That which I speak of is the bench ad for Greg & Enzo of Keller Williams Realty.
At first I was going to say that this image offended my sensibilities as an artist. Then I changed my mind, and was going to say "this image offended my sensibilities as a person who's used Photoshop for more than ten seconds." Finally I decided I'd go with "this image offended my sensibilities as a human being with two eyes who has actually seen objects in perspective before."
This thing is like what Picasso would come up with if he was presented the challenge of making a bench ad and given only a stack of photographs, a pair or scissors, and a severe mental handicap.
First there's Greg. Seeing as how there's no ground plane or point of reference for perspective in this faux-cubist collage nightmare, I at first assumed that he, and all of the crazy, tangentially related shit around him, was flying through the air in some sort of Realty Olympics Jumping event. Upon second glance, I assumed that he was doing the Matrix "bullet time" shtick, because seriously, when is a parody of "bullet time" not appropriate and also hilarious? It's been six years, and I still laugh every single time. It's that clever. Finally I was straightened out by actually reading the text, but we'll get to that disaster later.
Now let's look in Greg's hands. He's holding a tray. My mind, trying so hard to pull reason from where there is none, so very desperately wanted this to be a silver platter. As in, "Greg and his dog can serve your house to buyers on a silver platter." But considering the fact that we can see Greg's left thumb through the tray, we know that it's not a silver platter at all, but a glass cookie tray. Greg and his dog can serve your house for lunch on a glass cookie tray. If Greg and Enzo sell houses anywhere near as well as they make bench ads, I'd be more inclined to let them sell cookies and let the Girl Scouts sell my house.
Then we get to what's on the tray. A picture of a house. I can tell that this is a picture of a house and not an actual house, because I live in a world of three-dimensional reality that has a set of uncompromising rules. As any average Rhesus monkey could point out, we're looking down on the tray and at the side of the house. The Lascaux cave paintings from 14,000 BC show a better understanding of visual perspective.
Now let's look at poor Enzo. This dog probably just wants to run around somebody's yard, sniff butts, and pee on things. But no, he's forced to hawk real estate in the worst conceived ad campaign since McDonalds unveiled "I'd hit it". You can give me statistics about animal shelter cruelty all day long, but this, my friends, is the kind of thing that makes me want to send a check to the ASPCA.
Since it's been covered before, let's overlook the fact that Enzo is by no stretch of the imagination sharing the same world space as Greg. He seems to be stuck into the image at a strange quarter-twist to reality. In fact, when I look at this picture, the first thing I see is a dead dog. Not only that, I see a dead dog who is ostensibly "holding" a realty sign in the one front paw that didn't get erased. The sign is completely out of scale (and needless to say, perspective), but I guess we can cut it some slack seeing as how it's the only thing in the entire picture that's an illustration and not a photograph.
Why? Why Greg?! Do you not actually own any signs? Or are they all in use right now, planted at impossibly obtuse angles in the grass in front of the crack houses and mental institutions that were impressed enough by your signage to actually hire you?
Let's talk about composition. No, actually, let's not. There isn't any.
Now let's review for a moment. When you drive by this sign at thirty miles per hour, what do you see? You see a man leaping through the air holding a cookie sheet full of a picture of a house next to an expired dog with a Toontown Reality sign jammed into his paw. I can't imagine that there is a focus group on Earth that looks at this image and says "Holy shit! I need Backflip Bob and his dead dog to sell my house!"
Those few people who are enticed enough by the insanity of the imagery to actually stop and read the sign are rewarded with the phrase "We bend over backwards to give you top-dog service." A-ha! Yes, I see now! Bending over backwards! Oh, you went there. You took an old verbal cliché and you actually acted it out! Poorly! That's so funny! You see? You see how they're literally bending over backwards to sell that fresh baked picture of a house? Golden. Absolutely golden.
And not only that, but they'll give you "top-dog" service! You get it? Because Enzo is a dog! A dog who is bending over backwards! And quite possibly dead! Oh! Oh, my sides! Now I have to hire these guys! Not only are they slick with their kindergarten magazine collage work, but they can also sling a mean pun. This officially snatches the award for "worst dog-based advertising copy EVAR" away from the Walt Disney company, who swept the category when it advertised its live action 102 Dalmatians with the tagline "A spotless new tail is about to be unleashed."
And just when you think it's over, they hit you with the stinger of Enzo wearing eyeglasses! A dog wearing glasses? Now I've seen everything! Why is the dog wearing glasses? Is the dog's vision too poor for it to see itself on the bench ad? And if so, how can Greg be so sadistic as to give him glasses and destroy any sense of self-respect that he may have once had?
If you think that the bench ad is bad, whatever you do, don't look at their web site, which in its own Geocities-circa-1997 way proclaims them to be "LA's only dual-species realty team." Ha ha! Ha. Ohhh.
Don't get me wrong, I appreciate a good imagination and a wacky concept as much as the next guy, but personally I think I'd rather leave the "madcap man and dog" teams to my buddy cop movies and FOX sitcoms than to my high stakes real estate deals. But hey, that's just me, crazy old "Mr. Won't Buy a Two Million Dollar House from a Nearsighted Dog and a Guy who Can't Understand Right Angles."