You might have missed the headlines, but last week a Dallas federal jury heard opening arguments in a case that could determine the rights of publishers and the fate of free speech as we know it: Pizza Hut brought suit against Papa John's, insisting that its competitor's slogan, "Better Ingredients, Better Pizza," constitutes false advertising. Though some might argue this lawsuit should be laughed out of court, it could set a dangerous precedent. But before Popeye's hauls KFC into court, demanding proof that Colonel Sanders' chicken really is "Finger Lickin' Good," perhaps Papa John's lawyers should consider a defense offered by one of America's leading intellectuals: Jesse Ventura.
Last month on "Meet the Press," Ventura offered an astute, media-savvy defense of his infamous Playboy interview, in which he called organized religion "a sham" and "a crutch for weak-minded people." The Minnesota governor explained that when "you do an interview for Playboy, Playboy wants a provocative interview. They want something that's going to sell issues. It doesn't mean I carry this Playboy interview in with me and do policy with it. That's ridiculous."
In other words, the Body was asking, why would anybody expect to find carefully considered, insightful deliberations in an issue of Playboy? Anyone interested in Ventura's opinions as an elected official, not as a celebrity, would probably look to a respected news service before picking up a magazine featuring glossy, nude centerfolds.
After all, Playboy isn't an adult magazine by accident: Its content is provocative and shocking because its audience has come to expect such material. Working Woman magazine caters to a similarly distinct audience with particular interests. In coping with a constant bombardment of competing entertainment and news media, audiences learn to judge books by their covers and turn to different sources for different kinds of information (a listener tunes to one station for rap, another for classical music). In this way, audiences know what kind of report they will receive before their chosen reporter even delivers a word.
To make matters more complicated, an understanding of any message requires an understanding of the messenger. A single sentence can have completely different meanings depending on whether it appears in a respected newspaper or a supermarket tabloid. Most people come to expect that the words "You've Just Won Ten Million Dollars!" don't really mean you've won anything when printed on a piece of sweepstakes junk mail. Similarly, most Virginians know that "No Car Tax!" doesn't mean a guaranteed instant change in Virginia's tax policy when written on Jim Gilmore's campaign posters. And everyone in Charlottesville knows that "Coming Soon ... Promise!" has a special significance when seen on a Bodo's storefront.
No one, then, expects "Better Ingredients, Better Pizza" to be an unbiased, verifiable claim when it comes in a commercial. Except, apparently, Pizza Hut's lawyers, who are treating a boastful ad slogan as if it had come from a study in Consumer Reports. The lawsuit comes off as ridiculous, not because it is groundless or petty, but because we all know that applying the expectations of one medium to the content of another is always a disastrous mistake.
When it comes to interpreting information, context is everything. Sometimes the only way to tell fact from fiction is to consider the source's agenda and reputation. Otherwise, how would anyone ever be able to judge statements like "The Best Pizza Under One Roof," "The Choice of a New Generation" or "Applicants to the University are considered without regard to their financial circumstances"?