So here’s the situation: you dig into a DSP claiming partnerships with big-name players like Hulu and Disney, their logos slapped all over the website like they’re hosting Mickey Mouse’s birthday party. But when you do the legwork—calling up Hulu and Disney directly—they say, “Uh, who?” Not only have they never authorized the use of their logos, but their DSP logs show no record of working with this so-called partner. Other companies whose logos also appear on the site?

Their reps confirmed the DSP isn’t authorized to use their branding either. In some cases, their programmatic teams couldn’t even find evidence of inventory being distributed.

It’s a mess of miscommunication, misrepresentation, and—let’s face it—probably some outright fibbing.

Welcome to “daisy-chaining”, the programmatic ad world’s favorite shell game. This is where DSPs don’t have direct access to premium inventory but instead buy it through other DSPs or SSPs. It’s the adtech equivalent of scalping concert tickets—except no one tells you the tickets passed through five middlemen, each taking their cut.

And if no one’s watching closely, the DSP might just pretend they’ve got a direct line to the big players.

Here’s what happens:

Throwing Hulu and Disney logos on your site without permission is the digital equivalent of name-dropping celebrities you’ve only seen on Instagram. It’s like saying, “Oh yeah, me and Beyoncé are tight,” when the closest you’ve been to Queen Bey is watching Homecoming on Netflix. It’s a desperate move designed to make the DSP look like a major player, even though the companies behind those logos wouldn’t recognize them if they showed up wearing a name tag.

When you call Hulu and Disney directly and they respond with a collective “Who? Never heard of them,” it goes from mildly pathetic to straight-up deceptive. This isn’t just some innocent marketing exaggeration—it’s a deliberate attempt to fake credibility. And it works because most advertisers aren’t going to bother calling Hulu and Disney to fact-check their claims. But when you do? The DSP looks like a kid caught stealing cookies from the jar while trying to convince you they’re on a diet.

It’s not just embarrassing for the DSP—it’s insulting to everyone’s intelligence.

Every time inventory gets passed through another DSP or SSP, there’s yet another markup, like adding toppings to an already overpriced pizza. Each intermediary takes a slice, and by the time it reaches you, what started as a decent budget has been carved up like a Thanksgiving turkey after everyone’s gone back for seconds. And let’s not forget—the more hands it passes through, the more opportunities for hidden fees to sneak in, like someone tacking on "convenience charges" for breathing.

Sure, Hulu and Disney’s premium inventory might still look shiny on the surface, like a sports car with a fresh coat of wax. But under the hood? It’s been driven so hard through the programmatic supply chain that its value has gone from luxury sedan to a beat-up used car. Reselling and markups inflate the cost to the point where advertisers are paying champagne prices for tap water. Meanwhile, the actual value—the performance, the quality—has been diluted to the point that it barely resembles what you thought you were buying.

It’s the same inventory, just with fewer calories and way more bloat in your invoice.

When inventory gets passed through a conga line of intermediaries, tracing its origin becomes like trying to figure out who started the wave at a baseball game—good luck. Each handoff adds a layer of mystery (and markup), and by the time the inventory reaches you, it’s wrapped in so much programmatic red tape, you’d need a detective and a magnifying glass to piece together where it actually came from. But wait, it gets better: throw in a little intentional obfuscation—just enough to keep everyone in the dark—and suddenly, you’ve got a perfect recipe for fraud and invalid traffic.

What advertisers think they’re paying for—premium placements, high-quality inventory—has now been overhandled to the point of absurdity. By the time it lands in your lap, it’s no longer premium; it’s programmatic junk mail dressed up in a tuxedo. You’re shelling out top dollar for what’s essentially spam with a shiny veneer, and the kicker? You won’t even know it until your campaign’s performance looks about as underwhelming as a soggy sandwich. It’s a system that rewards opacity, punishes accountability, and leaves advertisers footing the bill for someone else’s game of smoke and mirrors.

Let’s be real—some DSPs are banking on the hope that most advertisers are too busy (or too trusting) to do any digging. They craft this elaborate illusion of direct access to premium inventory, complete with Hulu and Disney logos slapped across their pitch decks, knowing full well it’s all smoke and mirrors. The reality? Your shiny “premium” ads aren’t going to show up on Hulu or Disney at all. Instead, they’re more likely to be gracing the tiny LCD screen of a toaster oven or looping on some obscure gas station TV while you wonder why your CPMs still look suspiciously high.

And here’s the kicker: Hulu and Disney monitor every ad like hawks. They’d never let this inventory sneak past their systems, let alone allow unauthorized DSPs to distribute it. So if a DSP claims otherwise, it’s not just a stretch of the truth—it’s a full-on pain lie, designed to make you think you’re getting VIP treatment when you’re really just stuck in coach.

This isn’t about delivering premium experiences or high-performing campaigns; it’s about selling a fantasy. The logos? They’re not there to reflect reality—they’re there to tell a good story, one that conveniently ends right before you start asking questions. And if you do start poking around?

That glossy façade crumbles faster than a cookie in milk. It’s not just misleading; it’s insulting to anyone who’s even halfway paying attention

First off, welcome to the resistance.

Reading this publication already puts you ahead of the pack—we’re fighting the good fight against the adtech mafia.

These are the same charlatans slinging overpriced, underperforming junk, claiming it's the next great innovation, while secretly trying to cash out before the whole thing implodes.

Their "products"—and I use the term generously—don’t work, won’t work, and probably never did. It’s time to stop funding their yacht parties and start holding them accountable.

When a DSP starts flexing those Hulu and Disney logos like they’re the Kevin Bacon of programmatic—six degrees away from every premium inventory source—you need to play detective. Don’t just trust the glossy pitch deck with its fancy font and carefully Photoshopped logos. Call Hulu, email Disney, heck, send a carrier pigeon if you must. The point is, verify everything. These DSPs are banking on your laziness and your faith in humanity—two things you need to leave at the door in adtech. If they’re lying about having direct partnerships with Disney, guess what else they’re lying about? Pretty much all of it. They’ll claim they have “exclusive inventory” while your ad ends up next to a grainy YouTube clip of someone’s pet hamster. If they can’t produce receipts—real ones, not the “we swear we know a guy” kind—you don’t just walk away; you sprint like the finish line is on fire.

DSPs talk about transparency like they’re auditioning for a Hallmark movie—lots of promises, zero delivery. They’ll smile sweetly and swear up and down that they’re giving you full visibility. But the second you ask for real inventory reports, the excuses start rolling in faster than your CPMs. “Oh, our system doesn’t track that detail,” or “We don’t disclose client data.” Translation: “We’re hiding something.” Transparency isn’t a suggestion; it’s a baseline requirement. Demand detailed reports showing exactly where your ads ran and which inventory you bought. Better yet, tie payment to proof. If the DSP can’t prove your ad ran on Hulu, you don’t pay. Period. Watch how quickly “our system doesn’t track that” turns into “here’s your detailed report” when their invoices sit unpaid. Nothing brings transparency into focus like the threat of financial starvation.

Let’s be blunt: every extra layer in the adtech supply chain is another hand in your pocket. These intermediaries are like wedding planners who overcharge for basic stuff you could’ve done yourself. By the time your ad budget makes it to the actual publisher, it’s been marked up so many times it might as well come with a luxury tax. If a DSP can’t prove they have direct access to premium inventory, skip them. Go straight to the source—work with publishers or SSPs who can actually guarantee the inventory you’re paying for. Yes, it’s more work. Yes, you’ll have to roll up your sleeves. But would you rather pay a premium for ads that end up running on a toaster’s LCD screen in some rural gas station? Didn’t think so. Stop funding middlemen whose only value-add is eating up your budget like an all-you-can-eat buffet. Oh, and you can buy on Hulu and Disney direct, so even why use a deceptive DSP?

Ads.txt and sellers.json are your helpful adtech BS detectors—so use them. These tools exist to separate the legit players from the snake oil salesmen. If your DSP isn’t listed, that’s your cue to walk. And if they start sweating bullets or giving you some convoluted reason why they aren’t listed, it’s because their entire operation is one giant question mark. These tools aren’t optional—they’re how you keep the adtech mafia from pulling a fast one. Think of them as the programmatic equivalent of checking someone’s ID before you let them into the club. If they don’t pass the test, they don’t get your dollars. Simple as that.

Stop treating campaigns like a “set it and forget it” crockpot dinner. You’re not making beef stew—you’re spending real money. Audit every placement, every time. Is your ad actually showing up on Hulu or Disney+ like you were promised, or is it running on a janky mobile game with a player base of five people? If your campaign’s results are looking sketchier than a 3 a.m. infomercial, don’t just grumble about it. Raise hell. Email your DSP, demand explanations, and—this part’s key—refuse to pay until they deliver what they promised. Auditing isn’t a nuisance; it’s survival. The adtech landscape is crawling with grifters who’d love nothing more than to pocket your budget while delivering the bare minimum. Don’t let them. Hold their feet to the fire until your ad dollars actually work for you.

Here’s the reality: the adtech industry thrives on complexity and confusion. It’s not a conspiracy; it’s just how the game is built.

The endless parade of logos, layers of inventory, and mind-numbing jargon aren’t accidental—they’re the gears that keep the machine running. Most don’t want you to ask questions, not because they’re hiding something sinister, but because the system depends on you not asking at all.

This publication is here to cut through the noise.

To illuminate what’s working, what’s not, and how you can thrive in a world that often feels like a maze designed by committee.

Stay bold, stay curious, and let’s make sure you’re not just playing the game—you’re winning it.