The makers of Uh-Oh Gunpowder have approached me with a large endorsement contract offer. For half a million dollars annually, they want to put my face on every can of Uh-Oh Gunpowder.
I also would be required to do a television commercial, wherein I stand beside large barrels of the product and say, “Hi, folks. Robert Kirby here to tell you that I have never been blown to bits by Uh-Oh Gunpowder. It’s good stuff!”
This doesn’t count the newspaper and magazine ads, along with a radio pitch with the sound of a cannon firing followed by me announcing, “That’s the clear, crisp sound of Uh-Oh brand propellant. We have the gunpowder if you have the balls.”
Granted, my product endorsement deal is nowhere near what Colin Kaepernick is getting from Nike just for kneeling during the national anthem. But then I’m not as famous (or infamous) as him.
But $500,000 is a lot of money for a newspaper hack, so I think I’ll sign the deal. Because negotiations are still underway, I’ve tried to keep the offer a secret. But my wife found out and word began to spread.
Her first call was to Herriman Police Chief Troy Carr, who told her not to worry. His officers already have my address and phone number taped to the consoles of their patrol vehicles.
Her • “He’s an idiot, but I do the best I can.”
Chief Carr • “We’ve taken that into account, Mrs. Kirby. I promise we’ll only wound him.”
So, if anything falls out of the sky — like, oh, say, a frozen turkey or even a meteorite — in Herriman, my door will be kicked open a few minutes later.
I’m finding out that product endorsement deals are iffy. One small public screw-up and marketing bigwigs can yank the deal out from under you.
For example, I was in the early stages to endorse a topical marijuana pain ointment called “Head, Shoulders, Knees, A Buzz,” but then I wrote a column about selling the stuff out of my Mormon ward library, and the deal was off.
I suspect LDS Church meddling. I don’t blame the church. Reputations are important.
Speaking of reputations, I’ve never understood how simple a person has to be to buy something based largely on the recommendation of a celebrity.
If a woman is famous just for being famous, and she endorses a new scent called “Eau de Skank,” why would people run out and buy it? How much weight does her opinion carry when it comes to smelling nice?
Suppose President Donald Trump endorsed orange Jell-O as an excellent substitute hair mousse, would it drive up sales. If it did, then America is dumber than I thought.
The best product endorsements should come from people you trust — friends, family, neighbors.
For example, if Sonny happened to mention that he’d been trying a new gunpowder called Uh-Oh, and he was missing an arm and a leg, that would be all the endorsement I needed to make an informed choice.
Likewise, if Chief Carr shows up on KSL-Channel 5 to approve of a “Scream ’N’ Twitch” brand electrical-control device by saying, “They work great on pesky media people,” you should probably believe him.
We’ll know soon enough. If my deal goes through, so will his.