The atmosphere in the bar was laid-back, loose, each patron engaged in their own little world. “What’s Going On” played on the jukebox. Then, David Ogilvy and Bill Bernbach started arguing again. Suddenly, the room held its breath.
“Bill, your campaigns are as empty as this bottle of cheap whiskey,” Ogilvy landed the first punch, words first, then fist. The crisp sound of his knuckles on Bernbach’s jaw was like the crack of a gunshot in the quiet.
Bernbach wiped the blood from his mouth, grinning like a madman about to start a fire. “David, your creativity is as bland as day-old coffee,” he retorted. Grabbing a beer bottle, he shattered it against the bar and swung. Ogilvy’s deft sidestep was the only thing between him and a face full of glass.
Ogilvy retaliated with a body blow, fierce and unforgiving. “At least my ads make more of an impact than a feather on concrete,” he taunted, whispering in Bernbach’s ear.
Shaking off the punch, Bernbach threw an uppercut that rattled Ogilvy’s teeth. “If your ideas were a spice, David, they’d be flour.”
Ogilvy, nursing his aching jaw, shot back, “Bill, your tactics are as shallow as a kiddie pool…” He launched himself over Bernbach’s head, catching a chandelier and swinging back, “all splash and no depth!” His dress shoes connected with Bernbach’s back in a crunching blow.
Bernbach quickly recovered with forward roll and spun around to face his enemy, his sneer venomous. “David, your marketing ethos is as misguided as a map with no roads.” And in a move straight out of a WWE wrestler’s playbook, he leapt forward, cartwheeled, and transitioned into a laid out front dropkick into Ogilvy’s midsection.
The resulting impact sent both men sprawling onto the worn barroom floor. The crowd was silent as a cemetery, eyes wide. Ogilvy pushed himself up, a bloody grin splitting his face. “Bill, your fighting style is like your ads — unpredictable. I have to admit, man, it leaves a mark.”
Bernbach, wincing from his fresh bruises, chuckled. “David, you fight like you do your market research. It’s incredibly boring, but you can’t deny its effectiveness.”
“Truce?” Ogilvy asked, extending a hand towards Bernbach. Bernbach looked at the hand, then up at Ogilvy, before grinning and shaking it firmly.
Slowly, they helped each other up, using the bar as support. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, and in response, Ogilvy and Bernbach raised their hands, taking a bow. Chuckling, they turned to each other and, in an unexpected turn of events, shared a brief hug, laughing off the pain and the tension.
This has been another episode of “Cuttin’ Up With AI.” In this episode, Midjourney made the image, ChatGPT wrote the story, and Grammarly suggested some edits.
Midjourney Prompt: /imagine prompt a vintage newspaper photo of Bill Bernbach and David Ogilvy fighting in a night club –aspect 16:9
ChatGPT Prompt: I want you to role play. If David Ogilvy and Bill Bernbach were having a fight in a bar, how would they trash talk each other? Make it brutal. Black eyes and bloody noses are expected. One of them breaks a beer bottle on the bar and uses it as a weapon. Write it in the voice of a Quentin Tarantino film.