Sunday, October 7, 2007

2Truthy Proudly Introduces Guest Blogger Mel Toast

Mel Toast’s Bio

Mel Toast has been a pain in the ass at Draftfcb for what now seems like an eternity to the brass. He’s been given more than his share of warnings as he continues to produce an unending train wreck of linguistic and creative gaffes for such clients as: S.C. Johnson (Drano; Edge; Shout; OFF; Oust and Windex), John Deere, Coors, Taco Bell and Brookfield Zoo.

Before being allowed in the front door, Mel was required to submit urine and stool samples, both of which he inexplicably carried with him in a torn gym bag to his interview. (Test results were inconclusive but experts concur Mel is either missing a chromosome, or shares DNA identical to that of a ring-tailed waddlesnout.)

Mel worked at an outfit called Feldman’s, and it is truly a wonder that they let him write any copy at all. What little he did for Applebee’s merchandising arm amounted to the pathetic yet ultimately accurate tagline Mi Carne de Gato, Su Carne de Gato and the thirty-second commercial featuring a homeless man vomiting outside the drive-up window, which Mel Toast breathlessly described to an Ad Age reporter as “an edgy, angst-filled journey into the decaying American urban landscape, where fast food and societal breakdown merge at the psychotic intersection of French fry and fuck me.”

He’s a loser.

Before this groundbreaking endeavor, Mel Toast was an account executive for a line of Midwest adult bookstores called Lion’s Breath. Mel was not a great AE. The worst, in fact, the industry had ever seen. Against both his superior’s and his client’s wishes, he willfully insisted upon using straight ammonia to mop out the peep show stalls instead of Pine-Sol, the one with the refreshing, revitalizing scent of the great outdoors.

Mel’s open disdain for authority, and his habit of jamming the token returns with chewing gum, cost Melvin a lucrative career in the adult service industry and he was forced to find work elsewhere.

After many months of soul-searching, and brought low by a bout with alcoholism and a tortured and embittered sex life with a woman from Kentucky, he had considered the priesthood, but Mel was finally forced let go of that idea only after his mother insisted that he was, in fact, Jewish.

Hard up for cash, he robbed the ticket taker at Second City, a woman with whom he later established a lasting romantic relationship. She had always maintained that she was quite taken by the way he took the time to tuck his shirt meticulously into his trousers after emptying the cash register drawer of forty dollars and change.

After years of mopping the floors for Shirley’s dad, the owner of Second City, Mel produced a revue call “Hooked on Hookers” which confounded the critics and opened to rave reviews from the city’s homeless community. The rest, is history, man.

How does he do it?


Please give Mel a warm round of applause and for all of you who have been waiting for that other guest blogger, QUINCY to come back, don't worry. Ever since QUINCY covered the San Francisco Gay Parade a few weeks ago, he has been spending an inordinate amount of time hanging around the Castro when he's not fly-fishing in Idaho waiting for an exclusive interview with Larry Craig.



Citizen Carrie said...

Hip! Hip! Hooray! for Mel Toast!

Ben Wankerstein said...

Say Mel,

Where'd ya get that cheap suit? I've seen beekeepers and drug pushers 'model' smoother threads!
Thank God for that cigarette to spur some fucking sense of credibilly.