For writers everywhere, there is one sure way of ensuring immortality: writing The Line. The Line is that one thing, that catchphrase that gets repeated at watercoolers and in STD clinics (in fact, wherever men congregate in large groups after a good weekend) around the world…and is repeated ad infinitum. It’s sure-fire immortality. And you can write it anywhere. Still no idea what I’m talking about? Ok, check this out:

Yeah. Good lines. Not all of them winners, but it’s late. Cut me some friggin’ slack.

So…how do you write The Line?

Well, let me tell you…I have no idea. Really. I’m still looking for The Line. It’s out there somewhere. Probably hiding in a box of chocolate raisins. At least, I think they’re raisins. They’re kinda fluffy. That can’t be right.

Ok. That’s the end of the post… No really. It’s over. Close the window…

Those nutty Germans are at it again.First it was the whole “are you having sex with Hitler” thing, which I personally thought was a pretty good solution (oh shut up, you wooly-wearing Mother Grundy)…

And this time it’s Rammstein, the East German rock band and their made-for-tv album promos. No really. What you’re about to see is one of the four spots, which is DEFINITELY NSFW (if you’re 12 and you work for some nanny-type organisation…then again if that was true, you wouldn’t be reading this blog anyway).

Shock-value is all it is. And now that the promise has been made, let’s hope the album lives up to all this hype, lest this be consigned to the heap of premature wad-shots like so much cheap porn.

Sometimes the gods smile, the planets align and the winds are favourable…Most often in advertising that doesn’t happen: the gods go play golf, the planets spin out of control and the only wind you’ll experience is that of a pompous and flatulent management-type with delusions of adequacy.

Luckily today’s post is about the rare former. I present a jewel in the rough, the Medal Paints TV campaign; a simple set of ads based around the importance of having the right colour…

Simple. Effective. And damn, that smack just felt good. It’s the kind of smack you want to dish out to your immediate superior, when he grins his smug little shit-eating grin comfortable in the knowledge that because he’s so far up the big (and by big I mean obese) boss’ ass that despite his incredible displays of ineptitude, you can’t touch him. Then again, would you want to? Touch him, I mean. I think the reasons for smacking him are pretty self-evident.

I digress…

As I said , this is a great ad: entertaining and memorable. And the rest of the campaign is as clever. Big up and respect to the agency behind it. Really gold-medal stuff (oh shut up, you knew it was coming)…

Nando's grabs it by the balls...

So, Joost Van Der Westhuizen, one-time national rugby superstar, has confessed (for the overseas readers, Google please). “It are me in der sexy-tape.”

Yes, Joost, it are you.

Shock. Horror. Another national sports-hero who just couldn’t handle the fame. Well played, Joost. Well done for living the dream…dumb-ass.

By the way, that’s “hooker” as in “prostitute”, not the the guy in the front row of the scrum. That said, this sex tape is 3 years old and anything could have happened since then.

Personally I still think Joost is a great role-model. Hundreds of young men aspiring to be a Springbok and coming up through the ranks are going, “OK. If I’m gonna sniff cocaine off a hooker’s ass, I’m not gonna record it. Gonna do this undercover. In another country. Dankie Oom Joost (Thanks, Uncle Joost).”

So some good came out of it….

Anyway, here’s a flashback to something else that was good. Joost, you don’t have to watch this. There aren’t any hookers here.

Have a great weekend…and if nothing else, take heart that yours will be a little better than the next 48 hours in the Van Der Westhuizen household.

A friend of mine suggested recently that I take a gander at the  lyrics of Cat Stevens’ (aka Yusuf Islam)”Father and Son”. Since my own father passed away not so long ago, I’ve done my best to avoid the track, but this time around I felt compelled to read it. For those of you who can’t be bothered to read, here’s the track:

So…

Yeah. A bit depressing, right? Yup.

Here’s the thing: as much as the song has a point about the impetuousness of youth and the wanton disregard for the wisdom of  a life’s worth of experience (something that marked the relationship my dad and I had), the fact is that you cannot expect to grow by sitting and listening to others.

Yes, you need to take heed of those who have gone before you, if only to know what pitfalls may await you.

But you cannot let them live your life for you.

You need to make mistakes. You need to fall. You need to lose your way. You need to take risks. You need to fail. That’s what life (and creativity – see how I tied it back? Slick!) is all about. Creativity is all about mistakes, doing the unexpected, the frowned-upon…

People will always tell you through deeds and words what is expected of you, what is allowed, what can never be considered… You can listen to them – and live a life of no consequence. You’ll achieve nothing, not professionally, not personally…

Or you can do like Chris Columbus, Roald Amundsen, Chief Sitting Bull, Ghandhi, Barack Obama, John F. Kennedy, Abraham Lincoln, John Lennon, Amelia Earhart, Cleopatra, Marie Curie and a host of other historical and contemporary figures who decided that doing what they wanted with their lives was what mattered and the  nay-sayers be damned.

Your path through life has two distinct forks at all junctures: do what is expected – or do what makes you happy.

And very seldom are either the same choice.

The decision and its consequences are always yours. And the experience can never be substituted or stolen from you.

So..what’s it gonna be?

[It's been 2 years since I lost my father. I miss you, old man.]