The job recently just tossed out a “Creative Manifesto”. Based on the reaction I’ve seen and heard, it was not particularly well-received. And I have to agree with that assessment. And being obsessed about things like that, obsessed about analyzing failures, I started to think about why. And it was pretty easy to figure out what the problem was. It wasn’t actually a manifesto. The following resulted.
On Manifestos
My god, the last thing a manifesto can be is boring.
Manifestos live inside a permanently screaming exclamation point a hundred foot high, on fire with delight in its own madness. Manifestos want to punch the world in the face. They want to kick you in your id and make you think that your actions can alter the orbit of the world — and that you’re a horrific fool for doubting your power for a blue-hot second.
If manifestos aren’t obsessed, crazy over the top insanity, or at the very least a cranky collection of pissed-off wisdom, then they’re not manifestos.
Instead, they’re HANG IN THERE inspirational posters, based on images of cute kittens – only the kittens are wearing Ray-Bans and pretending to be gangsters.
Pfft! Pfft! Hsssssss. Bang, bang! Pyew, pyew! I am fierce!
Niiiiice kitty. Nice, harmless, toothless kitty. (pat, pat) You can haz cheezburger.
The following post is an uber-manifesto, a manifesto di tutti manifesti, a godfather of all manifestos, created Frankenstein-like from other fine examples of the form.
A form that doesn’t just promise revolution, it demands it.
Later, I will come back and link all the sources. Maybe.
Slapdash Flashbacks 