The Chris Moeller Archives

"Lies My Blogger Told Me"-- a formal sampling

"Lies My Blogger Told Me" has only been on the market for a couple weeks, but I'd like to claim a couple cross-offs for it already. For example, in a blog post vilifying the NFL's Rams for leaving the city of St. Louis for Los Angeles (actually Inglewood, CA) back in 2016, I disparaged at the time the name of then-Rams quarterback Nick Foles. (This citation can be found on page 248.) Now in 2018, he's Philadelphia Eagles' Super Bowl MVP Nick Foles, but even my fresh introduction for the piece went to press before the Eagles' Foles-led playoff push. Oh well. Luckily, the subjects of all the celebrity obituaries found in the book are still dead. 

This is the 1,883rd blog post on this site, and roughly 130 of them appear in the book, most of them with fresh introductions. I'd like to reprint one of the winners today with your permission-- just so that one of them can be found up front again on the site-- and to let you all know that I'm available-- for a nominal fee-- to come read it aloud to your book club, historic preservation group, or secret society.

It's called "Fogle Fresh," and it's about Subway spokesman Jared Fogle. I choose it here not because it's aged so well, but because it has aged so poorly. I wrote and posted it three and a half years before the FBI raided Fogle's Indiana home and charged him with paying for sex with minors and distributing child pornography. That's why it reads so innocuously. At one point, I state that "most Americans would trade places with (him) in a Madison Avenue minute"-- which I still believe was true in 2012. At two points, I say that he's a decent man. I hit the nail too much on the head though when I suggested he probably chased "tail" at Subway corporate events, and that's another one of the cross-offs I'd like to have as it sure seems crass now. I want it on the record, however, that with no sources inside the FBI or the Indiana State Police in 2012, I was already-- rightfully-- in fear for Fogle's eternal soul-- and I found multiple ways to misspell his last name. Is it Fogle, Fogel, Fogler? I kept these spelling errors as they originally appeared. I also-- eerily-- found a way to link Jared to Bill Cosby before either man had been accused of horrendous sexual crimes-- or at least before the news media or law enforcement paid full heed to the allegations that had been made. Hell, I just knew they both liked sandwiches.


Reprinted with permission by me, from Saturday, February 4th, 2012...

Fogle fresh

Sometimes on "The Cosby Show," Cliff and Claire Huxtable would argue (playfully) about Cliff's diet. When his wife was too busy with her work of balancing a lovely home and family with a full-time legal career, Cliff would sneak into the kitchen and build himself a giant hoagie sandwich. "Hoagie" is a Philadelphia-in-origin colloquialism for the submarine-style sandwich, and Cliff, I think, was from Philadelphia. For sure, the famous comedian who portrayed him was from Philly. 

Point being, this was the 1980's and sub sandwiches, as evidenced by the actions of the characters on America's most popular show, were not considered good for your health. (The joke was that Cliff, a physician who should know better, couldn't keep himself away from these tasty foodstuffs and thus, aggravating his high blood pressure.) A funny thing started happening in the 1990s however. A large corporation called Subway came along, and began competing head-on with the existing fast food chain restaurants, the largest of which were primarily offering fried, preprocessed beef patties. My recollection of the conventional wisdom during that time period before Subway supplanted McDonald's as America's "leading" fast-food provider is that the Subway-brand sandwiches weren't necessarily healthier, but they were, we were told, at least "fresher." 

What was the single biggest event that caused the Subway brand to go into orbit while America was becoming increasingly diet- and nutrition-educated? A golden narrative fell into the company's proverbial lap in 1999, as if from the sky. Jared Fogel, a dweebish, almost-completely uncharismatic 22-year-old Indianapolis man reported that he had lost more than 200 pounds on an all-Subway sandwich diet. A Chicago franchisee picked up on the story after Men's Health Magazine confirmed it, and already by New Years Day 2000, Jared was the star of a national television advertising campaign. That first day, home audiences tuned in to college bowl games got a glimpse of an objectively average-looking man that no longer fit snugly into his 62-inch "fat pants." 

The diet elements of this story have never interested me that much, and I don't pretend to be an expert. From the beginning, we were told that Jared (can I call him "Jared"?) had also sharply reduced his portion sizes since his experience at other chains. He cut way back on the condiments and began vigorously walking. Also, consider that Subway's structured competition in this corporate pissing match has always been the Whopper, the Big Mac, the Double Quarter-Pounder, and more recently, something called the Double Down, a sandwich that doesn't even bother with the pretense of a bun. Subway has never considered its competition in this contest to be your neighborhood organic gardener or grocer. That food is too "slow" to be considered a hassle. 

What interests me more about it all is the now decade-long corporate branding of a man named Jared Fogler. It's more polite to call Jared a "spokesman" for Subway, as opposed to a "brand," but both labels are apt. He's a unique individual in American advertising. He's not playing a character. He's also not trading on the celebrity of a previous life lived in front of the public. Kirstie Alley could do a thousand commercials for Jenny Craig and never be the 'Jenny Craig lady" the way that Jared is positioned to forever be "the Subway guy." 

Most Americans would trade places with Jared Fogler in a Madison Avenue minute. He did even one better than a massive weight loss that in and of itself could improve his quality of life for years to come-- he also spun that loss into a lucrative job, into fame and fortune. He's been Subway's public representative at the Olympics. He runs in marathons where he finishes in 36,968th place but everybody hears about it. More than 12 years after his public ascendancy, you could place a safe bet that he would be a visible presence at tomorrow's Super Bowl even if it wasn't being hosted by his hometown. After all, Super Bowl Sunday, America's annual Corporation Day, was invented for brands like Jared. 

But what has Jared sacrificed? Take a look at this one-minute interview on YouTube from a couple years ago. Remember that Jared is never playing a character. This is his public identity, his reputation among his fellow humans. A very innocuous interview that, superficially, has nothing to do with sandwiches devolves into the image of the man having to spark up and prostitute himself once more for his "sugar daddy" (or should it be his "sodium daddy"?). I find this clip very depressing to watch. We're looking at a broken man. 

Nobody begrudged Jared's grab at the treasure chest a decade ago. He was a trumpeter swan unveiling his pure white plumage. I would have surely gone for that deal myself. Take the money and run. You all probably think of me as just a Trotskyite blogger, but I enjoy the creature comforts of life. Where is Jared in his life now though? I'm sure it's fun to banter with Terry, Howie, and the boys on FOX NFL Sunday, and a little of that high-end tail that's magnetically-pulled to large corporate events is probably still there for the taking. Am I right, Jared? But is it really a positive for this guy's emotional health at this point to still be hugging hoagies on television? 

The competitive world of fast-food marketing never slows down either. They just keep raising the bar. It's not enough anymore for Jared to just be the decent man he projects to be. Now you see him bouncing around on these commercials-- acting the clown, as my buddy Rob described it. I swear that late one night last week, I saw Jared wearing a diaper on my flat screen, but that might have just been a mirage brought on by the Irish Cream I was sipping. 

At the corporate level, of course, he's still just a brand. Perhaps more so now. His bosses consider him that. Their competitors consider him that. The business analysts consider him that. They write in the trades about how Jared (the man) is being replaced gradually on television by "the offer"-- that well-publicized $5 footlong deal. As the U.S. and global economy drives nearer to collapse under the weight of the top, the advertising focus at Subway is now on promoting the inexpensiveness of the product, not nutrition-- just another piece of evidence that Subway is, at the end of the day, selling the same basic product that McDonald's is under each of those individual plastic sandwich wrappers. (And by the way, you can keep the plastic bag, gang. I'm just going to be walking eight feet away to eat this thing. The two-by-two foot heavy paper wrapper you've wound this in should hold up fine.)

How low will Jared go? Is he willing to stay around for the fight against the next fast food upstart chain, the one that challenges the current king? Subway's been good to Jared, but Jared has been a damned good thing for Subway too. Does he work for the man, or is this a mutually-beneficial partnership? Does Jared see himself as the one in driver's seat. I really fear he doesn't because Americans are programmed to think this way. Now that he has much greater financial resource at his disposal, what could his life become now? A decent, generally-grounded, curly-haired, white man in America, combined with a lucky break, should be able to write his own ticket. He just needs to be told-- or hopefully, simply reminded--exactly who it was that was actually responsible for taking off that weight.

posted by CM @ 12:42 PM