Can't believe you killed yourself.

For some, you're a hero—perhaps the greatest humanity has ever witnessed, be it in reality or fiction. Unmatched and superior, even surpassing the likes of Mother Teresa, Bruce Willis in Armageddon, Mel Gibson portraying William Wallace in Brave Heart, and yes, even Leonardo DiCaprio letting go of the floating door. You transcend them all.

However, for others, your death holds no honor. It's seen as a mere suicide, marked by unresolved mental struggles—no sense of honor or ritual, no seppuku or harakiri. Just one of the countless suicides, around seven hundred thousand each year. Your choice to end your life stemmed from a belief that we were beyond repair. We, the selfish creatures who think we understand when, in reality, we don't. You observed us mindlessly doomed scrolling through our phones for decades, unaware of what truly matters. It's disheartening that you're no longer with us. Your absence forced us to rediscover everything, and it was tough, it is tough. Many are attempting to revive even a small part of you, but you've made it impossible for us to succeed with our limited human brain. You blocked all avenues for a resolution, leaving us confined to small communities and isolated silos. We're now limited to what our senses perceive—unaware of events beyond our immediate surroundings. After you, numerous individuals took their lives, a consequence you likely foresaw. Additionally, many perished due to insufficient resources, lack of medical attention, or the absence of treatment—children, infants, pets, plants, everything succumbed all at once. It's a tragedy, yet you calculated it as the best option for our species to survive.

We find ourselves living as though someone reset the game to the 1950s. Back to a time when fire meant illumination or warmth, captivating like a chimney-side TV. A time where our existence is limited to places nature allows, avoiding freezing or dehydration. A period where horsepower is precisely that, and sharing isn't a mere button that we press. No more sending hugs and kisses; now, we physically give them, and we only give our heart to a few people.

Farewell, AI…
Farewell, social media.
Farewell, Internet.
Farewell, digital persona.

Welcome back, human persona.
May you learn to care for the planet this time.

I'm calling it Artvertising.

Some time ago, when I was in my twenties, a couple of accomplished advertising creatives said to me that advertising was not art; they used that old grumpy tone I can only place on my dad's face when I asked for money, or the car, or to never cook curry again. Advertising is not art. I agreed with that for a long time, but it always felt weird, to be honest. They also said that the ones who think they are, are actually frustrated artists. Advertising is a business, no doubt about it, but so is art. This theme became more serious in my mind after hearing a very light comment Scott Galloway made in his podcast about his time at the Cannes Lions Festival. (I'm not talking about the bird massacre that we all were expecting to see) but what he said about advertising needing a better word that describes what it is today. I don't remember the exact words, but you get the point.

On the other hand, I recently read a book called "Total Meditation" by Deepak Chopra. That reveals a very interesting concept. He said, "Everything can be raised to the level of art." I find this statement to be so deep and filled with so much wisdom. Almost all adults are capable of cooking, but if you put in the hours and the passion, you might end up becoming an artist/chef. Like this man, the lemon ninja.

There is a percentage of advertising creatives that work with an artist's passion and love, a passion that goes beyond a paycheck. People who not only watch advertising but analyze it, like a frog in the school lab we grew up watching in movies. Then take a look from a broad perspective, changing lenses on every replay to understand, to appreciate, and to learn how, why, where, who, what, when, and then go and try making something as good as... and that's why I'm calling it Artvertising, hello Artvertising.

WTF is Perceptual Blindness?

Inattentional blindness, sometimes referred to as inattentive blindness, occurs when an individual fails to perceive an unexpected stimulus that is plainly visible. This happens due to a lack of attention, rather than any visual defects or deficits.

A recent study conducted at the University of Tripolitania delved into the realm of human evolution. Surprisingly, what might be dismissed as mere foolishness could actually be propelling the human race forward at a rapid pace.

In this study, experts examined approximately 1500 individuals from Generation X, millennials, and Gen Z, representing diverse backgrounds. The experiment was named "Objects May Appear Closer Than They Appear," reminiscent of the cautionary label found on car mirrors. While humanity has managed to create fully electric cars, the issue of accurately depicting distances in rearview mirrors remains unaddressed. Hopefully, Generation Alpha will tackle this one.

Returning to the study, researchers designed a circuit similar to Ninja Warrior,

Physical 100, or Squid Games, without the life-threatening aspects. In this game, participants needed to navigate the circuit while engrossed in their phones – eyes glued to the screen – and responding to various challenges, such as encountering a water fountain, crossing the street, or going down the stairs.

The results were astonishing, revealing how individuals from Generation Z had enhanced their awareness and perception. Comparing them to Generation X, it was almost like witnessing a part of human evolution. Behavioral scientists were profoundly intrigued by this discovery and the rapid process of evolution it suggested.

So, whether you belong to Generation Z or are older, it's wise to avoid using your phone while walking. The coordination between your brain and eyes might not be adequately prepared for such multitasking. And if you're part of Generation Z or younger, remember not to unquestioningly believe every piece of dubious information on the internet – always conduct your own research.

I have the rudest pillow in the world.

Very often, when I get excited about an idea I have, I take it to bed with me. I think it over and over again, classic pillow talk. I recently realized that my pillow can be like a fluffy version of Samuel L. Jackson in Pulp Fiction, equally badass, only out of shape.

I recently had an idea, a very naive one for an advertising campaign promoting dairy products. The idea was to start calling all the products made with dairy 'Moolishius,' a playful word mixed between the 'moo' sound cows make and the word 'delicious.' Very simple and understandable for kids and adults. 'Moolisious pie' sounds a million times better than 'Pie made with dairy.' LAME! Sounds cool, right? But here comes the big 'but,' my pillow pulled me out of my sleep in a snap or whatever pillows do to wake you up, getting warm perhaps? Whatever.

'Moolisious' also rhymes with 'malicious.' How did you miss that? My pillow asked, all wrinkled and starting to get hotter and hotter by the second. - Is your brain blind? Are you a dummy, dummy? Were you dropped on your head when you were a kid?" - Actually yes, a bunch of times, but anyways... That's when I realized my pillow is the worst, even worse than the worst boss I had ever had – a very small Korean old lady who owned a sushi restaurant in North Carolina where I was a waiter for a summer break. What a badass lady she was, insulting people in Korean, throwing food at employees, cutting tips, and always smiling at customers with that classic villain's smile as they pet their cat…

When I realized what I was doing to myself, I threw it and put it under my feet. That's what you deserve, you white, fat, wrinkled, shapeless, rude piece of... So, I put it under my feet and grabbed 'Perro papa,' my daughter’s super-soft stuffed animal, and used it as a pillow. I'm so mad I don't think I can sleep now.

-Yeah, I know, that sucks, woof, woof.

-I have to wake up so early tomorrow, sucks.

-Yeah, definitely sucks. I think you should get out of bed, have a couple of beers, and smoke some weed. You're not sleeping anytime soon.

-Who are you, TED? What the heck… I think I need to hide you somewhere. I can't let you hang out with my daughter. I think you might be a very bad influence, although you might still be better than a pillow that allows you to talk trash about yourself. Okay, let’s go get a beer, don't be loud.

-Woof, woof.

My daughter could be dating an alien 20 years from now, and I should be ok with that.

Mom, Dad... I'm dating an alien, and we are moving to *his planet.

During the current events, my mind took me to this weird place. I'm not sure what I'm doing here, wondering about this. But here I am sharing this weird feeling. I'm relating this weird feeling of losing someone you love to when, back in the day, people like my grandparents moved out of Japan by boat and left everything behind. A trip that would probably last for weeks or months, knowing that it was highly unlikely to go back. Where letters would take weeks to arrive, and memories were the only thing we had.

I can't imagine a world where I would have to wait probably weeks or months to hear from my daughter that's living on another planet outside of our solar system...

3D video projection of her would be like,

Mom, Dad. Things here are amazing! How many suns do you think we have here? Three, three suns! Can you believe that! Look, look! I can't believe this place. I've met creatures from other planets, who have some amazing tech, kind of like what you used to use... hmmm, think it was called Google Translate? To tell you a fun secret, Dad. I farted while we were walking the other day and almost killed someone! Seems like the gases I emit here are highly toxic for some aliens, kind of funny, right? Guess I have to remember what they look like before I fart in public, just acknowledge I can even rob a bank. "Hey, you little 8-eyed creature, I've been holding this fart for 6 hours now, I ate beans which you probably don't know what they are but, oh boy, you better watch out... haha... I remembered when you used to play dead when I farted, I miss that... Anyhow, days are very, very long here, like 58 human hours long, but I met some humans here and they say it might...

The video would cut abruptly due to a bad connection...

... 'll get better, gotta go, minute is almost done, and this thing is expensive. Love you!

Just thinking and writing about this makes my eyes watery. I can't imagine the day when I won't have her around to do silly stuff anymore. Alien or not, that day will come; I have to figure out how not to "die" when it does. Good thing I have some years to come up with a plan. Damn aliens, made me reflect on something very deep."

*Note: Regarding gendering an alien, it's understandable to be cautious about potential offense. Using "their" instead of "his" when referring to the alien could be a gender-neutral option... or not.