Imagine if you released an old DM warthog like me into an office filled with digital copywriters?

After you've crawled out from under the barstool, snapped on your suspenders, downed 3 cups of gas station coffee, and put a fresh wad of Copenhagen in your cheek ...

... tell me if you've had a similar experience.

Copywriters come in two flavors.

Those who can write content.

And those who would rather boil in a vat of hot oil.

The content mavens, they have the skills of a journalist and won't bat an eye when you ask them to fill ten pages by EOD about a Norwegian Elkhound.

However, ask these voracious scriveners to craft a compelling headline or offer, and suddenly they have to grab their binoculars and add a rare bird to their field journal.

On the other hand ...

Advertising copywriters, they swim happily in the Sea of Sales and Customer Acquisition.

They are poets, chiseling away word by word to make a headline perfect, a teaser just so.

Ask them to write pages and pages of content?

The comet Kohoutic will arrive sooner.

Within the advertising copywriter genre, the Librarians have given us a sub-subset -- those who specialize in DIRECT RESPONSE copywriting.

(I include myself in this heap.)

Our currency is to know how to position the offer ... craft compelling headlines ... dream up grabby teasers ... concoct bullets brimming with benefits ... pen reassuring guarantees ... all of which conspire to get the audience to take action.

We spike the football and do a little dance when our copy sends response through the roof.

For three decades the soil I've tilled has been snail junk mail; i.e., the stuff you get in the mail and throw away.

But -- thought experiment (you'd better sit down) -- what would happen if you released an old DM warthog like me into the office of an in-house, digital, creative team?

Would there be mayhem? Conspiratorial whispers?

Or would the adrenaline (and creative juices) start to flow?