Riddle me this, mad men and women: Where did all the eccentric, crazy-haired, close-talking, mumblerific, mad genius (or is that “Real Genius”?) type creatives go? The ones who, as they pass you by, leave a faint whiff of patchouli followed by a not-so-faint whiff of BO? The snaggle-toothed nut jobs who wear ties with flip-flops and call every client “sugarbuns” regardless of if said client’s buttocks qualify for confectionary status. The kind of creative that the account folks grumble about; the other creatives alternately tolerate, envy and worship; but who can walk into a meeting and proclaim “here’s how I’m saving your bacon today” and be telling the truth.

Or did such people ever even exist?

Maybe it’s because I’ve only worked in the midwest and Texas (which is really just a hotter, twangy version of the midwest), but I’ve never actually encountered such people. Sure, I’ve met some oddballs through the years, but they only qualified as odd. They never could make the leap of hyphens to odd-yet-brilliant.

Or maybe it’s because such people are no longer tolerated in today’s building-brands-overnight-while-driving-sales-during-lunch climate. For all our talk about big ideas and how they trump everything, how many agencies – forget about the clients – really embrace what’s required to foster those ideas? How many tolerate the advertising idiot savants who may not be the most eloquent in a meeting (here’s an idea, have the CD present), but can look at a problem from so many different angles that they really do need that 2 p.m. nap on the production room table?

Considering that I was once thought of as the agency kook because I had vintage lava and fiber optic lamps in my cube, well, obviously not enough. Sure, I’m loony as they come on the inside, but no one there knew that.

I think.

But what happened to the diversity – especially of thought – that was supposed to run rampant through a creative department? Sometimes it seems we’ve turned into one giant emo band.

And that cannot be good.

Later,

Fox