Floyd Hayes, the guy who brought us twipple, drew our gaze to “punkvertising,” a description that immediately made us wince because we mistook it for Punk Marketing — a dire book promo that consisted primarily of a woman named Cleo, slowly disrobing.
So-called punkvertising is tame in comparison. Punk-rockers were enlisted to trawl the streets of New York to spread word about some kind of Diesel promotion.
Apparently Floyd asked one of them if he liked the idea of being a sell-out, and the kid said something to the effect of, “$25 bucks an hour? Shit, I’d wear a dress for that – I don’t care really!”
Guffaw.
