A computer consultant comes into the office of one of my clients. He’s well over thirty years old, but that doesn’t stop him from grabbing a sheet of air bubbles and, like a child, begins to satisfy his need for cause-effect sensory stimulation by twisting the air bubbles and hearing them go “Pop” in succession. Oooooh. That was his reaction. The reaction of everyone else was just annoyance, and he sensed it. Now, in a world of adults, you’d politely ask the guy to stop and he would. But you know, kids get a rise out of getting a rise out of other kids. Moments like that only heighten the realization that we really don’t live in a world of adults. A friend of mine says we’re all just monkeys wearing adult clothing. I’m not that harsh. I say we’re all just children wearing adult clothing, although something tells me that I’ll be conceding my point.

So the thirty-something guy, recognizing that he’s annoyed everybody goes for the overkill and twists even more. After a few objections from the staff, he proudly declared himself a certifiable asshole and that his joy in life was to piss off other people. There are actually plenty of his kind around everywhere, and it was an exception to the rule that they weren’t there to validate him with a Porkys-esque laugh track. But, alas, no such supporters were present to endorse his behavior. No problem. He simply endorsed himself by mentioning some show I’ve never watched or even heard of until then – Ass-aholics. Apparently, a celebration of assholes. Just when I thought we’d scraped all demographic trough form the barrel’s bottom, TV demonstrates just how far down the hole their arms can go for a little more of that all-too precious lowest-common denominator.

And they always label them. Affectionately, of course. “Generation X” carried its own editorial implications, but for marketers it was one of those terms that, once used, put the same picture in everyone’s head. Kind of like “Yuppie” or “Soccer Mom.” Advertisers love those little gems because it gives not only a demographic picture, but a psychographic one as well. Every man and woman in the boardroom has an idea of the servile mind-state associated with their pet markets. And now they have a new one to persuade: Adult-Adolescents.

Teenage behavior is all the rage these days, even for adults. Shock jocks, for instance, can’t get enough of themselves, and neither can their audiences as they tune in for more quasi-rebellious behavior whose efficacy can be compared to spitballs in a classroom. Whatever drives that mentality, drove it right into American living rooms via vehicles like sitcoms, celebrity reportage and, alas, advertising. That’s not to say that I’m against any of those. I used to love sitcoms back when they were smart (The Cosby Show, Cheers, Night Court...all that stuff). Now they’re just smart-ass – a type of humor that, like drugs, should be used in moderation. As far as celebrities, I don’t hate them either. In fact, after “Syriana”, “Good Night and Good Luck” and more recently “Michael Clayton” I think People mag should put Clooney back on their cover under the headline “The Sharpest Man Alive.”

As for advertising...sigh...what can I say? I’m guilty of my own judgment and criticism. I was on that winking-eye, smart-ass headline bandwagon too. And, for better or worse, I succeeded in giving some of the Adult Adolescents an encouraging pat on their smart asses while wryly saying, “go buy something, will ya?”

I ran into an old college professor who looked even more burnt out than me. We talked for nearly two hours before parting ways, at which point, he shook my hand and thanked me for a refreshing conversation. The feeling was mutual. We both agreed that adults were an endangered species in America. When I asked him how he was doing, he told me that he often leaves the country, returning to his European roots, to find people who are willing to act their age. When he asked me how I was doing, well, it was the first time in a long time that I can remember feeling embarrassed with my answer. How am I doing? I work in advertising. That’s how I’m doing.

Unfortunately, for me and the professor, there’s not much we can do. We can only thank God for the few roaming souls like ourselves. When we’re lucky enough to meet them, we enjoy a brief respite before wishing each other well as we go back out to face the world. For him, my wish of good fortune is doubly-so. After all, he’s in a worse position than me – He’s a college professor. When it comes to the lowest common denominator, it's much easier to sell something than it is to teach something.