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THE POWER OF CONTEXTUAL PROGRAMMING

A while ago, during a radio seminar tour of the UK, I happened to see an issue of the British newspaper, The Guardian, which featured tidbits from INVERNE’S STAGE AND SCREEN TRIVIA by James Inverne.

They unknowingly demonstrated the power of what I call Contextual Programming….vs. the lack of context provided for the information they presented.

Here are two of the items that caught my eye:

“Paul Newman was so ashamed of his performance in THE SILVER CHALICE (1954) that he took out a large advert in Variety, the movie industry magazine, apologising for it.”

and

“Ryan O’Neal almost was cast in the lead role of ROCKY.”

How interesting does each of those items seem to you?

Here’s how they strike me:

One is slightly interesting. The other is misleading — and less interesting than the real story.

Based upon your reading of the excerpt (#1, above), when would you guess Paul Newman published his apology? (Go ahead, take a moment to reread the paragraph.)

1954?

Nope.

Try 1969.

When the movie was released in 1954, Newman wasn’t yet a star. It was, in fact, his film debut.

Paul Newman film debut

The Silver Chalice

In 1969, a television station in Los Angeles capitalized on Newman’s by-then superstar status by airing THE SILVER CHALICE every night for a week.

And that’s when Newman took out a full-page ad declaring, “Paul Newman apologizes every night this week.”

It’s still not a big story. But which is more interesting, more fun? The story as related in the Guardian — related without establishing any kind of context? Or the second version, the one that did establish a context in which to frame the story?

What about the second example?

“Ryan O’Neal almost was cast in the lead role of ROCKY” makes it sound as though he was one of the actors considered, but finally the studio chose Sylvester Stallone.

The fuller context is this:

Stallone was a struggling actor who had written an original screenplay.

The screenplay was terrific, and a major Hollywood studio wanted to buy it for $75,000. That was a lot of money for an unknown actor 35 years ago.

Only one problem: Stallone insisted on playing the lead.

No way was United Artists going to cast a complete unknown in this movie. It would star a “name” actor — Ryan O’Neal. James Caan. Robert Redford. Burt Reynolds.

The studio increased the offer to $100,000.

$150,000.

Stallone stood firm.

$200,000.

Imagine being a struggling actor, with a major studio offering you $200,000 for your screenplay.

Especially when you previously had written 32 other screenplays — none of which anyone ever considered buying.

$250,000.

Stallone told them, “The only way I’ll let you make this movie is if I play the lead.”

Finally, United Artists agreed to make the film with Stallone as its star. But only on the condition that they pay only the Writer’s Guild minimum for the screenplay and the Screen Actor’s Guild minimum for Stallone’s performance.

The entire movie was shot in 28 days, with a budget of just one million dollars. (A million dollars wouldn’t have bought Robert Redford for 28 hours.)

It went on to gross over $100,000,000.

Stallone received Academy Award nominations that year for Best Actor and for Best Original Screenplay.

Not a bad on-air trivia question, huh?

But if you provide the bare fact — “Ryan O’Neal almost was cast in the lead role of ROCKY” — without the benefit of the context, it becomes merely trivial.

Moral

If you simply recite “trivia,” your radio show becomes trivial.

But if you establish a context that makes the information come alive, your radio program comes alive.

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Forget about the flying cars all of us were supposed to be using before the end of the last century.

Let’s talk about the Promise of The Computer Age.

For regular ol’ human beings such as you and I, the Computer Age — along with its bastard child, the Personal Computer Age — promised us…

“The Paperless Office.”

Take a look around your office. Is it paperless now?

The Personal Computer Age also promised to “free up our time.” Computers would do all the drudge work, while we’d pursue hobbies, personal relationships and intellectual/artistic interests.

You’ve got a lot of free time now for your hobbies? (Okay, if you’re unemployed perhaps I shouldn’t have asked.)

I’m not a Luddite. I was one of the first people in the U.S. to purchase a cordless phone. (Not a cell phone; simply a land line that didn’t require a physical connection between the receiver and the handset.)

I’m not an “early adaptor,” either. Usually I’m content to let others identify the problems in brand new electronic products.

So no, my first computer wasn’t the original Macintosh. It was the Mac Plus. Which means Ross Brittain is the only radio guy I know who was using a personal computer before I was. (Ross did graduate as an engineer from Georgia Tech, after all.)

But I did buy the first portable Macintosh — a 13-pound wonder that we Mac users lovingly referred to as “luggable.”

And years earlier I travelled with a little Brother portable electronic typewriter. That generated lots of oohs and aahs from intrigued flight attendants.

But if you haven’t already figured this out, here’s the revelation:

Technology hasn’t saved us any time. It’s made us busier and more overloaded than any human should be.

That’s Why I’ve Decided To Roll Back The Clock.

My first proclamation as King will be a retroactive ban on all new inventions since the touch tone telephone. (The commercial version that was sold to consumers, not the industrial version of the 1940s.)

Advances in technology

Now, that was a useful invention. It saved us time and made our lives easier, not more difficult.

So, nothing invented after the touch tone telephone will be permitted, effective January 1, 2012.

But I’m A Reasonable Man.

Perhaps you’d like to nominate a different landmark technological advance to serve as our “That’s It, No More” boundary.

If so, please share your one recommendation below.

Note that I said “technological.”

Undoubtedly the greatest societal advance of my lifetime came when Blue Bell Creameries became the first ice cream manufacturer to mass market Cookies ’n Cream ice cream. That actually did save work for the rest of us, who no longer had to mash Oreos into our vanilla ice cream.

But the introduction of Cookies ’n Cream was not a technological advance.

So, go ahead and express yourself by finishing this sentence: “If I were King, I’d make it illegal to use any technological device that was invented after the introduction of ________.”

Or say nothing, and come January 1 the touch tone telephone will be the Height of Modernity.

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I’m not kidding. This video is filled with X-rated profanity.

If that will offend you, please don’t watch the video.

And no, I’m not employing some sly “teaser’ gimmick here. If you view this video and are offended by the language, please remember that I gave you fair warning.

I’ve long preached that with radio advertising — with any advertising — you want to advertise to the people who are most likely to buy your product or service.

If you’re advertising big juicy steaks, you don’t worry that your commercial will alienate vegetarians.

This movie theater brilliantly shows the world why many people would enjoy their way of doing things.

And it tells another group of people, “You really wouldn’t like it here.”

(Oh — I did warn you about the bad language, right?)

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Just in case you’ve never seen the show:

The guy being interrogated is friends with the two guys he talks about.

Two honest, law-abiding guys. His friends.

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Last week I shared with you the Second Dumbest Thing I’ve Ever Heard In Radio.

Here’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard — even though I heard it second-hand, via Ron Stevens.

When Ron was a disc jockey, one of his program directors took him aside and said, “You know, Ron, radio isn’t a popularity contest.”

Um….

Y’know, if ratings are important to your radio station, that’s EXACTLY what radio is: a popularity contest.

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