Read Uncle John’s Giant 10th Anniversary Bathroom Reader Online
Authors: Bathroom Readers’ Institute
Truth:
Nobody knows for sure how she killed herself. “Plutarch had read the memoirs of her private physician, but even he was not sure,” Huges-Hallett writes in
Cleopatra: History, Dreams and Distortions:
“It seems likely to have been the bite of a snake brought to her in a basket of figs, but it may be that she had some poison ready prepared and hidden in a hollow hair comb, or that she pricked herself with a poisoned hairpin. The only marks found on her body were two tiny scratches on her arm.”
Expert advice: If you add honey to peanut butter, it won’t stick to the roof of your mouth.
Here are some comments about everyone’s favorite—and everyone’s
least
favorite—subject. From Ariel Books’ compilation called
Politics.
“I am the future.”
—Dan Quayle
“The first law of politics: Never say anything in a national campaign that anyone might remember.”
—Eugene McCarthy
“There is something about a Republican that you can only stand for just so long. On the other hand, there is something about a Democrat that you can’t stand for quite that long.”
—Will Rogers
“Democrats are the party that says government can make you richer, smarter, taller, and get the chickweed out of your lawn. Republicans are the party that says government doesn’t work—and then they get elected to prove it.”
—P J. O’Rourke
“It seems to be a law of nature that Republicans are more boring than Democrats.”
—Stewart Alsop
“I don’t know a lot about politics, but I know a good party man when I see one.”
—Mae West
“I’m a fellow that likes small parties, and the Republican party is about the size I like.”
—Lyndon B. Johnson
“Republicans sleep in twin beds—some even in separate rooms. That is why there are more Democrats.”
—Will Stanton
“I’m a loyal Republican. I support the president [Ronald Reagan] when he’s right—and I just keep quiet the other 95 percent of the time.”
—John LeBoutiller
“Democrats give away their old clothes; Republicans wear theirs. Republicans employ exterminators; Democrats step on the bugs. Democrats eat the fish they catch; Republicans eat ‘em and hang ‘em on the wall.”
—Sean Donlon
“Honolulu” is Hawaiian for “sheltered harbor.”
At first glance, it seems incredible that the “lite” phenomenon—a 1980s diet food craze—started with beer. But after you read this two-part BRI report, it should make more sense. We can’t help wondering if the whole notion of “diet food” isn’t essentially a fraud. What do you think?
A
N UNLIKELY BEGINNING
According to beer industry studies, 30% of American beer drinkers—mostly blue-collar males between the ages of 18 and 49—drink 80% of the beer produced in the country. That means that every major U.S. brewery is trying to attract the same customers.
Traditionally, it meant that “diet beer” was a recipe for losing money. Heavy beer drinkers weren’t interested in dieting, and dieters weren’t very interested in drinking beer. Why make a beer for people who won’t drink it?
Those few breweries gutsy (or stupid) enough to brew a low-calorie beer were sorry they tried. In 1964, for example, the Piels Brewing Co. introduced Trommer’s Red Letter, “the world’s first diet beer.” It lasted about a month and a half. Three years later, Rheingold Brewing Co. of New York introduced a low-cal brew called Gablinger’s—described by critics as “piss with a head.” One company exec lamented: “Everyone tried it—once.” At about the same time, the Meister Brau Brewing Co. of Chicago came out with Meister Brau Lite. For some reason, they targeted it at calorie-conscious women. “It failed so badly,” said one report, “that it practically took the entire Meister Brau Co. down with it.”
LUCKY STRIKE
In the early 1970s, Miller Brewing Co. bought the rights to Meister Brau’s brands. They got Lite Beer (which was still in limited distribution in the Midwest) as part of the deal, but no one at Miller paid much attention.
In fact, Lite Beer probably would have been quietly dumped right away if company executives hadn’t stumbled on something surprising in Meister Brau’s sales reports: Lite was actually
popular
in Anderson, Indiana, a steel town dominated by the same blue-collar workers who were supposed to hate “diet beer.” Why did they like Lite? Nobody knew. Curious, the company sent representatives to find out. As Miller advertising executive Jeff Palmer recalls:
On average, people who have asthma hear better than people who don’t. Nobody knows why.
The workers drank Lite, they said, because it didn’t fill them up as much as regular beers. As a result, they felt they could drink more. And drinking more beer without having to pay more penalty in feeling filled up, is beer drinker heaven.
According to Palmer, the company did more research, and found that male beer drinkers were interested in a good tasting “light” beer but were “clear, if not vehement, that the concept of a
low-calorie
beer was definitely feminine and negative.”
So if Miller could figure out how to make Lite taste better, and at the same time think of a way to get rid of the beer’s “sissy” image, the company just might find a market for the brew.
LITE CHANGES
Miller president John Murphy decided it was worth a try. He ordered his brewmasters to come up with a beer that tasted like other Miller brands, but still cut the calories per can from around 150 to 96. It took them a little over a year.
Meanwhile, ad people went to work on positioning Lite as a “manly” brew that beer-lovers could drink without being ashamed. They decided to build an advertising campaign around “regular guy” celebrities, famous people with whom beer drinkers would be comfortable having a beer in their neighborhood bars. The first guy they picked was Eddie Egan, the detective whose life was portrayed in
The French Connection.
“Unfortunately,” one ad exec remembers, “he was under indictment at the time so we couldn’t use him.” Their next choice: journalist Jimmy Breslin. But he wasn’t available either. The executives’ third option: a few professional athletes…But Miller had a problem there, too—federal law prohibits using professional athletes in beer ads.
Miller was stuck. Who could they use?—who was left? While riding on a New York City bus, Bob Lenz, the ad executive in charge of Miller’s account, came up with the answer. He noticed a poster of former New York Jet star Matt Snell, and it occurred to him that although advertising codes prohibited Miller from using
active
athletes to sell beer, there was no reason they couldn’t employ
retired
ones. He called Snell.
The average cigar smoker can smoke an average cigar in about an hour and a half.
“We taped him,” Lenz recalls, “and once we saw the result, we knew we were onto something.” Miller ultimately signed up dozens of
ex
-athletes for their ad campaign—from baseball players like Boog Powell and Mickey Mantle to bruisers like football’s Deacon Jones and hockey’s Boom-Boom Geoffrion.
SELLING THE BEER
As it turned out, using ex-jocks was a master stroke. Because they were a little older (and paunchier) than their contemporaries, they were easier for beer drinkers to relate to. Plus, they had nothing to prove—they were established heroes. If they said it was okay to drink “sissy” beer, no one was going to argue. “When Joe Frazier, Buck Buchanan, or Bubba Smith stroll into the bar and order Lite,” wrote
Esquire
magazine in 1978, “you know you can too.”
Every spot ended with the celebrities heatedly arguing about Lite’s best quality—was it that it’s “less filling” or that it “tastes great?”—followed by the tag line: “Everything you always wanted in a beer. And less.”
When test marketing of Lite exceeded sales projections by an unprecedented 40%, it was attributed largely to the advertising campaign. Blue-collar workers not only felt comfortable drinking a “diet” beer, they also understood that “a third fewer calories” meant that drinking three Lites was only as filling as drinking two regular beers. So rather than cut calories, most Lite drinkers
drank more beer,
and the sales figures showed it.
LITE BONANZA
Lite was introduced nationally in 1975, and had an astounding effect on the Miller Brewing Co.
• In 1972, the company was the eighth-largest brewer, selling 5.4 million barrels of beer—compared to #l Anheuser-Busch’s 26.5 million barrels.
• By 1978—three years after the introduction of Lite—Miller was in second place and gaining, selling approximately 32 million barrels to Anheuser-Busch’s 41 million. Schlitz, Pabst, Coors, and other brewers were left in the dust.
A “cremnophobe” is someone who is afraid of falling down the stairs.
As
Business Week
put it, Lite became “the most successful new beer introduced in the United States in this century.” Its ads became as well known as the most popular television shows. Some of its spokesmen became better known for their work with Lite than for their sports accomplishments.
THE LIGHT REVOLUTION
It was only a matter of time before other beer makers got into the act. In 1977, Anheuser-Busch brought its muscle “to light” when it introduced Natural Light beer.
Miller fought back, suing to keep any brewers from using the words
Lite
or
Light
in their brand names. But the company only won a partial victory. The court’s verdict: Miller’s competitors couldn’t use the term
Lite
, but were free to use
Light
—since it’s a standard English word and can’t be trademarked.
Enthusiastic brewers started bottling their own light beers, and “light” became the hottest product in the beer business. By 1985, it made up 20% of the overall market. By 1994, it was a $16 billion business and comprised 35% of the market.
BACK TO THE FUTURE
Ironically, as the “light” category grew, Lite’s revolutionary ad campaign began to look out of date. The market had changed, and new light brews were aimed at young, health-conscious Americans—not blue-collar beer-guzzlers. “Light” had gone full circle; it was essentially being sold as a “diet” beer again.
The term “light” gradually took on a life of its own, too. It became a buzzword for
any
food that was lower in calories, or better for you, than the usual fare. This set the stage for an even bigger “lite” fad.
For Part II of Let There Be Lite, turn to
page 410
.
*
*
*
Sad but true:
“If you’re in jazz and more than ten people like you, you’re labeled ‘commercial.’”
—
Wally Stott
“Chili” comes from an Aztec word that means “bowl of red.”
A
handful of Yiddish words have become common in the U.S. If you’ve been wondering what they mean, here’s the answer.
Chutzpa
(hootz-pah): Clever audacity. Classic definition: “A child who kills both parents, then pleads for mercy because he’s an orphan.”
Drek
: Junk. The bottom of the barrel.
Shtick
: An act or a routine. (Usually associated with show business.)
Tchatchke
(chotch-key): Toy, knick-knack, worthless gizmo.
Shiksa
: A non-Jewish woman.
Schmuck
: A fool; sometimes refers to an obnoxious person.
Schlemiel
: Hapless individual. A person who always has bad luck; a fool.
Shlep
: To haul around.
Shlock
: Something that’s poorly made, or made for low-class taste.
Kibitz
: To offer unsolicited advice.
Klutz
: Clumsy or inept person. From the German word for “wooden block.”
Shmooze
: To chat.
Meshugah
(me-
shoo
-ga): Crazy.
Mensch
: Compassionate, decent person. Someone both strong and kind.
Noodge
: A pest. As a verb, “to pester or coax.”
Putz
: Dope, fool, schmuck.
Nosh
: A snack. (As a verb, “to snack.”)
Nudnik
(nood-nik): A boring pest. A nudnik can even bore himself.
Bupkis
: Nothing.
Shmo
: A fool; a dumbo.
Shnook
: A meek fool; sad sack.
Shpritz
: To squirt. As a noun, a squirt of something.
Goniff
: Sneaky thief; someone who takes advantage of others when able to.
Shloomp
: Sloppy—e.g., clothes.