Someone, somewhere, in the back cubicle of a marketing firm must have been having an off day. They needed to figure out how to promote another one of those miracle exercise gadgets. “I need a name that evokes the toughness of this equipment, something that’ll encourage the user to get into shape.”
Then, in a flash of inspiration, this marketing person shoots up out of his chair. “I know! THE RACK!”
I know this must have happened, because I encountered this marketing disaster in the sporting goods department at Target while trying to find a Thermos. The Rack came complete with a big picture on the front of the box of some sweaty, shirtless dude exercising in an abandoned warehouse.
Sure, yeah, your run-of-the-mill muscle man looks to do their workouts in the seclusion of a massive, abandoned building. Or is this supposed to tie into the whole torture theme that the name alludes to? (While we’re at it, don’t people consider exercise a form of torture ANYWAY?)
I got some very shocking news recently regarding my business. While I have no need to share details, mainly out of respect and care for those involved, suffice it to say that I was shaken to the core. For a moment, my greatest fears about my start-up were realized: This might not happen.
Then, by God’s providence, I was listening to a Newsboys song for a VeggieTales special, “The League of Incredible Vegetables.” I played it for Mom to share it with her, and she was reminded of the fate of Big Idea. She found an article written by Phil Vischer, and a statement he made triggered something in me: “I realized my good works had become an idol that defined me.”
Had MousePaw Games become an idol to me?
I just cleaned out my desk drawer…
Do my ears deceive me, or did I just hear the distinctive sound of four or five readers removing this website from their bookmarks? Hey, hey, put me back, I’m not finished. I assure you, this blog isn’t mutating into a catalog of my sock drawer and a list of my lunches from the past six weeks.
Anyway, as I was saying, I just cleaned out my desk drawer, and I came to the conclusion that there is a LOT of weird stuff in there: a deck of cards (yes, I play solitaire sans-computer), an eraser shaped like a dinosaur that I’ve had since I was six, about twelve colors of paperclips, and a pre-inked stamp of the word “FILE” from my father’s office at an insurance company when I was three.