That takes care of misconception one; misconception two is that advertisers want as many people as possible to watch their spots. Advertisers, as a rule, aren't motivated by vanity. (Advertising agencies, now that's another story.) Companies don't put out ads in the hope that as many people as possible will enjoy their product. They put out ads in the hope that as many people as possible who would not otherwise have bought their products will buy them.

Note that who would not otherwise have. The catch here is that advertisers will work harder -- and hence will pay more -- to reach affluent younger viewers, whose TV watching hasn't increased as much as older people's demonstrably has. In other words, it's not that businesses don't want money tainted with the stench of the grave. It's that they don't believe they have to chase after it. While some ad professionals have attacked this reasoning as outdated, the prevailing feeling among advertisers is that they can capture 50-and-ups through news, cheaper entertainment programs and the like.

It's a familiar situation to older parents: You do and do and do for the networks, but do they appreciate it? As American Demographics pointed out, last TV season saw a decline in 18- to 34-year-old viewership on every network but WB (which, if it wants me to put that cockamamie "The" before its name, can send its lawyers after me). The magazine extrapolated from this that the '99-00 season "may be the first in a long time in which the networks return to one of the basic tenets of their business: broadcasting," as opposed to narrowcasting toward a young slice. Makes sense, right? If those punks are too busy watching Eric Cartman, starting up e-businesses or attending gun shows to catch the fine fare we slaved over a hot banquette at Spago to cook up for them, then screw 'em! Except that, as the fall lineups showed, the kids' absence has only made them harder to get, and thus more valuable.

A bit of advice, then, for older Americans (though considering that Salon, ahem, boasts that 90 percent of its readers are between 18 and 49, I realize I'm addressing a mostly empty chamber here). If you want your interests better represented outside CBS, you need to start watching network TV more like 12- to 34-year-olds: decreasingly and elusively. Oh, I know, you personally don't watch that much television -- hey, I never look at the damn thing! -- but because, um, so many of your peers are skewing the figures, consider joining a bowling league or taking up pottery making. In your restricted, valuable hours, watch fewer shows. Those you do watch, watch slavishly. (You'll have to be cruel in winnowing: If those young go-getters on "JAG" bore you for a second, fire their asses!) And for God's sake, stop watching the news; you'll concentrate your attention's value, and we'll all be glad to be rid of the laxative commercials.

It wouldn't hurt to be fickle with your money, as well: The other part of TV's youth bias is advertisers' belief that codgers are set in their ways. (This view seems especially old-fashioned in today's market, as Christine Larson argued in the May 10 Adweek -- if anyone's going to be drinking Surge in 30 years, send me straight to Carousel now.) So switch from Colgate to Pepsodent, Delta to Northwest, Chrysler to Toyota and back! Roll those big fat IRAs of yours over a few times, and see who comes crawling!

In other words, you can cry about anti-wrinkle bias, or you can wage guerrilla war. Eat the same breakfast flakes two mornings in a row, and you'll get all the Kevin Williamson dramedies you deserve; but wise up and make advertisers paranoid, and Jane Seymour will never want for employment again. And a generation to follow -- namely, mine -- will thank you for your pioneering. We bask in attention today; but already NBC in its advertising-mag ads is darkly hinting that "Gen Y [12- to 17-year-olds] is 60 million plus and growing, larger and more receptive than Gen X." I only wish I could join your struggle. I hear, though, that UPN's rolling out an hour-long dramedy about a white, 30ish media critic hangin' in Brooklyn with his posse of quirky, free-spending friends, and, you know, something just tells me I Must See it.
salon.com | May 27, 1999

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