Persuasion by nonsense: A case study of Alexander the Great and the magical gold goblet

Legend says the famously gullible Alexander the Great once visited the kingdom of king Kayd.

As signs of homage, Kayd sent Alexander four unique and valuable gifts. One of the four was a magical gold goblet.

Alexander drank from the goblet, from dawn till dusk.

And each time the goblet ran dry, it refilled itself with cold water.

“How is this magic possible?” Alexander asked in wonder. He looked around at his men. But all he got back were a bunch of shrugs.

So Alexander went to the wisest philosopher of his time.

The philosopher inspected the goblet. He closed his eyes and smiled.

“Think of what happens here as analogous to magnetism,” he said to Alexander. “Magnetism attracts iron. In a similar way, this cup attracts moisture from the turning heavens. But it does so in such a subtle fashion that human eyes cannot see the process.”

“Analogous to magnetism…” Alexander said, mulling over the idea with growing delight. “That makes so much sense!”

No Alex, it really doesn’t. From what we know today, in 2021, about magical self-refilling gold goblets, they do not in any way operate by attracting moisture from the turning heavens. And they are in no way comparable to magnetism.

But you can’t blame Alexander for getting delighted with this explanation.

Because the human brain — yes, even the brain of great men like Alexander — is primed for two things.

The second of these things is drawing connections between unconnected concepts.

This new connection doesn’t have to be “true” in any practical sense. It will still fill us with a sense of delight and possibility.

Of course, this feeling wears off in time. But if you act quick enough, while somebody is filled with that sense of wonder and hope, you can sell them stuff. That’s why analogies, transubstantiation, and metaphors work so well in direct response copy.

“But hold on,” I hear you saying. “If analogies are so great, why aren’t you using one yourself to sell me this idea? Your story with Alexander isn’t an analogy.”

And you’re right. Like I said, the human brain is primed for two things. Analogies tap into the second of these two things.

But the first thing is equally important, and equally powerful. Perhaps you’ve long known what I’m talking about. Or perhaps can figure it out based on the evidence in this email. But if you’re not 100% sure, don’t worry. I’ll write more about it, in an upcoming issue of my magical and delightful newsletter.

Charging money for common human courtesy

One day last week, I got an enthusiastic email from a guy in the UK.

He’d seen my presentation on what I call horror advertorials. He loved the idea. And he was trying to build something similar for the brand he’s working for.

Would I be willing to review what he had done and give pointers?

I wrote back to say I could do it as a consulting gig.

I got an email in response with a sad face emoji. “No worries – sure that may be interesting – how much would you charge?”

I wrote back with a price that would make it worth my while. More than the cost of a Starbucks Creme Frappuccino… but a drop in the bucket for anyone planning to run cold traffic to an advertorial and have it make money.

But I never heard back.

I don’t know why. It might have to do with the price I sent back. Or it might have nothing to do with it. But if that really turned this guy away, it got me wondering… what might he have been looking for really?

Perhaps a pat on the back. “Wow you really got this. Good job!”

Or perhaps a miracle band-aid. “If you add in the word ‘amazing’ in your headline here, it will increase conversions by 30%.”

But there’s one thing I doubt he would have wanted.

Serious critical feedback. Advice to throw out big chunks of stuff he had spent time and effort on. Advice to do significant extra work in order to have a real chance at success.

So here’s what I’m getting at. I say it for your benefit as much as my own.

In my history of offering free advice, I don’t remember the last time it turned into anything. Anything, that is, other than meetings, excuses, and requests for more free advice.

That’s why these days, I keep the following words from Dan Kennedy on a little slip of paper under my pillow while I sleep:

“Get paid. Do nothing free. Especially dispense advice. There is nothing more futile on Earth than giving anybody free advice. At best, they don’t appreciate it. At worst, they resent it.”

Maybe you don’t appreciate that either.

But maybe you get it. Maybe you just feel hesitant about making the transition… about putting your foot down and charging for things that seem to be common human courtesy… or worse, charging for things that everybody else seems to be giving away for free.

All I can tell you is, I’ve been there.

It’s taken me time and mental effort to make the transition myself. I have advice on how you might do it too. And when I do write it up one day — well, I bet you can guess. I’ll take my own advice. But if that don’t turn you away, and you want to know when I put this advice out, then here’s the first step to make sure you get it.

Skipper trump card test

“I was walking on the dock. Alan was walking towards me. There was a girl in between us, maybe around 15, walking towards him and away from me.

“All of a sudden, the girl seemed to lie down. She hit the stern line, rolled around it, and fell into the water.

“I didn’t understand what was going on. But I saw Alan take off his shirt and throw his cell phone on the ground and dive in after her.

“The girl was sinking. He pulled her up to the surface and I pulled her back out on the dock.

“The girl had had an epileptic seizure. Since she was walking towards Alan, he saw her and realized what was going on in time. She would have drowned in a few moments more.”

A few nights ago, I found myself in the company of a bunch of sailboat skippers.

At first, it was like they were speaking a different language. But after a while, in between the industry jargon and the inside jokes and the unfamiliar names, I slowly began to grasp what was going on.

They were playing a game. Like a card game, but with stories.

One skipper would tell a story — for example, a terrible experience working for a charter company. Then somebody would tell another story on the same topic.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” was the implied criterion.

Eventually, one of the skippers would pull out the trump card — a story so good that nobody else could top it.

There would be a few moments of quiet appreciation. That skipper had won the round, and his standing in the group seemed to rise a bit.

Then a new round would start, with another topic. (The story above of the girl and the seizure was part of the “near-death experiences” round. It wasn’t the trump card, it turned out.)

Of course, skippers are not unique in playing this game. I was an outsider in this group, so it was easy to see what was going on. But we all do this, all the time.

Stories, jokes, explanations… they are social currency.

They help you play the game. Maybe even win a round. Get a few moments of appreciation… and have your standing rise a bit.

So in case you’re wondering where this is all going, let me give you some industry jargon and maybe a familiar name.

If you want free traffic, then this same process can work in your favor.

From what I can tell, all you have to do is put something new out there… and make sure it’s big enough to beat the cards that came before it.

As an example, take Rich Schefren in the Internet marketing space. That space is full of outsized claims — “How an Oklahoma farm boy cracked the online code to earn $1,123,234.23 in 0.1221 minutes.”

Eventually, no such claim becomes any bigger than any of the others.

So Rich created a new story, which could beat all the cards that had been thrown down on the table till then. “You are an opportunity seeker,” Rich said, “and you will never get where you want to go by continuing on that path.”

Result?

Millions of downloads of Rich’s Internet Business Manifesto. Not through ad spend. Not through SEO. Not through the manual labor of going on stage to speak the gospel. But entirely through the efforts of other people, playing a game like I described above.

This is not how-to advice. You can’t take this and use it to come up with an idea that will get shared.

But it is a test you can apply to an idea you’ve already got.

Maybe your idea doesn’t pass the skipper trump card test. It can still be successful. You’ll just have to push it out into the world, and you might have to spend money on ads.

But if you don’t like pushing, or you got no money for ads, then you can come up with more ideas. And more. Until you find one that does pass the skipper trump card test. Because…

You want to give your market value?

This is value. Not how-to advice. But social currency they can use to benefit themselves… and indirectly, to benefit you also. After all, you’re the house. And the house always wins.

By the way, I’ve got casino. Wonderful games, free to play. Bring your friends Would you like to join for a few rounds? Here’s the secret door in.

More real than real

One by one, the desperate warriors in the besieged city looked up. And they started shouting for joy. There was hope!

On the peaks around them, the bonfire beacons were burning.

The signal was clear.

After centuries of competition and distrust, two ancient and proud kingdoms were finally uniting against a common foe.

There was no other option. The enemy from the east, in his quest to enslave the known world, had sent his enormous army to the very gates of the city.

If the city fell, so would all the lands that lay behind it. This wasn’t just a battle. This was the last stand for all the free creatures of these western lands.

And then the fearless warrior-king rode out to face his troops, his armor shining in the sun…

But hold on. What the hell am I talking about?

Is this some Lord of the Rings thing? When the kingdoms of Gondor and Rohan united… fought to protect the last bastion of freedom, the walled city of Minas Tirith… and broke through the evil armies of the dark lord, Sauron?

Um, no.

But I can’t blame you if you thought so. I tried pretty hard to build it up that way.

What I actually described above, after massaging and omitting key details, was the Battle of Vienna in 1683.

The Sultan’s massive army was at the city gates.

And while the Polish and the Habsburg kings didn’t like each other very well, they decided they could either team up… or stop worrying and start learning Turkish. So when the Polish troops arrived at Vienna, they lit bonfires in the hills as a signal to the defenders inside the city.

Did you know any of that?

If you’re like me, then nobody ever told you the story of the Battle of Vienna.

But you’ve probably known about the LOTR story for years. Maybe you’ve watched it or read it multiple times.

So my question to you is why? Why do we all know the made up LOTR stories inside and out… and why do we know nothing of the very consequential story of the Battle of Vienna?

Here’s one possible answer. I got it from a book that I suffered through earlier this year, called Simulacra and Simulation. I couldn’t understand almost anything in this book. But I think I got the central gist of it. And that is:

We humans have let go all grip on reality. We now live exclusively in a space of hyperreality.

In other words, we have no more use for the “real” world. Instead we want things that are more real than real.

The Lord of the Rings is more real than real. The good guys are impossibly good. The bad guy is ultimate evil itself. And the white city of Minas Tirith, it’s kind of like a medieval walled city… but its turrets are infinitely more numerous… its walls are infinitely taller… its rampart is infinitely more spectacular. The old town in Dubrovnik just cannot compete.

Maybe you’re wondering what the point of all this theory is. So here’s my advice to you, in case you want to influence others:​​

People say they want true and authentic. They say they want a balanced account. They say they want stories.

Lies, lies, lies.

Give people what they really want. More real than real. Exaggeration, caricature, simplification. Not stories, but grand opera — drama the way it could never exist in real life.

Fail to do this, and you will be forgotten like the defenders at the Siege of Vienna. But use this powerful weapon… and all of Middle-earth can be yours.

At least that’s my attitude. I give the people what I want. Well, at least the ones who want to hear more from me.

Don’t read this if you have a sensitive nose

For the past month, I’ve been getting to the gym at the same time as a large, bald man who smells like an opened grave.

​I understand if you don’t want to read about this topic. But I think it’s important — perhaps the most important direct response topic of them all. So I have to press on.

My best guess at the origin of the stench is thousands of cigarettes smoked… mixed with a rich man-musk… topped off by what I assume must be layers of ordinary filth.

An orc. This is what an orc would smell like.

To make things worse, the orc likes to use different stations around the gym simultaneously. So he keeps moving around. Each time he passes by, I brace myself.

And yet, when the odor hits me, I’m still shocked, just like the very first time. I find myself looking around for support and recognition from the other gym-goers.

I see their pained faces and we exchange looks of quiet despair. We know each other well now. Like me, they keep getting to the gym at the same time as the orc, over and over and over.

And that’s why I say this topic is important. If you’re a direct marketer or a copywriter, this is the raw material you’re dealing with.

Because odds are, you feel no pity for me.

Instead, you probably have reasonable or even good suggestions for how I could improve my situation.

“Talk to the gym management and complain!”

“Go at a different time!”

“Hose down the orc!”

I hear you.

And I’ve thought about all those options.

But still, I find myself, along with a bunch of other regulars… at the gym, every other day, at the same time as the orc… hanging my head, defeated yet again.

Like I said, this is the raw material you’re dealing with. This is the nature of most people when it comes to most problems in life. Even when those problems smell awful. Even when they’re chronic.

That’s why you can’t count on offering a reasonable or even good suggestion for how people can solve their problems. Like Dan Kennedy says:

“It takes extreme measures to compel people to act contrary to the way they normally act. And the way they normally act is to do nothing, decide on nothing, buy nothing.”

John Carlton said you have to get your prospect so frantic with the urge to act now that he jumps up out of his armchair… sticks his hat on his head… rushes out into the dark night where it’s raining and the wind is blowing… just so he can be sure, right now, to mail the order form for the product you’re selling. Yeah, that’s not how the world works any more. Still, that’s what you should be aiming for.

But if neither John Carlton nor Dan Kennedy connects with you, then here is my contribution to the conversation.

The next time you’re writing sales copy and you’re counting on your solid argument and your fair offer to do your work for you… think of the orc. And think of me, at the gym, head in hands.

And then use whatever persuasive means you have to get me to move out of that cloud of funk… and to keep me out of there the next time. Do it, and I’ll thank you for it.

But what’s that? You’re not confident you could persuade me? You’re worried that the persuasive means at your disposal will leave you hungry, penniless, and possibly without a roof to keep the rain out?

Don’t worry. I have an email newsletter where I share a lot of useful persuasion and copywriting ideas. So jump out of your armchair, stick your hat on your head, and rush out over here.

INSIGHT

“Will you accept this opportunity to learn at my expense absolutely, how to be rid forever of all forms of stomach trouble — to be rid not only of the trouble, but of the very cause which produced it? Write today.”

Or rather, read today. Read the rest of this post. And then maybe do what I say at the end, which will take you at my expense absolutely to the ad which I quoted above.

The headline for the ad was INDIGESTION. The offer was a patent medicine called Dr. Shoop’s Restorative.

The copywriter may or may not have been Claude Hopkins, author of Scientific Advertising. He cut his teeth writing for Dr. Shoop’s. Right around the time this ad came out.

Or maybe the copywriter was John E. Kennedy, author of Reason Why Advertising, and inventor of the concept of “Salesmanship in print.” Kennedy also wrote copy for Dr Shoop’s.

Whatever the case is, this ad shows you the future.

Yes, it was written more than 100 years ago, and it ran all over the country starting in 1905.

But trust me, it shows the future.

I’m writing a book right now on insight marketing. This is a new concept that only a few smart marketers, like Stefan Georgi… and Travis Sago… and Rich Schefren are using consciously right now.

​​But if you look at this ancient patent medicine ad… it’s like an insight fossil. It shows you the moment where the insight fish crawled out of the sea of promises and onto dry land — and even grew some legs to start walking.

I resisted sharing this ad with anybody for a long time. But I guess the time has come.

​​So if you can read between the lines, and you want to see the future of direct response advertising, then sign up to my email newsletter. That’s my condition for sharing this ad with anybody. And once you’re signed up, reply to my welcome email and ask for the insight fossil ad. I’ll send you the link.

Woo-woo client attraction advice

A couple days ago, a reader named Daniyal wrote:

“Please talk about looking for clients and becoming better at marketing your own self as well.”

I shared a good resource for marketing your own self in my email from two days ago.

And as for finding clients… I might be the worst person to ask about that.

I never had a good system for getting clients once I got off the freelancing platforms. What’s more, I never cared much.

Because I have zero debts in my life…. I have zero dependents tugging on my shirtsleeves and asking for an allowance… plus I can survive for a long time without food.

In other words, even when I had zero clients, and no money coming in, I didn’t panic and I didn’t change much about what I was doing.

With that preamble, there is one thing I can recommend for getting clients. But let me warn you. It’s rather woo-woo, at least the way I look at it.

Let me set it up:

A few days ago, I wrote to Chris Thompson. Chris is the CEO of Mike Mandel Hypnosis. If you don’t know them, you might want to. They put out tons of interesting stuff that can be relevant for marketers and copywriters.

I’ve been following Mike and Chris for a few years. But recently, I realized their email game is weak. So I wrote to Chris to ask if they want my help with emails. And as I was getting ready to click “Send,” I froze and thought:

“What the hell am I doing? What will I do if they say yes?”

Because I’ve got all the client work I want as far as my 20/20 eyes can see. Besides, I have this newsletter and the books and future mystery projects I am working on for you.

But still I sent the email to Chris.

And that’s my client-attraction advice.

Be respectful of your opportunities. Because the more opportunities you take, the more you get.

And vice versa. The fewer you take — whether because you’re booked up, tired, or simply unmotivated — the fewer opportunities you will get in the future.

This doesn’t mean you have to accept all the work that’s offered to you. It doesn’t mean working 36 hours a day… or working for wages you find unacceptable… or working on projects you find repulsive.

But the way I see it, there is some secret spider web, which connects clients. Once you start jumping up and down on one corner of that web, no matter how remote, it gets the attention of the other spiders, I mean clients, in other places. And if you keep jumping up and down, they will seek you out. Sooner or later.

(By the way, if you’re a guy, something similar happens with women in your life. At least in my experience.)

I told you it’s woo-woo. And maybe woo-woo is not your thing. In that case, perhaps you could use a more materialistic interpretation of what I’m saying:

The fact is, you never know. Opportunities that don’t seem promising for whatever reason might turn out to be so.

Or they might lead to other opportunities indirectly… which wouldn’t happen without you putting in that initial interest and effort.

Or perhaps… each interaction with clients in your market, even if it goes absolutely nowhere… gives you an extra bit of confidence and preparation for when a new opportunity comes along.

My point is to take all the stuff you are dismissing now for whatever reason — because it looks unpromising… or beneath you… or because you’re simply too busy at the moment — and treat it with respect and attention and care.

Do this consistently, for a few weeks or (in my case) a few years. And whether you believe in woo-woo stuff or not, I bet you will be surprised and pleased at the result.

Here’s something that won’t please you:

I have an email newsletter. If you cannot stand reading daily emails, particularly about marketing and copywriting, stay away. Otherwise… well, there might be hope for you. Click here to sign up.

Fascist copywriting philosophy

“The University of Chicago Writing Program is not real popular in the world of writing programs. And you can see why. A lot of people think we’re fascists. I don’t dispute it.”

Thanks to a reader named Lester, I got turned on to a YouTube video by Larry McEnerney. McEnerney heads the University of Chicago’s Writing Program. In the YouTube video, he persuades you to follow his fascist writing philosophy. In a nutshell:

“We say, identify the people with power in your community… and give them what they want.”

If you’re a marketer or copywriter, you might say, “Come on… I knew that already. Just swap out ‘people with power’ and put in ‘people with money.'”

Sure, you might know it. But do you really, really get it? And do you practice it?

For example, a few days ago I sent out an email about wizard positioning. I concluded that email by saying:

“Give your clients clear guidance. Take away their doubts before they even have them. Resist your urge to explain yourself.”

It seems nobody had any issue with the first two parts of that advice. But quite a few people took issue with the last piece.

“Not explain myself! But the world needs to know!”

To which I can tell you something from McEnerney’s video:

“You participate in the world, not by sharing your feelings or your thoughts… but by changing other people’s thoughts.”

Again, this might be obvious if you are a copywriter. But if it’s not obvious, or there’s some part of you that keeps nagging you to explain and express yourself, then it might be helpful to watch this video.

Not only because it gives you practical advice on how to write better so you persuade more people…

But also because it might give you some insight about where this urge to explain yourself comes from. Here’s a hint: it ain’t coming from inside you. Not originally. If you’d like to find out the truth, and maybe even profit from it, here’s the video:

I’m good enough… I’m smart enough… and doggone it—

I used to watch a lot of Saturday Night Live back in the 1990s. There was an ongoing skit with Phil Hartman playing Stuart Smalley, ​a sappy man with a lisp and a non-Duchenne smile.

Stuart is working on improving his self-image. So in each skit, he looks at himself in the mirror, smiles his fake smile, and repeats:

“I’m good enough… I’m smart enough… and doggone it, people like me.”

This was funny in the 90s. I guess this affirmation stuff was in the water back then.

It might be less funny today because today’s water contains a lower ppm of affirmations. In part, that’s due to party-pooping scientists like Joanne Wood from the University of Waterloo.

​​Back in 2009, Prof. Wood took a bunch of undergrads and had them repeat affirmations.

“I’m good enough… I’m smart enough… and doggone it, people like me.”

This had a positive effect — on people who were already pretty happy with themselves.

​​But with people who had low self-esteem to start with, it had negative effect. It made them conclude the opposite and feel worse.

“I’m defective somehow… I’m too stupid… and doggone it, nobody likes me.”

My point for you is to be careful if you are a naturally gung-ho marketer, making empowering claims at your prospects.

“You’re amazing! You can do it! It’s not your fault you failed until now!”

If you resort to claims like this, you might have the intended effect on the people in your market who were born yesterday… and who haven’t yet learned to doubt themselves.

For the rest of ’em, the ones who have become disillusioned with both the offers in your market and with themselves, you’ll need another approach. You’ll need to raise your prospects’ self-esteem so they believe they are unique… smart enough… and competent enough to succeed.

How can you do this?

​​Well, I’ll write more about that down the line (you can get it in my newsletter if you like). For now, let me reveal the obvious secret that self-esteem rises not because you say so… but indirectly, because you make people feel it inside them, without any affirmations.

G is for Gavin mauled by a wild cat

Once upon a time, there lived a human being named Gavin.

One day, Gavin was walking through the jungle. Suddenly he froze. His eyes got wide. His mouth hung open. Blood drained out of his face.

What was that in the bushes ahead? It looked like a tiger’s shifting green eyes.

But a moment later, Gavin relaxed. He realized what he was seeing. It was just berries, hanging from a branch.

A bit later, it happened again. Gavin stopped mid-step. He thought he saw tiger eyes in the shadows. But his own eyes and his brain were better adapted this time. It was more fruit. He chuckled at himself and kept walking.

And a few moments later, it happened yet again. Gavin thought he saw a tiger’s eyes in the bushes. But this time he just shook his head and didn’t even slow down. He walked right up to the bush where the tiger was hiding. Gavin died, age 13, victim of a tiger mauling, never having sired any children.

Today, I want to give you a design and branding and maybe copywriting tip.

It’s based on idea I got from cognitive scientist Donald Hoffman. Hoffman says our brains and eyes quickly get used to most stimuli. That’s why I often stand for ages in front of the fridge, trying to find the olive jar I know must be in there… which turns out to be right on the shelf in front of me, in full view.

This is a feature, not a bug. It makes no sense to keep noticing familiar things. Except…

There are some things we never get habituated to.

One of these is animals. Or even animal bits are enough.

An eye. A tail. A tooth.

Hoffman says our brains never get fully habituated to these stimuli. Well, in general that’s true. There were people like Gavin whose eyes and brains did get habituated to seeing animal bits… and we never heard from these people again.

So that’s the design and branding tip Hoffman gives.

If you want to design packaging or create a logo for your brand, find a subtle way to trick the eye. Make it think it might be seeing an animal hiding on the shelf or inside the computer screen.

However many times people see your design or you logo, they will notice it, yet again.

Because animals are hard-wired into our biology. And so are people. Which is my copywriting tip for you for today.

If you have something important — but abstract — to teach people, make sure you wrap it up in a person. For example, here’s how Edward Gorey helped kids learn their ABCs — and how you can too:

A is for Amy who fell down the stairs
B is for Basil assaulted by bears
C is for Clara who wasted away
D is for Desmond thrown out of a sleigh
E is for Ernest who choked on a peach
F is for Fanny sucked dry by a leech

Want more marketing ABCs, wrapped up in a person-sandwich? Then hold back your habituation to being pitched, and follow my lead here.