• by Jack Feuer , January 14, 2009

The people who work in fictional advertising are white males with European backgrounds. They are never Latino. They are never Asian. They are never black. They sure aren't Semites. And they are never, God forbid, from places where people sweat a lot and wear bathrobes instead of pants.

Executives at made-up ad agencies are all in their thirties, maybe early forties, maybe a little older if they're the CEO. They used to be account executives and wore skinny ties and drank a lot. These days, they're creatives who wear jeans and drink a lot when they run out of drugs.

Sometimes, they're neurotic. Sometimes they're narcissistic. Sometimes they're angels sent to Earth to live in Boulder and handle fast-food accounts. (That last part isn't fiction, but it should be.)

Admen are always getting laid. The few females at ad agencies, who all look like Helen Hunt, are only allowed to be luscious, show cleavage and advance the plot.

There are no exceptions to this rule, even when a woman holds an executive-level position. (There have been rumors that some females run their own shops in real life. These are obviously men in drag.)

Fictional admen stand around and smirk. Sometimes, they wave their hands. They never actually make ads. Still, entire campaigns suddenly appear like they were wishes granted by Jinn, springing fully formed from a random instant of inspiration that arrives just before the account is lost.

Even with divine intervention, the work these guys "produce" is prosaic at best. But they are all stars at their agencies. In fact, they are frequently the creative directors.

Nobody knows for sure how any of that work gets seen or heard or read or clicked on, because the fictional ad industry is like H.G. Wells' far-future society. Creatives (and the stray suit) are Eloi lounging about on ferns and eating fruit in corner offices. All the planning, buying and researching is done underground in dark, dank caves by hunchbacks with glowing yellow eyes.

If you are a consumer of television and the movies, via any distribution platform, this is what you know about the ad industry. In the real world, it is true in only two ways: Mainstream shops are not exactly hotbeds of minority employment, and there is more sex in creative agencies than there is in ads.

Now we've got another new show, "Trust Me," that faithfully hews to this convention. So does "Mad Men," which I do not watch because it's the same crap in different costumes, although I'm told that its fictional agency did hire a media director last season.

I doubt he'll get laid.

This is bullshit. We need a whole new take on the sub-genre. A profanity-laced, lust-filled TV series or motion picture about a brilliant but out-of-control planner who doesn't play by the rules and his stolid, old-world buying partner.

They're both white, European-American males who wear suits with no ties, drink a lot and use the word "monetize" in every other sentence. Media plans appear as if by magic. Little elves do all the activation.

The few women at their global media agency, who all look like Joy Behar, exist only to make flow charts, show cleavage and advance the plot.

And nobody ever gets laid.