SMALL TOWN VALUES

Sherry Johnston was just arrested for selling drugs in Wasilla, Alaska. A little background information:

You may recall from our recent, colorful campaign, that Gov. Sarah Palin of Wasilla had a 17-year-old daughter named Bristol, who was with child. Bristol’s fiancé (and the certified father) was 18 firebrand Levi Johnston, also of Wasilla. The firebrand's mother is Sherry Johnston.

In a story buried on page 22, the Times reports that Mrs. Johnston was arrested by Alaska authorities on felony drug charges after trying to sell OxyContin (pain pills) to an informant. Her house was searched by State Troopers, though probably not Gov. Palin’s ex-brother-in-law, the one she tried to have fired. Hey, it’s a small state – everybody knows everybody.

I’m sorry – was I giggling? I didn’t mean to. But honestly, you can’t make this stuff up. In truth though, this is a small story which probably belongs on page 22. It’s just that it brings to mind all of Gov. Palin’s campaign claims of small town values. I imagine Wasilla has its share of wonderful people and its share of cheats and scalawags (and drug dealers). My guess is that they’re in the same proportion to the general population that you’ll find in New York, Santa Fe, Cambria, or Hollywood. Still, this is a good one.

PUBLIC TRUST

Yesterday was a perfect day for golf, one of those relentless, sunshine-and-blue-sky, southern California days that virtually forces you to spend five hours being humiliated by close friends. Who am I to ignore such an opportunity?

As we approached the 10th hole at Rancho Park, a discussion began about a previous post on Bush Leeg. In Change the Oil I suggested that companies – specifically, Chevron – were responsible, or should be responsible, for honesty in advertising. Doesn’t seem like much to ask.

Chevron, calling itself “part of the solution,” had run TV ads which claimed they were spending billions on research into alternative fuels and clean energy, but when an investigator asked to see some evidence of these expenditures, they basically told her to go fish.

One of my golf partners sided with Chevron. “They’re a corporation,” he said. “They don’t have to show their books to anyone but their share holders.” Reaching for an analogy I said, “What if Ford claimed they had a new car that got fifty miles per gallon? Wouldn’t you be entitled to see the proof?” A second player, an attorney, opined that my only case would be if I bought the car, determined that it didn’t get 50 mpg, and sued the company. In other words, you can only seek justice after the fact. “What about the FCC?” I asked. He laughed.

This brings me to Barnes & Noble. A week ago I received an on-line coupon from the national book chain. (see image below) As you can see, the banner headline read:

50% OFF List Price
On One Hardcover Bestseller.




Fifteen lines down, in an unreadable, miniscule font, buried in a section describing what you couldn’t use the coupon for, was the phrase, “products other than Hardcover Barnes & Noble Bestsellers.” In other words, the discount was applicable only to books they felt like selling. Of course, I didn’t discover that until I showed up at B&N, coupon in hand, and was told to go fish.

Both examples of deception speak to the same point: Is there any reasonable expectation of truth in advertising, or are corporations free to use the public airways and the internet like snake oil salesmen at a traveling carnival? The answer at the moment seems to be the latter. The consumer’s only protection is to buy the products with which he is familiar and ignore the ubiquitous onslaught of advertised discounts. Frankly, I think it would be easier to hit the green from 220 yards with a sand wedge.