You Will Not Be Cool Until Miracle Whip Decides You Are

The following are actual comments from the wall of the Facebook page for Kraft’s “Miracle Whip” dressing:

Miracle Whip is freakin’ awesome!

Down with ma-YAWN-aise

Miracle Whip is the best people say to me do you want mayo I say ugh NO Miracle Whip is for me I just love it

BRING THE ZING

Miracle Whip is the Sh*t!!!!!!

And, here, all you have on your Facebook wall is “Are you going to Brad’s party? See you there!”

You shouldn’t even try to friend request Miracle Whip. Not yet, anyway. Not until you truly understand what it means to be down with Miracle Whip. Because they’re seriously shaking things up, man, so get on board or go back home to Squaresville.

Let me explain. Two months ago, new television advertising spots for the seasoned mayonnaise hit the air for the first time. These spots, which feature cool bearded hipsters and pixie-ish boho girls loving life at a rooftop party, were the first of the Miracle Whip reinvention. Entitled “Who We Are,” the spots asked if we wanted “more of the same” (no!) or “more of a zing?” (yes, I suppose so!)

As the multi-racial crowd dances and revels in one another’s company, we’re clued in that Miracle Whip, presumably like the many ethnicities which make up this supercool party, is made “of our own mixed up blend of spices.” Miracle Whip, like these awesome dudes, is now “more of who we are, and definitely not mayo.” Awwww snap, mayo — your name is now synonymous with bland and unimaginative, and your parties are like those with only white people, that don’t take place on rooftops and where no one’s actin’ crazy. The conclusion of the spot features the tagline: “We are Miracle Whip, and we will not tone it down.” That’s right, don’t even try to make Miracle Whip something it’s not. Miracle Whip didn’t ask to be born, and you’re not Miracle Whip’s real dad!

The spot which follows “Who We  Are” is called “Don’t Be So Mayo.” It features more of the same contemporary cut-shots, washed-out light bleeds and quirky fonts across the screen — this time charging that you, like your new idol Miracle Whip, “don’t go unnoticed,” “don’t blend in,” and “don’t be ordinary, boring or bland.” Our funky twenty-somethings are still on the roof (can someone get these kids a ladder? There are graphic design jobs going unattended somewhere) and this time they’re doing the signature move for “living life to the fullest” in an urban setting — filling up a kiddie pool to cool off on a summer day. I know, I know…these are adults. But that’s precisely why they’re not mayo, and you are. The rules mean nothing to them, and again, they will not tone it down.

The final of the three spots is the youth-revolution-buzzwordy “Anthem,” and — yawn — features more of the same not blending in, and not being like the others, and not being quiet. For a group of people so individual, they sure do seem to do a lot of the same stuff. Again, they’re all at a bohemian-tinged party, complete with goatee guy playing the acoustic guitar on the stairs while everyone gathers around. Kinda makes you wish that one of the things Miracle Whip people say is “We will not be the lame guitar guy playing Jack Johnson at the party.” You’re also probably wondering if they’ll tone it down, and that’s a big no. Man, I’d hate to live in the apartment underneath Miracle Whip.

As a former (and sometimes still current) ad-man myself, I can see J. Walter Thompson’s pitch meeting at Kraft now: the writers walked in with their horn-rimmed glasses and started putting up two-foot-by-three-foot velum boards all over the walls. These pictures had a bunch of getty images on them of people dancing, people partying, people playing music — and the writers presented their argument. It’s time to make Miracle Whip cool again.

“But will it be just the TV spots?” asked the old Miracle Whip people, who are old. “No,” said the writers, and schooled the oldies on what Facebook and Twitter is, and how social marketing is going to bring Miracle Whip a renaissance! We’ll build a facebook page, and everyone in our offices will pretend to be a twenty-something and write awesome things Miracle Whip’s wall! Why, we’ll even come up with a cool new app (they had to explain “app” to the Miracle Whip people) and we’ll call it “zingr,” and it can be used to tag cool stuff wherever you see it. We’ll even come up with a whole language for zingr — see, we’re already using the word zingr in regular sentences! “Trust us,” they said to the old people, “it’ll really catch on.” Then the Miracle Whip people got excited, because they thought they’d look cool. And the writers walked outside and high fived each other and listened to Death Cab for Cutie, and a campaign was born.

But I don’t expect you to understand any of this, because you wear shoes and shave your face and live in a house, and you swim in a normal pool and not a kiddie pool. Your clothes all fit appropriately and match, and your parties probably take place at designated times. Your life must be terrible, and I feel sorry for you. You’re not ready for Miracle Whip — not until you wear giant headphones on the subway, tell your boss to shove it, buy a futon and start drinking Hook & Ladder. You’ll never get zing’d, you mayo. And no, I will not tone it down. Because that’s not what I do.

Haven’t you learned anything from what I’m eating on my sandwich right now?