As you have probably figured out by now, I believe the truth is best told with a heavy dose of humor. In fact, in Shakespeare the fools always told the truth before others realized it (and often too late). With this in mind, I would like to share with you my great advancement in measuring advertising effectiveness, The Abilene-O-Meter. It came to me during the Super Bowl last night, as I watched millions upon millions of advertising dollars evaporate like the dreams of Patriot fans. Poof!

In the mere 18 hours of its existence, it has proven more reliable than the free Scientology Stress Tests you can get at the mall, and more accurate than 90% of mutual fund managers. Here is how to read it. First, you must understand the unit of measurement, as it is quite groundbreaking. All are animals that can be found in Texas. (A State that I adore, btw.)  At one end of the scale is the devilish poison armadillo, symbol of that wonderful place great corporate minds come together to produce mediocre results, i.e. Abilene. At the other end of the scale is the proud bald eagle, representing the rare and inspiring actions of brave business people who create the icons we measure our lives buy (oops…I mean “by”). Think of this as a “brand menagerie,” if you will, with each lovely vertebrate standing for a certain metaphorical distance from Abilene. Eagle, good. Armadillo, very bad. Cow, meh.

In order to calibrate the Abilene-O-Meter, I first measured the Fiat commercial that aired on the Super Bowl.

This charming spot for the struggling vehicle sent the needle rocking with the first slap from Romanian supermodel Catrinel Menghia. Within seconds the secret love we have for all things Italian was reawakened. Of course, The Richards Group who created the ad relied on the age old truth that sex sells, but who cares. In this case it really worked. In fact, Edmunds.com reported that Fiat had the highest cumulative increase in web traffic after airing, with a rise in activity of 138 percent. I’d say that’s soaring with the eagles.

To complete the calibration, I then measured the Old Navy ad for Corporado, a make believe brand designed to mock Dockers. As the logo emerged like a leak from what seemed to be the actor’s pant leg, I was afraid I might have pushed the Abilene-O-Meter to its limits. It took me three viewings to realize it was all a joke, which usually means it ain’t that funny.

Despite the Texas inspired satirical name “Corporado,” Old Navy came up all armadillos. I’m afraid the only way out of Abilene for Old Navy will be to take off the Corporados and do the walk of shame pant-less out of town.

If you would like to submit an ad for Abilene-O-Meter testing, please feel free to send it along.

What sparked this memory was a recent trip to a good Dunkin’ Donuts. You know what I mean by a good Dunkin’. There are Dunkin’ Donuts and then there are Dunkin’ Donuts. All the food is the same across the franchise: the donuts are fresh, the coffee is hot, and the bagels toasty. The employees even smile the same amount. Until now I couldn’t put a finger on why I felt a difference between my favorite Dunkin’ and the rest. I think I know now.

The secret is in the hands.

The next time you go to a retail establishment, be it Fast Food or a Car Wash, watch the employees’ hands. They tell a story. At my favorite Dunkin’ the employees’ hands move like olympic synchronized swimmers. They exhibit fluidity, speed, deftness, and the practiced hand movements of concert pianists. At my least favorite Dunkin’, the employees seem to be wearing invisible weighted baseball mitts. To watch them mix cream and sugar makes me crazy, and don’t get me started on spreading cream cheese. It’s like watching a glacier move across the tundra. Eyes may be the window to the soul, but hands hold the light of truth. Hands don’t lie.

Our hands connect us to the world. They are our interface. Our language is filled with metaphor incorporating the word hand. “Let’s get a handle on this.” “He’s got the upper hand.” “Let’s give her a hand.” “He’s got the whole world in is hands.” For some, physical hands are the primary means of communication.

My theory is this: you can tell a great brand by how deftly the employees’ hands interact with their environment, from handling merchandize to ringing up items to filling out return forms. I think hands are a leading indicator. Slow, hesitant, close to the body, clumsy = brand in trouble. Snappy, outstretched, active, practiced = brand on the rise. The hands are in the driver’s seat. More precisely, they are on the wheel, and the moment they come off, you’re on the road to Abilene.

One way to be certain you remain off the road to Abilene is to chart your path in bookstores and make sure you spend equal times in every section, including cooking, science fiction, self-help, and children’s books. It’s all too easy to put a rut in the carpet from the entrance to the business section. In my attempt to keep a certain balance in life, I try to mollify the effects of over-consumption of the latest “business must-read” with a frequent dip into the philosophy section of the actual “bricks and mortar” Barnes and Noble. (I suppose I’m trying to become a two-rut reader.)

Here’s my usual and unenlightened route at B&N:

Recently I came across “Eastern Wisdom, Modern Life: Collected Talks: 1960-1969, by Alan Watts.” In one of his talks, Watts describes the Hindu view in which the fundamental game of the universe is Hide and Seek. “It is as if the Lord God, or Brahman, had said in the beginning, ‘Get lost, man. Disappear. I’ll find you again later.” Something clicked when I read those words, which made me think of the choices business people make (back to my other rut) all along their career. How risks like jumping off the corporate ladder feel suicidal. How following the “obviously” right choices leads to beige outcomes for which no one gets fired, IRA plans are funded, and no one does anything remarkable.

A long time ago, when I was at U.C. Berkeley, I read the “Tao of Pooh,” in which Piglet and Pooh are lost in the fog and cannot find their way home. After many trials of looking for the way home, Pooh declares perhaps they should try to get lost, since trying to find their way home has proved so unsuccessful. Of course, it works.

The notion of getting lost as a means of finding the right path is so foreign to Western thought and the commonly accepted climb to success. Ironically, it is essential to the spirit of adventure shared by successful entrepreneurs. Here’s a list of 11 college drop outs who are not Mark Zuckerburg, who got lost:

1. Henry Ford, dropped out at 16
2. Bill Gates, dropped out at 19
3. Larry Ellison, dropped out at 20
4. Larry Page of Google, graduated at 35 (show-off)
5. Kirk Kerkorian, dropped out at 12
6. Michael Dell, dropped out at 19
7. Paul Allen, dropped out at 20
8. David Geffen, dropped out at 21
9. Steve Jobs, dropped out at 18
10. Richard Branson, dropped out at 16
11. Ralph Lauren, dropped out at 20

I fully acknowledge that more dropouts fail than succeed, but you do see a certain pattern, don’t you? The combined fortunes of these icons exceeds the GNP of many countries, yet for many of us the “right path” is a straight line from kindergarten through MBA to cubicle to dreams of leaving the rat race that never occur. Somehow we look at these business icons, these great personalities, get inspired, and dig in harder on a path they never took.

As we begin the new year, I’d like to suggest we all add one more resolution. Try to approach our careers and endeavors like someone with all the time in the world to wander through the bookstore. The road to Abilene is perfectly straight with deep ruts from those that travelled before. My advice for a happy new year? Get lost. Here’s a map:

So HP’s new logo is not going to be their new logo. A company spokesperson definitively quashed the rumor by letting us know that “HP is one of the world’s most valuable brands and has no plans to adopt the new logo.” Honestly, I wasn’t comforted. Since April of 2010, the market cap of HP has dropped by 50%.

Well, it’s not the first time I got all excited for nothing. I am after all a closet optimist. That is to say, while sometimes I let go of a belly laugh when Olympic skaters kiss the ice rink floor after a quadruple axle to the melodies of Tchaikovsky, I actually think everyone who gets to the Olympics deserves a gold medal. (I know. I’m complicated and probably immature, but spandex, human flight, gravity, and classical music are hilarious when combined in appropriate amounts.)

So this brings me to HP, whose mission is to create  “…new possibilities for technology to have a meaningful impact on people, businesses, governments and society.” I’m a sucker for mission statements written to improve human lives, since I’m human and I get to benefit regardless of buying a printer. The almost new logo seems the very embodiment of these possibilities.  To my point, even though HP probably drives you crazy, I’m sure the better part of you saw that new logo and said, “Ooh, look. HP did something inspiring amid the slippery ice of leadership decisions and product launches.” It’s like, say, a gold medal for the Jamaican bobsled team.

As CEO of a firm that often designs logos, there is nothing more frustrating than good work that is not adopted, so I’m biased in my appraisal. They should have adopted the mark, and with some flair and a little PR deftness, they could have adopted it up until the statement by the spokesperson. The reaction to the “misunderstanding” contains something more insidious; that is, design is a distraction from the business at hand, which includes bringing the stock back and managing the tablet mess.

Design is always the business at hand.

Ironically, great design in many ways shares HP’s mission of creating new possibilities. Great logos are not merely symbols. They are catalysts.  As Professor Anthony Dunne, Head of the Design Interactions Department at the Royal College of Art in London points out…

“This space of probable, preferable, plausible and possible futures allows designers to challenge design orthodoxy and prevailing technological visions so that fresh perspectives can begin to emerge. It is absolutely not about prediction, but asking what if…, speculating, imagining, and even dreaming in order to encourage debate about the kind of technologically mediated world we wish to live in. Hopefully, one that reflects the complex, troubled people we are, rather than the easily satisfied consumers and users we are supposed to be.”

Beautiful. This perspective feels like a shaded Sunday stroll in the English countryside along the green shires near the River Rea.  And management decisions targeted at the “…easily satisfied consumers and users we are supposed to be?” Well, we all know this road. Its hot steaming asphalt leads only one place – right into the heart of Abilene.

I am not without sin when it comes to living green. I drive a german automobile that gets 16 mpg in the city, and I have a gas powered leaf blower that could clear out a freshly filled grave. (For the record, I have purchased a carbon offset for my bad deeds, and I don’t disturb the recently departed.) Honest to goodness, I’m happy when I drive my car, and especially when I use my satanic leaf blower. Go figure.

What I am most self-righteous about is that I’m honest in my sinfulness. I don’t pretend to be something I’m not, and I think that’s part of my brand, so to speak. This brings me to a sensitive issue. Can going green put you on The Road to Abilene?

I recently found out from a friend of mine in Germany that McDonald’s is changing a portion of their iconic signs green to signify their growing commitment to greener practices. According to the Huffington Post, this is a Europe-wide initiative, including the U.K. and France. This will include just a small portion of their 32,000 restaurants worldwide.

“With this new appearance we want to clarify our responsibility for the preservation of natural resources. In the future we will put an even larger focus on that,” Hoger Beek, vice chairman of McDonald’s Germany, said in the statement.

Oh for goodness sake. I just want to enjoy my burger, and not save the world for five minutes. Las Vegas is NOT a family destination, and McDonald’s is not a healthy part of anything.

Let’s get real for a moment. All companies need to work on becoming greener. This an indisputable axiom, as far as I’m concerned. However, please don’t try to make me feel better about trans-saturated french fries by making me feel that clogging my arteries will help the environment. This seems relatively manipulative. Let’s applaud McDonald’s for their efforts, but this attempt to wear it on their sleeve (signs) seems disingenuous.

To help my friends in Oak Brook, Illinois, here’s my new Mickey D’s Mission:

1. We make food that is yummy, and convenient.
2. It is part of a balanced way of living in which you treat yourself sometimes to yummy things.
3. We promise we won’t try to make you eat here every day. In fact, you shouldn’t.
4. We are not the answer to the world’s problems, but we will try to be a good corporate citizen.
5. We know that pictures of kids playing soccer on a happy meal box does not encourage athletic activity in any way. We’ll stop that.
6. We’ll work on the salads.
7. We encourage all of our employees to exercise three days a week, and to eat a balanced diet.
8. It’s alright to like us for what we are, and we’ll like us for what we are. A greasy, albeit iconic, burger joint that you can visit anywhere in the world.
9. We’ll leave the signs red and yellow. The green ones kind of made us a little queasy anyway.
10. We promise to make the roadside McDonald’s more accessible on the highway out of Abilene than on the way in.

My multitouch Apple trackpad quietly stares up my nostrils with the malicious muteness of the Berlin wall. I’ve watched the Quicktime videos on how to operate my MacBook Pro with “simple” gestures. A single flick for this. A backwards triple swipe for that. A reverse axle double knuckle twist for something else. My hand looks like an epileptic octopus attempting to breakdance. I reach back for my trusty mouse with the speed of a gunslinger. Safe again. My little pointer finger is now back in control.

My first computer was an Apple that used a tape recorder to store data. As I type this I realize I might have to explain “tape recorder.” Here’s a link you young whipper snapper. With the emergence of the Lion operating system, I now hear Mac addicts saying things like, “Oh don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.” Really! I’ll get used to it. Yeah, like I got used to Vista. The whole point of Apple, its raison d’être, was to make me feel that I was born “used to it.” The products knew me better than I knew me.

Much has been made of the power of Steve’s visionary leadership. As he once said, “It’s not about pop culture, and it’s not about fooling people, and it’s not about convincing people that they want something they don’t. We figure out what we want. And I think we’re pretty good at having the right discipline to think through whether a lot of other people are going to want it, too. That’s what we get paid to do. So you can’t go out and ask people, you know, what’s the next big [thing.] There’s a great quote by Henry Ford, right? He said, ‘If I’d have asked my customers what they wanted, they would have told me ‘A faster horse.’’’ Hmmm…”We figure out what we want…” Let that sink in for a moment.

Technically speaking, I think the multitouch mistake was simple. The wild success of the iPad convinced Apple of the power of interacting with software through touch. So why not try to replicate that on laptops and desktops. However, the core of the problem is not technical, but rather the result of the cognitive dissonance that comes from being right a lot. Welcome to the world of AOL, Microsoft, Kodak, and Polaroid. Being right a lot can thoughtlessly send a company down a path it never would choose to go. The logic looks like like this “I’m right a lot, so therefore I must be right again.” And our customers will just get used to it…

Opportunity comes disguised in many forms. Giant killers are born out of the arrogance of those that are “never” wrong. Peering from under their garage doors, or working from their basements, they see a world that can be different. They are tired of being forced to live a certain way and decide to do something about it. Like those two young entrepreneurs Steve and Woz at 2066 Crist Dr. in Palo Alto, California, who were humble, eager, brilliant, and iconoclastic.

The Birth Place of the First Apple Computer.

The future success of Apple does not lie in trying to encode Steve’s fearless decision making. Rather it depends on building in the willingness to turn right when everyone is turning left, and that is much harder for a company with the largest market cap in the world. Not to worry though. Abilene’s bigger than it looks.

I recall this fashion story not because I’ve decided to start worrying my employees that I’m establishing “Bell-bottom Fridays,” but rather to continue a theme begun in my last post on the hidden and hopeful protestant work ethic found in the next wave of entrepreneurs. I introduce to you Modcloth.

By looking to the past and digging up fashions that could only be found in the dumpsters of Abilene, they have disrupted a market that was ready for disruption. The two founders Susan Gregg Koger and Eric Koger began Modcloth.com with a mission to democratize “fashion one indie, vintage, and retro-inspired style at a time!”

At 17 years old Susan began an online shop with her future husband Eric, and a passion for vintage wear. Like the entrepreneurs of the Indie gaming industry, a personal love was turned into a real business. For people who want to express themselves with more than another pair of Xmas corduroys from L.L.Bean, Modcloth delights the fashion backward hipster with a treasure trove of one-of-a-kind apparel. Today, ModCloth has over 100 employees, and they all try not to work seven days a week. But love will do that to you.

Their recipe was simple. (Note to Mayors and Governors: Do your cities encourage this? If you want innovation and growth, you must.)

1. Avoid the “real world.”

2. Work hard.

3. Love what you do.

4. Find a low cost of living location to begin.

5. Find affordable talent (who also take advantage of the low cost of living).

6. Find an inexpensive location.

7. Leverage the internet.

8. Work even harder.

It is so easy to look at today’s economy (and not to mention the Mayan calendar), and worry for the future of our children, America, and the entrepreneurial spirit of Henry Ford and Peter Drucker. I don’t. There’s an explosion of creativity and innovation hiding in pockets of our culture that have taken the non-Corporate path, missing the road to Abilene completely. Like an eager bargain hunter looking for that perfect abandoned velour dinner jacket from 1972, we need to shuck the conventional and well-accepted definitions of success. For tomorrow is not yesterday. (Well, actually at Modcloth it is…)

I’m going to get corny and very Red State for a second. Where is the American spirit that drove us to the moon? The crazy productive work ethic that forged our nation’s industry for 100 years? Where is the passion? The dedication? The guts to jump out of the moving vehicle headed straight to Abilene? Because right now we need a ninja-like tuck and roll onto the pavement, or our soul is going to wither away one Chevy K car at a time.

Well, I think I found it. It’s been hiding behind a computer screen, underneath piles of comic books, Code Red Mountain Dew cans, and decorated in tattoos and body piercings. Let me introduce you to the world of Indie Game developers. The seemingly under-washed, poorly nourished geeks who demonstrate the genius, passion, inspiration, and creativity of Thomas Edison meets Steve Jobs meets Edward Scissor-Hands.

Here are two videos I’d like to share. They are more inspirational to me than Deepok Chopra and Tony Robbins combined. The first is a trailer for a documentary found by my 14-year old son, which will be released soon called “Indie Game – The Movie.”  I watched it and felt a sense of hope for the future. This movie is about the individuals that dedicate themselves and their lives to their passion. They are industrious, relentless, and frankly amazing.

Another example of this Protestant work ethic on Red Bull is seen in the upcoming documentary on Minecraft, a cultural phenomenon created solely by Swedish programmer Markus “Notch” Persson.”  This is the story of a simple idea, Legos meets Zombies, which has unlocked the imaginations and wallets of millions.

Imagine a workforce filled with these individuals. They exist, but they are very shy, and very determined to avoid big corporations. Rightly so. Inspiration doesn’t scale well, and it is easily crushed by committee. Individuals outside of the system are the only one’s who can save the system. I’m fine living in world in which a brilliant programmer can produce a game by himself that sells a million copies for $20 while in beta. For in this scenario I see what makes companies, economies, and countries great: individuals driven by a love to create.

So grab a spare controller, and hold on. The “Final Boss” is called The Road to Abilene and it plays for keeps.

I was taken by a comment by Professor Kevin Keller from my alma mater The Tuck School of Business. He was giving his standard lecture to executives on the importance of branding, entitled the The Branding Imperative. (Yes, I know, a real grabber. Apparently there are people for whom the jury is still out on this whole fuzzy creative thing called branding.) When asked about the one slide he had on Social Media, he responded glibly, but not without forethought, “Do people really want a relationship with all 70 brands in their grocery bag?”

At first I thought, gee that’s a very big bag, and then second, I hastily agreed. Who in their right mind wants a dialog with Tide and Perky Jerky?

So here’s the question, Kevin is really asking, “Is social media The Road to Abilene?” I mean, if the author of the most popular textbook in the history of marketing devotes only one slide to it in a presentation called The Branding Imperative, social media must be a cosmically large tour bus straight into the heart of silliness.

Admit it, if you over 35 (and certainly if you are over 40) you secretly suspect it’s all BS. I was there right with you, and this is the reason this post is worth the pixels it is written with. There are many influential and senior marketers for whom this suspicion is operative. You’ve met them. I’ve met them. In fact, we have met the enemy and it is us.

I do agree that I don’t want a relationship with all the brands in my cupboard, but this is the wrong way to look at the phenomenon. (For the record, I’m going to put aside my view that senior marketers who minimize the impact of social media are subconsciously trying to weasel approval from critics of marketing by finding a common enemy.)

The right way to look at the phenomenon is that the world has a voice. It is loud, chaotic, inaccurate, emotional, and often ludicrous. If you are in marketing you must react in two ways: listen and engage. Period. It is a brand platform, not a sales platform, and this means it’s not  “e-direct mail.”

It is the world being the world, and you get to play.

I think the problem may be the term Social Media itself. Frankly, it is a word that could only have been conceived by someone looking at the phenomenon as a means of advertising. (How can I convert Facebook users into buyers? Banner Ads! Ooh.) So let’s call it something else. Here are some alternatives:

• Global Chatter
• The Social Matrix
• The Infinite Cocktail Conversation
• The Cosmic Unconscious
• The Big Chat
• Chat Roulette (oops, no, sorry, not that)
• The Social Network (great movie, btw)
• The Ultimate Sandbox
• Occupy the Internet

You know what? I like the last one best. In any case, since we Baby Boomer marketers still have a grip on budgets, and probably manage people who swim with ease in this ocean of electrons, it’s time to jump in. Let’s eradicate the last vestiges of nostalgia for the days of Mad Men. If it helps, just put Facebook on your bucket list, because the last place you want to spend your golden years is Abilene.

Last week I took my children to see a family-oriented improvisational comedy troop. It was not funny, but I think it was my fault. I simply couldn’t enjoy it. My palms were sweaty. My stomach was clenching – all because of the tension that these struggling artists were going to bomb like Sarah Palin giving the keynote at an Occupy Wall Street rally. Frankly, I was less nervous presenting to 1500 underfed, hungover IBM sales reps about their new brand strategy.

Improv breaks rules. This is probably why I sweat through my t-shirt. Isn’t it the rules in life that separate us from the end of civilization? Since that night, I’ve reflected on the experience and believe there is a huge lesson for brands.

What makes great improvisation is not anarchy, but actors who really understand the rules. Conventions like the boundary between audience and player or the need for a prepared storyline are toyed with. A master of improv is in fact a master of rules, and is able to dance freely in the world of known parameters and break them to your delight. The structure is only hidden, much like jazz or abstract art. The illusion the audience feels is that there is no structure, but quite to the contrary, there is a heightened understanding of structure by the players.

Bureaucracy is dumb. It has to be, because it is a system of rules designed to anticipate most scenarios. I emphasize most, but life is not that neat. Try to get the registry of motor vehicles or the post office to make an exception. Management’s job in most organizations is about keeping the rules. The Road to Abilene is filled with companies that experienced painful, avoidable wrecks by following the rules. We all sometimes cling to bureaucracy like drowning victims to a deflated life preserver.

What if we took a page from improv and ensured that employees were experts in understanding the rules, but virtuosos in breaking them. Here’s a simple example.

My business partner broke his Apple headphones. We were on a business trip and went together to the Apple store, explained the problem, and the employee asked if he had the receipt for when he bought the headphones. If so, Apple would be glad to replace them. Our hero in the blue shirt could see the look on our faces. “A receipt for a $30 headset that came with the iPhone? Really?” In a nanosecond he turned around, grabbed something from under the counter, and said “Here take these. A new set of headphones. I’ll figure it out. Have good day.” We looked at each other, overly excited about about a crummy set of headphones, but now customers of Apple for life. (Like they need more cult members…)

Organizations need rules, but customers’ needs rarely can be solved by a rule book. Great brands like great art push past the easily accepted, easily approved choices that point us straight in the direction no individual ever would go on their own, that is, down the road to Abilene.