poll: ginzu knives?

The envelope that arrived in the mail yesterday from Publishers' Clearinghouse was plastered with official-looking stickers and stamped warnings and scribbled signatures, all giving every indication that I was A BIG WINNER or VERY NEARLY A BIG WINNER.

My natural inclination, of course, was to throw it out. But there was a tiny, niggling part of me that whined, "But what if...what if it's GENUINE?" The rational part of my brain raged back, "You fool, that's the whole point of this marketing approach! They're counting on gullible losers like you to be intrigued enough to open the envelope!"





It didn't help that a friend of ours recently nearly DID throw out a envelope that looked like junk mail, decided at the last minute to open it, discovered a cheque for thousands of dollars inside because of a class action suit filed against an old doctor of his that he never knew had been filed.

"See? SEE?" my inner voice whined. "You really -could- be a winner! What's the harm in opening an envelope? C'mon, go ahead, you know you want to."





So, not surprisingly, I did end up opening the envelope, just as the marketing company knew I would. Jeff always told me that I'm a marketing person's dream.

And holy cow, just look at all the paper that had been stuffed inside that #10 envelope:





Not surprisingly, I went through a Homer Simpson "d-oh!" as I opened the envelope. It didn't matter that 99% of me knew that it was just more junk mail. It didn't matter that I hadn't invested much time (well, other than carefully spreading out all the flyers and taking a photo of them for my Blatherings :-)) and effort beyond opening an envelope.

I cursed the part of me that couldn't resist the lure of that "AUTHORIZED" pseudo-stamp, no matter how cheesy and obviously pre-printed it was. I felt like the little kid at school who repeatedly falls for the same stupid practical joke, never learning, stubbornly clinging to the feeble hope that maybe...just MAYBE...that this time the battered-looking shoebox given to him by Little Sadistic Sammy during lunch hour really will contain a magical wish-granting ring instead of a library photocopy of Sammy's butt.

But maybe I should resign myself to the fact that Jeff is right about me being a marketing person's dream; it's part of my nature. I fill out survey cards on restaurant tables, buy products based on free samples I've received, send in coupons, lust over the George Foreman Grill on late-night infomercials, cry during over-the-top emotionally manipulative cellphone and milk commercials.

Poll: Do you own a Ginzu knife? Or other tv/infomercial advertised product?

Do you fill out survey cards? Have you ever opened junk mail? Do you send in coupons? Have you ever checked "YES" to indicate that you DO want to receive news or product information when registering online for anything? Has a commercial ever brought tears to your eyes? Have you ever purposely watched an infomercial all the way through? Or the home shopping channel for more than five minutes?