bedtime for democracy or where’s my tab?

Dear Leader reportedly was most impressed—of all the features at his disposal in the Oval Office—with a buzzer that he can use to summon a butler to bring him his soft-drink of choice. Delighted how it makes his visitors nervous, it seems a rather pathetic squandering of resources—something that six-year-old Anthony Fremont who can wish people into the corn-field might demand or a ritual befitting (no offense) Pee-Wee’s Playhouse—I just hope it’s not remotely close to any other placebo buttons.

sacrilicious

Hearing of this bit of reporting, via Super Punch, from Thailand regarding how a strawberry flavoured soda has overtaken the traditional blood sacrifice offer to appease household spirts (culturally ingrained to the point where human consumption of this soft-drink is considered a taboo, like raiding the sacramental wine) made me think of the strange battlefront of the cola-wars where the stakes have been elevated to the purity of one’s immortal soul. What do you think? Both articles treat belief in the supernatural and ritualistic behaviour with respect—and the hands-off approach to marketing seems more mature in the former than in the latter, but the lens of a manufactured commodity—however appropriated by the spirit world—seems to make it inauthentic.

soda derby

A new front has opened in the Cola Wars, as Boing Boing reports, in the form of rewarding dieticians to endorse the benefits of drinking sugary concoctions—or at least disparage the notion of taxing soda as sort of a gateway sin-tax for controlling all sorts of behaviour and choice. While this practise is undoubtedly revolting and ought to be brought to light (for shame, disreputable nutritionists), I think being subversive on social media pales in comparison to the way that soft-drinks are marketed almost as sacramental wine in Central and South America. What do you think? Most peddlers of patent-medicines were run out of town long ago, yet the biggest ones remain.

the uncola

I really enjoyed reading this history of 7Up from Collectors’ Weekly and learning how a succession of marketing campaigns that brilliantly, verging perhaps on plagiarism sometimes, helped the UnCola distinguish itself from the cadre of competing tonics by making the soft drink resonate the movement of the times, echoing Peter Max (especially his playfulness), psychedelia and the Yellow Submarine.
It’s really worth browsing the entire gallery of billboards, posters and merchandise amassed by a few dedicated collectors that helped the beverage survive—including covert and overt references to protests of the Vietnam War and illicit hallucinogens. The only thing missing from the account is the effervescent story behind its original, secret recipe—which contained lithium—and is named in homage to the pep (or rather mood-stabilising effects) that that element with the atomic mass of seven can impart.

soporific or soda-jerk

From editrice extraordinaire Messy Nessy Chic, we learn that behind the domineering soft-drink empire’s decision to drop cocaine from its recipe in 1903 was only the tip, the last words of a crazed drug-fueled revelry that lent much credence to the Prohibition movement.
Though the treacly, family-friendly international brand might not like to own up to its heritage, the decidedly non-adult-beverage had its origins in an infusion of Bordeaux wine and said opiate: a Corsican chemist concocted a very potent cocktail called Vin Mariani in 1863, whose consummate consumers included Thomas Edison, Queen Victoria, Mark Twain, Jules Verne and Pope Leo XIII. The combination resulted in terribly epic binges—together, mightier than cocaine or alcohol alone, and eventually led to many jurisdictions banned both outright. In response, the tonic of John Pemberton, originally peddled as a coca-wine to the elite of Atlanta, was brought into compliance with the prevailing attitudes and its legacy went on to overshadow its roots.

emblematic

Der Spiegel (liederlich nur auf Deutsch) has an interesting article on the evolution of corporate logos, refined from esoteric and filigreed mastheads to more simplified icons that we recognise today. One can appreciate the images and comparisons in any language and one does not need the captions to wonder how the one computing giant originally was to invoke Sir Isaac Newton’s eureka-moment under the apple tree for its blazon or how an internet browser initially employed the Phœnix rather than the cunning fox or how, until 1949, one German automotive manufacturer betrayed in its ornate design its Kraft durch Freude (Strength through Joy) roots.

¡refrescante! or double-blind trial

While the usual battle-fields for the Cola Wars are found in public institutions, school cafeterias and workplace cantinas, the competition can involve sometimes much more than just syrup and air-canisters with a whole franchised realm, a vertical monopoly of loyal patrons behind the brand who would never dare sell the competing product.

There, however, is precious little more serious than one’s immortal soul—which are the stakes for tribe in Mexico, who’ve incorporated either one or the other big cola brands into their religious traditions. Convinced that belching helps to release evil spirits, members of the community are willing to pay 50¢ for a bottle of soda—which does not sound bad until one realises that that’s a day’s wage, to augment their purification rituals. Aside from the faithful forgoing food to support the marketing and distribution rivalry between billion-dollar multi-national corporations, there are also the matters of health, fair-labour and responsible water-usage at stake. Realising that they are the momentary playthings of globalism, some communities in Chiapas have boycotted the soft-drinks altogether—though both companies are pretty ruthless about re-establishing market-control.