The Art Of War

The key to successful marketing is to eliminate the competitors from our target's mindspace. What this means is literally kicking any memory, positive feelings, or any association to the competitor's brand, ads, logo or sloppy slogans, out of the way.

At a recent birthday party, I had a very interesting conversation with an ex-colleague of mine. She got to the topic of how she managed to successfully conquer the full capacity of her (then guy-she-wanted-to hook-up-with, turned boyfriend, and now husband)'s brain by destroying the competition.

Story starts with her already sort of knowing the guy, and they were at a party . Enter intelli-skank, in the form of a 5'10", overly-rebonded hair executive of a woman who snaps her neck at a 40 degree angle everytime she laughs just so that her hair could demonstrate it's fully conditioned salon-treatment-at-home look (no offence, Vidal Sassoon - or was it VO5?).

Upon eavesdropping, my friend learns that intelli-skank was going full-on about politics, the decline of the world's social structure and the financial crisis befalling developed nations. The whole time whiplashing a few waiters passing by and annoying the rest of the world with her put-on Chelsea accent and glowing in her intelli-skankness.

A smart strategic planner such as my friend knew that the only way to counter offensive a competitive intruder is to lie in wait beyond the grass plains like a lioness and let all the hot air steam out before striking for the jugular. And true enough, the hot air subsided as intelli-skank excused herself to go to the ladies.

My friend proceeded to walk up to Mr. Oblivious-to-fake-skanks and clinked her glass with his and gestured for a toast. "What were you guys talking about?". "Politics. World hunger. She really was very enthusiastic about those topics. I could see by the way she was telling me all about those things."

My friend nodded, then put her glass on the bar top, and pulled his ear as close to her lips as possible.

"I like porn."

Brilliant.

Holy Crap

Ever had one of those dreams where everything was completely fucked up and you're just screaming to yourself to wake up? I usually do. The funny thing is, most of the times, you know you were dreaming.

For me - either if the scene had me alongside Indiana Jones trying to solve an ancient riddle before the cave was completely filled with water and poisonous sea snakes, or if it was me getting low,low,low,low on the dancefloor with a Beyonce lookalike booty but then pleasantly surprised with the face of Omarosa (from The Apperentice) - I always had a 50/50 emotion of utter terror that shit was going down, yet the most peaceful inner comfort that i knew it was just a dream and that sooner or later, I'd wake up.

That feeling, my friends, is like getting an anaphylactic shock while doing the horizontal lambada. Or like throwing up on the 8th round of salt-tequila-lime and knowing that after the horrible ordeal, you're set to go for no. 9.

That's why we probably enjoy The Grudge (1 and 2) or Final Destination (1,2 and killer No. 3!), Knowing the fact that after shamelessly gripping your girlfriend's thighs and squealing every 7 minutes under your own fag-breath, you can safely walk out of the cinema and tell yourself that it was a good movie. But most importantly, that it was a movie.

But sometimes, you come face to face with a situation in real life that makes you wonder, or wish, that it too, was a dream. And you wait and wait and wait for that "Ah-ha!" moment just like the one in your dream (as you strangle one poisonous snake with your left hand while helping Indy fit another Aztec stone to solve the deadly riddle with your right hand) when you sheepishly smile in your sleep and say to yourself "It's just a dream! Ah hahahahahahahaha" - But that moment never comes.

And the longer you wait, the more sea snakes come hissing your way. And you know Indy can't perform when snakes are involved.

No Dorothy shoes to click, no Ziggy (from Quantum Leap by the way) to consult, and no Doraemon to pull a magic door from his magic pocket.

Shit.

But hey, look at the bigger picture. Our whole life in existence could just be one big dream. 'Cause life doesn't begin at 40 or 50 apparently. It begins in the afterlife.

Good luck to you on this one.

The Swing Of Things

My neighborhood buddies came over to the house for Hari Raya yesterday. It was a blast.

We laughed like the old days. The eating and drinking became just a-matter-of-fact.

Old jokes remained as fresh as ever. And just as funny as they were 5-7 years ago.

The topics of the newer conversations circled around due dates, his daughter's habits and refreshingly enough, plans for what excuses to give the wives for the next karaoke session.

Time seemed to zoom back 10 years yesterday. Down there, on my driveway, smoking and talking crap. With our wives strategically compounded in the living room upstairs.

Good friends are unlike your golf swing. When you haven't played in awhile, you usually have to take some time to get your swing back. With friends like mine, no matter how long it's been since we last hung out carelessly, we have a swingin' good time right at the get go.

By the way that picture there is about 2-3 years old. So there...

Cheers, Boys!