Types of Brand Manifestos

This is what we believe.
Technology alone is not enough.
Faster.
Thinner.
Lighter.
Those are all good things.
But when technology gets out of the way, everything becomes more delightful.
Even magical.
That’s when you leap forward.
That’s when you end up with something like this.
SUPER: iPad 2

We are what we believe.
We founded and built an entire company on that idea. And we believe In helping RUNNERS - fast runners, slow runners, heavy runners, skinny runners, long-distance runners and sprinters. We believe In helping middle-distance runners too. And runners from Kenya, Japan, Oklahoma and every other corner of this planet. We believe In the magic of Hayward Field. We believe in long Sunday runs. We believe 20 quarters under 70 Is still a good workout. We believe in tempo runs and fartlek. We believe JOGGERS are RUNNERS. We believe in cross-country. We believe in J.V. dual meets on Tuesday afternoons. We believe in professional Track & Field. We believe running is therapy. We believe the smell of the starter's gun is an aphrodisiac. We believe lactic acid is good for you. We believe that your PERSONAL BEST isn't always a PR. We believe in knowing the route and running aimlessly. We believe this should be fun. We believe running in the dark, in the cold, in the heat, in the humidly, in the rain and in the snow is part of the deal. We believe in skipping a day. We believe in making mistakes and learning from them. We believe innovation is the oxygen of our brand. We believe in testing, re-testing, wear testing, testing on our spouses and testing on super fast guinea pigs. We believe in the genius of Bowman and the spirit of PRE. We believe THERE IS NO FINISH LINE. We believe in you.
Just do it. Run.

We believe in going our own way no matter which way the rest of the world is going.
We believe in bucking the system that is built to smash individuals like bugs on a windshield.
Some of us believe in the man upstairs. All of us believe in sticking it to the man down here.
We believe in the sky and we don’t believe in the sun roof.
We believe in freedom.
We believe in dust, tumble weeds, buffalo, mountain ranges and riding off into the sunset.
We believe in saddle bags and we believe that cowboys had it right.
We believe in refusing to knuckle under to anyone.
We believe in wearing black because it doesn’t show any dirt or weakness.
We believe the world is going soft and we’re not going along with it.
We believe in motorcycle rallies that last a week.
We believe in roadside attractions, gas station hot dogs, and finding out whats over the next hill.
We believe in rumbling engines, pistons the size of garbage cans, fuel tanks designed in 1936, freight train sized head lights, chrome, and custom paint.
We believe in flames and skulls.
We believe life is what you make it and we make it one hell of a ride.
We believe the machine you sit on can tell the world exactly where you stand.
We don’t care what everyone else believes.
Amen

SUPER: Live by it.

We have a situation on our hands. And the clock is ticking.
When a girl turns 12 and lives in poverty her future is out of her control.
In the eyes of many, she’s a woman now. No, really she is.
She faces the reality of being married by the age of 14.
Pregnant by the time she’s 15.
And if she survives childbirth she might have to sell her body to support her family. Which puts her at risk for contracting and spreading HIV.
Not the life you imagined for a 12-year-old, right?
But the good news is, there is a solution.
Let’s rewind to her at 12. Happy and healthy. She visits a doctor regularly. She stays in school. Where she’s safe. She uses her education to earn a living.
Now, she’s calling the shots. And it looks something like this:
She can avoid HIV. She can marry and have children when she’s ready. And her children are healthy like she is. Now imagine this continuing for generation after generation.
You get the picture, right? 50 million 12-year-old-girls in poverty. Equal 50 million solutions. This is the power of the Girl Effect. That starts with a 12-year old girl. And impacts the world.
The clock is ticking.

All things being equal, they are not. As first world consumers, we have tremendous power. What we collectively choose to buy, or not to buy, can change the course of life and history on this planet.
(RED) is that simple an idea, and that powerful. Now, you have a choice. There are (RED) credit cards. (RED) phones, (RED) shoes, (RED) fashion brands. And no, this does not mean they are all red in color, although some are.
If you buy a (RED) product or sign up for a (RED) service, at no cost to you, a (RED) company will give some of its profits to buy and distribute anti-retroviral medicine to our brothers and sisters dying of AIDS in Africa.
We believe that when consumers are offered this choice, and the products meet their needs, they will choose (RED), and when they choose (RED) over non-(RED), then more brands will choose to become (RED) because it will make good business sense to do so. And more lives will be saved.
(RED) is not a charity. It is simply a business model. You buy (RED) stuff, we get the money, buy the pills and distribute them. They take the pills, stay alive, and continue to take care of their families and contribute socially and economically in their communities.
If they don't get the pills, they die. We don't want them to die. We want to give them the pills. And we can. And you can. And it's easy.
All you have to do is upgrade your choice.

What’s not to love about chocolate?
Well … 2 million people working
illegally on cocoa plantations.
That’s unfair.
Kids playing freely like a boss.
Yes, fair.
Modern slavery
to make a sweet luxury.
Unfair.
Equal rights.
Equal opportunities.
Fair.
Big chocolate companies exploiting
African communities.
No way … that’s unfair.
Sharing wealth.
Looking after each other.
Fair.
Chocolate can be a powerful
force of change.
Join Tony’s Chocolonely.
Make illegal child labor and modern
day slavery a shame of the past.
SUPER: Crazy about chocolate.
SUPER: Serious about people.

Hey, piper! Shut it!
Here’s a true story about a young lad named John. Just a local farm boy, but there was something special about the lad, a glint in his eye, a fire in his belly, a spring in his step. And one day he went for a walk. Now, this walk began when his father died. The year was 1819 and he was just 14 years old. Bereavement counseling? Well, these were the days when young boys sent into the fields, the mills, the mines, tough times. But young John was smart enough to be lucky. His father’s farm, where he was born and raised, was sold and the proceeds used to open a grocer’s. Big responsibility for the wee lad. His own shop in Kilmarnock, with his name on the door: John Walker. Or Johnnie, as the world now knows him. Back then, all grocers stocked a range of local single malts, but they could be a wee bit inconsistent.
For John, that wasn’t good enough. He began blending different malts together as a way of offering his customers a consistent, unique product. Now, this back-room art quickly developed into a commercial proposition and a very profitable one. And because there’s nothing like a commercial proposition to stir Scottish heart, it grew quickly into an industry filled with ambitious entrepreneur distillers. John thrived in this environment, and so too soon would his sons, Robert and Alexander, who joined him on his journey.
The Walkers became the biggest name in a rapidly growing industry. They were unstoppable. In one bolt bit of 19th-century corporate raiding, they bought the famed distillery at Cardhu, lock, stock and… ensuring their supply of this silky single malt, and guaranteeing, more importantly, that none of the other big blenders could get their hands on it.
But young Alexander wasn’t content with being Scotland’s biggest blender. Not ambitious enough for him. No, no. He convinced the ships’ captains of Glasgow to act as agents for him, and drove the whisky bearing his father’s name across the globe. By 1860, he had developed the square bottle, now with a label at an angle of precisely 24 degrees. No big deal, you might think, but you’d be wrong. The square bottle meant less breakages and more bottles per shipment. The diagonal label meant larger type and together that meant Johnnie Walker had unmistakable presence on any shelf in the world. The bottle became an icon, and the rich liquid it contained sought after and consumed across the globe.
Quite a character, Alexander Walker. Master of the blender’s art, ambitious, uncompromising, Mr. Walker. It was John’s grandsons, George and Alexander II’s turn to join him on his journey. They led the brand into the 20th century. By 1909, they had developed the iconic Red Label and Black Label, and persuaded Tom Browne, the best young illustrator of the day, to sketch a striding man on a napkin during a business lunch. In the stroke of a pen, the Victorian grocer was transformed into an Edwardian dandy.
By 1920, Johnnie’s walk had taken him through 120 countries, and he continued walking through the brand’s advertising over the next 50 years, into the fabric of global culture, deep into the dark hearts of several wars, to the pleasure palaces of the aristocracy, immortalized by screen legends, celebrated by filmmakers, singers, songwriters, novelists, shoulder-to-shoulder with the great sportsmen of the age, winning countless international awards for quality and even being awarded the Royal Warrant by King George V. No going back after that. No that going back would even have occurred to Johnnie or any of his family.
By the end of the 20th century, the familiar Red Label and Black Label were joined by the Green Label, the Gold Label and, the grandest of them all, Johnnie Walker Blue Label. By the beginning of the 21st century, Johnnie Walker wasn’t just the world’s biggest whisky brand, but an international symbol of progress, the brand’s ‘Keep Walking’ mantra adopted by pro-democracy protestors and parliamentary speech writers.
What would the farm-born Victorian grocer have thought of all of this? He’d have loved it. A Victorian farm-born grocer he might have been, but he, and the family that followed him, were possessed by a fiery ambition, with the skill and intelligence to match. Two hundred years later and Johnnie Walker’s still walking. And he’s not showing any signs of stopping.

You’re born. You learn how to walk. You start school. You fall in love. You get dumped. You get up again. You fall in love again. You get dumped again. You move on. You steal a chocolate bar. You get caught. You feel ashamed. You get tired of feeling ashamed. You escape. You become an exchange student. You get into trouble. You're sent home. You fall in love. You get dumped again. You get depressed. You start a band. You think you'll succeed. You get tired of not succeeding. You become an artist instead. You think you'll succeed. You get tired of not succeeding. You become an apprentice to a painter. You accidently inhale the fumes from some poisonous paint. You are rushed to hospital.
You meet a nurse. You fall in love. You get married. You train as an architect. You get tired of drawing houses. You buy a house instead. You have kids. You get divorced. You get back together. You tell yourself it's the right thing to do. You know it's wrong. You fight to survive. You get tired of fighting. You separate again. You think about what you want to be when you grow up. You realize that you are grown up. You go back to university. You become a journalist. You get a job at the local paper. You write an article about the chemical imbalance in the local river. You write an article about the chanterelle season, which is curiously early this year. You write a piece about the newbom hippo at the local zoo.
You get bored. You get an offer to become a copywriter at an advertising agency. You take it. You're asked to write an ad about the excellent shop PAPERCUT. You write the ad as if it's some kind of biography. You don't think. You forget that the purpose of the ad is to let people know that PAPERCUT has stuff they didn't even know existed. You go to KRUKMAKARGATAN 24-26. You discover a shop that sells the edgy interior design magazine Anthology, the exotic cookbook La Cuisine and the fascinating documentary The Radiant Child. You add a sentence that breaks the rhythm of the ad.
Hey ho, let's go.
It's like a symbol for the fact that this shop offers you something beyond the ordinary. A symbol for the fact that life can be a bit more fun. A bit more interesting. A bit more exciting. Because to be perfectly honest, life isn't always that great. And that's exactly why you need movies, literature and magazines that are just the way your life isn't.

You’re born. You learn how to walk. You start school. You fall in love. You get dumped. You get up again. You fall in love again. You get dumped again. You move on. You steal a chocolate bar. You get caught. You feel ashamed. You get tired of feeling ashamed. You escape. You become an exchange student. You get into trouble. You're sent home. You fall in love. You get dumped again. You get depressed. You start a band. You think you'll succeed. You get tired of not succeeding. You become an artist instead. You think you'll succeed. You get tired of not succeeding. You become an apprentice to a painter. You accidently inhale the fumes from some poisonous paint. You are rushed to hospital.
You meet a nurse. You fall in love. You get married. You train as an architect. You get tired of drawing houses. You buy a house instead. You have kids. You get divorced. You get back together. You tell yourself it's the right thing to do. You know it's wrong. You fight to survive. You get tired of fighting. You separate again. You think about what you want to be when you grow up. You realize that you are grown up. You go back to university. You become a journalist. You get a job at the local paper. You write an article about the chemical imbalance in the local river. You write an article about the chanterelle season, which is curiously early this year. You write a piece about the newbom hippo at the local zoo.
You get bored. You get an offer to become a copywriter at an advertising agency. You take it. You're asked to write an ad about the excellent shop PAPERCUT. You write the ad as if it's some kind of biography. You don't think. You forget that the purpose of the ad is to let people know that PAPERCUT has stuff they didn't even know existed. You go to KRUKMAKARGATAN 24-26. You discover a shop that sells the edgy interior design magazine Anthology, the exotic cookbook La Cuisine and the fascinating documentary The Radiant Child. You add a sentence that breaks the rhythm of the ad.
Hey ho, let's go.
It's like a symbol for the fact that this shop offers you something beyond the ordinary. A symbol for the fact that life can be a bit more fun. A bit more interesting. A bit more exciting. Because to be perfectly honest, life isn't always that great. And that's exactly why you need movies, literature and magazines that are just the way your life isn't.

Avis is only No.2 in rent a cars.
So why go with us?
We try harder.
(When you're not the biggest, you have to.)
We just can't afford dirty ashtrays. Or half-empty gas tanks. Or worn wipers. Or unwashed cars. Or low tires. Or anything less than seat-adjusters that adjust. Heaters that heat. Defrosters that defrost.
Obviously, the thing we try hardest for is just to be nice. To start you out right with a new car, like a lively, super-torque Ford, and a pleasant smile. To know, say, where you get a good pastrami sandwich in Duluth.
Why?
Because we can't afford to take you for granted.
Go with us next time.
The line at our counter is shorter.

It's true.
$129 is a lot of money.
Especially for shoes.
Yes, we could make them cheaper.
But if we did that, they'd be cheap.
They wouldn't last as long as they do.
They wouldn't be made of the best materials on the planet.
They wouldn't come in ¼ sizes and fit to your feet, perfectly.
They wouldn't be as comfortable.
They wouldn't be Atoms.
So, it's safe to say.
Atoms will never be cheap.
And that's a good thing.
Because you'll always get what you pay for.

Don’t go to Paris.
Don’t tour Paris.
Don’t go to the same places and take the same pictures.
And please, don’t “do” Paris.
Live there.
Because when you live in Paris, you have your own home.
Cook. Make your bed.
Y’know, the stuff you normally do.
Don’t go to LA.
Don’t go to New York.
Don’t go to Tokyo.
Live there.
Live in Malibu.
Live in the East Village.
Live in Ibiza.
Know someone.
Pretend you do this all the time.
Have your own neighborhood.
Feel at home, anywhere.
Wherever you go, don’t go there.
Live there.
Even if it’s just for a night.
SUPER: Belong anywhere.

C’mon, a sixpack?
Who needs a sixpack when you got the nose.
Or a nose when you got the suit.
Now you don’t need a suit when you got the moves.
Or moves when you got the fire.
Or fire when you rock those heels.
And heels when you ride those wheels.
Looks?
Man, who needs looks when you got the books.
Or books when you got some balls.
And who needs all that
when you get the door.
When you got the dough.
The brains.
The touch.
The aww.
That’s right.
Who needs some other thing
when you got your thing.
Now work on it.
SUPER: Find your magic.

If people say your dreams are crazy, if they laugh at what you think you can do — good. Stay that way.
Because what non-believers fail to understand is that calling a dream crazy is not an insult. It's a compliment.
Don't try to be the fastest runner in your school, or the fastest in the world. Be the fastest ever. Don't picture yourself wearing LBJ's jersey. Picture LBJ wearing yours. Don't settle for homecoming queen or linebacker. Do both. Lose a hundred-twenty pounds then become an Ironman after beating a brain tumor.
Don't believe you have to be like anybody to be somebody.
If you're born a refugee, don't let it stop you from playing soccer for the national team at age 16. Don't become the best basketball player on the planet. Be bigger than basketball.
Believe in something even if it means sacrificing everything.
When they talk about the greatest team in the history of the sport, make sure it's your team. If you have only one hand, don't just watch football play it. At the highest level. If you're a girl from Compton, don't just become a tennis player. Become the greatest athlete ever.
So don't ask if your dreams are crazy.
Ask if they're crazy enough.
SUPER: It’s only crazy until you do it.
SUPER: Just do it.

Listen,
You’re more than your successes.
You’re more than your failures.
You’re the work.
It’s dirty work.
Work that hurts.
Work that defines you.
It’s that fire that burns inside you.
Be you.
It’s always been you.
You’re the work.
You want that smoke?
Give them that fire.
SUPER: The only way is through.

Backspin on a warped table under bad light.
A kiss off the 8-ball, a bank on the six.
Double bull on a single throw, three pints in.
Picking up a spare in the final frame.
Singing on-key, off-key, and, losing keys.
Steady hands, blurry eyes.
Bars, billiards, basements.
Bacon sandwiches with extra hot sauce.
Surviving buzz-kills, third-wheels,
cock-blocks and cabs in the rain.
Finish lines drawn by dawn.
These are the providence of the After Hours Athlete.
When last call calls, don't answer.
The night, too, is for sport.
And they are the champions.

For years, I’ve lived a double life.
In the day, I do my job. Ride the bus.
Roll up my sleeves with the hoi polloi.
But at night, I live a life of exhilaration.
I’ve missed heartbeats and adrenaline.
And if the truth be known, a life of dubious virtue.
I won’t deny it: I’ve been engaged in violence.
Even indulged in it.
I’ve assailed adversaries. And not merely in self defense.
I’ve exhibited a disregard for life, limb, and property.
Savored every moment.
You might not think it to look at me.
But I have commanded armies and conquered worlds.
And though, in achieving these things, I’ve set morality aside.
I have no regrets.
For though I’ve lived a double life,
At least I can say, I’ve lived.
SUPER: Do not underestimate the power of PlayStation.

You love me.
You love me not.
You love black culture.
But do you love me?
You love how I sound.
My voice. These beats. This flow.
Not me though, right?
You love how I look.
My hair. This skin.
But me? Nah.
We don’t get to exist.
We’re forced to survive.
We still fight.
We still play while the world burns.
On fields that ain’t even level.
All men are created equal.
That’s my favorite part.
You hate us so deeply.
But you’re still so impressed.
Why can’t you see?
There’s history in our skin.
You built this country on our backs.
I’m him. He’s me.
She, us, we—are all black.
Love me. Or not.
We love each other deeply.
We gonna be us.
We gonna break bread.
We gonna defy gravity.
You love my culture.
But do you love me?
What a world that would be.