Retailers are glomming onto a new category of spender, the woman who hasn't had kids yet, but dotes on her nieces, nephews, godkids or any special kid in her life. They call us PANKs, Professional Aunt No Kids. I've been in this demographic for a while and at first I wasn't sure how I felt about my new name.

Surely I fit the bill. I love having my seven nieces and nephews visit me and finding presents for them. But they're heading off to college now. So, I made myself the unofficial godmother of a friend's wonderful (but godparentless) middle school daughter, hoping to extend my reign as the cool aunt.

The Charlotte Observer reports that because women are increasingly putting off having kids and while they don't have any of their own, they do have money to spend on other people's kids. A Census report on fertility shows that 20% of women aged 40 to 44 don't have any kids, up from 10% 30 years ago. More than a quarter of women aged 30-34 have no kids.

"People are just starting to realize how huge this segment is," Melanie Notkin, founder of SavvyAuntie.com, told the Observer. "We're talking about all the cool aunts, all the great-aunts, godmothers and women who have special children in their lives, but who may not be part of the Mommy Club." Ok, if you put it like that, I guess I'm a PANK.

Thousands of Harley riders are thundering out of town and I am resting up. The Harley Davidson's 105th Anniversary celebration was a huge success topped off by a 3 1/2 hour concert by Bruce Springsteen and the E-Street Band. The festivities have been nonstop for the last week, and I, like many fellow Milwaukeeans, joined in the fun.

My kids set up a lemonade stand on our corner and sold gallons of lemonade to thirsty, friendly riders of all ages. Their sign said:

• Cars $1
• Harley Riders $ .75
• Hondas $5

Several riders took pictures of themselves with the kids and the sign. We went down to the festival grounds and listened to ZZ Top, Foo Fighters and the Black Crowes. Rows and rows of motorcycles lined every street in the Third Ward and the people watching was unbelievable. We saw one man who had a braided beard down to his ankles. It started out brown and got grayer as it moved up to his face. Now you just don't see this everyday.

Magazine and catalog publishers know that everybody hates blow-in cards -- the postcards that fall out when you read. Yet they keep on putting them in. I just got a new WIRED Magazine with three blow in cards and a fashion supplement I won't read, all bound up in a polybag.

Like many consumers, I'm tempted to send the blow-in cards back blank. Many people have suggested this over the years. But how much will it really cost WIRED and dissuade them from these totally annoying, eco-unfriendly tactics? How many people would it take to do it? According to Direct Marketing Magazine, they do it because the cost of blowing in a card that I'll ignore is about half the cost of sending out a letter I'll ignore. But the response rate is abysmal: only 0.35%. That means they have to do 300 cards to get one back. The 2006 story put the cost at $30 to $40 per thousand.

If WIRED conformed to all those norms, it would be spending about 3.5 cents per card put in the magazine and roughly $10 for every card it gets back. (It's offering subscriptions at only $8 year, but that's part of the fuzzy economics of magazines today, which are supported more by ads than sales.)

I checked with the post office to see how much postage they would pay for every card returned. A high volume mailer like WIRED has to pay several thousand dollars a year in fees, then 24.7 cents per card actual postage and .006 cents for processing under its special Business Reply Mail permit. So, basically it's a quarter for every postcard. Let's assume WIRED wouldn't consider the blow-in cards attractive if the cost doubled -- making it the same price as mailing a letter. What would it take for the process to cost $30 more per thousand? At 25 cents a pop, it means that 120 of 1,000 postcards would have to make it to the mailbox. That's what I think it would take to get the blow-in cards to stop: better than one in 10 people sending the cards back blank.

Are you up for joining me?

Jan Dietrick, general manager of Rincon-Vitova Insectaries Inc. recently received a call from Fox TV. They were looking for 5,000 maggots immediately for a new reality TV show, "Truth or Consequences." They had to be clean maggots, according to Ms. Dietrick. "I was informed that the contestants had to eat them." She responded to the request and got to work. "We'll wash them, put them in deli containers, and have them ready for you in the morning," she informed the network.

The bug industry is growing these days -- and reality TV is just the beginning. The boom in organic gardening has turned bugs into big business. According to the Wall Street Journal, The Association of Natural Biocontrol Producers, a trade group that represents the 30 biggest insectaries in the land, estimates that about $200 million in commercial bugs are sold each year with the demand growing about 10% annually. And that does not include the order for millions of ladybugs that were poured over the actress Thandie Newton in the film "Beloved."

This feels like a new trend to me, although perhaps it's been going on for a little while. The other day, I received an email from Kirkus Reviews, a well-respected book review magazine that has for its audience, librarians, publishing professionals and perhaps the occasional author very eager to see if their book has been reviewed. I got on their mailing list some time ago, and they just sent me an email pitch asking me to subscribe to their magazine.

And how did they try to get me to subscribe? By pointing out the obvious. Um...

Don't subscribe.

Well, I'm exaggerating slightly. They want me to subscribe all right, but they told me and anyone else on their email list that "Kirkus Reviews is pleased to offer an environmentally friendly alternative to our standard print magazine."

The alternative? Subscribe to the online version of the magazine for $37.50 a month (sure, it's pricey for an every day average person, but I'll assume that it's a bargain for libraries and other publishing professionals).

As their email said, "So do your part to reduce your impact on the environment, and get your KirkusReviews.com Month-to-Month plan going today!"

Anyway, I found it interesting that magazines -- at least this one -- may be starting to promote not getting one of their core products, their print publication, and to instead get the digital version, as a benefit to the environment. Still, as innovative as the ploy may be, I don't think a lot of companies are going to jump on this bandwagon.

"Save the planet -- don't buy our product!" Hmmm. It may be a little too much truth in advertising.

Geoff Williams is a business journalist and the author of C.C. Pyle's Amazing Foot Race: The True Story of the 1928 Coast-to-Coast Run Across America (Rodale).

Cameron Hughes is an inspiration to underemployed young men everywhere. He's one of those guys who just did what he loved and the money followed. Cameron Hughes found a way to get paid to be the obnoxious, high-spirited guy at the ballpark.

Portfolio Magazine just profiled Hughes, who has somehow parlayed his merry sports antics into cash--and lots of it. Teams like the L.A. Dodgers and Toronto Blue Jays pay him about $2,000 a game to go in and whoop the crowd up. Hughes started as a fan and was a mascot in college. He was spotted at a game, got an agent, then word spread in the sports world.

For the teams, this all smacks of desperation--both in having to hire a fan and in outsourcing the job to a guy from Los Angeles. It's like having a professional mourner at a funeral or paying an escort to go with you to your high school reunion. I don't think we'll ever hear of the Chicago Cubs having to hire a super fan like Hughes to sit in the bleachers.

Couldn't the teams find any local yahoo talent? Did the Yankees have to pay Ari Ramirez, the original cow bell man? Are they paying Frying Pan Man now? (I doubt it or he wouldn't be trying to sell a $25 books of Yankees poetry, stories and pictures.) Are the Mets forking over anything to their current Cow-Bell Man, Eddie Boison? I also have to wonder if giving out $2,000 worth of beer would create as much cheer. Maybe some entrepreneurial kids should start getting themselves noticed at sleepy ballparks this summer and see if they end up with a job.

So I was getting my mail yesterday, and I got one of those offers guaranteeing me two prizes, if all I'd do is saunter into a car dealership in my area and show them my "Notice of Intent to Award Prize."

Now I know that I'm not about to really win a prize, or not in the way that I hope. I know this isn't a good deal. I know it instinctively, without even giving this piece of paper a second glance, just like we all do. But just for laughs, I thought I'd give this a real look. After all, while I'm sure almost everyone reading this wouldn't fall for this sort of thing, some people must, and probably either young and not yet jaded adults, or folks who are feeling a little desperate and thinking, "Maybe my ship has finally come in..."

If these forms didn't occasionally draw someone in, they wouldn't send them.

My prizes, if I would want to go into see my friendly neighborhood Chevrolet dealer, would be two of:

• a 3 day/2 night resort getaway (retail value: $500)
• a $2,500 instant scratch ticket
• a home theater system (retail value: $500)
• a $1,000 instant scratch ticket
• $10,000 cash
  

Ooooh. Now that does sound nice, doesn't it? And since they put in capital letters GUARANTEED WINNER OF AT LEAST TWO (2) PRIZES and even said, "this is NOT a joke, prank or gimmick," I really did feel like this worth studying. I mean, honestly, even if there's a catch, they must be serious on some level.

So I looked at the fine print.

Ads are everywhere and if you haven't noticed, they usual exist in a happy sunshiny world, while most of us don't. Whether they make you laugh, smile or feel attracted to someone you just found out existed, they generally make you feel good. But is this always a good idea?

Cynthia Cryder of Carnegie Mellon University has found that being sad can increase a person's willingness to pay for an item. ScienCentral explains that people who felt sad or bad about themselves are willing to pay an average of almost 300% more than a control group when they were offered a water bottle. Cryder theorizes that people who feel bad about themselves value themselves (and things associated with themselves) lower and other things higher. This causes them to pay more for a water bottle that they don't already own.

What does this mean? Do people find 'sporty water bottles' comforting? Probably not, but you might want to rethink that shopping spree you were going to use to cheer yourself up. If people really take this study to heart we could see a bizarre world where advertisers replace images of attractive, smiling people with more depressing images in an attempt to squeeze every last dollar out of the consumer. First they make you feel bad about yourself, then they try to sell you something. Is this how self-help authors make such a killing?

You saw the news. Now you can wear it.

A friend of mine forwarded me a link yesterday, and at first, I was sure I was looking at one of those fake news sites, or maybe some scam. It didn't seem possible. But there it was, right on a CNN web address. They're selling T-shirts with headlines on them, and while that doesn't necessarily sound like a bad idea, the headline I was looking at read: Crying 4-year-old found along highway.

Then below that, in small print, are the words: I just saw it on CNN. 08:56 a.m. 4.30.08

Now there's a feel-good T-shirt if I ever saw one. I'm being sarcastic, but the marketing department at CNN, I suspect, would say that it has a positive message: The crying 4-year-old boy is doing just fine. He was found in Cleveland, Ohio, roaming near a very busy freeway, looking for his lost dog when the police and local news crew found him. It's a nice enough story with a happy ending. And should you be interested, you can buy the T-shirt for $15.

I've been thinking for hours about cows. Well, not for hours, but for several minutes at a time, over the course of several hours. I mean, I have a life. Sort of.

In a recent short story in MediaPost, they mentioned that Chick-Fil-A is planning its fourth annual Cow Appreciation Day, which doesn't get moo-ving (sorry) until July 11. Anyone who shows up in a cow costume gets a free meal, and as it turns out, generally several thousand people usually are game.

And I thought it was interesting, and I wanted to tell people about it, in case they wanted to get ready. After all, it's not like you can run into any Walgreens or Wal-Mart and grab a cow costume. You kind of have to plan ahead, I imagine.

The first thing that struck me--halfway through AOL Money & Finance's Corporate Logo Quiz--was the realization that, wow, I really know corporate logos.

For someone who doesn't pay attention to the subtle evolutions of the GE, Disney or BMW branding, it turns out that I actually know them like the back of my hand. And, for some reason, that makes me very afraid.

But before you launch into the quiz, take a deep breath and try to relax, because it's not as easy as you think. Like, for instance, do the sun rays in the Dole logo stretch outside the "o" or stay inside? Is the familiar Pepsi globe red-on-blue or blue-on-red? Does the circular Starbucks logo actually have stars in it? How many circles are in the Target "target"? Does the Playboy bunny have a outlined or solid-white tie?

See? You're hooked.

B. Brandon Barker also writes for Political Machine.

Red Bull and clubbing have always had a lot in common, including the tendency to cause loud thumping, uneven heartbeat, disorientation, and nausea. It's hardly surprising that the Jägerbomb (Red Bull and Jägermeister) and the ubiquitous Red Bull and vodka are among the more popular club drinks: the combination of a monster stimulant and a handy depressant is sure to liven up any evening.

Red Bull is now looking at the next logical step. By the end of 2008, you might be able to have the total Red Bull experience: listening to Red Bull music as you guzzle Red Bull cocktails and (presumably) wear Red Bull-licensed merchandise. It will be like Red Bull heaven.

Red Bull has been involved in music for years, sponsoring the Red Bull Music Academy, a sort of club music conference, in which promising young musicians and DJs meet for discussions, tutorials, and concerts. In the eleven years since it started, the Academy has become a major event in the musical community. Similarly, the Red Bull Music Labs offer workshops for youngsters who want to learn how to "make and mix music."

Every two years, a study is released that rates the popularity of dead celebrities.

It's a survey put out by Marketing Evaluations, Inc./the Q Scores Company, and it's designed to help marketers conclude what a celebrity endorsement is worth. And since celebrities, long after they're gone, are sometimes used in advertising, it can be a useful tool. For the rest of us, picking up the scraps of information that Marketing Evaluations throws out since it won't make its entire lists public, it's just plain interesting.

MediaPost had an interesting story today about the rankings, stating that -- not surprisingly -- Elvis Presley is the most familiar dead celebrity to the public (98% of the public recognizes him). Close behind is Lucille Ball (95%)

But while Elvis is the best known, that doesn't mean he's the most beloved. His Q score, rating his popularity, is 36%, while Lucy's Q score is 52%. In fact, the celebrities that people miss the most are Lucille Ball, Walt Disney, Bob Hope, John Wayne and Red Skelton.

Yeah, Red Skelton. Why him?

This just in: you need a certain amount of money to retire comfortably. Experts caution this number varies widely person to person, and can be of unsettlingly-large magnitude.

Let's all thank the marketing geniuses at ING for these deep insights, courtesy of a new, eight-figure marketing push that attaches a bright orange dollar figure -- literally -- to nattily-attired Boomers populating the firm's new TV ads.

That flushing sound you hear is millions more marketing dollars going down the toilet, as yet another financial services supermarket gets ready, fires, then aims at the $10 trillion in assets controlled by Boomers moving toward retirement.

I'm starting to admire the marketing team at White Castle. First, they turn Valentine's Day to their advantage by offering candlelit dinners to couples, and now, according to a story in MediaPost, they're taking Daylight Savings time, this innocuous if disruptive moment in our lives, and they're creating an advertising opportunity.

On Sunday morning, during the young hour of 1 a.m.-2 a.m., right before the time change, all White Castles will offer two free hamburgers to each customer who drops by.

It's a no-brainer. They know the relatively few who will take them up on the offer are likely to order a soft drink or a few other items off the menu, off-setting the cost, and by doing this, they'll get hungry-for-copy writers like myself mentioning them in the media.