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Marketing That Murders Meat And Misses The Male Demographic

Am I the target audience for this message?

Guess who's coming to dinner?

Last summer PETA launched a creative campaign designed to shock consumers into rethinking dietary choices for protein. I applaud their zeal but must point out some of  the obvious ambiguities in the visual subtext of PETA’s marketing campaign.

Despite my reservations regarding PETA’s insistence on Vegan fare, I continue to admire the cogent perversity in this choice of marketing imagery. As a libidinous, beef-eating man-pig, I remain transfixed by this carnal depiction of a sultry, naked Asian woman packaged as tasty tenderloin.

I’m sure PETA meant to imbue revulsion, but rather than shock, this picturesque theme simply reveals the way men objectify women in the first place.

Murder and cannibalism alone  may not inspire knee-jerk repulsion in a man who pines for the mouthwatering taste of  finely marbled filet.

Now don’t get me wrong. I remain an enthusiastic Feminist,  enjoying the company of bold women who cultivate urbane outlook and confident self-esteem. Yet I still count my blessings if she features dangerous curves, along with the glowing intellect to understand me as a product of  genetic hard wiring.

I relate to women through a desire for sophisticated interpersonal communication. Their interactive style compliments my own compulsion to explore insights with brutal honesty.

But until you cover me in dirt, or stop me from producing testosterone, I will continue to notice the sexy in the fairer sex. Blame the DNA, not the dude.

So, how do I approach this not-so-mythical product lying in the grocer’s freezer? Should I smoke her slowly over apple wood, or impale her on a spit, hot mopping supple flesh with my sweet and spicy sauce, or should I just torment myself with guilt over a growing sense of necrophilia?

PETA’s provocative imagery could easily argue for validity as an artistic piece, juxtaposing  death and beauty. John Steinbeck explores this concept through his literary masterpiece, Cannery Row, in which the main character, Doc, discovers the body of a beautiful young woman submerged in a La Jolla tide pool.

Death, beauty, tragedy and compassion converge to invoke artistic muse.

As a marine biologist, we expect Doc to take a clinical approach to grim discovery among the seaweed. Instead, Doc gazes down at unblinking beauty, and hears music which plays him metaphorically with the siren call of artistic muse.

Overwhelmed by death, beauty, tragedy, and compassion, Doc leaves the tidal flats and reveals his unwonted specimen to the first man he encounters, encouraging the beachcomber to inform police and collect a bounty.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

Stop the torture of innocent weiners!

 What have we learned thus far? Well, for one, passion for female beauty can spawn artistic muse as well as erections.

Let’s forgo the Freudian field trip, and just agree that marketing campaigns exposing breathtaking female carnage may confuse the male demographic,  but won’t stop knuckledraggers from craving meat.

We need a more powerful tableau, designed to dull the male demographic’s yearning for animal protein. Cast your gaze upon these images and feast eyeballs upon the face of horror!                         

What monster would refuse to come to Rex's rescue?

This tragic exploitation of the canine corpus will ignite male outrage, drawing virile spark and new disciples to PETA through imagery that directly targets our typical masculine audience.

PETA’s heretofore milquetoast attempts at power  marketing  through visceral visuals sadly pales in comparison to the atrocities mindlessly perpetrated on Man’s best friend.

These graphic depictions of human-on-canine barbarity will sway the male market to take action at last.

OK, I admit guys still won’t care about cats, and likely will remain forever insensitive to shocking images of naked female flesh. But it’s better than nothing.

Make mine BBQ flavored.

If you don’t believe me, plan on doing some qualitative field analysis. Head straight for the rack the next time you hit the liquor store. Research the photographic composition and page layouts inside Hustler and Penthouse Magazine.

These two publication have enjoyed massive success by shrewdly analyzing the subtle preferences of their target audience.

Should the grumpy old man behind the counter complain, look up from the glossy pages to confidently inform the codger that you have come to conduct investigative market analysis. He’ll understand.

Earth’s population recently surpassed 7 billion and will eventually reach critical mass, particularly as third world regions burgeon and compete for shrinking resources.

In the science fiction classic, Soylent Green, anyone can visit a nearby government suicide center. Fast food of the future starts with a super-sized deadly potion, sending consumers to oblivion, rocked to sleep by Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony, accompanied by videos of woodland creatures.

Final rest takes place at the Soylent processing plant where giant machines slice, dice, and render inanimate flesh into small green wafers rich in protein. I hope to feed the maggots long before this day comes. But if I’m still strolling in the smoglight as humanity turns on its only renewable food source, I’ll swing for the cheap seats, cracking skulls with heavy cane to earn my place in line. I’ll have the BBQ flavored Soilent Green with extra girls, please!



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