Let’s just say it: Most digital marketing metrics are bullshit.

Impressions? Clicks? Views? Cute.

They look great in a deck and make everyone feel productive, but when it comes to answering the only question that actually matters, "Did this move the needle?" those metrics are basically confetti in a hurricane.

Enter the hero we don’t talk about enough: Incrementality.

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…”

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.

Your brand doesn’t need safe. Safe is boring. Safe is invisible. Safe is the default path to irrelevance.

When your instinct is to issue a press release, apologize, retreat, “clarify the intent,” and tone everything down, that’s the moment your brand is getting eaten alive. What you really need is conviction, nerve, and a willingness to absorb backlash that isn’t aimed at your customers.

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.

Here’s the thing: anti-woke marketing works… until it doesn’t.

It’s the marketing equivalent of eating nothing but candy, sure, it gives you a quick sugar rush, maybe a stock bump, maybe even a bunch of free media coverage — but it leaves you queasy and doesn’t build a healthy brand. We’ve seen this play out with Bud Light, Target, and most recently Cracker Barrel. The data is undeniable: when anti-woke consumers get angry, they vote with their wallets, and it moves markets.

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.

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 while back I wrote about why I’m not exactly in the Savannah Bananas fan club. Don’t get me wrong, I see the genius. They’ve turned baseball into a TikTok-friendly circus, they’ve made millions, and they’ve brought people who wouldn’t know a double play from a double espresso into stadiums. But as a long-suffering baseball fan, I don’t want baseball to become a never-ending talent show. I want baseball to be baseball.

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.

In the last month, I’ve written two full-blown marketing plans for clients and I’m diving into a third one this weekend for a very hands on project. Both were very different projects. Opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to target customers, budgets, and expectations. But here’s the funny part: both plans, unique as they were, netted out at exactly 45 pages each.

That wasn’t by design. I didn’t have a template I was plugging things into. It happened because that’s how much it takes to capture the real meat of a marketing plan when you’re not padding it with fluff.

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.

Let’s talk about Ryan Reynolds.

Actor? Yes. Charming? Sure. Canadian? Absolutely. But marketing genius? Pump the brakes, ADWEEK .

Once again, the advertising world is tripping over itself to praise the man like he’s the second coming of David Ogilvy, all because of a shiny little PR diversion masquerading as a brand campaign. If you missed it, Ryan Reynolds' agency (Maximum Effort — ironic name for what amounts to TikTok-level commitment) recently dropped an ad for a tech company featuring Coldplay’s “X&Y” era emotions and, get this, the Coldplay singer's ex-wife Gwyneth Paltrow is in the creative. That’s right, they used a connected celebrity as a smokescreen to rewrite the headlines and change the public narrative on the CEO cheating scandal.

And everyone’s clapping like trained seals at SeaWorld.

There’s something I need to say, and I hope it reaches the right people.

It’s OK to come back. Really. No guilt. No shame. No awkward silences required.

Earlier this year, my company lost three projects to “AI.” That’s not code for another agency, it’s literal. The clients decided they could do what we do in-house using AI tools instead of a team of human creatives.

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.

Let me start by being brutally honest (seems to be my new thing): I don’t think anything I’ve done has ever gone crazy viral. You know, like Justine Sacco “#hashtagging her career into oblivion” viral. But what I have done is create stuff, both in writing and with stunts, that people still remember 10 years later. And that’s exactly the kind of content I’d take over viral any day.