I’ll be updating live from the CSA Awards in Sandton.

Just arrived and the venue looks great, I’m seated with Vincent Hofmann, Shaun Custers and no doubt one or two other cricket geeks.

Ok so my hopes of being able to live blog the event were dashed by a lack of space on the

table. That and the fact that I would have been the only person in the rather large exhibition hall trying to balance a Mac on top of his salad.

The evening was incredibly slick – credit must go to CSA, their sponsors and of course the event co-ordinators for putting together a top-class show. Big winners on the night were Colin Ingram (on the domestic front) and the Hashim Amla, who took five awards of the six awards he was nominated for. Well done Hash! His scalps included Test Player of the year, CSA Cricketer of the year and more.

It was a great privilege to be a part of an event showcasing the sporting talents I admire and resp

ect so much, but also it was exciting and encouraging to be part of an event that was so willing to embrace the power of social media. The live screening of the event was integrated with a live Twitter feed under the hashtag #CSAawards that allowed fans back home on the couch to be a part of the action. Revolutionary stuff.

I look forward to seeing more brands, sporting events, etc. taking the same level of initiative to include ‘fans’.

Technical crap aside, it’s all fair and well having a faster, more expensive car but if you don’t have the after sales service to go with it you may as well not bother. I did not buy the Merc new, but it was recently due for it’s second service and so my first experience with Merc Sandton came to pass.

What a breath of fresh air. There’s not much between Audi and Merc, car-wise. I mean, there’s not much between an A4 2.0T and a C200. But there certainly is a big gap in service ethic between Audi Sandton and Merc Sandton (I can’t speak for other branches). From the moment I pulled up this morning, I was surprised – friendly staff, freshly-brewed coffee, orderly processing of vehicles, and a swiftly organised lift from the dealership to my breakfast appointment – all done and dusted in about 10 minutes.

When I picked up my vehicle the seats and steering wheel had been covered in plastic to prevent dirt or scuffing, and the car was spotless. It took another 10 minutes to pick up my keys, sign the paperwork and leave.

And then my heart sank.

I realised my CD changer was empty. All my CD’s were gone. A Leatherman I keep in the middle console was missing. So was the loose change, and, I kid you not, my gum and tissues were gone too.

I was livid. So much excitement, followed by such devastating (and all to familiar) disappointment. In fact I lost a wedding ring to an Audi dealership the same way.

In a state I phoned the service advisor Martin Fortuin to ask if he knew anything about it. He asked me to hold for a second, returned to the phone and broke the news…

My stuff, all of which had been carelessly left in the car by me (I’m bad that way), was all tucked away neatly and safely in a Ziploc bag back at the dealership, ready for my collection. Wow. If only all brands understood service and honesty like Mercedes-Benz do.

I might never own another brand of car. I mean, who needs more than the sound of that V8?

At the recommendation of my favourite video store, Absolutely Fabulous, I watched the comedy drama Lars And The Real Girl (2007) yesterday evening. The movie tells the story of Lars Lindstrom, an awkward, socially-challenged small town 20-something who develops a relationship with a lifelike female doll he purchases on the Internet. At the recommendation of the town doctor (who is also a psychologist), the various people in Lars’ life are encouraged to support the delusion to help expose the reason for it.

You’d be forgiven for expecting, on the basis of that synopsis, a collection of pranks and cheap laughs bound together by a few ‘aaaaw’ moments. That’s what I expected. But what humour we do find in Lars is thoughtful, subtle and always meaningful, while the rest of the movie is woven together with a simple yet profound story carried by poignant writing and a masterclass in acting.

While most Hollywood blockbusters rely on breaking the boundaries of CGI, violence, sex, big-name actors or potentially offensive language to ‘engage’ audiences, Lars relies almost entirely on the acting talents of a relatively new cast to do the job, and it succeeds. Ryan Gosling is astounding as the title character, showing with aplomb his aptitude for method acting, and we’re also treated to stand-out performances from Patricia Clarkson as Lars’ doctor and Emily Mortimer as his compassionate sister-in-law. The lovable ensemble produce a movie littered with memorable scenes that ask piercing questions about love, life and ‘normality’ against the snowy, monochromatic and yet quietly beautiful backdrop of Ontario, Canada.

Lars And The Real Girl was surprising, refreshing and atypical – not your ‘normal’ Hollywood film – but then again, maybe normal isn’t normal at all. Maybe we’re all just diverse, delightfully different versions of normal. Lars himself embodies every heart’s plea when he tells his doctor of his beloved doll, “She doesn’t feel sorry for herself or anything, she just wants to be normal.” We all want to be normal, and maybe none of us are.

Every now and again you stumble across a movie that you can’t help but think should be made compulsory viewing for all human beings – this is one of those.

Rating: 9/10

His presentation included a reference to a ‘pact’ Get Satisfaction has authored, detailed here on their site, which states that:

“…customers and companies alike need to trust the people with whom we do business. Customers expect honest, straightforward interactions where their voices are heard, before, during, and between purchases. Companies work to inspire customer satisfaction and brand loyalty by constantly improving the products and services they offer.

It is evident that we all have a crucial stake – and responsibility – in transforming the adversarial tone that all too often dominates the customer experience. If we work together and share the responsibility of furthering effective conversation, we can build mutually respectful long-term relationships.

By adopting these five, practical values, we can together realize a meaningful shift in our business relationships…

I’d encourage you to visit the Pact and read about the five values which include being human, authentic, accessible, patient and productive. I like the pact because it doesn’t lambaste companies, emphasizing over and over again how archaic they are (like say the Cluetrain Manifesto as an example). This pact encourages customers to take responsibility for the influence they have – something I think often gets overlooked by social media enthusiasts. The role of the customer is as critical to meaningful relationships as the role of the brand.

What are your thoughts?

I’ve also included Lane’s preso from the conference on Slideshare FYI:

We are appealing to the public for generous contributions to our emergency fund,
for the immediate survival of Cape Town City Ballet. For the sake of the children we are teaching in our outreach programmes we need to keep Cape Town City Ballet alive.

All donations will be graciously accepted, to ensure that this 75 year-old institution is kept alive for generations to follow.

There are also some great prizes to be won if you donate, including tickets to shows, wine and more. If you donate please use the reference MS1 so they know I sent you ;) Cerebra donated R 1,000 – I’m sure you can do the same!

Recent events in South Africa have, to borrow Jenny Crwys-Williams of Talk Radio 702′s phrase, “lanced a boil” filled with putrid racist muck, and the contents are spilling out over everyone.

While listening to one of the many debates raging over extremists Malema, Terre’Blanche and everyone inbetween, I started thinking about racism. What it means, what it is and just how big a role prejudice plays in my own life. It’s at times like this that I cannot avoid asking of myself, “what example do you set, where do you stand and how can you contribute positively to this situation”.

In discussion with a good friend over lunch the other day, he challenged me when our conversation drifted to examining what roles we would have played if we had been born 25 years earlier, and found ourselves responsible, mature white South African adults faced with the reality of Apartheid at it’s ugliest. Would I have been a vocal activist against the atrocities or would I have chosen to pretty much ignore the situation, like so many good South Africans did. As the saying goes, all that needs to happen for evil to succeed is for good men to do nothing.

I have some strong opinions about racism, opinions I want to share with you and hear your thoughts about. Some of them might not be easy to hear but I trust you’ll hear my heart and understand my intentions.

I think racism is a disease, and a hereditary one at that. My son, at 5 years of age, does not make any distinction between himself and his good friend Tsepelo. He does not see colour. He doesn’t know (yet) that black people are supposed to be worse at keeping to appointments (“Africa Time”) – and I’m using the most harmless example of prejudice I can think of – because he hasn’t been told yet. Every single negative thing I’ve ever ‘known’ about black people has been injected in my mind by some joke, jibe or sideways comment, and choosing to listen or repeat that means I am electively racist. I used to think all black people drove badly because all taxi drivers are black and they all drive badly, right? That was until I took a cab in New York… It turns out cab drivers are bad drivers, not black drivers.

Sometimes I’ve heard racism in the fears and deepest concerns of those closest to me, and how can I blame my father when he himself inherited this disgusting disease from his ancestors and propagandist breeding grounds like the army? I know for a fact the exposure my dad has had to black people and black culture at work, and the fact that my mom teaches at a government school where 99% of the kids are black, has changed both their perspectives on black people remarkably. But still traces remain – the same traces that are buried deep down in my heart, as much as I have tried very consciously to dispel them.

Despite the tectonic shift in our country’s reality in 1994, racism can not be obliterated in a day, or a month, or even a year. Deep-seated racism and racist prejudices, be they white against black or vice versa, will take generations to eliminate, and even then you’ll still likely have extremists on either end of the spectrum. Racism is a rusty blade that was thrust deep into the heart of our country through years of slavery, discrimination and Apartheid, and even though many of us – the majority of us – try to heal the wound every day a small minority on either side insists on picking the scab, agitating the infection – the infection that diseases all of us.

How then do we overcome? I want to believe that my children will grow up in a South Africa, in a world, where racism is a memory and not a reality, but I know in my heart of hearts that is not a possibility. Maybe their children, and even more likely their grand-children, will hopefully get a taste of a world like that. A good practical example of this is the contentious issue of transformation in SA sports. Honestly – until we allow one or two generations of young black sportsmen and women to rise up the ranks through equal opportunity and recognition of their natural talents, teams will continue to be chosen on colour and not on merit (which is the issue people have with transformation). When we’ve achieved that, 90% of players in teams (rugby, cricket or soccer) will be black. Not because of their skin, because of their ability and the ratio of black to white people in our country. This is pure logic. The point I’m making is that transformation happens in 2, 3 or maybe 4 generations. Not in one team selection meeting, for crying out loud.

I believe the key to overcoming racism is admitting that we can’t do it in one day, or with one TRC, or with one vote. The first step to dealing with our own prejudices will be admitting they exist, which brings me back to the title of this post. I am a racist – I admit it. I bear the scars, the disease, the infection of our past. All my friends inherited it. My children will too. The clincher is what we choose to do with the disease – whether we let it overrun us, or whether we take ARV’s (Anti-Racist Virals :)) to combat it daily. I don’t wan’t to be a racist. Nor do you. So do something about it with me.

Do an exercise for me – take the Implicit Association Test (or IAT) for racism. I discovered the IAT while reading Malcolm Gladwell’s fascinating book Blink. The test seeks to examine our racist prejudices, even the sub-conscious ones. See how you do. Then tell me if you, like me, are in fact a racist in recovery.

I believe the cure to the disease is exposure, connection and relationship. Like Edward Norton’s character in the powerful movie Amrican History X, so often our fears and misconceptions about each other are dispelled when we seek to spend time with each other. Soon our differences become things to celebrate, not mock.

I’m writing this because I don’t think the way to fight racism is by ignoring it. I think we need to face our fears head on, confess our own short-comings, and get our hands dirty in fixing it. I’d like you to hold me accountable in my journey to health, and I trust you’ll share your opinions and thoughts in this regard as you do.

Connor (Sean Patrick Flannery) and Murphy (Norman Reedus), cleverly blended with Billy Connolly, David Della Rocco (no idea who he is either), sprinkled with a generous dose of a particularly loony Willem Dafoe, combined in a sumptuous stew that grabbed the attention of a generation of movie goers who ten years later have a special place in their hearts and on their DVD collection shelves for The Saints.

You’ll understand then why I, being one of these fans, would have been thrilled to have heard that a sequel was in the works. The sequel, like it’s predecessor, never made it to cinemas. I should have taken that as the first sign of impending disaster.

I rented The Boondock Saints II: All Saints Day as soon as it became available and settled down to enjoy more Irish cussing, blazing gunfights and theatrical performances. What I got amounted to about the same level of entertainment I derived from my last bout of diarrhea.

Some movies should never have sequels. Ever. They are freaky successes, that might never have happened, that we’re glad happened. But that’s it. It’s the curse of the Original Success. Forgive me, but Live should never have made another album after Throwing Copper for the same reason – it’s just impossible to live up to the quality once you strike gold like that.

All Saints Day was not just bad – it was difficult to watch. I wanted so desperately to give it a chance but it kept slapping me in the face. Troy Duffy (yes, same director) tried so hard to repeat the same recipe and fell horribly short, relying on unecessary slow motion (a cardinal action movie sin) scenes, ‘witty’ dialogue that I could seldom make out let alone laugh at, an unworthy replacement for Dafoe in a dodgy-Southern-accented, sloppy-gum-chewing Julie Benz, and a previously unseen Mexican for comic relief. He wasn’t funny though. So much for that.

Perhaps the only redeeming moment in the whole film was the single occasion Billy Connolly owned the screen – at least he was semi-convincing if not uncharacteristically serious.

My advice… if you never saw The Boondock Saints, don’t watch this movie. If you did see The Boondock Saints and love it like I do, don’t watch this movie. It’s a marvel to me that it scores 6.7 out of 10 on IMDb.

Rating: 3 / 10

Please feel free to add your comments and thoughts!

Let me explain my logic.

The average car’s fuel tank has a capacity of about 60 litres or so. Last night fuel went up by 49c – a drastic increase – but normally increases are somewhat less than that. This particular increase took 93-octane fuel up to R8.40 a litre. So let’s take the most extreme possible example an say that in an attempt to save money you ran your tank practically dry in anticipation of the increase. If you filled up that tank yesterday evening, you could claim a saving of 60 x 49c = R29.40. Wow.

But wait, there’s more. Consider that on average most people in the ‘burbs travel about 4 or 5 km’s to get to their nearest garage, some more. If there’s no traffic (unlikely considering everyone is rushing to fill up), that equates to about a litre of petrol spent in the pursuit of saving. R29.40 – R7.91 = R21.49.

Now consider the time spent on the road, out of the office or away from home when you could have actually been busy with something productive. It would take me a half hour to fill up – a half hour I could be spending on a proposal or a significant email, making thousands of Rands in the process. Or let’s say you were only planning to relax and watch TV – YOU’RE STILL ONLY SAVING R21!!!

Am I the only person who sees how crazy this is? We all scramble to save R21 on petrol, sitting in queues and getting stressed, but happily spend R7 on bottled water?

Like I say, ridonkulous.

I stumbled across one for the first time while watching a Bill Bailey performance – I think it’s one of the oddest, funniest sounding instruments on the planet. It just looks weird too. Like an ironing board with an erection.

Then, thanks to YouTube, I found Theremin enthusiast Jon Bernhardt playing Video Killed the Radio Star on his very own instrument, and as gifted as he clearly is this is without a doubt one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen:

Take One…

Take Two…

I love the interwebs.

My trip to the city that never sleeps began smack bang in the middle of a chilly night, in a dingy corner of Brooklyn. Not an ideal first impression, mind you, but due to some confusion in the course of booking accommodation I chose the wrong hotel and landed up at a somewhat undesirable crap heap Holiday Inn Express.

It didn’t take long in the morning to get my Saffer bum out of there, though, and into an ancient, quirky little hangout smack bang in the middle of Manhattan dubbed Hotel Wolcott. It smelled a bit, and the staff were about as friendly as a pack of rabid Rottweilers, but it was affordable and did the trick.

Many of NYC’s most famous landmarks and attractions were well within walking distance, and I soon knocked the Empire State Building, Times Square and the shopping wonderlands of 5th, Lexington, Boradway and Madison Avenues of my to do list. Next up was a trip to Central Park and Grand Central Station (where I enjoyed a distinctly average burger at Michael Jordan’s highly-rated steakhouse), the Museum of Natural History (dino skeletons FTW) and the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which was simply jaw-droppingly beautiful, inside and out.

Chinatown, a sub-culture within a city, blew my mind. Madison Square Gardens and the religious experience that is the Apple Store were just cherries on top. And then there are the so many cliched (and for good reason too) experiences that gave me a rich taste of the city’s culture; Crumbs bakery, La Famiglia pizza, the subway (yikes), cabbies (more yikes), Starbucks and more. I just so happened to be around for a solid display of American’s tendency to adopt and celebrate any holiday worth celebrating – and believe me when New York celebrates St. Patrick’s day, as was the case, they do it in style. A parade of thousands marched down 5th Avenue – pipe bands, police, armed forces, diginitaries, school kids – you name it, they were all there. Balls to the wall. And that evening, every Irish pub in the city (and there are more than you’d think) rocked out. It was something to behold.

It’s hard to believe that I achieved all this in just over two days, but if you do your homework and are prepared to walk your butt off, New York’s best can be consumed in relatively little time. I simply can’t wait to go back and absorb the finer details and the many things I missed, but for now, New York has far and away lived up to all the hype. I cannot wait to go back!