Alexander The Great

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

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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.

The truth about bad breath

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Once upon a time, the mighty Persian king Darab took a wife from Greece.

Her name was Nahid.

Nahid was beautiful and the daughter of the king of Greece, Filqus.

One night, while Darab and Nahid lay in the same bed, Nahid turned towards Darab and exhaled in her sleep.

“My God,” said Darab to himself, “the stench!”

The next day, Darab asked his court physicians to see what could be done about his wife’s bad breath.

They gave her an herb, sekander. It fixed Nahid’s halitosis.

But it was too late. Darab’s fire for Nahid had cooled. So he shipped her back to Greece to her father, even though she was already well pregnant.

Filqus, Nahid’s father, was embarrassed by the whole situation. And rather than admit his daughter had been rejected by the king of Persia, he thought it sounded better to simply claim that he, Filqus, had gotten his daughter pregnant.

Nahid eventually gave birth to a baby boy. She gave him the name Sekander, I guess to remind her of her shame and lost love.

When Filqus died, Sekander became king of Greece. He put together an army, invaded Persia, conquered all who opposed him, and wound up on the Persian throne, which was really his by right, since he was the secret son of the Persian king.

If you’re wondering what the hell you just read, it’s how the Persians, back in the 10th century, told the story of Alexander the Great.

I’m sharing this with you for two reasons:

1. Because it shows the lengths of unlogic we will go to to protect our pride and ego.

2. Because contrary to what you might have heard, modern advertising did not invent bad breath.

What it did do however, is make people sensitive to the idea they themselves have bad breath… and the consequences this could have.

So starting in the 1920s, women were told that nobody would want them if they were hali-toxic (“Often a bridesmaid… never a bride”).

And men were told that bad breath would get them canned (“Employers prefer fastidious people… halitoxics not wanted”).

Meanwhile, the sales of Listerine mouthwash kept going up and up and up. In 1921, when Listerine was promoted mainly to dentists, sales stood at $100k per year. In 1927, after ads warning of halitosis had blanketed the country, $4 million worth of Listerine was sold. That’s equivalent to about $62 million in today’s money.

So my point for you is:

Much good advertising works like this.

It’s not enough to only speak to the very few who are aware of their problem and looking for a solution.

Entire vast, untapped markets are out there, full of potential prospects… people who aren’t aware of the problem, or what that problem really means for them.

Speaking of which:

Are you plagued by uncertainty and doubt? It might be because of work trouble. Specifically, a lack of new marketing and copywriting ideas you can implement every day. Clients and customers prefer marketers with new ideas… bores not wanted. In case you’d like a fix for that serious problem, here’s where to go.