You’ve probably noticed something about my posts.

I’m constantly name-dropping. Not celebrities. Not influencers. Cousins. Colleagues. Random friends. That guy Steve Hoechester who said one thing at lunch that hijacked my brain for a week.

Here’s why: I genuinely believe that credit is a form of currency, and I like to be rich in the stuff that actually matters.

Yes, I can come up with ideas on my own. Hell, I’m good at it. (Like, "could monetize it in my sleep" good.) But the truth is, something special happens when you let other people into the process. A conversation. A book. A line in a podcast. It’s not just inspiration, it’s ignition. These interactions don’t just give me ideas. They accelerate them. Sharpen them. Sometimes they slap me in the face and say, "Hey dummy, go this way."

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 just call it like it is: being nice is boring. Especially in marketing. Especially when you’re trying to get noticed in a world where everyone’s yelling, but no one’s actually saying anything worth listening to. If you want attention, you need conflict. You need drama. You need a rival.

And not just any rival. You need someone to feud with in public. Think Nike vs. Adidas, McDonald’s vs. Burger King, Coke vs. Pepsi. These aren’t just brand wars, they’re modern-day myths. And they work like hell.

Strap in kids, cause I’m going to lay it out plain and loud: community is the only growth strategy worth your brand’s sweat and sleepless nights. And I should know, after speaking at over 300 conferences in the past 20 years, crafting a new 70‑minute keynote every single year (yes, even while sleeping half‑dead in airports), and starting with a slightly eyebrow‑raising talk titled Making Love To Your Customers (yes, that’s what it was called), I’ve come to this truth: all the flashy “growth hacks” will fade, but a fiercely loyal tribe will endure.

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

I was at the grocery store today, and I heard a guy actually say, “fuck Doritos.” Not quietly, not muttered under his breath, this was a declaration. He told four people in the aisle. Then he called someone to keep the rant going. I have no idea what triggered him, a price hike, a stale bag, an existential crisis over Cool Ranch, but the man was on a mission.

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 have said similar things in previous posts but with more layoffs in the creative industry recently, it is worth reinforcing the fact that if we keep pretending that AI is “freeing creatives to be more creative,” we won’t have an ad industry in two years.

What we will have is an efficiency machine pumping out an endless scroll of generic, soulless content wallpaper that nobody wants to look at. Creativity, the messy, human, culture-making kind that built this industry, is being gutted under the polite fiction of “progress.”

And we’re letting it happen.

Alright, let’s be honest:

If you’re only planning to read one book this year... you’re probably either lying, burned out, or watching too many Instagram reels about books without actually opening one.

And hey, no judgment, we’ve all been there.

But if you are going to read one book this year? Make it Shoe Dog. Seriously. That book is a masterpiece. I’ll carry Phil Knight’s sneakers to thank him for writing it.

Now... if you decide to read two books this year?

The first rule of comedy is: tell a joke once and it’s funny. Tell the same joke five times and it’s not funny anymore. Tell that same joke nineteen times to the same people, and suddenly it’s awkwardly hilarious.

That’s brand storytelling.

A funny thing happens every time a brand does something bold: social media loses its mind.

Take the recent Cracker Barrel situation. They make a simple logo change, and the comment section fills with people swearing they’ll never set foot in a Cracker Barrel again, and our beloved LinkedIn becomes well, I don't know how to describe it. From the reaction it got you would think they added plant-based sausage to the menu or told the world that the old guy in the logo is named Hershel and may be Jewish. Sales tank and then spike as new audiences discover them, and eventually the brand cements its relevance (again). The truth is this: no matter what you do, social media will scream. That’s its job, so make sure they are busy.

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.

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’m real close to taking on a new project, a brand that’s been around for 20 years, and I’m speaking about it like it’s already in the bag because, frankly, it’s just a matter of time. (I’m a big believer in speaking things into existence.)

Modernizing a brand that’s been operating for two decades is no small task.

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.

Let’s talk about the most overhyped and under-leveraged growth strategy in business today: Customer Experience (CX) paired with Word of Mouth (WOM).

You’ve read the headlines. You’ve skimmed the McKinsey decks. You’ve nodded politely at a thousand LinkedIn influencers saying “the customer is everything.” And hey, they’re not wrong.