Truckload of Turkey…logos

I have to say that I was inspired this week. Perhaps you heard the story of rappers Lil Wayne and Birdman coming home to New Orleans, Louisiana to pass out a truckload of turkeys, to those less fortunate. In an MTV online article Wayne was quoted saying, “Now it’s a totally different feeling, because I can actually give you that and say, ‘Here, happy Thanksgiving.’ I can do that, and I can provide that for you. That’s a different feeling in general, and it’s a beautiful feeling overall.” (Paul, that doesn’t require editing, even though it may look like my writing.)

I wanted to have a “beautiful feeling overall,” so I decided to pass out turkeys today. The problem is, this blog has not made me as wealthy as the songs Lolipop or Drop the World, and this is a interpretive design blog. But for the record I’m still so street. Instead of mailing turkeys to the twelve people that read this today, it is my plan to share with you a smorgasbord (yes, that’s gangsta nomenclature, though the word nomenclature is not) of turkey logos. Here they are:

Okay, so maybe that’s less like a smorgasbord and more of an appetizer. There aren’t many turkey logos out there. I did qualify my search by avoiding the easy finds of food companies. As a birder (not to be confused with Birdman), I like the more realistic representations.

If anything this post has done it has made you thankful. Thankful that it is over. Paul and I both wish you a happy Thanksgiving. We are both thankful to have you as an audience.

Don’t Use Clipart (or Animated Gifs). Also, Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving!

Just in case you need more out of Thanksgiving post than a cheesy GIF and a poor illustration of the concept of not using clip art, here’s a link to a classic (and by classic I mean that no one ever read it) post on apostrophes that will surely put you to sleep post-turkey consumption.

We both hope you have a great holiday.  We are thankful for the community around IBD that we can call friends. We are also thankful to call anyone besides each other friends.

An Emotional Connection: Reasons for Thanks

I have recently been encouraged to be more emotional in my writing, and I’m not sure how that makes me feel.

I’m a highly emotional guy who is excellent at hiding my true feelings or thoughts. That may be a surprise to you coming from a guy who keeps a blog packed with insightful, hilarious, introspective, creative and clever observations (okay, perhaps hilarious was taking it too far, how about “moderately annoying”?) that he shares with the world. This post is a departure for me since it is my nature to be sarcastic and it is much easier for me to take sucker punches at Paul.

But as IBD reader Kelly Farrell has pointed out in the past, we work in a profession that has defined interpretation as “a mission-based communication process that forges emotional and intellectual connections.” If we are to connect with visitors the emotional element has to be given priority over the intellectual.

At the recent NAI National Workshop in Hartford, Connecticut, I felt a connection, a connection between IBD (Paul and me) and our readers. Let’s face it, despite a WordPress plug-in (that Paul and I place way too much value in and check way too many times a day) that monitors our visitation statistics, it has yet been determined if anyone actually reads our posts. The other element that bothers us is, of those who read, how many people are we inspiring change in?

After hearing many positive, encouraging comments (plus three negative comments and one distinct incident of the “stink eye”) from many workshop participants, I really felt part of a bigger community, a very strange, outspoken community. I wanted to take this opportunity to say thank you.

Phil Broder, thank you for sharing a copy of your kiting magazine that is now completely Comic Sans free.  The other things you shared via text message would have us arrested in several states.

Scott Mair, thanks for the encouragement and the hugs.

Jay Miller, your kind comments after the awards banquet were just what I needed to hear, thanks.

Marc Blakburn, our conversation was meaningful, I’m glad you care and I appreciate your support.

To the NAI member who bought our book and was looking for Shea so that “she” could sign it, I appreciate you for keeping me grounded. It is true, I am a man.

Lori Spencer, Julia Clebsch, and Susie Edwards, thank you.

Paul, thank you for editing my work. Being the “grammar guy” is really pretty cool.

Ted Cable, thank you for going birding with us (that was a total name drop and  that may be slightly related to a man crush).

Amy Ford, thank you for singing and sharing with me.

Sometimes in life people cross your path that just belong. Jeff Miller, I love you too.

CaputoSign Jane Beattie, I like the way you think. You took a picture in Italy and instead of sending it directly to Paul, you saved it, waited for the right moment and emailed it to me at the workshop so that I could make this punch line.

Caputo Appliances: Our repairman (Paul) is the loneliest guy in town.

Punch line explanation: is a play on the great Maytag tagline/slogan of the 60s (this is for all you generation y’rs that didn’t get it). Jane thank you for taking pictures of signs.

For all of the lurkers out there, thanks for reading. You know who you are, and we know your IP address.

Todd Bridgewater, you are IBD’s new creative director, thanks for the great ideas and sharing the free internet in the lobby.

Lisa Brochu (co-author of IBD who, due to creative differences, is primarily absent from IBD the blog) thank you for the kind and encouraging comments about me and the work Paul and I are doing. It is true we are writing for a “very specific audience.” An audience that is fascinated with the differences between typefaces, loves sausage, can talk about color for hours, and use the phrase World Champion New York Yankees as often as possible.

NAI Staff, thank you all (Tim, Lisa, Paul, Jamie, Russy, Carrie and Beth) for working so hard for us in Hartford.

I had one final connection while flying home from the workshop. I woke up with my head on the shoulder of a sweet lady who had the middle seat. When I awoke suddenly, unsure of my surroundings, finding myself in this embarrassing situation, she kindly said that I “was cute.” After I apologized and I asked her if I had been snoring she said “no honey, you purred.” We had a moment. I would create a different ending here if she wasn’t reading this post. Feeling the connection, I gave her my card, email address and URL. The only thing that she offered me in return was an awkward smile and silence.  Perhaps some connections are meant to be broken.

Thank you for being a part of the IBD community and making my National Workshop experience complete. I hope to see all but three of you in Las Vegas.