The Unpatriot

I am unpatriotic. A bad example to freedom-loving people everywhere. I have betrayed the principles of shameless exploitation and unending consumption that are the very foundation upon which this great nation was built. Last weekend I drove past one of the hundreds of thousands of soccer fields in my Stepford suburb. The game was ending. And there, clear as day, a dozen soccer moms were shoving their kids into Terrorist Support Vehicles, cleverly disguised as Jeep Cherokees, Ford Expeditions and Lincoln Navigators. I did nothing. Said nothing. Didn't honk. Didn't curse. Didn't lift a middle finger to defend my country.Face to face with the enemies of democracy right here in Thousand Oaks, Calif., and I backed down. A disgrace to my community, my family, my fellow Americans and that Rummy guy who looks like he's squinting all the time. After all, who am I to question Arianna Huffington and the rest of the Detroit Project, who launched an ad campaign equating driving sport utility vehicles with supporting terrorism? They want us all out of light trucks and into vehicles that do no harm to our national security, like Japanese economy cars. In fact, I owe this apology not just to the Detroit Project but to the entire ad industry. Because apparently I didn't get the memo that all advertising must now be P.C.—patriotically correct. What started out as an appro priate response to 9/11—develop ad themes and campaigns that mirror the nation's collective response to the tragedy—quickly descended into flag-waving foolishness. Now it has taken all the fun out of advertising com pletely, not to mention much of the creativity. Every spot now has to look like a World War II recruitment poster. Red, white and blue on everything. Flags, of course. And soldiers everywhere. For years, Bowflex ran those kitschy direct-response commercials with hardbodies talking about how its machines give you buns of steel. Now, suddenly, the spots star two square-jawed noncoms—in khakis, no less—earnestly talking about how every grunt in Afghan istan got fit using Bowflex. (And all this time I thought they got those abs from 10-mile hikes with 100-pound backpacks and drill sergeants screaming at them.) If Chiat/Day did Apple's "1984" ad today, the babe with the hammer would be a lieutenant from Alabama, and Big Brother would be wearing a turban. I bet Miller Lite's trip down soft-porn lane wouldn't have generated as much outrage if the commercial had shown female soldiers slugging it out in the mud at Bagram. Well, OK, maybe it would have. Anyway, now you know my pain.I am not P.C. Anthemic advertising appeals to nationalistic fervor don't compel me to impulse purchases. I have let my country down. But I promise you, the next time I drive past that field in Thousand Oaks, I will not let the soccer moms drive off in their Qaedamobiles without a protest. I'm going to follow every one of those traitors to McDonald's and slap an American flag sticker on their bumpers.

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The Unpatriot

Jack Feuer

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Jack Feuer