As a wizened, 50-year-old veteran of nearly 200 concerts over my lifetime, I thought I'd seen it all. I've ducked revolving lasers at ELO. I've had my eyebrows singed from exploding gas jets at Rush. I've seen a million tiny lights spell out "Coexist" at U2. But last night, I saw Roger Waters' The Wall Live with my 14-year-old nephew at Qwest Center. Both of us are still picking up our jaws from the floor. Quite simply, this was the most visually incredible concert experience I've ever had. The stage consisted of a huge white wall made from "bricks" that measured about 6' x 3'. The concert began with the wall about a third of the way built. During the first hour of the show, roadies in black slowly stacked the huge bricks until the entire north side of the arena was a solid wall of white that was nearly 90' high. The wall not only served as a visual metaphor for Roger Waters' musical masterpiece about a rock star going mad, it was also a perfect screen for the mind-blowing videos and projections that played continuously throughout the show. Other special effects included giant inflatable puppets, a huge pig that flew out and over the audience, and my favorite, a WWII British fighter plane that flew into the wall and exploded. As for the music, Waters was backed by a crackerjack 10-piece band that reproduced the classic Pink Floyd album note for note. The highlight of the evening was 15,000 concert-goers singing along with Comfortably Numb as guitarist Dave Kilminster stood atop the wall and played the song's famous searing solo. I forgot to mention that this was my nephew's very first concert. I'm glad that I was the one who got to introduce him to the wonderful world of rock shows, but as we walked back to my car, he said, "Uncle Mark, I bet all rock concerts are as cool as this was, right?" Ooops. Maybe I should have started him on the Little River Band.

Not only did the 1960s and 1970s produce a lot of classic rock music, they also produced a lot of classic bad music, especially what I like to call "Dead Lover" songs. You know, songs where a young couple fall in love and one of them dies in some nifty melodramatic way. Examples include: • (1960) "Teen Angel" by Mark Dinning -- Idiot girlfriend runs back to car stalled on train tracks to get boyfriend's high school ring. Teen Angel becomes teen roadkill. • (1968) "Honey (I Miss You)" by Bobby Goldsboro -- Honey dies of conveniently unnamed disease. • (1974) "Seasons in the Sun" by Terry Jacks -- Singer gets Honey's conveniently unnamed disease. • (1974) "Billy Don't Be a Hero" by Bo Donaldson and the Heywoods -- Billy doesn't "keep his head down" and it gets blown off by the Vietcong. And my very favorite, the mother of all "Dead Lover" songs, 1975's "Rocky" by Austin Roberts. Click below, grab some Kleenex, and lose yourself in the schlock. Rocky

This was my entry into this year's SKAR-o-ween costume contest. It took me three weeks to make by hand. It cost over $100 in materials. I had to go to five different fabric and craft stores. I sustained burns from a hot glue gun on both hands. The headpiece felt like a neck brace. The judging took all of 37 seconds. And I won JACK SQUAT! I show it to you now because I can't bear to pack it away until more than 43 FRICKING PEOPLE SEE IT! Am I upset at losing? You know what they say, "If you can't beat 'em, SEND THEM TO THE MUD PITS TO MAKE BRICKS FOR YOUR TEMPLE!"

Being the hypercritical, prissy snob that I am, my Christmas decorations cannot look like those of the peasants living around me. I won't tolerate icicle lights, inflatable snowmen or those hideous blankets of bulbs you toss over a bush. Instead, I'm having a neon sign made for my front window. The blueprint is shown below. Unique yet understated. Festive yet classy. A brilliant alternative to common seasonal claptrap. Only one problem. I hope people don't mistake it for an "OPEN" sign and knock on my door wanting to see a model home.

I've been making and sending out homemade Christmas cards since 1985. They're a little pricey to print up and mail, so I can't send one to just anybody ... until now. Thanks to the miracle (small "m" on that) of blogs, I can now shower the Internet with my heartfelt holiday greetings. Below is this year's card. Have the merriest of Christmases ... and remember, getting this card on our blog qualifies you as being just anybody.

In 1971, when I was 10 years old, I saw the 7-Up billboard pictured below in a part of town called Benson. It blew my little mind. I was obsessed by it. The shapes, the colors, the illustration, the entire concept. Not only did I love it, I had to possess it. So one chilly Saturday morning, I made my dad drive me to the billboard so I could sketch it. It was one of those old boards that was at street level, only a couple of feet off the ground, so I could see every part of it. Dad opened a thermos of coffee and contently read the newspaper while I sat drawing the fabulous 7-Up city. When I asked my father who had created the billboard, he said "an advertising agency." From that moment, I knew exactly what I wanted to do for a living. The other day, about 40 years later, I stumbled across the billboard while surfing the Web. Where's my sketchpad?

The three best pieces of business advice I ever received came from a 1983 book written by the man who showed everyone else how to do it -- David Ogilvy. The book is called Ogilvy on Advertising, and if you ever want to learn how to write an ad that sells like hell, or just need some business inspiration, pick up a copy at your earliest convenience. So what were the three pieces of excellent advice I gleaned from this book? • Have every piece of copy that comes from your company proofed twice. So true. I once worked for an ad agency that lost a cool $10,000 in profit because we used the wrong telephone number in an ad. • In business, treat every supplier like they're having their worst day. Can't tell you how many times following this advice saved my ass. • Never work for friends. You'll lose your job ... and your friends. I'm afraid I had to learn this one the hard way.

What does an advertising copywriter read in his spare time? Marketing reports? Ad Age? Customer behavior research? Bah. I read Doc Savage books! Who in the world is Doc Savage? He was a character created in the 1930s by a pulp magazine writer from Missouri named Lester Dent. The character's full name was Clark Savage Jr., but everyone called him Doc, or "the Man of Bronze" because he had bronze-colored hair, skin and eyes. He was a combination of Sherlock Holmes, Tarzan, Einstein and Jim Thorpe. From his headquarters on the 86th floor of the Empire State Building, Doc Savage and his five ingenious aids (Monk, Ham, Renny, Johnny and Long Tom) waged a worldwide crusade against evil. Every book featured a deliciously wicked villain who wielded his own unique death machine. My favorite was an evil genius named ARK, who developed a red snow that broke down the molecular structure of anything it fell on. What makes these books so fun is that they were written 80 years ago, so they feature zeppelins, cars with running boards, biplanes, killers in fedoras and women in silk stockings. But what makes these books EVEN MORE fun, is that they were reprinted in the 1970s with cover paintings by the famous artist James Bama. As you can see in the examples above, these cover paintings were the coolest thing EVER! They used to sell the Doc Savage series at Waldenbooks, and at 12 years old, I would camp outside the store whenever a new one was about to be delivered, then stare at the cover for hours. Sadly, I misplaced my entire collection when our family moved and I never saw them again. However, recently I discovered a trove of Doc Savage paperbacks (with the cool 1970s covers) on a used book website and bought the entire 88-volume set. They're incredibly fun to read and take me back to a golden childhood ... or should I say, a bronze one.

In my humble opinion, the 1961 Volkswagen ad above by Doyle Dane Bernbach is the greatest advertisement ever written -- perfect in every way. If you doubt me, simply read it. Even though the ad is over 50 years old, you'll find yourself wanting to buy a VW Beetle TODAY! Why is it so sublime? Three reasons: 1. It takes time to build a case for the car. Consumers will buy a product more easily if it offers more than just one benefit. The ad above not only supplies numerous benefits (Beetles don't need antifreeze, they get better traction, they get better gas mileage, they're easy to park), it lists them in a logical progression that builds an airtight case for the VW being a perfect winter car. 2. It's brutally honest. Consumers can smell BS instantly. In 1961, everyone knew that Beetles were ... well, ugly. They looked like orthopedic boots. DDB didn't cover up this fact, the agency actually pointed it out in the headline. Consumers embrace honesty, especially when it's presented in such a charming way. 3. It doesn't just demonstrate, it over-demonstrates. Ordinary ads demonstrate the product benefit under normal conditions. Extraordinary ads demonstrate the product benefit under extreme conditions. The little VW described in the ad above must not only make it through a foot of snow, it has to start at 10 below, beat a snowplow to the office and park in a tiny space, all on just a gallon of gas. I'm ready to buy. How about you?

Like the VW piece I included in this blog a couple of weeks ago, I also believe the ad above for Harvey Probber Furniture is faultless. It's another 1960's masterpiece from Doyle Dane Bernbach, the greatest ad agency of all time, and the client was a meticulous furniture maker whose designs are still prized by collectors today. Again, read the copy and you'll find yourself wanting to buy the product right now. Why is it so magnificent? Three more reasons: 1. The copy is written like it's defending the product. This ad has a certain subtle but definite urgency. It feels like the copywriter (the great Julian Koenig) had a chip on his shoulder, like someone had questioned his honesty. Consequently, the product benefits are delivered in a wonderfully aggressive way. 2. It uses words and phrases that are incendiary. Don't you just love the headline? It's so cheeky and provocative. You won't find an ad anywhere in 2011 that challenges the reader like this one does. The copy is so confident that it makes the consumer confident, too. 3. The headline and visual work together perfectly. Add the blazing red photograph of the chair on an uneven floor with the pugnacious headline and you have a flawless demonstration of the product benefit. Hell, you don't even need to read the rest of the copy to be sold. As I said two weeks ago, I'm ready to buy, how about you?

Social media may be the way of the future, but when you're an advertising creative in search of inspiration, it's a dry hole. Let's face it, looking at Facebook pictures of your idiot neighbor's Idaho vacation or having to read tweets from Ashton Kutcher about his pecs hardly get the creative juices flowing. When I need to bitch slap my little gray cells, I go back to the classics -- the work of Doyle Dane Bernbach, the 1960's agency that invented advertising's Creative Revolution. These people taught everyone else how to do it. They were incredible. Their work had a potent, ingenious simplicity that takes your breath away. Take, for instance, the ad above. Using just four words and a doodle by the art director (the illustration is actually taken straight from the thumbnail they presented to the client), the creative team makes a case for Volkswagen's fuel efficiency that's more powerful than any corporate web site. That gives me an idea. Talk to you later.

Last month, I bought an iPhone ... and the freakin' thing won't leave me alone. It's constantly beeping, vibrating and farting like that little dipshit robot in Star Wars. Every time I get an email, it bongs so loud people come running from two rooms away. I know, I know ... I should turn off the sound effects. Easier said than done. It's got so many ridiculous buttons and functions, half the time I have no idea what the hell I'm doing. The other day I tried to turn down the ringer volume and I think I accidentally shut off some guy's heart monitor in Des Moines. And another thing ... do I really need all these idiot applications? There's one button labeled "Maps." When you push it, it tells you where you are. I don't think there's been a single moment in my life when I haven't known where I was. I'm either going to have to get shipwrecked or kidnapped to use the stupid thing. Then there's the "Game Center." When am I supposed to have time to play games? It takes me twenty minutes to enter my passcode. Now let's talk ergonomics. This thing is not necessarily designed to fit the human hand. It's thick, awkwardly rectangular and slippery -- like trying to carry around a subway tile. And the keyboard is so tiny, my text messages all come out like "Meatt yuu hat the bark/" Smart phone my ass.