The Weight of Trump: The GOP’s Narrow PR Path to 2018

The Weight of Trump: The GOP’s Narrow PR Path to 2018

This past Tuesday, the world rocked a little bit.

All told, it was a comparatively minor quake, nothing like the monster tremors of 2016 that seemed to shake the very foundations of reality for a large swathe of the American people. But the first real electoral test of the Trump coalition – that erstwhile basket of deplorables – did not go terribly well for the Grand Old Party. I suspect one would not be remiss in describing the results as fundamentally catastrophic.

There is essentially no way anyone within the Republican Party could look at November 7, 2017 as anything less than a repudiation, not only of Trump’s agenda, but of Trump himself. And when your party is so closely tied to a deeply unpopular president, when that president has so thoroughly co-opted its ideology and mission statement, you’re going to go down with him.

That is the devil’s bargain the GOP struck when it nominated him; “if we can get ANY republican into the White House,” the reasoning went, “we can essentially pass our legislative package unopposed. And if the cost is that we have to let Trump carry us for a few years, it’s worth it.” Rational, if certainly unprincipled and calculating. But their electoral success last year, for all its Sturm und Drang, did little beyond exposing the inability of the GOP coalition to govern in any meaningful capacity, as the party, bereft of the unifying force of a common foe in the person of Barack Obama, has been rent by internal divisions even as the president himself is plagued by bad press. The end result has been a lack of any quantifiable results to justify the Party’s continued tolerance of the president’s antics – and ongoing scandals.

People noticed.

So now, instead of celebrating a year of legislative and policy triumphs that should have followed their conquest of two out of three branches of federal government alongside a solid majority of statehouses and governor’s mansions, the GOP has found themselvesabandoned by the people who handed them victory at a most inopportune time: the eve of a midterm election year.

This puts the GOP in a bit of a bad spot, and one they’ll need help crawling out of. It’s ultimately a question of public relations: how, if it’s even possible, can a party get out from under the toxic cloud of Trump’s low popularity ratings?

So You're Employing a Serial Predator

So You're Employing a Serial Predator

Since the Weinstein scandal broke – a long-simmering open secret in Hollywood going back at least as far as Courtney Love’s infamous, televised 2005 warning, and probably a lot further – there’s been a spate of other abuses coming to light. Mark Halperin. James Toback. George HW Bush. Just yesterday, Kevin Spacey was added to the list for an alleged 1986 incident with actor Anthony Rapp. Today? Andy Dick, after a decades-long string of arrests for sexual assault. All of this on top of the Bill O’Reilly scandal earlier this year.

While women have been keenly aware of this (and have tried telling everyone over and over again), it’s rapidly becoming clear that this problem is massive and systemic, starting from the White House and moving on down. Power, in the most patently obvious yet still somehow surprising statement that has perhaps ever been made, breeds abuse; where the victim is a woman, doubly so. Which means that there is possibly lurking, at many companies out there, someone or someones who are themselves guilty of this sort of disgusting serial predation. Which also means that it’s very possible this is an issue every company will have to deal with. And if you’re in any position of leadership, the question as to how to deal with it may fall squarely… on you.

It’s not an easy question to answer, and while circumstances are going to differ from case to case, person to person, and company to company – the Weinstein Company, for example, is going to have a hard time bouncing back when it’s literally named after a prolific accused abuser – there are nonetheless constructive steps that almost anycompany can take. With that in mind, in the event serial predation is discovered or uncovered at the top of the ranks in your company, here is a handy guide to appropriately approach the situation as well as help maintain the company’s good name and protect the lives and jobs of its rank-and-file.

Failure could put the entire company at risk.

Szechuan Fury: Are Brands Responsible for Their Fans?

Szechuan Fury: Are Brands Responsible for Their Fans?

I’d like to start with an image: a grown man climbing on top of a McDonald’s serving counter, jumping up and down like a toddler throwing a tantrum because there is not, of all things, a particular McNugget cartoon tie-in dipping sauce.

Let’s continue with another image: crowds of adults surrounding McDonald’s across the country, chanting “We want sauce! We want sauce!”

Imagine scenes like these repeating themselves around the country as people lose their minds over the unavailability of, of all things, a McDonald’s Szechuan-flavored sauce originally released in 1998 as a marketing tie-in with Disney’s Mulan. Imagine all of this is being done in the name of an adult-oriented cartoon show. Now imagine being the people who own it.

To their credit, the creators of Rick & Morty – the sci-fi cartoon that is at the very center of this mess – publicly and immediately spoke out against these displays. None of this was their fault; co-creators Justin Roiland and Dan Harmon didn’t come up with this tie-in promotion, and in fact, it wasn’t even officially connected. The whole enterprise was McDonald’s trying to bandwagon on the show’s massive popularity with a publicity stunt.

This is probably all a little bewildering, especially if you don’t live in online fandom communities, so here’s a little context: the show’s about this mad scientist, Rick Sanchez, who goes on crazy adventures across space and time with his grandson, Morty. Except Rick is a nihilistic sociopath with no regard for who he hurts, and is explicitly acting outside the best interests of literally everyone in his life. And the weird Mulan sauce thing? That, Rick insists, is his fundamental motive: he just wants that damn sauce.

The point of the joke isn’t that the sauce is particularly good. The sauce is a throwaway; the point is that nothing matters, so why wouldn’t Rick’s entire goal, the reason he has hurt and killed so many people, held his grandson hostage, demolished so many lives, is literally nothing. Nothing matters, so why not go all out for the dumb things you want? Why not act in disgusting, cruel self-serving ways – all over a Disney tie-in dipping sauce?

Bodega: When Branding Goes Bad

Bodega: When Branding Goes Bad

You may remember, perhaps, “Peeple,” a failed social app originally intended to be “Yelp for people,” letting you rate and rank the folks you run into in your everyday life. The creepy and borderline dystopian implications of this were apparent to literally everyone outside the company, and the announcement was met with immediate derision. Nobody wants to live in a world where basic human interactions are given scores that can be tracked, calculated, and treated as the numerical value of the person itself. That’s a solution in search of a problem.

From Peeple to the infamous “tech bros” who accidentally dreamed up public transitwhile discussing ways to make Lyft more efficient, there is a very strong narrative that the people out there creating startups and participating in the app economy are so privileged, so cut off from the real world, that they barely know what’s happening in it. Enter, last week, exhibit ten-million: Bodega, the app that seems to be expressly intended to drive the corner store into extinction.

This story has been told, retold, dissected, re-dissected, and re-re-dissected a million times over the past week, so let’s recap it only briefly: a couple of ex-Googlers have developed a “convenience store app” connected to small pantries stocked with items like Advil and toilet paper. You’d open it with the app, take what you want (of a limited selection), while the pantry’s built-in camera monitors your purchases and charges you via the app. The idea is to create something simple, easy to use, and easy to access.

The problem, of course, is that we already have something simple, easy to use, and easy to access: actual, literal, brick-and-mortar bodegas. Bodegas are cultural institutions in places like New York and Los Angeles, important parts of local infrastructure and society as thick on the ground as taxicabs. It isn’t immediately clear what Bodega (the app) has to offer that makes it a meaningful improvement over real-life corner stores. To add insult to injury, the article that stirred up all this trouble explicitly claims that the aim is to make corner stores obsolete. While the company’s cofounders Paul McDonald and Ashwath Rajan have denied that this was ever the intent, it quickly became the entire basis of the story. And the question still floats in the air: what problem is Bodega even trying to solve?

Politics as PR: Donald Trump and the Lessons of Katrina

Politics as PR: Donald Trump and the Lessons of Katrina

In television, everything is appearances.

This is ancient knowledge, something publicists have been wielding since the earliest days of the silver screen. You can use forced perspective to make a miniature appear larger. You build moments from hours of footage and dozens of distinct shots. You lower the lights or raise them. You add dramatic music. It’s a festival of performance and artifice, and that’s something Donald Trump has always done very well. He’s a master of appearances, maximizing his influence by maximizing the number of eyes on him. He rode this wave of attention from the set of The Apprentice to the West Wing.

He has, however, proven less adept at translating this style into an effective presidency, with few examples as pertinent as his faceplanting response to Hurricane Harvey’s devastation in Houston. Once regarded as an expert in image manipulation, we’re increasingly learning his brash, caution-to-the-wind style is much more the result of thoughtlessness than any defined strategy.

Much like with regard to Charlottesville, he’s had to redo his response from square one after botching it the first time, attempting to stem the bleeding caused by his self-congratulatory first visit to storm-devastated parts of the region. The Atlantic calls it an“empathy deficit,” and while that is certainly true, it’s actually a much bigger problem than that: the president understands television, but doesn’t understand the presidency. Or at least the power and imagery of it.

I’ve talked at length about Trump’s inability to contain bad press and how markedly it contrasts with his pre-inauguration deftness at deflecting it. Both that phenomenon and what I’m discussing in this article come from the same place: he doesn’t seem to really grasp the situation he’s in, how the way people are looking at him has changed. A man long used to playing by his own rules has stepped into a 228-year-old institution with as many years of tradition and public expectation behind it, and is less chafing under the constraints of it than failing to notice them at all, and then getting angry when people point them out.