IT'S TWO, TWO, TWO TOPICS IN ONE: James Lileks not only deconstructs the techniques that make up the archetypal New York Times story, he explains how "Heienkein [sic]screwed the pooch several years ago when switched ad campaigns":

It decided it didn’t want to be a premium beer for people who had premium tastes, and instead it went for the Xtreme market. The brand had been nurtured for decades as a symbol of taste and refinement, and now it’s slacker-hooch? Great move. Putting out a can in the shape of a keg to cement the frat-boy connection - another great move. The ad reps should have gone to the store and looked who bought it: Dad. He thought he was an aesthete when he was in college, drinking Heneken while everyone else pounded down the Fox Deluxe and Walter and Falstaff and other iterations of the eau de dead mouse imbibables; now he’s the golf geek with madras shorts, white legs, dark socks and sandals. The guy who still has a reel-to-reel for his Gil Evans collection, the guy who wonders why Leroy Neiman doesn’t apppear in Playboy anymore, the guy who’s noted in his social circle for his ability to use the Internet, but who’s never used the right mouse button. No, he’s not hip. But he makes $174,000 a year. By all means, alienate him in an attempt to win over that lucrative Kinkos demographic!

(Another nice touch: How many different ways did Lileks attempt to spell Hienekin, Heienkein, Heineken in his Bleat?)