Comedy

“Email Marketing: A Lecture by Rowan Atkinson”

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Here’s a quick checklist of elements that make for engaging, effective, and influential emails:

1. Conflict, outrage. We seem to take a constant delight in seeing or participating in a fight. The more real it is, the more engaging it is. The more status the fight participants have, the more engaging it is.

2. Surprising connections between unrelated things, or surprising distinctions in things that seemed simple and unified.

3. Metaphors, analogies, and “transubstantiation.”

4. Angst. All good copy is rooted in angst. As Dan Kennedy likes to say, “The sky is either falling or is about to fall.”

5. Imitation and parody.

6. An engaging character. As Matt Furey didn’t but should have said, “For the email marketer, nothing transcends character.” The email of personality, rather than the email of “value.” Email is not about sharing valuable information. It’s about writing about normal things in a valuable and interesting way. It’s about accuracy of human observation and precision of the observation.

7. All right, enough of this. Let me come clean:

Everything I’ve just told you actually comes from a video titled “Visual Comedy: A Lecture by Rowan Atkinson.”

Atkinson you might best know as the clumsy priest from Four Weddings and a Funeral.

I watched Atkinson’s Visual Comedy guide a few days ago, expecting to be entertained. And I was that. But I found the video surprisingly full of deep analysis of what actually makes for visual comedy. It was like a prehistoric episode of the Every Frame a Painting series, if you’ve ever seen that.

And not only was this video insightful.

I realized that much, or maybe all, of what makes for good visual comedy can be ported very easily to email marketing.

For example, point #1 above is really about slapstick. As the Visual Comedy video says, “We seem to take a constant delight in seeing people hurt and humiliated. The more real it is, the funnier it is. The more dignified the victim, the funnier it is.”

And that Matt Furey non-quote in point #6?

​​It actually comes from Charlie Chaplin. “For the comedian, nothing transcends character.”

If you like, I’ve linked the entire Rowan Atkinson video below. You can watch it and try to figure out which techniques of visual comedy I mapped to each of my email marketing points above.

Of course, there’s more in this video than just what I’ve written above. The list of connections between visual comedy and email marketing is long and distinguished, and doesn’t just stop at 6″.

As just one example:

Maybe the most valuable part of this video is the detailed discussion of what exactly makes for an engaging character in visual comedy. I found almost all of this applied to email marketing directly, without the need for even the smallest bit of translation. Now that I think about it, maybe it’s a lesson I should apply myself.

So to wrap up:

​If you’re a goofy and thoughtless person who enjoys laughing when somebody slips on a banana peel…

​Or if you’re a deep and serious thinker who is interested in uncovering the hidden structure of things most people take for granted…

​Then I believe you will get value out of this video. Or maybe you’ll just get some pointed human observation. You can find it below. Before you click to watch it, you might want to sign up for my daily email newsletter, and get more insightful things like the essay you’ve just read.

A watermelon-headed politician walks into a flat-earther’s house…

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I’d like to tell you a story but first I have to give you a bit of background. Our story has two characters:

First, there’s Pericles, a famous statesman in ancient Athens.

Pericles led the Athenians at the start of their war against the Spartans. He was also well-known for having a watermelon-sized head. That’s why statues most often show him wearing a helmet.

Second, we have Anaxagoras, a philosopher who came from Asia and settled in Athens.

Anaxagoras brought with him the spirit of scientific inquiry, which wasn’t common in Athens before. He also happened to be a flat-earther.

Now, on to the story:

When Pericles the Athenian was a young man, he studied philosophy with Anaxagoras.

Later, Pericles became a powerful man. When he needed to make important political decisions, he still consulted his wise old teacher.

But as Pericles sailed the seas, leading the Greeks in battle, Anaxagoras grew older and poorer. There aren’t many drachmas to be made in explaining rainbows or what the moon is made of.

In time, Anaxagoras became so poor he could no longer afford even a bit of cheese and wine. So one day, he did the only philosophical thing:

He covered his head with a robe, and determined to starve himself to death.

When Pericles heard about this, he rushed to Anaxagoras’s house.

He started begging his old teacher to live. He lamented his own hopeless future if he should lose so valuable an advisor.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

Then Anaxagoras yanked the robe off his head, looked at Pericles, and said, “Pericles, those who want to use a lamp supply it with oil.”

So that’s the story.

I don’t know about you, but when I first read it, it made me laugh.

And because I like to kill a good joke, I asked myself why I found this story funny.

Was it the idea of an old man starving himself to death?

Not really funny.

Was it the lamp analogy at the end?

Not so funny either.

I realized it was the robe.

​​Anaxagoras put it on his head and then pulled it off. It made him seem like a petulant child. It was such a contrast to the image of a sage and self-possessed philosopher.

So there you go:

Seemingly irrelevant details give all the color to a story. They can create suspense. Enjoyment. Or, of course, humor.

But perhaps I didn’t kill enough jokes for you today.

If so, then subscribe to my email newsletter, so I can kill another joke for you tomorrow.

And then, then take a listen to the 2 minute and 45 second clip below. It’s a recording of a young Woody Allen, delivering a standup routine in the 1960s.

Then listen to it again. And notice all the detail — seemingly irrelevant, but really, just what makes the skit funny. it might be something you can use in your own writing.

​​Here’s the video:

I’ve thought this email over a lot, I wanted to get it just right

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Picture the scene:

A man, wearing a pastel flower-print shirt and unmatching shorts, runs down the street after a stylishly dressed woman.

HIM: Um, look.

She turns around.

HIM: Sorry. I just… um, well this is a really stupid question, particularly in view of our recent shopping excursion [they had just been shopping together for the woman’s wedding gown]… but ah… I just wondered… if by any chance, um… ah… well obviously not, because I’m just some git who’s only slept with nine people… but I just wondered… I really feel… um… in short, to recap in a slightly clearer version… in the words of David Cassidy, in fact, while he was still with The Partridge Family… I THINK I LOVE YOU. And I just wondered if by any chance you wouldn’t like to… um… ah… um… no… no… no, of course, not. I’m an idiot. He’s not. Excellent, excellent. Fantastic. Lovely to see you. Sorry to disturb. Better get on.

The man turns to leave.

HER: That was very romantic.

The man turns to face her again and winces.

HIM: Well, I thought it over a lot. I wanted to get it just right.

That’s a scene from the 1994 movie Four Weddings and a Funeral. The man in the scene is played by Hugh Grant, in his typical 90s role as a boyishly charming uber-Englishman.

I bring this scene up because over the last few days, I’ve been talking about denial. When people are faced with a situation… or realization… or personal characteristic that they find unacceptable… and so they take various evasive maneuvers.

Such as for example, making a joke out of it.

That’s what’s happening in the last line of that scene above. Hugh has just put his heart on the line, he’s been tacitly rejected, and he’s made a donkey out of himself.

​​What better way to put it all behind than with a bit of irony?

Vilaynur Ramachandran, the neuroscientist whose book got me thinking about denial in the first place, says that denial explains why so much of humor deals with sensitive topics like sex and death.

​​And I guess it explains 90% of the life work of Woody Allen.

So the conclusion is, when you hear people making a joke out of something… well, um… ah… to put it more concretely, in the words of Eric Idle in fact, while he was still with Monty Python… WHEN YOU PURSE YOUR LIPS AND WHISTLE, IT MEANS YOU’RE CHEWING ON — but of course. How silly of me. Sorry, terrible. You must already know what I’m getting at. And you wouldn’t perhaps want to… but of course not. No. Excellent. Excellent. Lovely to see you. Better get on.

Make ’em laugh and take their money (a resource for you)

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“And you know what?” George Wallace says with a twinkle in his eye. “I want them to bring back smoking on these airplanes.”

A few people in the crowd yell, “Yeah, yeah.” But they’re getting ahead of themselves. Because George isn’t pro-smoking:

“I was one of the first people said, ‘Get rid of smoking.’ Now I want them to bring that smoke back!”

The crowd chuckles and wriggles in their seats with anticipation. They know something good is coming. They’re ready. So George gives it to ’em:

“I had no idea what this smoke was covering up! People are releasing odors on these airplanes—”

The crowd erupts with laughter and applause. Meanwhile I hit pause. And I stare.

I’m not great at writing funny. I’m trying to get better, because it’s a valuable skill. As Dan Kennedy put it, “Make ’em laugh and take their money.”

So I spend my lonely Thursday afternoons watching old comedy specials. And while the crowd is laughing, I put the video on pause and I stare at the screen. Like a mule, staring at a barn door, trying to discover the secret of how to make the door handle work, and how the farmer does it so easy every day.

But there’s a problem with a mule like me imitating a farmer, I mean a comedian, like George Wallace.

Comedians have a lot of live-show advantages. The audience comes in a good mood… ready to laugh… and triggered to laugh when they hear others laughing. Plus the comedian can mime, do voices, roll his eyes.

You’ve got none of those advantages when writing.

That’s why funny writing is so rare and so elusive. And that’s why I’m always on the lookout for funny writers.
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So today, I want to tell you about a writer who’s got it. In fact, a copywriter.

I could pump him up because he’s got endorsements from big-name marketers and copywriters. Like Ramit Sethi. And Drayton Bird. And even a guy named Andrew Campbell, from the Harmon Brothers Ad Agency, which makes those funny and viral video ads.

But forget that.

Instead, I could pump him up because he is the biggest copywriting thing on an entire continent. An improbable feat.

But forget that, too.

Instead, I could pump him up because he’s sufficiently controversial to get himself banned from large corners of the Internet. And you might be curious to see what’s up.

But no. Forget all of that. And instead, I suggest you check out this copywriter only because he succeeds in writing funny, day after day, in the context of selling.

You might know who I have in mind. Or you might not.

In any case, if you liked this email, you might like his emails also.

And if you didn’t like this email, you might still like his emails, because he does humor in writing much better. And maybe he can show you how to do it too.

So in case you’re curious… then start wriggling in your seat with anticipation… and get ready for something good here:

https://persuasivepage.com/

Do copywriters have to be funny?

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“That’s the face of every married guy ever.”

Sam Kinison was a former Pentecostal preacher turned standup comic. He was a stout man, with girlish shoulder-length hair, and in the video I watched of him today, he wore a black trench coat on stage. He started off his set in a sweet and quiet tone:

“I’ve been going around the country trying to get as many people as I can not to get married. I’ve been married and I’m just trying to help. Anyone here never been married?”

A guy in the front row raised his head.

“You never been married?” Sam said, his eyebrows rising up innocently. He walked over to the unmarried guy. “Ok, just promise me this.”

“If you ever think about getting married,” Sam said, “remember this face.”

And he started screaming — AAAAAAARRRH AAAAAAARRRH AAAAAAARRRH — the patended Sam Kinison “I’m in hell” scream, right into the poor unmarried guy’s face.

“That’s the face of every married guy ever,” Sam concluded, back in his normal sweet voice.

In my email self-critique yesterday, I criticized myself for missing an opportunity to be funny.

But do you have to be funny if you write copy?

As Dan Kennedy likes to say, you only have to be funny if you want to get paid. Dan even wrote a book all about it, “Make ’em laugh and take their money.”

From what I’ve seen, a few rare individuals can be funny just by being who they are. By being unfiltered or obnoxious or polarizing. Sam Kinison was apparently one of these. According to his brother:

“With Sam, what you saw was what was there. He didn’t exaggerate for the stage.”

But what if you don’t have such an unfiltered personality?

Well, here’s what humor writer SJ Perelman once said. Perelman was asked what it takes to be a comic writer. He responded:

“It takes audacity and exuberance and gaiety, and the most important one is audacity. The reader has to feel that the writer is feeling good. Even if he isn’t.”

In other words, you can fake it. Fake it till you make it… or at least fake it until you’ve finished writing that email or VSL lead or seminar stump speech that’s been sitting and looking at you for days.

And if faking it isn’t working, then go on YouTube and watch some Sam Kinison screaming… or Bill Burr ranting… or Eddie Murphy grinning.

​​These guys will make you feel good for a few minutes. They might even give you some audacity. Just remember this face — AAAAAAARRRH AAAAAAARRRH AAAAAAARRRH