November 25, 2012
The other day as I was driving my daughter to a doctor’s appointment, a woman pulled up alongside us, leaned over and held a book up to the passenger-side window. I gave her a friendly wave, because I’m always up for a good book recommendation. But she continued to hold it there, staring straight ahead, as we both edged forward in the traffic.
Gosh, I thought. She really likes this book. And seems to think that it’s just the book for me!
I took a closer look: the title was The Marketing of Evil, and on the cover was an apple being temptingly proffered. Later that day, I looked the book up online and read the description:
“Americans have come to tolerate, embrace and even champion many things that would have horrified their parents’ generation—from easy divorce and unrestricted abortion-on-demand to extreme body piercing and teaching homosexuality to grade schoolers. They have fallen victim to some of the most stunningly brilliant and compelling marketing campaigns in modern history.”
Now it was clear to me that the woman was recommending her book in response to the “Equal Marriage” sticker on the bumper of my car. And I was horrified: Had I myself been duped by these marketing campaigns espousing evils like homosexuality? Could it be that it wasn’t actually my own moral convictions, as I’d always thought, but the propaganda machine of depravity that had led me to believe that being gay is OK, and that all people should have the same rights regardless of their sexuality?
I work in advertising myself, so I know all about the tricks marketers use to reel people in: attractive packaging, beloved celebrity spokespeople and, above all, the promise that your life will be happier and more fulfilling if you buy what they’re selling.
I started thinking about the marketing tactics the snake-oil salesmen of wickedness might have used to fool me—a nice straight girl from the suburbs. And as I became aware of the trickery that had led to my acceptance of homosexuality as “normal,” it was as if thick, perverted wool was being lifted from my eyes.
Attractive packaging? Check: Those colorful rainbow flags, stickers and pins. (Who doesn’t love rainbows?!) The cute pixie haircuts on the lesbian baristas at my local coffee shop. The snappy suits on Tim Gunn. How could I be so naïve as to let myself be reeled in by these—the equivalent of one of those “serving suggestion” photos on a box of cereal?
I considered the next tactic of the pro-gay marketing juggernaut, celebrity spokespeople. I thought of some of my favorite openly gay public figures: Ellen DeGeneres, Neil Patrick Harris, Rachel Maddow—to name just a few. So distracted had I been by their talent, charisma and sheer normal-ness, I’d been blind to the fact that they were in fact, the agents of Satan.
And finally, the homosexuality shills’ cleverest trick of all: the illusion that accepting homosexuality leads to happiness and fulfillment. I nearly wept when I considered how many times I’d had enjoyable conversations with my gay and lesbian friends. Appreciated works of art, music and literature created by gay artists. Laughed at reruns of Will & Grace.
I’d been played like a fiddle—a fiddle in the hands of a big, gay devil.
Since coming to this realization, I’ve thought hard about whether or not I should go out and buy my own copy of The Marketing of Evil to more completely exorcise my belief that people should be free to love and marry whomever they want, without judgment or persecution—not to mention my acceptance of such sins as body piercings, divorce, and the right to safe, legal abortion.
But I fear that, having been victim to the propaganda crusade of evil for nearly forty years, I am beyond all hope. It is my sorry lot to loll in the muck of depravity for the rest of my life, and, after my death, writhe in the fires of hell for all eternity.
Alas, too little too late, goodly lady in the car. Too little, too late.