These are the 10 Most Bizarre Crimes Ever Committed by an Association Executive

NOTE: The confessions below are transcribed from official police files.

"We spent our marketing money on digital ads."

"Yeah, we sent email, but didn't know it was all flagged as spam."

"We quit phoning members twenty years ago."

"We quit sending direct mail twenty years ago."

"Games? Don't believe in them! Our members are serious."

"Humor? Don't believe in it!"

"Fun. Don't believe in it!"

"We never thought about authenticity. What is it, anyway?"

"We didn't change with the times. It costs too much."

"We ignored everyone under 40."

TAKE A BITE OUT OF CRIME. 

Download Growing Your Event: 10 Magic Bullets for 2018. 

It's yours free, courtesy Bob & David James.

And have a Happy New Year!

Why Being a Bore Will Wreck Your Career

It is vain to do more with what can be done with less.

― William of Occam

"Don't be a bore," says 17th-century Jesuit Baltasar Gracián.

Talking overmuch is a sign of vanity.

"Brevity flatters and does better business," Gracián says. "It gains by courtesy what it loses by curtness. Good things, when short, are twice as good."

Worse, talking overmuch is a sign of ineptness.

"It is a well-known truth that talkative folk rarely have much sense," Gracián continues. Talkative folk are "stumbling stones" and "useless lumber in everyone's way."

Useful folks get right to the point. "The wise avoid being bores, especially to the great, who are fully occupied: it is worse to disturb one of them than all the rest. Well said is soon said."

Art Depreciation

The art-show blabbermouth peeves me.

He knows why every artist chose his subjects, what he intended by painting them, and where he ultimately disappoints viewers—and wants everyone in the gallery to know he knows.

Were he right—like a stopped watch—just twice a day, the blabbermouth would deserve a Pulitzer Prize for Criticism.

We should be so lucky.

One of these wearisome windbags trailed me during my visit to Vermeer and the Masters of Genre Painting this week.

At one point she complained for all to hear that the exhibit was a "huge disappointment:" it simply didn't include enough Vermeers.

She doesn't know Vermeer produced only 40 works; that the dozen on display represent a full third of his extant work; or that the show's curators have received universal praise.

"Know how to appreciate," urged the 17th-century Jesuit Baltasar Gracián:

There is none who cannot teach somebody something, and there is none so excellent but he is excelled. To know how to make use of every one is useful knowledge. Wise men appreciate all men, for they see the good in each and know how hard it is to make anything good. Fools depreciate all men, not recognizing the good and selecting the bad.

Darkest Hour

England's policy of "appeasement"―letting Hitler grab neighboring lands with impunity―provides the backstory of Darkest Hour, the new biopic about Churchill and Chamberlain.

As we watch the media under attack by right-wing Republicans, Churchill's warnings about the dangers to freedom of the press are as relevant today as they were in his time.

And so are his actions to sidestep thought control.

During the 1930s, Chamberlain favored appeasement, for an extremely practical reason: his party's rule hinged on the votes of working-class Britons, who opposed foreign entanglements and distrusted war profiteers (after all, they'd paid the price for militarism in the previous war against Germany).

In 1938, Chamberlain signed an accord with Hitler labeled the Munich Agreement, which let the Führer annex part of Czechoslovakia if he agreed to stop seizing more territory. Most Britons praised Chamberlain's coup; but of course it didn't stop Hitler, who provoked war with England a year later, when he invaded Poland. The pacifist Chamberlain proved within eight months an inept wartime leader, opening the door for Churchill's appointment by the king as his successor (the first scene of Darkest Hour).

Chamberlain's most fiery critic, Churchill had spent years protesting appeasement, using his favorite soapbox: the newspaper op-ed. When Chamberlain―in keeping with the Munich Agreement―moved to stifle all opposition to Hitler, he ruled out critical speeches in Parliament and threatened the newspapers with shutdown, citing national secrecy laws. Churchill, in response, promised to take his message to the streets.

In a November 1938 speech before the national press club, Churchill wondered aloud whether Chamberlain wouldn't rather live in a totalitarian state. "In those states they conduct foreign policy on the basis that the press say nothing but what it is told, and immediately say what it is told. It might be very convenient, no doubt, if we could suppress public opinion here, and everything was allowed to go on quietly without our knowing what was going on outside."

Churchill suggested England was in fact already experiencing a press blackout. With appeasement's critics in Parliament muzzled and the press censored, Chamberlain enjoyed carte blanch to bamboozle Britons. 

The situation left opponents like Churchill one choice: to resist the government's policy through the "public platform." And resist Churchill did. 

Between September 1938―when the Munich Agreement was signed―and September 1939―when Germany invaded Poland―Churchill spoke against appeasement relentlessly on the radio. He also repackaged 80 of his op-eds into a book―which became an immediate best-seller―and, with financial help from silent backers, erected billboards calling for his appointment to Chamberlain's cabinet. 

Churchill's cabinet appointment did come, three days after Hitler entered Poland and simultaneously with England's declaration of war with Germany.

Welcome to Perfection

There is no perfection, only beautiful versions of brokenness.

― Shannon L. Alder

B2B marketers who rent prospect names have a funny idea about accuracy.

They expect perfection.

A team of direct marketing experts sampled the offerings of five large suppliers of prospect names and verified the samples' accuracy by phoning the prospects.

They found the data offered imperfect. Suppliers' data-accuracy ranged from a low of 93% to a high of 98%, as the chart below shows:

Why anyone who routinely accepts less-than-perfection from a spouse, a quarterback, a physician or a priest expects perfection from a data supplier is beyond me.

If you do, my advice is twofold: get real; and get a list broker. Brokers know which suppliers offer decently accurate prospect data―and which don't.

And don't expect perfection.