Early in the last century, when questions about the health effects of smoking became a topic of widespread discussion, tobacco companies undertook a multi-faceted campaign to allay the
public's fears. As terms like "smoker's cough" and "coffin nails" (referring to cigarettes) began to appear in the popular vernacular, tobacco marketers recognized the need to counter this threat to their livelihood.
One strategy was to use endorsements by healthy and vigorous appearing singers, Hollywood stars, and elite athletes. Another was to raise fears over weight gain: "Reach for a Lucky instead of a sweet."Among the more reprehensible tactics was the utilization of the image of the noble and caring physician to sell cigarettes: Doctors were depicted both as satisfied and enthusiastic partakers of the smoking habit ("More Doctors Smoke Camels"). Images of medical men (and a few token women) appeared under soothing reassurances of the safety of smoking. Liberal use was also made of pseudo-scientific medical reports and surveys.
Our intention is to tell—principally through advertising images—the story of how, between the late 1920s and the early 1950s, tobacco companies used deceptive and often patently false claims in an effort to reassure the public of the safety of their products.
On first impression, most viewers will find these images outrageous, humorous, and so blatantly false as to trigger incredulity. But tobacco industry ad men also excelled in creative genius and had high levels of artistic skill. The best talent money could buy was recruited for this effort. Tobacco advertisers faced a daunting challenge: How do you sell a product which shortens the life of the user by an average of about 8 years? In 2003, the tobacco companies brought to this task a war chest of over $15 billion in advertising in the U.S. alone. Constrained by governmental regulation and fears of litigation, tobacco marketing strategies have evolved over time from the (now) transparent hucksterism of the 1920-1950 era. Companies invest enormous resources into crafting clever and highly sophisticated devices to get their message across (witness Joe Camel and the Marlboro Man). The take home point is that little has changed from then to now, save for the subtlety of the methods employed.
You remember the Chip Master 9000 don't you? This is the 60 ton machine needed to dig the hole for the pool. Well, during one of the unloading events (the thing comes on a massive multi-wheeled trailer, takes 30 minutes to load or unload, and blocks off the whole street while it's at it.) a little misfortune befell the shop driveway.
At some point the unloading man decided that it would just be easier to roll the beast over the shop driveway rather than jockey the trailer around. This action resulted in the destruction of said driveway, and the subsequent repair you see getting started here. Step one is, remove the damaged concrete and haul away.
Step two, replace concrete.
This needs to dry, and then the expansion joints get cut in. Next spring they will come and stain the whole drive so everything matches.
The Xbox team has 
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