"Victor Pelevin. Babylon (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

'taste of victory', then Coca-Cola possesses the 'taste of freedom', as
declared in the seventies and eighties by a vast number of Eastern European
defectors. For the Russian consumer, therefore, the term 'Uncola' has
extensive anti-democratic and anti-liberal connotations, which makes it
highly attractive and promising in conditions of military dictatorship.
Translated into Russian 'Uncola'would become 'Nye-Cola'. The sound of
the word (similar to the old Russian name 'Nikola') and the associations
aroused by it offer a perfect fit with the aesthetic required by the likely
future scenario. A possible version of the slogan:
SPRITE. THE NYE-COLA FOR NIKOLA
(It might make sense to consider infiltrating into the consciousness of
the consumer the character 'Nikola Spritov', an individual of the same type
as RonaldMcDonald, but profoundly national in spirit.)
In addition, some thought has to be given to changing the packaging
format of the product as sold on the Russian market. Elements of the
pseudo-Slavonic style need to be introduced here as well. The ideal symbol
would seem to be the birch tree. It would be appropriate to change the
colour of the can from green to white with black stripes like the trunk of a
birch. A possible text for an advertising clip:
Deep in the spring-time forest I drank my birch-bright Sprite.
After reading the print-out Tatarsky brought him, Pugin said: '"The
Uncola" is Seven-Up's slogan, not Sprite's.'
After that he said nothing for a while, simply gazing at Tatarsky with
his black-button eyes. Tatarsky didn't speak either.
'But that's OK,' Pugin said, eventually softening. 'We can use it. If
not for Sprite, then for Seven-Up. So you can consider you've passed the
test. Now try some other brand.'
'Which one?' Tatarsky asked in relief.
Pugin thought for a moment, then rummaged in his pockets and held out
an opened pack of Parliament cigarettes. 'And think up a poster for them as
well,' he said.
Dealing with Parliament turned out to be more complicated. For a start
Tatarsky wrote the usual intro: 'It is quite clear that the first thing that
has to be taken into consideration in the development of any half-serious
advertising concept is . . .' But after that he just sat there for a long
time without moving.
Exactly what was the first thing that had to be taken into
consideration was entirely unclear. The only association the word
'Parliament' was able, with a struggle, to extract from his brain, was
Cromwell's wars in England. The same thing would obviously apply to the
average Russian consumer who had read Dumas as a child. After half an hour
of the most intensive intellectual exertion had led to nothing, Tatarsky
suddenly fancied a smoke. He searched the entire flat looking for something
smokeable and eventually found an old pack of Soviet-time Yava. After just
two drags he chucked the cigarette down the toilet and dashed over to the
table. He'd come up with a text that at first glance looked to him as if it
was the answer:
PARLIAMENT- THE NYE-YAVA
When he realised this was only a poor low-grade caique on the word
'uncola', he very nearly gave up. Then he had a sudden inspiration. The