Congratulations on Your Marketing Failure!

You had a good idea. Kids love action figures. Adults love cocaine. Cocaine Joe should’ve been a fantastic follow up to the venerated G.I. Joe series of figures, an updated take for the post-9-1-1 world. But there were problems from the start.

First of all, too many cooks. You knew that that could be a problem from the beginning, but it should’ve become really obvious when that bitch said that she thought your action figure might be offensive fifteen minutes into the meeting.

“FUCK YOU!” you shouted back, but what you really meant was “You have a valid point.”

She pointed out how monetizable the figure could still be if it was marketed as a work of satire, a post-modern delving into the foulness of consumerism counterpointed by the mysticism it is imbued with by the general public. She even had some TV campaigns lined up that involved shifting the marketing from teen girls you wanted to think dudes who did coke were cool towards adult males who found the idea of a coke fueled asshole hilariously douchey. They would’ve bought your figure in droves with all their disposable income, especially with cute animated ads and a six episode ironic HBO series about how the character didn’t learn lessons backing it.

But you had to try and translate your attempt at launching a line of action figures into an attempt to bang tweens, because you’re a closeted pedophile and you have serious problems with coming out about that, addressing it and moving past it. So your launch is going to fail and you’re going to find yourself tonight in a hotel room covered in plastic, surrounded by executives.

The closest executive will be loading a revolver. A .38 special with a standard barrel. He’ll put a single bullet in one of the chambers and spin it. He won’t bother to stop it. Instead he’ll hand you the gun. He’ll gesture for you to cock it and put it in your mouth.

Which is how this Saturday will end. With you with a pistol in your mouth, staring at a circle of businessmen who want to either watch you kill yourself or feel briefly and wonderfully alive for half a second. They’ll get off either way. The only real questions is which one will come to you as you stand there with the gun in your mouth, growing heavier by the second. You’ll draw the hammer back and close your eyes and wonder if you’ll become another Walt Disney in the next few seconds.

Congratulations on Your Marketing Failure!