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Friends and colleagues, We’re all having Rip (or Rita) Van Winkle moments.  It’s not easy, for example, to remember what day of the week it is or why we’re wearing the same Def Leppard t-shirt for two to six days in

Friends and colleagues, I am guessing this latest missive finds you… 1) Reading the 866th email or post with the words “out of an abundance of caution…” 2) Binge-watching Netflix series while you pretend to participate in conference calls from your “home office”

Friends and colleagues, Crossbow Group is 21 years old this year so we’re going to put our fake ID in the drawer, buy a spirited beverage and toast you fine people.  Why?  Well, first of all, you’re kind, generous, clever, statuesque

Friends and colleagues, Sometimes the grass is greener on the other side because it’s planted on top of a septic system. Fed by “fertilizer,” the turf on the other side of the fence is longer, greener, more lush.  But so are the

My mother emerged from the downstairs playroom with two handfuls of my brother’s blonde hair and we both burst out laughing.  Let me be clear: My mom was and is a kind, patient, peaceful person.  But my three brothers and I

Friends and colleagues, Like many of you, I’ve commissioned a marble statue of myself.  It’s important that fellow marketers remember the impact I’ve had on the world of ideas.  Of course, I’m kidding; marketers are already aware of what I’ve done…

Friends and colleagues, I’ve always thought the phrase “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” is bovine scatology.  Truth is, the things that might end you often leave lingering injuries and unsightly scars.  Many traditional marketers who may feel like they’ve

Friends and colleagues, Malcom Gladwell is my spirit animal.  And not just because of his outrageous head of hair.  The armchair social scientist and author of The Tipping Point, Blink and Outliers has a refreshingly different way of looking at the

Friends and colleagues, The rock-hard crab apple hit my collarbone as if it had been shot from a cannon. In fact, the fruity munition had been launched expertly by my younger brother, Eric, who had plugged it on the thin, whittled end

Friends and colleagues, “Hey Bower,” you ask, impatiently. “What’s a micro-tip?” The answer, I say, bushy eyebrow arched below my receding hairline, is a tip that’s easier to read and use than, you know, a big tip. It fits neatly in