Now, I happen to know that Mr. Campos is old and bald. I saw his picture. Had I not, I’d have thought he was 21 and had banged out his totally righteous editorial for some school paper, hoping it would help him score points at the sorority mixer. Like Mr. Backwards Baseball Cap, it seems Mr. Campos very badly wants youth cred.

I kind of understand it. Sometimes around the office I call people “dude.” I can’t help it…it just comes out. But turning the cap around? Writing a simplistic, uninformed, pandering rant without research, without an understanding of history, without…a clue?

Sorry, bro.

Baby boomers are history’s most transformational generation. We invented the modern peaceful protest. We have always spoken out against injustice, economic or otherwise. We continue to challenge government, we continue to challenge corporations. And frankly, if you had gotten your head out of your ass long enough to think clearly, you’d remember that we were challenging Wall Street’s cozy relationship with lawmakers back in the 60s and 70s. Finally, the young, disenfranchised kids who are out there protesting, the kids with no jobs and no hope, the kids you say we don’t care about, they’re our children.

The truth is that the Occupy Wall Street movement has many thousands of boomer supporters and active participants. But it’s also true that many thousands of boomers don’t get it, don’t like it and don’t want it on their lawns.

You see, dude, we are a freakin’ huge group of people with diverse leanings and opinions about everything. Some of us like Dancing With the Stars, some of us must quickly leave the room. More germane to the OWS discussion, some of us are crunchy, power-to-the-people Democrats and some of us are scrubbed shiny, wrapped-in-the-Constitution Republicans. And it is pointless and shameful to turn what is so clearly a politically charged moment in time into a generational divide, unless you’re deliberately trying to be inflammatory.

On Monday we couldn’t find some stuff. We couldn’t figure out some stuff. Me personally, I was a little cranky. Not really digging the bathroom. On Monday we were 75 tired, disoriented individuals.

But today is Tuesday. And we’re GKV again. We’re drinking in our very own incredible symbol of re-evaluation. My sense this morning is that we’re jacked up and ready to do damage. One of the reasons, perhaps more than you realize, is that we’re seeing our new brand identity as we navigate our new digs. We’re sharing a human emotional response to something different, something hopeful. We’ve known our mission for a while now. We’re an agency that exists to help Challenger Brands succeed. Now we know what that looks like.

What you’re seeing is so much more than a logo. It defines our tribe. The way we think, the way we walk, the way we talk. In the coming weeks, as its applications appear, it will inspire us to tweak our brand behavior just a little. Internally, through some changes to process and documentation, we will begin to communicate more clearly and in a more on-brand manner. Externally, we will have a much more consistent presentation aesthetic. And we’re getting a big ass sign on the building. The only thing missing is the Survivor buff.

Rosica?

“Get Your Preak On.” As in get your freak on; as in do the nasty, kinky as you wannabe.

Really, Maryland Jockey Club? Are you preak-ing kidding me?  Are you trying to stick a fork in yourselves? Do you want to completely de-value what’s left of the Preakness brand?

This is no prudish rant. I’ve spent my life in advertising. I respect the power of great ideas. I respect the people who create them and I respect those with the intelligence and courage to stand up for them. And I’m certainly not opposed to the use of sexual innuendo in advertising — when it’s delivered with some measure of wit and intelligence and is relevant to the product.

But the campaign that’s running now? Show me the wit. Show me the intelligence. And please, tell me how a radio commercial about having sex with a grandmother in a nursing home is relevant to a cherished, storied Maryland sporting tradition beyond the lame, first-year-copywriter use of “preak” instead of “freak.”

I rarely critique work done by others because advertising is hard and it’s not created in a vacuum. I’m sure the Maryland Jockey Club is trying to undo the effects of last year’s genius decision to ban coolers in the infield by going hard at the 18- to 24-year olds who stayed away. But this campaign is trying way too hard to be party-animal cool. Young people don’t want to be hit over the head. They spot blatant pandering a mile away. They have wit. They have intelligence. Oh yeah, and they have grandmothers.

UPDATE: The Baltimore Sun weighs in on the ad controversy with a comment from Jeff in the article: “Courting lost infield fans, Preakness takes a risk with risqué ads.”

Between business pundits, media critics and academics there is no shortage of theories. Do marketers and agencies think we’re too brand loyal to bother with, too rigid in our purchasing habits? Research says we’re not, that we seek value, style and brand cache, just as we always have, and will shop till we find it. Do you risk somehow turning off younger consumers by also talking to Baby Boomers? Again, no evidence of this at all.  Are we hard to reach? On the contrary, we watch plenty of TV, we’re the fastest growing online demographic, and we’re single-handedly keeping newspapers alive. Are we buying your stuff anyway, without being specifically targeted? Maybe. And maybe we’d be buying much more of it if we were. It’s worth repeating, there’s $750 billion on the table.

So, there’s no reasonable explanation for why you’re not talking to us.

Unless, you’re just not sure how.

After all, you see the Viagra nonsense and you know that’s not right. You see some idiot in a Just For Men commercial actually look at the camera and say, “Don’t trust anyone over 90″ and you know that’s not right. You see Dennis Hopper embarrass himself, Eric Clapton act bewildered and Sam Waterston act dead and you know that none of it is right. You may not want to risk stepping in it just yet. But, sooner or later, you’ll have to learn how to effectively engage the graying, slightly paunchy, disillusioned-but-still-idealistic, still eating, drinking, working, playing and spending elephant in the room.

I can help. In future posts, I will publish specific guidelines for successful advertising to Baby Boomers. I will share research, give you specific examples of what kind of creative works and what doesn’t and discuss how to create an emotional connection with your brand that will inspire Boomer choice and loyalty.

You must start with two basic assumptions. One, the precepts of good advertising to anyone, about anything, must be applied. Benefits, not just claims. Ideas, not just techniques. Relevance, not just cleverness. And - please - real life, not caricatures. No one I know has worn a tie-dye, dropped acid or flashed the peace sign at a stranger in a long, long time. Baby Boomers have endured bad advertising all their lives. We see it coming. You must get your fundamentals right.

Having said that, for advertising to Baby Boomers to be successful it must be calibrated to our core values and the ironic contradictions of our history. For example, we grew up challenging authority, yet respecting it. We valued community and shared sacrifice, yet we were the original Material Boys and Girls. We were, and still are, incredibly complicated. To really know us, you sort of have to be us. And that doesn’t square with the fact that the average age of an advertising creative person is 32. You must get your team right.

Much more to come in this space.

For now, take a look at these two spots, designed to speak to Baby Boomers:

The Olympics spot for P&G, thanking Moms for their hard work and sacrifice - and for their years of loyalty to P&G products - is brilliantly conceived and executed. The story is simple, the people feel real and the music is evocative. It’s a beautiful tribute to the target.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=yo0ejBHp8UI

The one for Just For Men Touch of Gray, on the other hand, is quite possibly the most offensive commercial of all time.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=qAsi-KTG3L0

In 1965, Pete Townshend wrote the most famous line in rock and roll history, “I hope I die before I get old.” Well, he only has a week left. Next Sunday, February 7 at around 8:30 p.m., give or take a few commercial breaks, The Who will step on stage to play the Super Bowl halftime show. And at that moment, one of the most explosive, complicated, original, inspiring and dangerous bands in history will officially and permanently become appropriate viewing.

They will do a “medley of their hits,” as the promo material states. Really? That’s what you say about Neil Diamond. Not the band about which The New York Times said, “No other group has ever pushed rock so far, or asked so much from it.” Not the band that rivaled Bob Dylan as the restless voice of my youth. Not the band that made me wish I could smash my first guitar to pieces, if only it wouldn’t cause me to be grounded till I was 40.

The Who mattered. When they pounded and screamed, it was me pounding and screaming. They were serious. And they asked my questions. Why couldn’t youth be heard? Why did governments and companies lie? As the years passed, Pete wrote passionately about the values and transformative power of rock as both an art form and a platform. He railed against corporate rock and hair bands and embraced the punk movement of the 70s. When rap arrived in the mid-80s - strident, unadorned and often obscene - Pete declared it a seminal step in rock’s evolution because it was the new music of youth. He never sold his songs to advertisers. He broke up The Who when he felt they had nothing new to say, then put them back together in 2002 when, thankfully, they did. “Endless Wire,” released in 2006, was the greatest album you never heard because by then radio had turned into a wasteland.

Also, there’s this…The Who still kick ass live. If you’ve seen them recently, you know they do not show up to just play a freakin’ medley of their hits. They don’t ask you to sing along. They don’t tell little stories about the old days. It’s not a Neil Diamond show. It’s a Foo Fighters show, only you know the words to more songs. Townshend windmills as fiercely as ever. It’s not for show, it’s an attack. And Daltry still howls at the moon, still the king of pain. The Who are unquestionably still a great rock band.

So, unless they’re broke, it’s inexplicable to me why they would abandon their cultural voice and engage in the most corporate, most commercial, most un-rock and roll 12 minutes on earth. Why would they cut Baba O’Reilly in half, share the stage with plastic-ass dancers and shill for Bridgestone, a known polluter and exploiter of foreign workers? I don’t get it.

I don’t want you to die, Pete. But I never thought you’d get old.

A parenting blogger gushes about some brand of cereal. Was she paid by the company? Some dude with a funny avatar posts something about his cool trip to a seaside town. Does he even exist, or was he made up by the town’s ad agency?

While there are a great many marketers who use the Internet ethically, there’s a large and growing number who don’t. And while there are a great many stand-up bloggers who fully disclose when they’ve been paid to review a product, there’s a large and growing number of dirtbags with their hands out, deceiving their followers, happy to say nice things for money. Last month, the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) finally had to move against advertisers and their stooge bloggers: disclose your relationships or face fines.

Jesus.

The blogosphere is turning into the post-modern version of those rigged quiz shows from the ’50s. Charles Van Doren, fake TV genius who was secretly paid by advertisers to put on a show, is now HeatherTheMagicMom, secretly paid by advertisers to sit at her kitchen table, behind a veneer of authenticity, and put on a show that’s just as slimy.

Meet the new boss.

Lawyers are already lining up to help companies interpret (get around) and comply with (get around) the new regulations. Soon there will be seminars for bloggers and marketing professionals on how to move forward in a more regulated environment (put the disclosure in really small type).

If you’re under 40, you’re probably not surprised and probably not pissed off. It is what it is. According to research, you’re not even disillusioned by corporate malfeasance anymore. You expect it and navigate accordingly, relying on yourselves, pointing no fingers, letting the world turn as it will.

I don’t know, maybe you’ve got the right idea. Maybe you’ll be less stressed. Maybe you won’t have high blood pressure. Or, maybe, when you look around the table and can’t find the sucker, you’ll realize it’s you. The Internet was yours, is yours. It was going to be the great equalizer. Something truly egalitarian, impervious to cynical manipulation by corporations. It’s amazing how quickly that ideal is getting polluted.

Me, I’m an old fart. I’m pissed off and pointing fingers. Because me and my boomer brothers and sisters, we still trust. We still hate getting screwed. We still make noise when it happens. It’s a fool’s game, this insistence on applying values to a valueless world. But it’s who we are.

And dude, we love the Internet. We haven’t been this culturally engaged since the 70’s.

So, bloggers on company payrolls, pretending to give us independent advice about computers or cruises or power tools? Advertisers who violate the spirit - and now the laws - of Internet use? I am now placing you on the official baby boomer shit list, along with banks, drug companies and the idiots who turned Viva Las Vegas into Viva Viagra.

Remember, we have numbers. We have buying power. And we have Facebook and Twitter. So, liars, forget the FTC. You get right or gray hairs are gonna f*#! you up.

We won’t get fooled again.

Marketers need to do a better job of acknowledging the person that, at some level, I still think I am. I may be a guy in his fifties with gray hair and a body gone to shit, but when I look in the mirror there’s still a nineteen year-old hippie looking back.

For instance, I have money now and I like it. But deep down, I still hate people with money. I can’t help it. I just know they would’ve voted for Nixon and listened to The Carpenters.

Seriously, watching commercials about where to put my money does make me feel old and a little conflicted. So, if you want my business, don’t insult my intelligence by talking to me the way you would’ve talked to my Dad (by the way, he still doesn’t have any money).

My advice to TD Ameritrade: fire Sam Waterston. He doesn’t make me trust you, he makes me mistrust you. He’s a starchy celebrity whom you hired to help you seem safe and respectable — as if anyone still considers any financial institution to be safe and respectable.

You want to pitch me with an old celebrity? Give me Iggy Pop. Him, I can connect with emotionally. He came by his money honestly…by going out on stage every night and mutilating himself.