Every once in a while, someone drops a sentence so simple, so unpolished, so delightfully obvious that it hits you straight in the soul like a folding chair in a WWE match.

For me, it happened last week.

I was talking with my cousin. She’s cool. She’s fun. She’s wildly successful in that effortless “Oh, I didn’t realize you were on that board” kind of way. We were bouncing around ideas about travel and food and all the things that make life feel like more than just a to-do list.

Then she said this.

“Do you know why they call things better? Because better is better. That’s why they call it better.”

I swear to you, time froze for a second.

I saw a post today from Stephanie Agresta talking about SXSW and how they have reimagined the footprint of the festival. The post caught my eye because SXSW is a big part of my career.

I’ve been to SXSW eight times and seven of those were in a row, mostly with FreshBooks , but also tagging along with two other startups hellbent on making noise. And every damn year we managed to stir things up so well that we’d get a polite (but clearly annoyed) email from the organizers: "You got us this time, but we’re closing that loophole for next year."

For me, it happened last week.

I was talking with my cousin. She’s cool. She’s fun. She’s wildly successful in that effortless “Oh, I didn’t realize you were on that board” kind of way. We were bouncing around ideas about travel and food and all the things that make life feel like more than just a to-do list.

Then she said this.

“Do you know why they call things better? Because better is better. That’s why they call it better.”

I swear to you, time froze for a second.

Here’s the rule I live by: If your idea doesn’t make someone nervous, it’s probably not good enough.

The best marketing ideas don’t live in the middle of the road, that’s where roadkill happens. They live on the edge. They make people feel something. They make people talk.

The next few posts are going to be me talking about my book, not because I’m obsessed with myself (well, maybe a little), but because I think you’ll actually get something out of it. You knew I wrote a book, right?

Let’s be honest: the word creative doesn’t mean much anymore.

Every company says they’re creative. Every marketing deck has a section called “Big Ideas.” Every brainstorm starts with someone saying, “No idea is a bad idea!” before immediately shooting down the first one.

Meanwhile, everything looks the same. The same fonts. The same slogans. The same video that opens with “It starts with a spark…”

Let’s get this out of the way first, the Bugonia stunt could’ve been legendary. The kind of PR moment that earns front-page headlines, floods TikTok feeds, and gets whispered about in marketing Slack channels for years.

But instead of legendary, it became lukewarm.

Let me hit you with a truth bomb: if your branding principles are holding back your creativity, your branding sucks.

Branding isn’t supposed to fence you in. It’s supposed to fuel you. It’s not a cage, it’s a springboard. The best branding doesn’t limit ideas, it sharpens them. It gives your creativity edges, so when it hits the audience, it leaves a mark

My last post got the least number of views I’ve ever received. Lesson learned: don’t post a half-naked photo of yourself, apparently the algorithm doesn’t love dad bod chic.

So to make it up to the internet (and boost my numbers), I’m taking a page from the Unabomber (not the bombing part, just the manifesto part) and writing one of my own.

This one isn’t about tearing down society. It’s about why you should buy my book: The Only Creative Process That Matters.

I’ve been in marketing long enough to watch it morph from a business built on instinct, creativity, and a little showmanship… into something that looks like a NASA control center for consumer behavior. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not anti-data. Data’s amazing. It tells you who’s worth talking to, where they are, what they care about, and sometimes even the color of socks they’re wearing when they buy toothpaste.

But here’s the thing: data can tell you where to aim the arrow, it can’t make anyone care that you shot it.

My two biggest business influences have been the same since day one: my Dad and Bill Gaines, the founder of MAD Magazine. This post is the first in what may be an ongoing series, “Business Lessons from My Idols,” and this one is very personal one for me. If you grew up reading MAD you probably remember the goofy Alfred E. Neuman and the magazine’s parodies, but you might not know the man behind the magazine. Bill Gaines was MAD’s longtime publisher (over 40 years) and the architect of a work culture so unique and fun, it arguably set the template for the modern “creative office.”

I have been getting slack from people over at Instagram for posting about being Jewish (I was born like this, get over it), so here I will share the other side of me... creativity. If you know me, you know I don’t shy away from speaking my mind. So fine, let’s pivot from cultural commentary to something a bit less controversial but just as personal: my love-hate relationship with constraints in creative work. Yeah, you heard that right. Today I’m going to drop some truth bombs about how having less, smaller budgets, tighter deadlines, fewer resources, you name it, can actually make you more creative...and yes this is a theme in my book, so please, go buy it!

I keep Google Alerts for a handful of things: my name (obviously), my book title, a few brands I admire (or envy), and the term “experiential marketing.”

That last one used to be my favourite alert.

Every few days, I’d get a little gem in my inbox, a recap of a jaw-dropping installation in Tokyo, a campaign that took over an NYC subway station, or some mind-bending immersive stunt in London that made people stop in their tracks and feel something.

So why did I write a book? Truthfully, it is not because I thought the world needed another book about creativity. (There are already too many that say the same high-level thing in different fonts.) I wrote it because I’ve spent 25 years in the trenches, the foxholes, the back alleys launching brands, blowing minds, and building ideas that actually work, and I wanted to finally put everything I know into one place.

It’s called The Only Creative Process That Matters. And yes, the title is pretty tame compared to the content inside.

We’ve officially entered the era of Marketing Musical Chairs, except the music stops every 12 to 16 months, and it’s always the CMO left standing.

Why? Because the CMO role has become a lame duck gig. Disposable. Decorated. But damned. The title still sounds powerful, but it now often means: “You’re the first to go when growth stalls, vibes are off, or someone in the boardroom starts reading too much Martech Today.”nestly, who has that kind of time?

One of the questions I get asked most is: “How do you come up with your ideas?”

The honest answer? We ask better questions than everyone else.

As I wrote yesterday, At The Idea Integration Co., we use a CIA-inspired framework called WoMBAT, short for What Might Be All The… It’s my secret weapon. It forces us (and our clients) to explore wide, weird, wonderful thinking before we narrow in on a final concept. It stops us from jumping at the first idea, and pushes us toward the right one.

People often ask me, “Saul, How do you come up with your ideas?” or “Saul, How do you think the way you do?” It’s not magic, and it’s not luck. It’s a process. A way of approaching problems that I’ve honed over years of experience in marketing, branding, and creating campaigns that grab attention and spark conversations. And the secret sauce?

It all comes down to WoMBAT.

SuperBowl ads are the ultimate brand and agency vanity play, and we need to talk about it. Yeah, I said it. And before anyone gets all riled up about the “cultural moment” or “brand exposure,” let’s break down the reality here.

Brands are forking over $7 million for 30 seconds of airtime. Factor in production costs, celebrity talent fees, and the hype machine that kicks into gear weeks before kickoff, and we’re looking at a $15-20 million spend. For one ad. One.

Imagine this: you’re at a baseball game. The pitcher on the mound is known for one thing, his knuckleball. It’s unpredictable, almost impossible to hit, and when executed correctly, it’s a game-changer. But despite its potential to dominate, very few pitchers actually use it. Why? It’s difficult to master, it requires finesse and practice, and it’s just… not trendy.

Word of Mouth Marketing (WOM) is the knuckleball of the marketing world.

Disruption is an overused word. It can mean a lot of different things, but at its heart it’s a catch-all for pushing the limits of something. In the case of disruptive marketing, it can mean pushing the limits so you can be where your customers or prospective customers are. Sometimes that means going to a competitor’s conference (or any conference) with or without permission.