I’m not sure which is tougher: to go two weeks in advertising without hearing a reference to Don Draper’s famous “Carousel” pitch, or to play a round of golf without a Caddyshackism.

So it was natural, Sunday night, to get excited when Don began his pitch to Jantzen swimwear, a “family company” that didn’t want its two-piece bathing suits to get dragged into the social gutter with, gasp, bikinis.

I even stopped the DVR and rubbed my palms, waiting for the music to rise. But Draper delivered a clinker instead—a hack-looking print ad of a bathing-suit-clad model with her top obscured by the oafish headline, “So well built, we can’t show you the second floor.”

Mad-o-philes jumped to the conclusion that Don was prodding the prudish Jantzen execs to accept the reality of changing 1960’s morality. But the ad was way too sophomoric for that.

I believe Draper was deliberately mocking Jantzen’s inability to answer the tough question he posed at their exploratory meeting:

“Do you want women who want bikinis to buy your two-piece, or do you just want to make sure women who want a two-piece don’t suddenly buy a bikini?”

Everyone’s favorite “Mad Man” may have started Season 4 on the wrong foot. (Literally, if you saw the show.) But he got two things right: Great clients aren’t afraid to make tough marketing decisions; and you can only do great creative work for great clients.

Don’s profile in The Wall Street Journal may be the bait he needs to land more great clients for Sterling Cooper Draper Price.

“It is trust—not power, wealth, or even love—that is the most important operational resource in our society.” — Irving Wladawsky-Berger

If you’re thinking that Wladawsky-Berger is a poet, philosopher or social critic, think again. He’s the chairman emeritus of the IBM Institute of Technology, and a prominent IT industry leader and innovation guru.

The quote—from a must-read piece on W-B’s blog—underscores a point that many companies are still, bafflingly, just beginning to learn: Trust is every organization’s most valuable asset, and as essential to doing business as oxygen is to breathing.

BP learned this lesson again the hard way this week, as one of its command center photographs was revealed to be digitally altered (or, as we all now say, “photoshopped”).

The change was innocent—a couple of computer screens were added to the image above—but the intent has been perceived as nefarious: “If BP lied about this, what else are they lying to us about?”

Communications professionals need to stop thinking about how they can P-shop and polish the images of their companies and instead focus on the far more tangible, and difficult, objective of building trust.

That’s an entirely different skill set than many communications leaders, especially those with traditional PR or advertising backgrounds, have today. It’s time to reinvent corporate communications.

It’s hard enough for TV ads to communicate at full volume. Really smart marketers are learning how to connect with viewers even “on mute.” 

That’s important, especially as more and more young consumers only watch TV passively in public spaces, like bars, gyms, airport lounges, restaurants and coffee shops.

This new Verizon “Rule the Air” ad is a good example, reminding iPhone 4 salivators that it’s your wireless network, and telephone’s signal strength, that really matter.

I don’t think we’re going to see the “Can You Hear Me Now?” guy reappear any time soon. Now if Verizon could only do something about its unspeakable check-mark logo.

As readers of Mental Shavings know, I have fond memories of growing up in Milwaukee, and fierce loyalties to my hometown and its brands. 

But for every Harley-Davidson success story, there are dozens of Brew City debacles and duds, especially when it comes to the product that made Milwaukee famous: beer.

Lately, I’ve found myself really rooting for Miller again, even if it is now owned by a London-based conglomerate.

That’s because the brewer’s latest cause-marketing campaign—“Give Veterans a Piece of the High Life” (see video above)—gives Miller “delivery man,” Windell Middlebrooks, more than a handcart and some wisecracks.

Rather than just poking fun of faux luxury, the fictional blue-collar spokesman finally connects meaningfully with a real blue-collar audience: Military vets and the millions of friends and family who support them.

Nice job, Miller. And I can’t imagine a better way to stretch a $1-million philanthropic investment. Sure beats trotting out the CEO with a giant foamboard-mounted check. To the High Life!

I often see or hear a dozen or more GEICO ads a day, as I learned from doing a “brand inventory” assignment at Columbia last summer.

That means that I’ve been exposed to more than 40,000 geckos, cavemen and googly-eyed stacks of money over the past decade. 

But none of those ads, or offers to save me 15 percent on my car insurance, has moved me. And that’s because I don’t feel like a “GEICO person” in the same way I’m not a Windows or Chrysler guy. 

I thought of that at the gym yesterday when a single Liberty Mutual ad—even with the sound muted on the treadmill TV—nudged me to consider: “Maybe I should call those people.”

Of course, something more complex happened. Liberty Mutual has been subtly courting me for years with its “responsibility” theme, and “pay it forward” and “do the right thing” campaigns.

Those ads made me open to becoming a “Liberty mutual person.” The company’s new “car wash” ad—which cleverly pitches first-time accident forgiveness—gave me a reason to call, and broke down a psychological barrier to switching insurance carriers.

Props to Liberty’s communications team for melding a sales pitch into its distinctive brand strategy. Come to think of it, attracting “responsible” customers sounds like a pretty smart business strategy, too.

The earth moved last week with the launch of the iPhone 4. And, no, not just because Apple has sold an estimated 1.7 million of the must-have gadgets in only three days.

Something else happened: Apple bashing—and Apple fanboy bashing—reached an all-time high, even from fellow Jobs’ faithful. (I never heard the term “sheeple” used so many times in 72 hours.)

Microsoft is squandering the opportunity. Rather than using the moment to recast itself as the underdog in this fight, the company is HELPING Apple by continually reinforcing its identity as the Evil Empire.

Consider this poorly conceived blog by Microsoft’s VP of Corporate Communications, Ned Flanders Frank X. Shaw, puffing up how fantastically Windows 7 is performing, and how MSFT makes more money than AAPL and GOOG combined.

Doh! This is exactly what Apple wants, because it’s the kind of bravado that fuels the antagonisms of die-hard Mr. Softy haters.

Why not replace that hubris with a little humility—or, better yet, self-deprecation—for a change? Maybe even make fun of yourself by having Steve Ballmer wait in line at an Apple store. (“Hey, I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”)

Microsoft may—or may not—be doing some great things. But it is impossible to hear over the sound of its own chest-beating. I told a cable company, whom I still love, that once. But, alas, not convincingly enough.

I recently listened to Heath & Heath’s brilliant “Switch” on a long road trip. And that inspired me to (finally) read “Made to Stick,” the book that guru-ized the behavioral researchers. 

In “Stick,” the Heath brothers refer to a research study that suggests that award-winning ads can be categorized into six “templates.” (And, further, that you can teach everyday people to create great ads in as little as two hours by applying those templates.)

So just imagine what you can do—and in so little time! Since “Stick” only refers to one of the templates, I looked up all six, so you can be basking in the French Riviera next June, rather than reading this blog: 

THE SIX FUNDAMENTAL TEMPLATES OF QUALITY ADS

1. Create a pictorial analogy to demonstrate a product benefit.

2. Depict an extreme (absurd/unrealistic) situation.

3. Exaggerate the consequences of not buying a product or service.

4. Construct an unrealistic competition—like between a car and a bullet.

5. Persuade the audience to participate in an interactive experiment.

6. Alter the “dimensionality” of an environment (e.g., make the ocean smaller to illustrate the speed of a trans-Atlantic flight).

Now that you know the “rules,” get to work. And you better lose 10-15 pounds, too, if you want to look good in that Speedo.

Supporters of George W. Bush stood by him to the very end, falling back on “he kept us safe” to quell any dissonance they experienced.

I wonder if the same will hold true for Barack Obama’s administration. Will liberal-minded people be more sensitive to, and more open-minded about, criticism of the president’s actions—and perceived inaction?

Earlier this week, for example, fans of “The Daily Show” cheered as Jon Stewart blasted Obama. Democratic flag wavers Keith Olberman and Chris Matthews took turns hurling jabs at the president, too.

Judging from this new ad (see video above), the Republican National Committee may have already figured that many liberal-minded people may be more apt to bend in the face of dissonant feelings.

The Michael-Moore-like storytelling—and use of elitist symbols, like Obama playing golf—appear to be aimed at swaying disappointed Dems, rather than at simply restirring the bitter antagonisms of GOP faithful.

Can you read what this message says?

The “danger” part is easy. But danger of what, exactly?

So here’s a missing piece of information: I saw this warning yesterday on the door of a storage shed next to a hotel swimming pool.

Did “chlorine” jump instantly to mind?

Context changes the meaning of messages—and the complexity of understanding (and solving) communications challenges.

Ignore both of these rules at your own risk.

I’ve gotten several snarky e-mails about my recent blog comparing a shaving cream purchase to Al and Tipper Gore’s breakup.

(Hmmm, now that I keystroke that, I guess I can see everyone’s point.)

But I still stand behind the core ideas: 1) Marketers often confuse low-involvement “habit” purchases with brand loyalty; and 2) Brand relationships—like human relationships—can grow stale if you don’t continually refresh them.

So here’s another example: I typically rent from Hertz. But on a recent personal trip to Pittsburgh, I chose Avis because it was cheaper.

Arriving in Steel City, I was delighted to see no one waiting in line at the Avis counter, and three smiling agents eager to help me. But because I booked as an Avis Wizard, I was directed to go to a VIP kiosk in a dark and sooty parking garage, where I waited in line for 15 minutes behind four other VIPs.

At that moment, Avis’s famous “We Try Harder” button no longer resonated with me as a badge of relentless determination. It resounded like sad-sack admission of failure:

After 50 years, we’re no longer No. 2. In fact, we’re No. 3. And our old, tired tagline only reinforces that we’re still rooted in the past.

It’s time for Avis to refresh its positioning, and stand for something more. In the meantime, I’m steering all of my modest business back to Hertz. (That is, if they’ll have me back.)

I purchased the same shaving cream for two decades. (Maybe more.) Edge, sensitive skin, in the bright orange can.

Sounds like a pretty brand loyal customer, right? Except one day, when my pharmacy was out of stock, I threw another brand in my basket. And I haven’t bought another can of Edge since.

Oddly—and somewhat disturbingly—that thought came to mind when I read about Al and Tipper Gore’s breakup last week.

On the surface, the Gores were a perfect couple. But, sadly, the relationship had grown familiar and stale, causing the two to grow apart.

As Tara Parker-Pope observed: “If there is a lesson from the Gore breakup, it’s that with marriage, you’re never done working on it.”

The same is true for brand relationships, which must be constantly renewed to stay vital and fresh. Marketers shouldn’t confuse low-involvement consumer buying habits for brand loyalty.

I grew up close to the Milwaukee airport, which hosted an enormous air show every summer.

When I was 12 years old, I sold Sno-Kones at the event—a memory jogged this weekend by the metallic grind of a flea-market vendor’s ice-crushing machine.

As I remember it, the Milwaukee air show concessionaires concocted a pretty cool deal for themselves: I got to pocket all 50 cents from every Sno-Kone I sold; but I had to pay 25 cents for every one in advance.

The challenge, of course, was that you had to sell the Sno-Kones before they liquified. And on a blistering summer day, criss-crossing a blacktop airfield that could melt your Converse, that could be pretty tough. 

So you had to be smart: 1) Inspect your inventory before leaving the tent, rejecting “pre-melts”; 2) Sell only where crowds of hot, tired people were waiting for events or aircraft tours; and 3) Load up on the “blue flavor,” because kids love to see their tongues turn weird colors.

The most important lesson was harder to learn: No one wants to buy the last Sno-Kone in your tray. It’s always just a little bit melted. Not quite round or icy enough. Most times, there’s gooey syrup leaking from the bottom.

I watched other kids march anxiously in circles, trying fruitlessly to sell cups of colored water. But it was far more productive to dump the last Kone, cut your losses, and run back to get a fresh tray.

Not a bad lesson for a lot of business owners today, come to think of it.