• by George Simpson , Featured Contributor, May 10, 2013

In a story on the growth of the local online video market, an analyst at BIA/Kelsey said: “If the Midwest is getting hit with 15 inches of snow and you’re running spots there, you may want to recast them around snow shovels and salt for the driveway.” This was about the 12 millionth time someone in the advertising business used snowy weather conditions "in the Midwest" to make a point.

Weather seems to be the default situation that changes everyone's ad equations, and "the Midwest" seems to be the only place where it matters. Although the drought in the Southeast or the annual spring floods in the upper Midwest are always grist for the network news (and I swear if I see one more smiling teen filling a sandbag, I'm going to punch out Brian Williams the next time I see him in town), they are never the circumstances that change advertising. Rather, it is always "snow in the Midwest."

You get the impression that the entire ad business scrambles to a command bunker, 12 stories under Madison Avenue, whenever it clouds up in the Midwest -- like there will never be another opportunity this big to move coats and scarves, studded tires or chicken soup. And like a giant game of Risk, buyers start moving armies of ads around the board trying to match impressions with the first falling flakes.

What is it about consumers in the Midwest that makes them want to run out in snowstorms and shop? Especially when the governor has declared a state of emergency and begged everyone to stay off the roads. Nope, those rock-ribbed, otherwise down-to-earth middle-Americans see an online display ad and bolt for the nearest Walmart, their credit cards burning a hole in their F150 consoles. Never mind that the salt sold out four days ago to those paying at least some attention to the forecasts.

People in the Southwest head for the cellar when a front comes in, because last August a funnel swept Aunt Margaret up (and all the chickens and mobile homes for 20 miles around) and deposited them 70 miles up the road in Oz (Missouri). Here in the East when it snows, we lock the doors, pull down the shades, break out the good burgundy and wait for the inevitable power failure. So you might want to target us with mobile ads, although we can't get the car up the driveway to go anywhere -- and if we did, there are downed trees blocking all roads to Costco anyway. Get those real-time bids ready! You have about six hours before our smartphones run out of juice.

It hardly ever snows in the Southeast -- and when it does, there are no municipal snow plows. But that doesn't keep Jethro from proving he can slip and slide his Camero to the Piggly Wiggly and back and only have to be towed out twice. If you convince him to buy a snow shovel, it'll be repurposed in about three days as a high-volume pooper-scooper while Dixie waits another 23 years for the next snowstorm.

In California, they don't care about the weather (or your ads) because they are busy up on their roofs hosing off encroaching wildfires. You get the impression that if it weren't for the interstate system, the entire state would have burned down years ago.

No matter -- the ad business can always paraphrase Bogart in "Casablanca" with: "We'll always have the Midwest…."