Mental Shortcuts

Prophet positioning

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“Let me explain something to you right now,” the goofy looking guy said to the camera. “Here’s a $10 bill.”

And he started to tear the bill up into small pieces in front of the interviewer’s face.

“This is garbage. This is going to zero. Euros are going to zero. The yen’s going to zero. All going to zero… against bitcoin!”

The Bitcoin prophet got louder and his voice started to crack.

“If you don’t understand this, you’re going to be impoverished! You’re going to be out on the street! You’re gonna be begging! You’re gonna be out of business!”

That’s from a little clip I saw today. It went viral so even somebody like me, who doesn’t follow crypto news, got to see it.

The question is why.

It might be because the Bitcoin prophet looked like a kook. He was dressed like Elton John. Even the interviewer was giggling at him. Maybe people who shared the video just wanted to make fun.

But I’ve got my own theory.

Which is that making strong predictions, saying X is dead, Y is the future, is a great way to grab attention and carve out a position for yourself in the mass mind.

Now the clip I saw had a tongue-in-cheek element to it. It seemed even the Bitcoin prophet was about to crack a smile as his performance built up.

But if you don’t hedge your bets like that…

If instead you have the conviction (or connivance) to paint the future black and white… and you do it in a way where people can believe you really mean it…

Then that’s the road to being seen as an authority. A leader. A prophet.

And that’s something all of us crave.

Because few things are scarier and more motivating than the uncertainty and lack of control that come from looking at the frosted glass window that is the future.

Which is why it doesn’t matter if your predictions are right or wrong. People will follow you, or at least some will. Even if you’re wrong. And even if the rest of the world thinks you look like a goof or a kook.

But perhaps pretending to be a prophet doesn’t suit you. Maye you think that’s garbage.

What’s not garbage is your need for positioning in the market. If you don’t understand this, you’re gonna be out of business, begging, out on the streets.

I write about positioning on occasion. I have many ideas about it. If you want to read about them as I write about them, sign up to my email newsletter.

GROHMO trumps FOMO?

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Painful personal confession:

I went to high school right up the street from the offices of various Agora companies.

Unfortunately, this was long ago, at a time when I had never heard of copywriting. So when school would get out, I’d spend my afternoons identifying local trees and kicking cans around the abandoned cement factory.

Had I been smarter, I would have gotten a job cleaning ashtrays at Agora HQ. And bit by bit, I probably would have learned enough about copywriting to be a multimillionaire today.

I bring this up because I recently applied for a copywriting job. Not a freelance project. A proper job.

I tell myself there are lots of good reasons why I applied.

My reasons are all the stuff you can put in a cover letter:

​​I could learn a lot. It could be a step forward in my career. I like the people I might be working with.

In other words, it’s a great opportunity. And I don’t wanna miss out. Except…

Would any of this really count had I not missed out already, in a much bigger way, back in high school?

I recently heard Dan Kennedy talk about writing for the opportunity market. You know, business opportunities and get rich quick stuff. Like copywriting.

And Dan said something that matches my experience above:

Lots of times, the real motivator is not the opportunity in front of us now, which we don’t want to miss.

Rather, it’s the opportunities dead and gone, which we have missed already.

The guilt and regret over having missed out yesterday (GROHMO) is really the underlying cause that makes us susceptible to FOMO today.

And if you’re a smart marketer or copywriter, you can exploit this. You can put up a bunch of pictures of smiling and satisfied men and women and say,

“Look at them. That could’ve been you. These men and women acted when you didn’t. And look at them now. Look at how happy they are. And as for you… well… don’t feel too bad. Because I have some good news. A new opportunity just opened up…”

And it’s true:

I’ve been promoting my email newsletter for a long while. Over time, I’ve had many people sign up. They have been amused and sometimes moved along the way.

More importantly, they’ve learned a lot and they’ve been exposed to copywriting and marketing ideas, like the one above.

These ideas I share have helped my subscribers make more money, enjoy their businesses more, all while working much less.

In other words, my email newsletter is quite the opportunity. Not to be missed out on. Especially since it’s not clear how long it will go for, in case I get a proper job.

In case you want to join before the opportunity disappears, here’s where to go.

Humans are not savages, but they can be made so on demand

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Yesterday, I read a fantastic yet true story, a kind of real-life Lord of the Flies. Except the outcome was very different from the book:

As you might know, Lord of the Flies is a story about a bunch of boys who get shipwrecked on an island.

Pretty soon, they become mean, thuggish, and destructive. Some of the boys are killed by the others. Half the island is burned down.

What can you do? People are savages, and kids even more so. Except maybe not:

The real-life version of this story involves six boys from the island kingdom of Tonga.

They were bored stiff at their English boarding school.

So they decided to steal a local fisherman’s boat and sail away to adventure, and maybe even make it to New Zealand.

They didn’t make it.

After months of search, the boys were declared dead back home. Funerals were held for them.

And then, 15 months later, they were discovered by an Australian adventurer fishing in the waters around an uninhabited island named ‘Ata. The boys had shiprecked there and survived, alone all that time.

And here’s the real-life twist:

All six boys were happy, healthy, and harmonious.

They had survived by eating fish and coconuts and drinking rainwater collected in hollowed-out tree trunks.

They had broken up their chores, such as gardening, cooking, and guard duty, and they took turns doing them.

They built a gym and a badminton court, and they played a makeshift guitar made out of the wreckage of the boat.

When one of the boys fell down a ravine and broke his leg, the others climbed down after him, brought him back up, then set his leg using sticks and leaves. He recovered while the other boys took turns doing his chores.

So is this really the true nature of human beings?

​​And if so, why does your typical junior high school look nothing like it?

​​Why does Lord of the Flies resonate with us instead?

The answer comes from another real-life variant of the Lord of the Flies theme. A bunch of people stranded on an uninhabited island… with a TV crew and a prize to be won.

I’m talking about the TV show Survivor. I’ve never watched it, but I know the basic setup:

Direct competition for something scarce.

It’s all you need to turn people into savages. A finding that’s been repeated in different settings, not just on reality TV.

So let me leave off today by saying I can see two options:

One is to disconnect as much as possible from the doctrine of healthy competition. This might require moving to a deserted island, or at least turning off the TV.

The other option is not to disconnect from anything, but to profit from it. Because creating scarcity, even when there is none, and encouraging competition, or at least reminding people of it, is a great means of control.

Marinate on that for a bit. And if you want more real-life stories on the topic of profit and control, you might like my email newsletter. But better be quick, because spots are limited and others are taking them as you read this. Click here to sign up.

Dan Kennedy and a Lamborghini inside this post I’ve just written

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Dan Kennedy stood up in front of a packed room of marketers and said,

“Let me tell you how cheap Fred Catona is.”

Dan was supposed to be giving a dutiful introduction for billion-dollar direct marketer Fred Catona. But somewhere it all went wrong.

“He gives me this ridiculous introduction to read for him,” Dan said while holding multiple sheets of paper, “and he only puts a 20 in it.” And from among the papers, Dan pulled out a $20 bill to prove his point.

Turns out this was a joke. Dan and Fred were close friends.

But it is instructive, right? Because it’s such a pattern interrupt from the way introductions are usually done:

“We’re very pleased to have Mr. XY with us tonight. Mr XY went to such-and-such elite university…”

“… he is a close friend and confidant of celebrity Z and power-broker H…”

“… he has worked with billion-dollar clients such as A and B and C.”

And then humble Mr. XY, with his killer resume revealed, comes out on stage, blushing and yet pleased. He takes the mic and says, “Wow, thank you for that wonderful introduction…”

My point is this:

Association is the most powerful mechanisms of the human mind, that I know of at least.

You put two things together. Just once, and not even for very long. And the human brain starts to make connections between them. Properties of one seep into the other. Causal links form. A halo appears.

So that’s why, if you went to Harvard… if you hung out with Tony Robbins once… if you ever had a Lamborghini in your garage, whether owned or rented… well, you should highlight those things to people you just met, or who just found you online.

Or even better, have somebody else highlight it, so you don’t have to do it. It will make you seem both powerful and humble. Well, unless you get somebody like Dan Kennedy to read out your list of accomplishments.

And what if you have no accomplishments?

Then find cool, impressive, or elite people… institutions… or ideas to associate yourself with. It can be the flimsiest of associations, and it will still help your standing.

That’s my simple tip for you for today.

A more complex tip, for another day, is to be careful.

​​Because association is not the only mechanism in the human brain. And if people start to associate you as that guy who always shows off his Lamborghini, well, that can lead to new challenges of its own. But more about that another time.

If you want to read that other time:

You might like to know that several Agora copywriters, famous Internet marketing gurus, and 8-figure entrepreneurs read my daily email newsletter. You can sign up for it here.

Stop daydreaming for once and read this

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Listen up you dreamer:

One day back in 1999, after Gordon Ramsay opened his first restaurant, he got a tableful of famous visitors.

There was Joan Collins of Dynasty fame. Then model Nicola Formby. And finally A.A. Gill, the food critic for The Sunday Times.

But Gill had earlier written a nasty review of Ramsay’s restaurant.

So Ramsay left his kitchen, walked over to the table, and kicked the whole group out.

Speaking later, an emotional A.A. Gill said:

“He seems to be a classic bully. Somebody who will overreact to people beneath him. And then feel terribly aggrieved when somebody he doesn’t have innate power over criticizes him.”

Sounds about right, yeah?

Ramsay is famous for his outbursts. (“Will he be able to control it?” asks the breathless TV teaser.)

He yells. He insults. He curses.

“Yes, Gordon,” his humbled staff reply, eyes on the floor.

​​And that’s my takeaway for you today.

A while ago, I made a brain dump of ideas on the topic of “natural authority.” What do people who have inborn charisma seem to share?

One of the things on my list was that they target the weak. You know. The poor, the friendless, the tax collectors and sinners.

Because as powerful as natural authority is, it won’t work reliably on a healthy, stable person without any gaping emotional wounds.

But the insight I learned recently, through Mike Mandel and Chris Thompson, is that people with natural authority can create emotional wounds. On demand.

One way is just what Gordon Ramsay does. Insults, humiliation, browbeating. Not all the time. But enough that there’s always a risk of it.

And here’s my addition to this theory:

I believe that a “temper,” as TV calls it, is not only a means to natural authority. It’s also a signal of it.

In other words, you don’t have to get personally insulted by a would-be leader in order for his authority to rise in your eyes. It’s enough to see it happen to somebody else. For example, to an emotional food critic, getting kicked out, while a restaurant full of people watches.

That’s why as a society, we love people like Ramsay. Sure, it’s both horrifying and entertaining to watch others getting cowed and humiliated. But it also feeds our need to look to a charismatic leader.

And by the way:
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You can see the same in various corners of the online guru and influencer world.

​​Now that you know this, you can choose to use it yourself — or at least be aware of what’s happening in your own head, when you witness others using it.

One last thing:

Sign up to my email list.

What are you standing there and looking for? You dreamer. Click the link already and sign up.

I like you and here’s why

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I mean it. I like you. I will tell you why, but first, let me tell you what just happened to me:

I called an Uber to go from one end of town to the other. I waited on the curb. And when the Uber came, he drove right by me.

He then stopped in the middle of the road and put on his hazard lights.

What to do? I dodged traffic to get to the middle of the road. But as I was nearing the Uber, he drove off.

I watched him drive down the block and turn the corner. I then dodged traffic again and got back on the curb.

What to do, a second time? I followed down the block and around the corner.

Fortunately, the driver had pulled over. I managed to catch him and get in.

“It’s my first day on the job,” he said.

We took off, but his GPS was completely out of whack. It told us to go in the opposite direction from where we were headed.

The driver claimed to know the city but he didn’t. So I gave him directions, in between listening to his stories from the last regional war, a topic I am not fond of hearing about.

After a half hour of this, we made it to my destination. And it turned out the driver had never started the ride inside his Uber app.

That’s why the GPS was completely messed up.

It also meant he wouldn’t get paid. He seemed bewildered and nonplussed.

​​”Take it easy,” I said, “we’ll solve it.” ​​So I walked him through canceling the ride in the app. And I pulled out my wallet and gave him cash, even though I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t already be charged in some way for the ride.​​
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So the question becomes:

​Why help this guy out, in spite of the hassles and discomfort he put me through, instead of just bolting from the car and saying, “Thanks and good luck!”​

One option of course is that I’m just a kind and decent person. But knowing myself as I do… well, let’s look for alternate explanations.

A second option was the guy’s disarming helplessness. There is something to wanting to help people who are extremely unokay.

But there’s a third option, too.

Because as we were nearing the end of our trip, the Uber driver told me:

“I’m glad I met you. Not just as a customer, but as a person. I feel I could learn a lot from you.” This I guess was his response to my keeping intelligently silent while he talked the whole way.

The fact is, we all respond to flattery. Even when there’s little or no basis for it.

Car salesman Joe Girard, who sold an average of 5 cars a day and holds the Guinness World Record for the sellingest car salesman, sent out postcards to his customers every month.

​​The occasion to each mailing would be different — Christmas, National Bath Safety Month, Valentine’s Day. But each month, the message would always be the same 3 words:

I like you.

Of course, while flattery works, it’s even better if you compliment somebody earnestly. So let me repeat I like you and tell you that, while I don’t know much about you, I can infer a few good things with confidence.

Such as that you’re interested in improving yourself, learning, and developing your skills. And that you’re willing to read to do it. And that you’re probably interested in writing too, or creating content rather than just consuming it. All these are good qualities, and ones I’m trying to develop also.

So that’s it. No pitch. But if you do want to stay in touch with me, one option is to sign up to my daily email un-newsletter.

Why gamification fails (and how to use this to create fanatically loyal customers)

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Here’s a riddle for you from the book review I shared yesterday:

You might remember the gamification craze from the beginning of this decade. App creators were convinced that adding badges, randomness, and leveling up to any activity would make it irresistible.

​​And yet, despite following a lot of the same strategies that gambling machine designers did, those app creators never did create an army of self-improvement addicts.

​​If designers optimized gambling machines for addictiveness, why can’t they do the same for these apps? If bad machines can be made addictive, then why can’t good machines?

The anonymous author of the book review gives a few possible answers. But he or she is not happy with any of them.

I don’t know the answer either. But I can tell you the answer to a related riddle, which goes like this:

Why do hazing rituals for college fraternities never involve anything useful or positive?

You know the rituals I’m talking about. A college freshman wants to get into a fraternity. So he’s given a beating by his future fraternity brothers… he’s told to spend the night outside in freezing weather wearing nothing but a loincloth… and he’s forced to eat a pound of raw beef liver.

If he survives all this, he gets into the fraternity.

But why exactly those nasty and humiliating tasks? Why not combine the humiliating with the useful?

Why don’t fraternities make new recruits wash some train station toilets… or change the adult diapers of incontinent senior citizens… or collect litter from the side of a highway on a sweltering August day?

The answer, according to slot machine designer Robert Cialdini, is this:

“They want to make the men own what they have done. No excuses, no ways out are allowed.”

Cialdini claims that the point of hazing rituals is to make new recruits fanatical about their new fraternity membership, once they achieve it.

Hazing rituals work brilliantly for this goal. But there’s a catch:

The ritual tasks HAVE to be pointless.

Otherwise a new member can convince himself that some other good came out of all that humiliation and pain… which takes away from the value of the fraternity.

In other words, whenever we do something because of added motives — whether positive or negative — we don’t end up owning that behavior fully. We don’t make it a part of our identity.

And that I think can be a good answer to why slot machines are so addicting… while your Duo Lingo app is not.

Of course, I also think this ties into running a business. Even though it’s at odds with much direct response wisdom.

I think you can use this insight to create fanatically loyal customers… as opposed to customers who abandon you and forget you at the first turn in the road. Which is exactly what happens to most direct response businesses.

To me, it seems the application is obvious… but if it’s not, sign up for my email newsletter. It’s a topic I might discuss more in the future… or I might not.

Cialdini’s limited hangout

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In chapter 3 of Influence, Robert Cialdini tells the interesting story of a transcendental meditation event he went to.

Cialdini was at the event to study the recruiting methods of the TM organization. He was sitting in the audience with a friend, a professor of statistics and symbolic logic.

The TM presentation started out talking about inner peace and better sleep. But it got progressively weirder and more outlandish. Cialdini says that, by the end, the TM gurus were promising to teach you how to fly through walls.

Eventually, Cialdini’s rational and scientific friend couldn’t take it any more. He stood up, spoke to the whole room, and “gently but surely demolished the presentation.” He showed how the presentation was illogical, contradictory, and groundless.

The TM gurus on stage fell silent. They hung their heads and admitted that Cialdini’s friend raised really good points, and they would have to look deeply into this.

So whaddya think happened? If you’ve read my recent posts about Frank Abagnale and Uri Geller, you probably know exactly what happened:

Once the TM presentation ended, people in the audience rushed to the back of the room. They handed over their money to sign up for TM bootcamps and workshops.

Did they not hear Cialdini’s friend dismantle the whole TM gimmick? Or were they just too dumb to understand what he was saying?

Nope. Neither. They heard him, and they understood perfectly what he was saying. That’s why they were so eager to jump aboard the slow-moving TM train.

“Well, I wasn’t going to put down any money tonight,” said one future TM’er when pressed later by Cialdini. “I’m really quite broke right now. I was going to wait until the next meeting. But when your buddy started talking, I knew I’d better give them my money now, or I’d go home and start thinking about what he said and never sign up.”

I read this story a few days ago. And I was thinking about how you could use this quirk of human nature for intentional marketing. And then, yesterday, I ran across the term limited hangout.

Limited hangout is apparently a term used by politicians’ aides and CIA operatives. It’s when you cover up the full extent of a scandal or secret by an early reveal of some of the damaging stuff. By letting it hang out. Not all of it, of course.

An example of this was Richard Nixon and company’s attempt to cover up how high Watergate went. They were planning to do a “modified limited hangout” and release a report with a lot of damaging information. Of course not implicating the president.

It didn’t work for Nixon. Too little, too late. But apparently limited hangout has worked in lots of other cases.

The thing is, everybody who writes about limited hangout says it is an example of misdirection… or gullibility… or short attention spans.

Perhaps. But perhaps the effectiveness of the limited hangout technique is just what Cialdini writes about.

When we believe something, then information to the contrary actually drives us towards that something. I will leave it at that, and let you use this dangerous material as you see fit.

And on that note:

I’m not sure if you have a strong desire to hear from me again on similar persuasion topics. If you do, I have to tell you that I often write about borderline immoral tactics. Plus there’s no guarantee that any of them will work for you. If that doesn’t deter you, here’s how you can make sure to hear more of my ideas.

“Worse is better” marketing

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A-list copywriter Carline Anglade Cole doesn’t put a lot of effort into many of her email subject lines. On Thursdays, she sends out an email with the subject line “Carline’s Copy Thought.” Tuesdays are “Trade $ecret$ Tuesdays,” and Fridays are “Flashback Fridays.” And the next week, it all repeats.

Mark Ford, the multimillionaire copywriter and marketer who helped make Agora a billion-dollar company, went through a period where each email he sent out had the same one-word subject line. “Today.” That was it. Over and over.

Is this just a shocking example of laziness that top marketers practice when promoting their own stuff?

Or…

Could it be a case of “worse is better”? Where doing less gets you better results than doing more?

Well consider this. I always open Mark Ford’s emails, even if they say “Today” for the 10th day in a row.

On the other hand…

Today I got an email from an A-list copywriter. I won’t name him, but I’ll tell you I often open his emails. But I didn’t open his email today. I read the subject line and I said, “Oh, I know where this is going. I don’t need to read it.”

The fact is this:

Even people who are perfect prospects for what you’re selling will often dismiss your message instantly. They will use any little excuse to say, “No no, this is not for me, not now.” Even if your offer could hugely benefit them. Even if it’s exactly what they need.

Why are people like this? I don’t know. My guess is it has something to do with why taking out the trash is so hard.

Of course, one way to deal with this is the usual direct response light show, with flashing neon promises and blaring warning sirens.

But if you’ve got enough credibility with your audience, then you can do what Carline and Mark do. And you might actually get better results. And if you’re not convinced yet that “worse is better” can get you better results, let me give you an example with some hard numbers:

Marketer Rich Schefren once offered an upsell he called “Mystery Box.” Once you bought Rich’s front-end product, a video popped up with Rich holding this box and saying something like,

“Do you trust me? I promise you that what’s inside this box is worth 100x the $49 price I’m asking for it. Get it today and see for yourself, and if you don’t agree with me, you can always get your money back.”

Rich says his typical upsell converts at around 30%-40%. The mystery box? No excuses to say no? That converted at 75%.

​​Twice the sales. For less effort. Might be worth a try in your business as well.

And since you’ve read this far, let me ask you a question:

Do you trust me? I promise you that the free offer that’s waiting at this link is worth 100x the price I’m asking for it. Try it today and see for yourself, and if you don’t agree, you can always get your entire investment back.

Your first step to achieving natural authority

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I’ve got three quotes about celebrities for you, and then I will tell you about a hack. A hack to make you be seen as a natural-born leader — or at least a necessary ingredient for it.

But first, the quotes.

Quote 1:

“Patton believed that it was critical for a general to stand out and to be seen by his troops, a philosophy that conveniently coincided with his ego. He dressed impeccably in a colourful uniform and knee-high boots, sporting ivory-handled pistols.”

Quote 2:

“Long before ‘mumblecore’ became a film genre, critics complained about Brando’s speech patterns until it finally became clear they were an integral part of his performances.”

Quote 3:

“Prince’s handwriting was beautiful, with a fluidity that suggested it poured out of him almost involuntarily. It also verged on illegible. Even in longhand, he wrote in his signature style, an idiosyncratic precursor of textspeak that he’d perfected back in the eighties: ‘Eye’ for ‘I,” ‘U’ for ‘you,” ‘R’ for ‘are.'”

A few days ago, I started thinking about natural authority.

What makes it so that some people just seem imbued with the royal farr? So that they command obedience or respect or awe, even if they aren’t wearing a uniform… or standing on stage in front of an adoring crowd… or climbing alone, without ropes, up a 3,000-foot cliff of sheer rock?

Well, I wrote down a bunch of ideas. If you like, I’ll share them all with you in time.

Today I’ll just tell you about one. You can see it illustrated in the quotes above.

Got it? It’s just this:

Patton, Brando, and Prince all had a unique style. In some ways, a style completely beyond the pale of what was normal or acceptable.

In one case (Brando), it was probably inborn, or at least unconscious.

In another (Patton), it was clearly cultivated.

In the last (Prince), it was a bit of both.

So that’s your first step to natural authority, should you want that position in other people’s minds.

Maybe you already have your own inborn style. In that case, emphasize it.

Maybe you don’t. Then you can consciously build it.

And style can be anything. How you talk, how you write, how you dress, how you walk, how you spell. Some of them, or all. Whatever your audience can see. And maybe even stuff they can’t, because it’s somehow still likely to shine through.

It might not instantly make you a star or a king or queen. But like I said, I think it’s a necessary ingredient, at least in some form. So you might as well thinking about it now, while I write up the emails about the other bits you’ll need.

Emails? Yes, emails. I write a daily email newsletter. If you’d like to sign up for it, here’s where to go.