What's in a name?

I think sometimes people need to think twice before they name their kids... or marry someone.

An example: My boss has a client named Terry. This man married a woman named Teri. I am not joking. Kinda obnoxious to try to call their house.

Other times, I wonder if maybe someone is just playing a joke.

An example: A recent article in the Friend (a magazine published by the LDS Church) was written by someone named Paige Turner. Yep. An author is named Paige Turner. As in "Wow, that book is so good! It's really a page-turner!"

So those are two examples that I came up with. If I think of any others, I'll let you know. Do you have any?

Why Did the Duck Cross the Road?

Okay, this is a really quick post. Yesterday I was driving down the street after leaving work, and I encountered this. I thought it was pretty great.

Burma-Shave

Have you ever heard of Burma-Shave? Neither have I, but yesterday I stumbled across this really interesting story about a product (and its advertising) that was very well-known about sixty years ago. I am very interested in little tidbits of history -- stuff you might find on PBS on a Saturday afternoon. So I share with you the following tale about a

small Midwestern company, its distictive advertising, and a sales promotion that sent a man and his family to Mars... well sort of.

Burma-Shave is an unusual American success story because, as highly valued as the product itself was, its advertising was cherished on an entirely higher level. Without its memorable signs and the place they came to hold in the American heart, Burma-Shave would likely never have amounted to much more than just another forgettable-but-good shaving cream.

In the early 1920s, Leonard Odell saw possibilities in an old family formulation, a noxious liniment he claimed his grandfather had secured from an old sea captain. This liniment had one special property beyond its smell: It was wonderfully effective on burns. This was discovered by an aunt who had severely scorched her hand in hot fat and who, in desperation, plunged the injured extremity into a batch of the liniment. It immediately took away the pain, and the hand healed with no blisters or scars.

Foul-smelling liniments were commonplace, but Odell deemed one that effective on burns a goldmine waiting to be dug into. The substance was christened Burma-Vita, Burma because most of its essential oils came from the Malay peninsula Burma, and Vita from the Latin for life and vigor. The Burma-Vita company (well populated with Odells) was formed to manufacture and market it.

Despite its healing properties, the product did not sell well — its smell ensured folks would only use it under the most dire of circumstances. The local wholesale drug company secured for the foundering company a supply of Lloyd's Euxesis, a brushless shaving cream from England, with the idea that Burma-Vita would do better selling a product its consumers would use every day. Odell wasn't yet ready to give up on being an entrepreneur, though. Instead of working to become Lloyd's Euxesis' agent in America, he commissioned a chemist to develop a better shaving cream.

Burma-Shave formulation #1 was horrible stuff, and it wasn't until the 143rd formulation that the company finally hit upon a winning combination. Not that they knew it immediately, though — they were approaching their 300th formulation when Odell rediscovered an old jar of 143, tried it, and was struck with the realization of what the company had. A fresh batch of 143 was unremarkable, but a batch that had been aged two or three months resulted in a fine shave.

With a saleable product finally in place, marketing became the prime concern. A small series of roadside signs advertising an upcoming gas station attracted the attention of another of the Odells one day, and he thought to himself, "Every time I see one of those setups, I read every one of the signs. So why can't you sell a product that way?"

Why not indeed?

Thus was born what would come to be the poetry of the roadside, little series of signs advertising Burma-Shave that would dot the nation. The first were introduced into the American landscape in 1925. The only states they never formally appeared in were Arizona, Nevada, and New Mexico (deemed too low in population density) and Massachusetts (too many winding roads and obscuring foliage). Yet elsewhere where there were cars, there were Burma-Shave signs.

Burma-Shave adverts took the form of simply-lettered, unillustrated little red and white signs stretched in progressions alongside roads. Each sign displayed a snippet of doggerel with one snippet leading to the next, the whole forming an amusing poem that would tickle the fancy of motorists even while it assured them of the need to buy Burma-Shave (and only Burma-Shave).

America took to the intriguing progressions of Burma-Shave signs because they were lighthearted communications — each sign added to the anticipation of what the next would say. It was impossible to not be charmed by such offerings as:

He Played

A Sax

Had No B.O.

But His Whiskers Scratched

So She Let Him Go

Burma-Shave

The consecutive signs commanded the attention of those reading them longer than any single sign could ever hope to do. The entertaining signs helped make long journeys more entertaining, and people became addicted to reading them.

The slogans were very powerful, so much so that the Burma Shave Company did not even feel the effects of the Depression. The rhymes aimed at motivating potential purchasers of Burma Shave were not just cute, but were probably some of the best advertising slogans ever written. Some of them suggested to men that they would do better with the women if they used Burma Shave:

She Eyed

His Beard

And Said No Dice

The Wedding’s Off

I’ll Cook The Rice

Burma-Shave

I Proposed

To Ida

Ida Refused

Ida Won My Ida

If Ida Used

Burma-Shave

A Chin

Where Barbed Wire

Bristles Stand

Is Bound to Be

A No Ma’ams Land

Burma-Shave

Use this Cream

A Day

Or Two

Then Don’t Call Her —

She’ll Call You

Burma-Shave

Not overlooking the spending power of women, the company put up rhymes to lure them to purchase Burma Shave for the men in their lives:

A Christmas Hug

A Birthday Kiss

Awaits

The Woman

Who Gives this

Burma-Shave

Other slogans suggested that there was no better product or substitute for Burma-Shave:

Substitutes

Are like a Girdle

They Find Some Jobs

They Just

Can’t Hurdle

Burma-Shave

Though the Burma Shave Company prospered, there were many challenges, too. Not only was there fierce competition, there was also the need to come up with a continuous supply of superior verses. This was solved with an annual contest that paid $100 for each verse used. There were thousands of entries sent in, resulting in many rhymes of high quality. Judging the entries eventually became difficult because in some years there would be more than 50,000 entries. This forced Burma Shave to hire some advertising copywriters to help in the selection process.

With the trend toward better automobiles and roads, the traffic accident rate began to climb. In response, in 1935 Burma-Shave began running "public service" jingles the company created to stress traffic safety. In fact, some of the best Burma Shave rhymes were written with public service in mind:

Past

Schoolhouses

Take it Slow

Let the Little

Shavers Grow

Burma-Shave

Is He Lonesome

Or Just Blind

This Guy Who

Drives

So Close Behind?

Burma-Shave.

Many a Forest

Used to Stand

Where a

Lighted Match

Got out of Hand

Burma-Shave

The One Who

Drives When

He’s Been Drinking

Depends on You

To Do His Thinking

Burma-Shave

Don't Take

A Curve

At 60 Per

We Hate To Lose

A Customer

Burma-Shave

Keep Well

To The Right

Of The Oncoming Car

Get Your Close Shaves

From The Half-Pound Jar

Burma-Shave

Don't Pass Cars

On Curve Or Hill

If The Cops

Don't Get You

Morticians Will

Burma-Shave

Sometimes Burma-Shave's poetic offerings caused a bit of a stir for the company. Whimsy, on occasion, was mistaken for serious intent. At a time when retailing was overrun with a fad for coupons, Burma-Shave kited a roadside rhyme that should have been taken as a joke:

Free Offer! Free Offer!

Rip A Fender

Off Your Car

Mail It In For

A Half-Pound Jar

Burma-Shave

Most interpreted the jingle as a humorous comment on the current craze, laughed, and drove on. Some, however, chose to ride the "something for nothing" rainbow to see if the company wouldn't make good on its promise. Scores of banged-up old fenders were soon on their way to the plant, many by parcel post. The more enterprising claimants scavenged nearby junkyards, then carried their finds to the Burma-Shave offices. Smarter hopefuls merely mailed in fenders torn from toy cars.

All fender-bearers were greeted politely, relieved of their automotive "coupons," and provided with the promised half-pound jar. In the long run, the publicity benefit to Burma-Shave more than compensated for the free product handed out and the cost of hauling those fenders back to the junkyard.

Redeemed fenders aside, the ultimate "battle for a freebie" arose over another set of signs, this one planted in 1955:

Free — Free

A Trip

To Mars

For 900

Empty Jars

Burma-Shave

Unlike the car fender fiasco, this playful spouting looked safe to the company — there might be car fenders aplenty to be found, but 900 empty Burma-Shave jars was going to prove far harder to come by. Yet Burma-Shave had not reckoned on the determination of Arliss French, manager of a supermarket in Appleton, Wisconsin.

Mr. French wired Burma-Shave he was accepting its offer — where should the jars be shipped? In response, the company wired back:

If A Trip

To Mars You Earn

Remember, Friend

There's No Return

French was not to be dissuaded. He countered with another telegram:

Let's Not Quibble

Let's Not Fret

Gather Your Forces

I'm All Set

What could Burma-Shave do but respond?

Our Rockets Are Ready

We Ain't Splitting Hairs

Just Send Us The Jars

And Arrange Your Affairs

Underneath the bravado, Burma-Shave was concerned. It sent Ralph Getchman, the company's general manager, to Appleton to find out what was going on and determine just how serious this French fellow was.

Getchman's report was not what the home office had been hoping for. Arliss French's store was festooned with reproductions of the key Burma-Shave signs. Full-page ads run in the local paper entreated: "Send Frenchy to Mars!" Within the store was a huge pile of empty jars, and it was growing day by day. Also in the store was a mock rocket ship for the kids to swarm over. And from the roof of the establishment, little green men fired toy rocket gliders out over the parking lot.

On the spur of the moment, the head of Burma-Shave recommended offering the determined grocer a trip to the Mars Candy Company in Chicago for a weekend on the town. It was that spontaneous utterance that planted the suggestion of a solution in his head, a solution that was to provide everyone with enough wiggle room to look like the offer had been honored.

When French presented himself at Burma-Shave's head office, he was dressed for his trip — he arrived sporting a bubble on his head and clad in a silvery space suit with a big red owl on the front. His 900 jars arrived in a Brink's armored truck emblazoned with a "Send Frenchy To Mars!" sign.

Burma-Shave was ready — it presented tickets for French, his wife, and twelve children to travel to Moers, a little town in Germany that mercifully pronounced its name "mars." The Frenches were handed full jars of Burma-Shave and given the advice they be used to barter with the natives for goods and services.

The photos were many and the news coverage extensive. The Frenches enjoyed their German vacation, and Burma-Shave once again netted more by way of publicity than it lost in meeting its obligation.

All good things come to an end, even Burma-Shave adverts. The Burma-Vita Company was sold to Philip Morris, Inc. in 1963, and that same year Burma-Shave stopped placing its cascades of signs by the roadside. Two generations have since arrived that have not seen Burma-Shave signs in their natural habitat, yet at one time it would have been nigh on impossible to uncover any American whose journeys hadn't been enlivened by them.

Many more of their advertising rhymes here:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burma-Shave

(To give credit where credit is due: I basically copied this post from this web site: http://www.snopes.com/business/market/mars.asp. Please don't sue me.)

More sources and info:

http://www.backwoodshome.com/articles/waterman37.html

http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_g1epc/is_tov/ai_2419100188/

http://www.eisnermuseum.org/_burma_shave/signs_of_the_times.html

I'm a Regular!

Remember Cheers -- that TV show, starring Ted Danson, that took place in a bar in Boston?  Let's sing the theme song together... 

Making your way in the world today 

Takes everything you've got. 

Taking a break from all your worries, 

Sure would help a lot. 

Wouldn't you like to get away? 

Sometimes you want to go 

Where everybody knows your name, 

And they're always glad you came. 

You wanna be where you can see, 

Our troubles are all the same 

You wanna be where everybody knows 

Your name. 

Thank you.  That was nice.  If I've done my job, then you might just have that song stuck in your head for a few minutes.  You're welcome.

So what does an old TV show have to do with me?  

Nothing.

Except the chorus of that old TV show's theme song says, "Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name."   I've got a place where everybody knows my name.  I am officially a regular at a local shop.  It's not a bar in Boston (sadly).  It's not owned by Sam Malone.  There's no one named Carla or Diane.  I've never seen a mailman inside, and no one shouts "Norm!" when I enter (which would be kinda weird, since my name is Justin).  Nope.  The owners are Chuck and Packer and they greet me by name when I come in with a "Hi, Justin.  What would you like today?"  Remembering customers' names.  Nice!

It's the Roxberry Juice Co. in Murray.  Here's their Web site.  I like Roxberry better than Jamba Juice, because the smoothies taste better, and all the employees I've met there have been very friendly.  They've even thrown in a Roxi Roll on the house once or twice.  Kudos to them on excellent customer service.

My favorite item on the menu is the Mango Mango, and I love a warm Roxi Roll with honey butter or pomegranate jam.

Sorry if this seems like an ad.  I'm just pretty happy to be a "regular" somewhere.

Fast Food Bud

I don't go out to eat very often.  At least I don't think I do.  I bring my lunch to work in a brown paper sack from home each day.  (My wife is really nice to make me a lunch).  During tax season, though, sometimes I get hungry at about dinner time.  There's only so many times I can eat ramen without puking, so I do venture out of my basement office for some fast food more often at this time of year than I normally would.

Today I decided to go to the world's first KFC.  Used the drive-thru.  Placed my order.  And the guy inside called me "Bud" no less than 10 times.  I'm not joking.  I hope that someone dared him to say Bud as many times as he could, otherwise, he's got some issues.  Maybe he should change up the names he calls people and not use Bud so much.  Try Ace... or Sport... or Slick... or Big Guy... or Chief...  There are a lot of options.

Here's our conversation, basically:

Guy: "Welcome to KFC, what can I make for you tonight?"

Me: "I'll have chicken fried steak meal, please."  (I know it's not good for me, but it tastes so good.)

Guy: "Okay, Bud, I got a fried steak meal.  Do you want a drink, too, Bud?"

Me: "Sure."

Guy: "Okay, Bud.  I've got that drink for you.  What else can I get for you, Bud?"

Me: "That's it, thanks."

Guy: "Okay, Bud, your total is $$$.  Please pull to the second window, Bud."

Then I drive up there and the conversation continues...

Guy: "How are you doing tonight, Bud?"

Me: "Fine, thanks."

Guy: "Your total is $$$."

I hand over the money and then...

Guy: "Okay, Bud.  Here's your drink and here's your change.  And here's your fried steak meal.  Anything else I can get for you, Bud?"

Me: "No, I'm good, thanks."

Guy: "Alright, you have a good evening, Bud."

As I left I said, "You, too, Chief!"

The story of my yard so far...

My wife and I have lived in our home for just under 2 years now, so we're just getting started with our yard.  I enjoy yard work.  I'm not a master gardener by any means, but I enjoy getting outside and playing in the dirt.  I like planting trees and flowers and I hope to start a vegetable garden this year.

Last year my main yard goal was to get our sprinker system installed and sod laid.  I did some ground prep by tilling in an entire semi truck load of composted turkey manure.  I found a Website that some guy set up to teach people how to properly design and install a home irrigation system.  I studied his suggestions and designed my sprinkler system.  I got some input from my father-in-law, who also enjoys this kid of thing.  I listened to the KSL Greenhouse Show on Saturdays for more tips.  I calculated the flow rates in each of my sprinkler lines.  I bought sprinkler heads that have pressure regulators built in so that they will always operate at 30 psi, and at that pressure, I know the amount of water that will be flowing out of each sprinkler head and how far it will spray.  Maybe I over-planned, but it sure was fun.  That was May through July, I think.  I was studying for the CPA exam during this time, too, but the sprinklers were much more fun.

Once I got everything planned out how I thought would work, I hired a guy to come and trench my yard.  What took him an hour and a half to do for $190 would have taken me a whole lot longer to do (with insane amounts of swearing, I'm sure).  Money well spent, I say.  That was August.

I spent September, October, and part of November laying my sprinkler pipe and installing the sprinklers.  That's when it really got fun.  I also spent that time trying to keep my neighbors out of my yard so that my trenches wouldn't collapse before I got pipes in them.  That wasn't so fun.  I got the pipes all glued and the sprinkler heads installed and the valves hooked up and the irrigation water turned on and it all worked great.  I was very proud of myself.  

Then in mid-November, I ordered three dumptruck loads of top soil to be delivered, and I hired a landscape company owned by a friend of mine to come and spread the topsoil and level my yard.  Again, I could have done this myself, but it would have taken me even more time, and there would have been even more swearing, I'm sure.  Definitely worth the money.  This same friend ordered the sod for me at his discounted contractor rate, too.  He said it was the premium, top of the line sod and what he would use for his own yard.  I was nervous about the "premium, top of the line" comment, because that pretty much always means "most expensive."  However, his contractor discount was awesome because that made the price less than what other people around paid for the less-expensive stuff from other sod companies.  That brought a little bit of a smile to my face.

One beautiful chilly Saturday in the later part of November, my wife, her dad and brother, my sister, my nephew, and I got up and rolled out the 6000 square feet of sod that we ordered.  (No neighbors helped, even though I helped most of my neighbors with theirs.... no ward members helped, and the Elders Quorum President forgot to tell the service chairman about it... so thanks.)  We got it worked out, and the sod looked great.  We started watering it and I even threw down a fertilizer specific for new sod applications.  

Then about a week or so later, it snowed.

The snow stayed there pretty much until March.  When it melted, we were happy to see that our grass was still there, that it didn't die or anything.  We were really surprised to see that it was still kinda green, since it was still technically the dormant season for grass.

Well, a few weeks have passed.  It's now officially spring.  I haven't turned on my sprinklers yet, because it's way to early in the season for that, especially in our little desert of Utah.  But check this out...

This is the view from the street...

This is a view from our upstairs back window...

This is another view from our upstairs back window...

Can you see where my property line is?  I have the only green lawn in the neighborhood.  I'm pretty happy about that, especially because we have a know-it-all on the street who likes to tell people how they should be doing things his way because it's so much better.  I hope that this is a sign of good, healthy grass, and not just a fluke.  I hope that all of my preparations will continue to pay off.  I also hope that my neighbor with the playground there won't flood my yard again this year.

Time to get a CPA?

How can you tell when you should get a CPA to do your taxes for you?

There are a number of indicators, really.  Here are just a few:

1) If you start a business for yourself, get a CPA to make sure you are doing everything right.  You want to make sure you're getting all your deductions, and (maybe more importantly), you want to make sure you're not deducting things you shouldn't (like a friend of mine who used to live down the street).  It's a lot cheaper to do it right the first time rather than getting audited.

2) If you're a year or two behind in filing your taxes, a CPA can usually help you get back on track.

3) If you feel you have better things to do with your time than filling out a tax return, then you might want to get a CPA to do it for you.

4) If you've ever written this on your tax return form that you have filed with the IRS:

If you can't read what this person wrote it says, "I don't know what they are?"  If you've ever written this -- or something like this -- probably it's a good idea to get a CPA to help you.  The IRS doesn't like to read notes like this, because it makes them realize that you have no idea what you're doing, and probably your return would be an excellent return to audit.  (Oh, and to answer your questions before you ask them... this is not from a client of mine, and I have no idea who wrote this note.  And yes, it was actually filed with the IRS.)

Wow.  Two posts in a row about taxes.  Sorry, but that's my life right now.