Whenever You Think, Think PILLEBOX!

Time to "Brand" this Potential Cash Cow

Fun is fun, and I'm sure all of us here at Blogger are enjoying goofing around with our little blogs and such, like poopie-pants kiddies playing with musical toy Hummers, pot-metal politicians, and Paris Hilton dummy-dolls. Unfortunately, little of what we do matters...to anyone who really matters. Without a noticeable cash-flow potential of the sort that needs to be measured with multi-meter-diameter plumbing appurtenances--all this online verbiage is so much monkey house roughage and frottage at the Multinational Zoo. Big huge giant global corporations, like YANG, the biggest ever--so big you've never seen it or heard of it because you are mere bugs scuttling around its feet, so overwhelming it can annually offer up its CEO as a human sacrifice--are looking for new ways to maximize the flow of vital juices from vast geological formations by utilizing high compression, or are seeking better uses for billions of cubic meters of industrial smoke and precision-ground mirror arrays that cover hundreds of kilometers of desert. They're not concerned with pusillanimous typographic poetry or artsy black and white photographs of your feet; in fact, the average executive today buys entire art student portfolios, manuscripts for "edgy" novels, self-published books of raging iambic pentameter, simply to use as novelty executive washroom toilet paper. You didn't know that did you? Remember Piss Christ? Well a top exec paid millions for it and installed it as a sort of urinal cake paperweight, within a functioning gold-plated urinal--fathom the irony of that! Another trillionaire had a Basquiat sliced up and "joke" air-sickness bags for his private 747 stitched from the bits! We can scribble all we want about our friends, our opinions, and our thoughts about rainy days, but unless it's pounding out a six-figure income for someone, or getting full-page spreads in Wire or People magazine, it's all no different than what some 12-year-old girl would have been doing under the stairs with a bottle of scotch, and a dollar-store diary--years ago, before the Inter-knit began dominating every waking moment of our worthless lives. So, with only profits and media attention (i.e. more profits) in mind, The Mt. Palomine Institute of Mysteries Inc. (please note) is proud to announce the "launch"--as business-savvy people are wont to say--of PILLEBOX (copy-written), a new and unavoidably lucrative Inter-knit service. PILLEBOX will cut to the chase. PILLEBOX will use sophisticated marketing research techniques to turn over mossy rocks and reveal what it is people are willing to shell out virtual cash for. PILLEBOX will obtain the public's deepest desires from Third World countries, and at the lowest possible cost to ourselves. PILLEBOX will market the goodies via the Inter-knit (and at stupendous markup) to geeks and geekettes trained as mindless consumers by us through the media--which we will eventually dominate completely. Then you will sign up with PILLEBOX and pay us more money so we can pretend to teach you the same money-making methods or provide our "invaluable intangible services" that COST US NOTHING! Foetal dividing-cell implanted phone tyke-nologies? Think PILLEBOX. Disinformation multi-data monostat platform upchucks? Think PILLEBOX. Gone-to-market wetware dialysis? PILLEBOX. Organic wood mandibular interstitial particle relocators? Guess who? It's just that simple! Or it should be--why, it's already cost us 60,000 francs to come up with the PILLEBOX name and logo; that on top of what we spent for rumping up the PILLE-MART retail outlets and and PILLEMASTER product lines. Don't you love that bold, all upper-case thing and the dynamic brand image that's so vague we could use it to sell anything from diesel dish detergent to yummy doggie basquiats? That's ten impressions above, times how many "hits' on this site...hm-mm. Wow, I haven't even sold anything and we've already made millions! Oops, forgot about positioning! What position should we assume? Gotta run!

Sincerely, Tony Pille (being chased by Mt. Palomine security personnel even as I write this on the wireless lapsitter computing engine)