS copy of ‘The Devil in Miss Jones 3′ that my friends all passed around. You sure looked terrific in that movie Mr. Jeremy, all dressed up in that diaper and baby doll bib. Will you autograph my cast?”
- A simple “Mr. Jeremy” and a nod/wink in his direction as he walks on by.
The second choice says all the above without causing a scene. BUT, what if you are the celebrity and suddenly no one mobbed you when you went down to the local Starbucks? Would you feel unappreciated? Would you feel like your time is over, your star is sinking and maybe it’s time to retire? I don’t know. I just gotta think we should leave these people alone man. Let them live their lives.
And really, that baby doll scene in TDIMJ3 is fucking disturbing…