In partnership with

Table of Contents

• Week in Review: Trump, TikTok, Trade Desk, and the Contextual Comeback

  • The Trade Desk Buys Sincera: Metadata Is the New B …

  • TikTok’s Week of Soap Opera-Level Drama: The Trump …

  • Contextual Advertising: Streaming’s Favorite Buzzw …

    • Contextual Advertising: The New Storyteller

  • Trump’s Inauguration Circus: Tech CEOs and TikTok …

  • FTC Click-to-Cancel: A Victory for Humans Everywhe …

  • Omnicom and IPG Merge: The Mega-Agency Behemoth

  • Google’s Great Streamlining: Humans Out, Bots In

  • DE&I Gets Rebranded—But Let’s Not Call It Progress …

    • The backlash against Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion

  • What It All Means: Advertising’s Frenetic Future

    • Wesley Ter Haar on Contextual: It’s Not Just Buzz, It’s the Whole Bee Hive

• When Titans Tango: What Omnicom’s $13.25B Play Means for Marketing

  • 10 Things Lou Paskalis Might Teach You This Week

Start learning AI in 2025

Everyone talks about AI, but no one has the time to learn it. So, we found the easiest way to learn AI in as little time as possible: The Rundown AI.

It's a free AI newsletter that keeps you up-to-date on the latest AI news, and teaches you how to apply it in just 5 minutes a day.

Plus, complete the quiz after signing up and they’ll recommend the best AI tools, guides, and courses – tailored to your needs.

Sign up to start learning.

The Trade Desk Buys Sincera: Metadata Is the New Black

The Trade Desk decided it was time to expand its data empire by snatching up Sincera, a little-known startup that turns metadata into actionable insights. Think of it as the Rosetta Stone for ad tech—except instead of deciphering ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs, it’s decoding why your ads keep showing up on a dating app when you sell lawnmowers.

For those keeping score, this is TTD’s second public acquisition. The first was Adbrain in 2017, a move that made Unified ID 2.0 a thing. The third? Apparently, it’s so secretive even Jeff Green might have forgotten about it.

So, what does Sincera do? In the simplest terms, it tells publishers and advertisers what’s happening under the hood. Are those flashy new identity solutions actually enriching inventory? Is consent being collected properly, or is it just another checkbox no one reads? Sincera’s data has been the gold standard because it comes with no spin—unlike 90% of what you hear in this industry.

But here’s the rub: Can Sincera stay neutral under TTD? CEO Mike O’Sullivan promises, “The W2 changes, but the mission doesn’t.” Translation: Don’t worry, we’re still the nerds who tell you your inventory stinks.

TikTok’s Week of Soap Opera-Level Drama: The Trump-Tok Saga

TikTok just had the kind of week that makes Succession look like a cozy family sitcom. For a brief, chaotic moment, the platform vanished into the abyss, thanks to a shiny new law banning foreign apps linked to “adversary nations” (cough, China, cough). Then, like a phoenix rising from the ashes—or a glitchy app update—it popped back online with a message so surreal it felt like satire: “Thanks for your patience and support. As a result of President Trump’s efforts, TikTok is back in the U.S.!”

Yes, folks, TikTok is now crediting its survival to the man who once treated it like public enemy number one. Trump, of course, is leaning into the chaos with his trademark mix of bravado and business acumen, proposing a joint venture that gives the U.S. government a whopping 50% ownership stake in TikTok. It’s part hostage negotiation, part capitalist fever dream, and 100% on brand for the Trumpiverse.

But wait, there’s more! Trump has also hinted that the U.S. deserves a cut of whatever deal ByteDance makes because, well, America. “TikTok is worthless without us,” he reportedly declared, channeling the same energy as someone trying to negotiate free dessert at a restaurant because they’re just that important.

Meanwhile, over in Ad Land, marketers are clutching their media plans like life rafts, unsure if TikTok’s next act will involve another ban, a Musk takeover, or some dystopian rebrand as “Trumptok.” The uncertainty has advertisers scrambling, especially since TikTok graciously warned them about “temporary service instability.” Translation: “Your ad campaigns may vanish into the ether, but thanks for the cash!”

Nothing inspires confidence like a platform that might disappear faster than your ex’s Instagram after a breakup. And yet, TikTok’s audience is too big to ignore. Brands are stuck in a classic love-hate relationship, chasing Gen Z engagement metrics while praying the app doesn’t vanish mid-campaign.

This isn’t the first time TikTok’s been caught in the crosshairs of politics, privacy concerns, and cultural obsession. But this latest episode is turning into its most Shakespearean act yet. Is it a victim of geopolitical drama? A savvy survivor willing to make uncomfortable alliances? Or just a really expensive pawn in Trump’s ongoing quest for relevance?

And let’s not forget the irony. TikTok’s comeback message practically genuflected to Trump, a man who once called it a “spy app” and threatened to nuke its U.S. presence unless it was sold to, wait for it, Oracle and Walmart. Now TikTok is playing nice, likely hoping Trump’s erratic attention span will drift elsewhere before the next executive order drops.

TikTok’s wild week underscores a hard truth about modern marketing: chaos is baked into the system now. Platforms rise, fall, and pivot faster than you can say algorithmic engagement. Advertisers, already navigating TikTok’s meteoric rise, are now tasked with planning campaigns on a platform that could evaporate like a Snapchat story. Yet, for better or worse, TikTok remains too big to ignore—a shiny, unstable beacon of Gen Z’s attention.

Contextual Advertising: Streaming’s Favorite Buzzword

Contextual advertising is back, and it’s been to the gym, gotten a makeover, and is now the hottest thing in the streaming world. Once relegated to simplistic pairings like airline ads during Top Gun reruns (subtle as a flying brick), contextual targeting has evolved into a marketing darling that matches ads to the vibe of what you’re watching. It’s less “spray and pray” and more “curated and clever.”

Imagine this: A luxury car commercial elegantly glides onto your screen just as your favorite antihero drives off into the sunset. Or a pizza ad appears precisely when a character says, “I’m starving—let’s order in.” It’s not just advertising; it’s advertising that feels like it belongs.

Advertisers are over the moon because contextual targeting sidesteps the creepy factor of behavioral tracking. Nobody wants to feel like their Netflix binge is being mined for data by a faceless algorithm. Instead, this method focuses on what you’re watching right now—not what you Googled six months ago during a late-night existential crisis.

This approach feels, dare we say, human. Ironically, it’s all powered by those same faceless algorithms, but now they’ve been tasked with creating ads that don’t make you want to chuck your remote at the screen. And because these ads are woven into the content’s emotional or thematic tapestry, they unlock premium inventory that brands are willing to pay top dollar for.

Streaming platforms are embracing contextual targeting like it’s the next frontier of advertising—and for good reason. By leaning into the emotional resonance of their content, they can charge advertisers more while delivering a better experience for viewers. No one’s complaining about a wine ad during a romantic drama, but serve up that same ad during a horror movie, and it’s a hard no.

The result? Ads that feel smarter and less jarring, leaving viewers less likely to hit the skip button or curse the existence of capitalism. And let’s not forget: This approach also helps platforms differentiate themselves in a crowded streaming market. Being able to say, “Our ads actually make sense!” is a rare and compelling pitch.

For viewers, contextual targeting means fewer “why is this here?” moments. It’s not perfect—an ad is still an ad—but aligning with the mood of the content makes it easier to swallow. You might even laugh when a beer ad plays during a frat party scene or get a little teary-eyed when a heartfelt PSA shows up during a character’s big emotional breakthrough.

And let’s be real: Anything that doesn’t involve ads for something you searched for once five years ago is already a win. Nobody wants to be haunted by the ghosts of old Google searches for hiking boots.

It’s almost poetic: In an industry obsessed with slicing and dicing audience data into a million hyper-personalized pieces, contextual advertising has emerged as the refreshing, back-to-basics alternative. It’s less about who you are and more about where you are emotionally, mentally, and narratively.

The takeaway? Context is officially king again, and this time it’s not wearing a tattered crown from the ‘90s. This is the renaissance, the glow-up, the moment contextual advertising reminds us all that good ads don’t have to feel like surveillance—they just have to make sense. But hey, don’t call it a comeback. Context has been here all along, waiting for us to rediscover its charm.

Trump’s Inauguration Circus: Tech CEOs and TikTok on Parade

Trump’s second inauguration wasn’t just a ceremony—it was a three-ring circus of political theater, tech-world cameos, and just enough absurdity to make you wonder if someone was secretly writing a dystopian screenplay. The spectacle included everything from Elon Musk taking a victory lap as co-chair of the new Department of Government Efficiency (yes, really) to TikTok’s improbable comeback tour. If you missed it, congratulations—you probably have a healthier relationship with reality.

Let’s start with Musk, because of course, we do. He wasted no time livestreaming his ambitious plan to slash the federal budget by a trillion dollars, all while likely considering how to mint the savings as NFTs or stash it in a SpaceX vault. The Department of Government Efficiency—essentially Musk’s dream startup with federal oversight—has been tasked with making bureaucracy “private-sector efficient,” a phrase that’s both promising and terrifying depending on how much you trust Silicon Valley.

Musk’s budget-cutting math sounds suspiciously like his Tesla pricing strategy: aggressive, headline-grabbing, and borderline impossible to execute. But hey, why stop at reining in federal spending when you can float the idea of blockchain voting and AI-powered DMV lines in the same breath? It’s not government reform; it’s content.

Then there’s TikTok, the app that’s seemingly built its brand on surviving political near-death experiences. TikTok CEO Shou Chew was spotted wandering the Capitol just days after the platform dodged a legislative execution order. And in a plot twist that could only happen in 2025, rumors swirled that TikTok threw Trump a congratulatory party. Yes, the same Trump who once called the app a national security threat and tried to ban it faster than you could say “viral dance challenge.”

When TikTok’s servers sputtered back to life, users were greeted with pro-Trump messaging so awkwardly effusive it felt like Stockholm Syndrome gone digital. “Thanks to President Trump’s efforts, TikTok is back in the U.S.!” the app declared. Translation: “We’ll praise anyone if it means we get to keep serving you makeup tutorials and cat videos.”

Beyond the drama, the inauguration served as a stark reminder of just how tangled tech and government have become. Musk on the inaugural platform wasn’t just a cameo; it was a statement. Tech titans now wield the kind of influence that used to be reserved for oil barons and steel magnates. They don’t just shape markets; they shape policy. And when a social media platform like TikTok can both antagonize and cozy up to the president, it’s clear the lines between public and private power are blurring in ways that would make a lobbyist blush.

The government isn’t just regulating tech anymore—it’s partnering with it, inviting it to reimagine itself in the mold of Silicon Valley. Efficiency sounds great on paper, but let’s not forget that tech’s favorite mantra, “Move fast and break things,” doesn’t exactly inspire confidence when applied to the federal budget or infrastructure.

Trump’s second swearing-in wasn’t just an inauguration—it was a surreal merging of politics, technology, and the performative chaos we’ve come to expect from both. Whether it’s TikTok’s political rebrand, Musk’s budget-cutting spectacle, or the sheer audacity of it all, one thing is clear: the intersection of tech and government isn’t just a point of contact—it’s a collision. And the fallout? That’s something we’ll be scrolling through, streaming, and swiping on for years to come.

FTC Click-to-Cancel: A Victory for Humans Everywhere

In a rare victory for consumers—and an existential crisis for subscription-based businesses everywhere—the FTC’s click-to-cancel rule just survived a major legal challenge. Advocacy groups are celebrating like they’ve just won the Super Bowl, calling it a long-overdue correction to predatory practices. Meanwhile, the Interactive Advertising Bureau (IAB) and their allies in the business world are in full-on panic mode, predicting economic doom and gloom. They’re framing it as an attack on “customer retention strategies,” but let’s call it what it is: a death blow to the dark art of making cancelation as painful as a root canal.

The FTC’s rule is delightfully simple: If you can sign up for a subscription with one click online, you should be able to cancel it just as easily. No more running the gauntlet of “Retention Specialists” armed with guilt trips or being forced to endure endless hold music to reclaim your financial freedom. Gone are the days of, “Sure, you can cancel, but only if you call this obscure phone number between 3 and 4 p.m. on a Tuesday.”

For anyone who’s ever felt trapped by a gym membership or streaming service, this feels like justice served. For the businesses relying on these tactics? It’s a seismic shift—one they’re scrambling to adjust to.

Now, I get it—kind of. The IAB and their peers argue that these rules disrupt businesses and create administrative chaos. Their point? Retaining customers is hard, and these restrictions make it harder to build long-term relationships. But here’s where I call baloney: If your "retention strategy" relies on making people too exhausted, confused, or frustrated to cancel, you're not retaining customers—you’re holding them hostage.

The FTC is effectively telling businesses to win loyalty the old-fashioned way: by providing value. And honestly, if your customers are clamoring to escape the moment they can, maybe the problem isn’t the rule. Maybe it’s you.

For years, subscription-based businesses have profited from inertia, counting on the fact that most people will procrastinate or give up before they can cancel. It’s not a coincidence that these “customer retention specialists” are trained more in psychological warfare than actual customer service. The subscription economy thrived on opacity, hoping customers wouldn’t notice the fine print or the recurring charges.

The click-to-cancel rule exposes the cracks in that business model. If your value proposition can’t stand on its own without forcing customers to stay, then maybe it’s time to rethink your approach. Or, you know, offer a product or service people actually want to keep.

Let’s not kid ourselves—businesses will find workarounds, and this fight isn’t over. The IAB and others are already strategizing their next move, warning of “irreparable harm” to their bottom lines. But for now, consumers can relish a rare win. Canceling shouldn’t feel like a Herculean task, and this rule ensures that it doesn’t.

And let’s face it: if a company is truly confident in its product or service, it shouldn’t need a maze of bureaucratic hurdles to keep customers around. A good product should make people want to stay. A bad one? Well, it deserves to face the easy-click ax.

This isn’t just about gym memberships or streaming services—it’s about the kind of marketplace we want to have. Do we let businesses prey on consumer fatigue and confusion, or do we demand transparency and fairness? The FTC’s rule is a step toward the latter, and while I understand the IAB’s concerns, I firmly believe that what’s good for consumers is ultimately good for the industry. After all, trust isn’t built by trapping people—it’s earned by respecting them.

The message to businesses is clear: evolve or lose. Because in 2025, consumers have options, and now they have the tools to exercise them without jumping through flaming hoops.

Omnicom and IPG Merge: The Mega-Agency Behemoth

This week, Omnicom and IPG decided to do what corporate giants love most: merge. The $25 billion deal combines two industry behemoths into a single, unstoppable force—or so they hope. With IPG’s Axiom at the center of it all, the newly minted entity promises scale, synergies, and, presumably, a monopoly on data so vast that even the NSA might feel outgunned. But let’s face it: for all the lofty promises, this merger doesn’t exactly scream “innovation.”

Here’s the thing: there’s not much left to say about mergers of this size that hasn’t been said before. They promise efficiency but risk bloat. They create opportunities for scale but stifle creativity. They consolidate power but alienate clients. It’s an old story, and while the names on the building change, the script rarely does.

The advertising industry loves agility—fast pivots, nimble campaigns, and out-of-the-box thinking. But does anyone really believe a $25 billion juggernaut will move quickly? Combining two massive entities doesn’t make things simpler; it makes things slower. Merging operations, consolidating teams, and aligning technologies is a logistical nightmare, and every second spent on internal housekeeping is a second not spent innovating.

Omnicom and IPG are betting that their combined data prowess will make them indispensable to clients, but data alone isn’t a magic wand. The industry is shifting toward creative solutions that feel human, not just data-driven. If this new mega-agency can’t strike the right balance between tech and storytelling, its sheer size could become its greatest liability.

While the big guys are busy integrating their sprawling empires, smaller and independent agencies have a chance to shine. Clients who feel like just another cog in the mega-agency machine may start looking for partners who treat them like more than a quarterly revenue stream. That’s where boutique firms come in: nimble, creative, and willing to take risks that a corporate monolith might balk at.

This isn’t just wishful thinking. We’ve seen this before. Every time the industry consolidates, there’s a counter-movement toward independence and specialization. Scrappy agencies with bold ideas can step into the void, offering personalized service and fresh thinking that the big players struggle to replicate. For those willing to take the risk, the rewards could be significant.

So, what does this merger really mean for the industry? Honestly, not much that we haven’t seen before. Big agencies get bigger. Smaller agencies fight harder. Clients weigh their options. The cycle continues. If anything, it underscores the fact that advertising is still grappling with the tension between scale and creativity, between technology and humanity.

Omnicom and IPG might dominate the headlines this week, but the real story could be happening in the smaller agencies, the ones ready to step up and challenge the status quo. Because while the giants consolidate, the rest of the industry evolves—and that’s where the future of advertising will be written

Google’s Great Streamlining: Humans Out, Bots In

Google’s January 2025 layoffs are a not-so-subtle admission that AI is the new office MVP, and humans, well, are just overhead. This time, the axe fell on the ad sales department, where the suits are "streamlining operations," which is corporate speak for "training AI to replace you." Why keep paying salaries when a few servers can do the same work without needing health insurance or coffee breaks? Efficiency is the buzzword, but the real story is Google’s full-on embrace of the machines.

It’s not like this came out of nowhere. Rumors have been swirling since late last year about Google targeting “low performers” (translation: anyone not holding a soldering iron or coding neural nets). The layoffs were framed as necessary cuts in a challenging market, but it’s no coincidence that they align perfectly with the rise of automation across ad sales and beyond. What used to take a team of humans now just takes a snazzy algorithm and some fancy dashboards.

This isn’t just Google’s thing—Meta and the rest of Big Tech are all in on this pivot. Layoffs have become the new badge of honor for execs trying to prove they’re running a lean, mean, AI-driven machine. It’s like a dystopian startup flex: “We fired 500 people and trained an AI to do their jobs. Innovation!” Never mind that this whole "streamlining" movement feels less like progress and more like a thinly veiled excuse to trim headcounts and impress shareholders.

The irony, of course, is that AI still needs humans—for now. Behind every polished AI-driven ad campaign is a skeleton crew of overworked techies making sure the bots don’t misplace decimal points or accidentally target diaper ads to gamers. But hey, that’s just a transitional phase. Give it a year, and Google’s AI might be pitching ad buys, answering client calls, and maybe even joining those endless strategy meetings (with far fewer PowerPoint errors).

So, what’s next? If you’re in tech, especially ad tech, better start figuring out how to work with the machines—because fighting them is a losing battle. The real question isn’t about job cuts or market efficiency; it’s how long before these AI overlords start demanding ergonomic keyboards and unlimited vacation days. For now, though, the message from Google is clear: adapt, or get streamlined.

DE&I Gets Rebranded—But Let’s Not Call It Progress Just Yet

The ad industry’s favorite game of “restructuring” is back, and this time, diversity, equity, and inclusion are in the hot seat. Amazon, Meta, Publicis Groupe, and McDonald’s have all announced “retooling” their DE&I initiatives, which is corporate speak for either doubling down on inclusion or quietly cutting it loose. At least that’s the vibe, depending on who you ask.

Digiday went deep on this one, unpacking how companies that once flaunted their DE&I commitments after George Floyd’s murder are now pulling the equivalent of “let’s focus on the fundamentals.” Amazon claims it’s scrapping “outdated programs,” Meta has slashed hiring and supplier diversity efforts, and Publicis has reshuffled its diversity leadership, with its chief diversity officer moving into a consultant role. Oh, and McDonald’s? It’s retiring supplier diversity and ditching representation goals in favor of a vague promise to “embed inclusion.”

Let’s not pretend this is happening in a vacuum. The political and cultural winds have shifted, and conservative watchdogs have been frothing at the mouth over anything they deem “woke.” With a potential Trump administration on the horizon, companies are playing defense, hoping to avoid the crosshairs of America First Legal or the next viral anti-DE&I boycott. But here’s the thing: if embedding inclusion into “everyday operations” is your new tagline, show us the receipts. So far, all this rebranding feels more like a quiet retreat than a bold pivot.

Here’s the kicker: multicultural consumers made up nearly 40% of the U.S. population in 2023, but multiethnic media investments only accounted for 5.3% of ad spending. Yes, you read that right. Companies love to preach about diversity, but when it comes time to allocate budgets, the numbers tell a much less inspiring story.

As Digiday pointed out, multicultural agencies have already started feeling the squeeze. DE&I budgets are drying up, which means less funding for campaigns and partnerships designed to reach diverse audiences. If this is what “embedding inclusion” looks like, it’s hard to see it as anything other than a cost-cutting maneuver dressed up as evolution.

Executives claim this is about progress—that it’s no longer about standalone initiatives but about weaving diversity into the fabric of their businesses. But as Sundial Media Group CEO Kirk McDonald told Digiday, if budgets don’t back up those claims, then this so-called evolution is just a polite way of stepping back. “The determinant of what share of the pie you get should be your credibility and authenticity with these audiences,” McDonald said. Translation: Put your money where your mission statement is.

Q1 is where the rubber will meet the road. If DE&I dollars continue to flow toward diverse-owned media and multicultural campaigns, maybe this isn’t as bad as it looks. But if those budgets vanish faster than a Twitter feature, it’s clear this rebranding is just a way to cut ties without making a fuss.

For now, we’ll have to wait and see if these moves are genuine progress or a quiet dismantling of the gains made in the wake of 2020. Either way, it’s hard to shake the feeling that what we’re seeing is less about strategy and more about survival in a polarized marketplace. And if that’s the case, it’s the diverse audiences—and the companies that claim to care about them—who will ultimately pay the price.

What It All Means: Advertising’s Frenetic Future

This week was a masterclass in controlled chaos. The Trade Desk is doubling down on metadata, TikTok is redefining what it means to play both sides, and contextual advertising is finally getting its time in the spotlight. Meanwhile, Trump’s inauguration reminded us that tech and politics are now permanently entangled, and the FTC gave us a rare moment of regulatory sanity.

The advertising industry is evolving faster than ever, and staying ahead means embracing the unpredictability. After all, if TikTok can survive Trump and The Trade Desk can make metadata sexy, there’s hope for all of us yet.

Stay bold. Stay curious. And above all, stay ready for the next plot twist.

"Made for Advertising" and Other Industry Delusions: Chris Kane on Why Paid Traffic Isn’t the Problem

The adtech world is full of buzzwords and shiny objects, but let’s face it: most of the time, we’re rearranging deck chairs on a sinking Titanic. And nowhere is this more evident than in the steaming dumpster fire known as "made for advertising" (MFA). If you’ve been living under a rock—or blissfully ignoring the acronyms—it’s the practice of stuffing so many ads into one web page you’d think publishers were paid by the pound. Spoiler: they aren’t.

In a recent AdMonsters interview, Chris Kane, adtech’s voice of reason in a room full of lunatics, made a simple yet earth-shattering point: the problem with MFA isn’t paid traffic—it’s the asinine ways publishers use it.

Subscribe to our premium content at ADOTAT+ to read the rest.