Bring on the Junk

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I am of an age where junk mail amuses me. Not only because I get precious little else, but because the copywriting and stock photos are so insulting it is really quite funny. Recently I got a lovely piece from the local crematorium. They wanted me to buy their services and if I called a certain number my name would be entered into a contest for a pre-paid cremation. That’s right, some lucky someone is about to have the ashes to ashes part of life pre-paid. Versus what, post-paid? And what if I do pre-pay to have the final solution dealt with? How will I know if they are still in business by then? I won’t. Unless I make phone calls a regular basis to find out it if they are still in, um, earnest.

Just what I need, one more company that I need to check on and do their work for them. I am already managing my banks, insurance companies, and mutual funds to make sure no one cheats me by mistake.

And the graphics on the cremation ad? (And you can’t make this stuff up.) Gramps and Gramma are playing “Ring-around-the-rosy” with some children. Sing that in your head a minute. I’ll wait. Never mind it is about the bubonic plague (the ring around the rosy is the pox on the skin, a pocket full of posies is to block the stench). Now everyone together, “Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.” Indeed, we do.

Meanwhile AARP is still hounding me for membership. I suppose that is good news. At least they think I am alive. I wish I had all the money they spent on the promotions they have sent me over the last 10 years. Some of the slicker pieces looked like they were at least 25 cents a pop. Maybe some were up towards 50 cents. All materials touting wonderful discounts and a free day planner. Heck they should just pre-print the calendars for the retired folks with “nothing important” printed on each day. But even with aging rock stars and celebrities gracing their covers, I just haven’t relinquished that last bit of hope that I am still enjoying an extended middle-age, not AARP old age.

I was amused to see one of the graphics for the AARP ad. Above the caption “Financial Information” was a photo of a hand writing on a ledger with an ink nib, as in pen and India ink, as in ink-well. Yikes! I haven’t used a pen and ink-well since Fourth Grade in Mrs. Moseleski’s penmanship class. That would be 1959. I’ve been a BIC girl ever since. My grandfather may have used a fountain pen his whole life, but I doubt it.

There was another graphic depicting “Advocacy”. There were hands of all colors reaching up to the sky. Problem was all the hands clearly belonged to very young hand models. Huh? AARP is a lobby for old people. They advocate for people who have bulging veins, age spots, and gnarly knuckles. I should know. That’s what I am looking at as I type on my iPad. Too old or not old enough, AARP needs more focus groups of old farts looking at their junk mail ads.

Or maybe these photos for old people are a new form of sarcasm from the very young ad executives. In that case, well played art directors, well played.

Sally Franz is a former stand-up comedian, motivational speaker, and radio host. She is a twice-divorced mother of two and a grandmother of three. Sally has a degree in gerontology and several awards for humor writing. She is the author of Scrambled Leggs: A Snarky Tale of Hospital Hooey
and The Baby Boomers Guide to Menopause.