"marketing" news and stories

Kellogg's, why did you try to fool us again? Yes, those blueberry bits in cereals and infamously lackluster packaged muffins from the gas station? Not real. Real sugar and food dye; but not berries from the berry bush. We can't say we're surprised, just officially disgusted.

It turns out, some of our biggest industry bakers are only good as colorists. A new video released by the Consumer Wellness Center last week shows that this is actually no secret. As we've seen before, the front of packages always sound better than the back. If you turn over a Frosted Mini Wheats Blueberry Muffin box, touting fresh blueberries on the front, you'll find an ingredients list with an item called "blueberry flavored crunchlets." Crunchlets -- a word we hope never becomes official -- is defined as a mix of sugars, soybean oil, red #40 and blue #2. Voilà, blueberry! Minus, of course, those real-deal elements: antioxidants, manganese, vitamins C and E, and dietary fiber.

You can also expect similar frauds in cereals, breads and muffins from Betty Crocker, Target and General Mills, whose Total Blueberry Pomegranate cereal contains neither blueberry nor pomegranate. Who to trust? A real baker. Or the makers of products like Natures' Path Organic Optimum Blueberry-Cinnamon Breakfast Cereal, which actually contains real blueberries and cinnamon.

As if it weren't hard enough to dissuade your children from billboards and television ads touting fast food, a new tactic has entered the ad world. Fast food chains in Australia have begun emailing free-food vouchers to kids under 12. But could it happen here?

This "direct mail" marketing campaign from Australia-based chains Hungry Jack and Taco Bill strategically bypasses parents with an online "Kids Club," where children can register to receive "free meals on their birthdays, vouchers for free ice cream" and finger puppets, reports The Daily Telegraph. And you'd better believe health organizations went after them.

Under the umbrella of The Obesity Policy Coalition, the prosecuting organizations include: The World Health Organization, Diabetes Australia, VicHealth and Cancer Council of Victoria. But when they called on the Federal Government "to amend the Privacy Act to outlaw direct mail advertising to children," the Feds said children were already protected by spam laws, reports the Telegraph.

Jane Martin, the coalition's senior public officer, believes no such thing. And, really, if that were true, wouldn't the chains stop sending the mail?

Can money buy friendship? Jack in the Box is hoping so. The fast-food burger joint is channeling the powers of Facebook to build a money bank for one lucky fan.

For every new fan the restaurant gets, a nickel will be added to the pot. The month-long campaign, conceived by Secret Weapon Marketing and revealed this week, will end with one big winner.

Jack in the Box's Facebook page has installed a tab called "Be a Rich Fan," which will keep the pot running live as new fans are added and the pot gets bigger.

Just off the re-marketing train, Chef Boyardee on Monday rolled out the second leg of its new campaign, "Obviously delicious. Secretly nutritious," which originally launched last year, Brandweek reports.

After market research, the company found that most parents have forgotten about the brand since it disappeared from the mainstream radar -- perhaps replaced by frozen, microwavable dinners -- but most kids, upon trying the canned meals, love them. Most parents, however, are skeptical about what's actually nutritious about the meals, so don't buy them.

I've always had an appreciation for the history of logos. One is created and recognized, then societal pressures or eager marketers come in and attempt to modernize things, sometimes succeeding, and sometimes failing. Considering my recent post on Tropicana, I thought I'd share a new post up at Neatorama -- they've gone through and shared how different logos have morphed over the years.

Above, you can check out the Morton Salt girl. I picked her for this post because it confused me the most. Here you have a little tyke in 1914, with an umbrella so large that it pretty much dwarfs her as she stands there in her to-the-knee frock. But then, she gets older and skinnier, with her hemline rising until it's so flipping high that if you saw the 1968 girl from a different angle, you'd know what her underwear would look like. Does someone say: "Hey, that dress is too long!"?

But Morton aside, you can check out everything from the morphing Aunt Jemima, to a company's notions on what a modern Betty Crocker would look like. Heck, you can even see what the Gerber baby grew into!

[via Serious Eats]