Brooklyn Needs A Boost

NY Daily News: A thousand would-be sloganeers answered Borough President Marty Markowitz’s call for a boastful phrase that would boost tourism – but in the end, a single slogan wasn’t enough.
“Brooklyn is too broad and diverse for one slogan,” said Markowitz spokeswoman Jocelyn Aframe.
“It became apparent that one slogan wouldn’t be able to express all that Brooklyn has to offer.”
Instead, the Brooklyn Tourism Partnership will use several slogans – which range from the classy (“Brooklyn: Bridge to the World”) to the wacky (“Brooklyn: The Tenth Planet”) and possibly risque (“Do It In Brooklyn”) – for specific advertising campaigns.
Most of the suggestions – judged by a panel that included Brooklyn Academy of Music President Karen Hopkins and Brooklyn Brewery founder Steve Hindy – came from Brooklynites, but a handful came from as far away as Florida.
Markowitz, who cruised to reelection in November, plans to publish all the entries in a handout at his Jan. 26 swearing-in at Brooklyn Technical High School.

About David Burn

Co-founder and editor of AdPulp. I wrote my first ad for a political candidate when I was 17 years old. She won her race and I felt the seductive power of advertising for the first time. I worked for seven agencies in five states before launching my own practice in 2009. Today, I am head of brand strategy and creative at Bonehook in Portland, Oregon.


  1. How ’bout: “You talkin’ to me!”
    Remeber the old Brooklyn joke? Three guys decide to travel around the world together. One is from Paris, one from London and the third from Brooklyn. They are captured by cannibals and tied to stakes. The cannibal leader, who in some renditions speaks with a Yiddish accent and acts like Mel Brooks, says, “I got good news for you, and bad news for you. The good news is that you get to choose how you wanna die. The bad news is we’re gonna eat your insides and make canoes out of your skin. So, who goes first?”
    The Parisian gallantly shouts, “Give me the knife,” and WHOOSH, slits his own throat. The Brit, not to be outdone by a French man, grabs the knife and WHOOSH, slits his throat, too.
    The Brooklynite smirks. There is a pause, during which the Brooklynite stares straight into the cannibal chief’s eyes.
    “Well,” the chief asks, “what will it be?”
    “Gimme a friggin’ fork,” the Brooklynite says in a Flatbush accent so thick that he has to repeat his request several times before the chief believes his ears, and orders a fork handed to the man. The Brooklynite snaps up the fork and stabs himself all over, poking holes in his skin, and shouts, “Try making a friggin’ boat out of this, jerk!”