The very first sound I ever made was neither in Xhosa nor English; it was that universal wail all babies make. I cried, at least that’s what I imagine happened. Maybe I cried because I was naked and was feeling a little embarrassed. Or was it because I was aware of how small my penis was and my hands were too short, and my muscles too weak, for me to stretch my hands to hide it? I will never remember. It could be argued that I suffered a premature onslaught of Alzheimer’s, but it’s something all babies share – forgetting where they come from. No memory of their history …

It was a dark and stormy night in April when I was born. I’m not joking. I was born in a hut in the house of my grandfather, Alfred Kaiser Boyce, uSnama, Rhadu, Somadoda, amalandelwa yintombi ithindizeke nobaawunankomo! (S’nama, Rhadu, Somadoda, the ones who get followed by girls saying, ‘marry me even if you have no cows!’). You will be excused for thinking that Alfred Kaiser Boyce was a white man. He was not; he was as Xhosa as they come.

I was born in the small rural village of Dutyini just outside the small town of Mount Ayliff in the Transkei. My grandfather was married to Marhadebe, Victoria Boyce. The story of how they got married is as romantic as any one I have heard. Xhosa men back then were not known for their romance, not that they are now. However, I imagine I am, rather (Hello, ladies). Perhaps I should tell the story of how they got married, very briefly.

Before they got married, my grandfather (Kaiser or K as he was called by everyone in the village) and grandmother had been dating. Kaiser was very popular with the ladies because of his looks, charm, wit and his above-average education. Unlike many young black men in his time, he had gone all the way to Grade 8. A major achievement.

My grandmother, Victoria Mthimkhulu, wasn’t known as the best-looking woman around. But she had the most incredible sprit of any human being I have ever met. My grandfather had four sisters. As anyone with many sisters will know, they always have an opinion about any woman you decide you like. They could never understand his fixation on my grandmother. According to them, he was far superior to her in looks. They even called her ugly. He would respond by saying, ‘Ifigure yakhe!’ (‘What a fine figure she has!’).

He was also taken with her conservatism, politeness, steadfastness, Christian poise and the fact that she could read and write, something uncommon for women in her village at the time. I’ll never forget that when some white came to our distant village once, my grandfather was away and there was only one person who could speak to that person — my grandmother. I was too young and my English nonexistent, so I have no clue what they talked about.

My grandfather didn’t have much money so he wasn’t able to pay her lobola (dowry) right away. While he was chilling, some other fellow, a rich man in the area, paid lobola for my grandmother. Custom dictated then that if your parents had an agreement with another girl’s parents, you were supposed to marry that person, even though you had never dated. It was effectively an arranged marriage. And so it was that my grandmother was married to another man.

Upon hearing the news, Kaiser would have none of it. He hatched a plan immediately. He was in love so there was no chance in hell that some random dude, no matter how much money he had, would beat him to the punch, even if he had already beaten him to the punch.

He sent a message to my grandmother that he planned to take her from her new in-laws. She agreed to the plan only if he promised that he would pay lobola by a certain time.

In a cavalier fashion, within days of my grandmother’s marriage, my grandfather and his friends invaded the new home of his now married lover and took her. She was basically kidnapped (‘waathwalwa’).

Ukuthwalwa was not unheard of then. But to ukuthwala a woman who was already married to another man was something new altogether.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, my grandfather eventually gathered a few cattle and paid lobola for my grandmother and they lived happily until death parted them.

These were the people who raised me for the first ten years of my life. The idea that I could grow up to be anything I wanted to be is something that I observed in them; it’s not something that I would say they taught me.

My mother would come to visit Dutyini from the township of Mdanstane, just outside East London where she worked. I never really knew what to say to her because she was this beautiful woman who I was too scared to touch because I was afraid of making her dirty. She always seemed so out of place and too beautiful to be in the village. Years later, I found out that she would cry every time she left for East London, she found it unbearable that she had to leave her children behind in the rural life while she went back to an easier existence in the township.

My early education happened in this village. The teachers had an inferior education, which meant they transferred inferior knowledge to children who were already disadvantaged by life. One of my classrooms accommodated both the Grade 1s and Grade 2s. There were times when we couldn’t use the classrooms because they were being used for something else.

They say that these early years are what make us who we are. If those years made me who I am, I am grateful for them. By the time I was ten, I was a certified delinquent. I had already quit smoking weed and moved on to other things. I guess what I’m saying is that it is a miracle that I have written this book. And I want to thank everyone who has played a part in my life.

These t-shirts were not made for the Boston Marathon. It’s a commemoration the New York Yankees trashing the Boston Red Sox 4-0  in a four game series in 1978. Needless to say that these are the makings of the world’s most unintentionally awkward t-shirt.

And here is the original Dove spot that has been spoofed.

Here are my two favourites by writer comedian Gavin Speiller. He has great movie ideas. They start well and then he can’t get past the first page. Some funnier than others obviously. Here is his Twitter handle, you’ll find the rest of his scripts there  @gavinspeiller

My favourite

second favourite

The story of TV’s first-ever interracial kiss is actually one of the medium’s biggest urban legends. Most believe it occurred on Star Trek in 1968. The common belief is that the first kiss between an African-American and a Caucasian happened in a third season Star Trek episode called “Plato’s Stepchildren.” Before I correct the common misconception, I will fill you in on the details of the Star Trek kiss, which is historic in its own right.

The “Plato’s Stepchildren” episode involved the crew of the starship Enterprise being made into unwilling slaves, the condition being enforced by the “superior” beings called Platonians who have the power of telekinesis, which they employed to make the crew behave as their masters desired. William Shatner (Captain Kirk) and Nichelle Nichols (Uhura) are thereby “forced” to kiss.

The telekinesis made it easier for NBC to explain the kiss, as in the big scene Captain Kirk is forced to kiss the African-American Uhura against his will. Shatner, in his inimitable manner, emotes, “I-won’t-kiss-you! I-won’t-kiss-you!” But because of the great counter-effort, the kiss does, indeed, take place.

William Shatner, in his book Star Trek Memories, insists that he and actress Nichols never actually kissed during the scene; he maintains that their lips never touched. However, Nichols positively declares that they did lock lips. It seems incredible that such a major event is not more clearly recalled, as obviously either Shatner or Nichols is mistaken. The kiss itself is obscured by the back of Nichols’ head, so we, the viewers, can’t tell who is right.

NBC, nervous about the reaction from their Southern affiliates, insisted that an alternate take be shot, one without the kiss. After Shatner and Nichols shot several kisses, the alternate takes were attempted. Both Shatner and Nichols agree on what happened next.

During every alternate take, Shatner crossed his eyes goofily, thus ruining any further takes. According to Nichols, NBC was still against using the kiss, so she went to view the dailies and see the reaction of the NBC brass. After viewing the kiss and the “cross-eyed” alternate takes, the NBC suits finally conceded and said, “To hell with it. Let’s go with the kiss.”

Nichols recalled the flood of mail the show received after the episode was aired. To her surprise, it was all positive. She even recalled one letter from a Southern viewer, which said: “I am totally opposed to the mixing of the races. However, any time a red-blooded American boy like Captain Kirk gets a beautiful dame in his arms that looks like Uhura, he ain’t gonna fight it.”

*from http://www.neatorama.com/neatogeek/2013/04/10/TVs-First-Interracial-Kiss/

Original Lyrics:

Alagamun-lan, weh, wakun, heya, hanun, gon
Alagamun-lan, weh, makun, heya, hanun, gon
Alagamun-lan, ari, gari, hanon, kari, he
Alagamun-lan, we-like, we like party, hey
Ichiba, varriya, is hara moru, mashi sondori, yama, varriya
Yougun, pegi, tur, equa, machen, varriya
Noga, onku, pega, haga, kunge, nande, varriya
Damn girl, you’re so freakin sexy

I-I-I I’m a, I-I-I I’m a
I-I-I I’m a, mother-father-gentleman

I-I-I I’m a, I-I-I I’m a
I-I-I I’m a, mother-father-gentleman

I-I-I I’m a, I-I-I I’m a
I-I-I I’m a, mother-father-gentleman

Alagamun-lan, weh, mikuneya, hana, gon
Alagamun-lan. weh, sikuneya, hana, gon
Alagamun-lan, pali, pali, wasa, nelly, neh
Alagamun-lan, nali, nali, nasa, pali, hee
Ichiba, varaniya, nori, moli, holy, daddy, chunga, ri
Varriya, get feeling, feeling good, brutake
Varriya, gachu, gunya, sorinage, sorinage
Varriya, damn girl, I’mma party, morphine

I-I-I I’m a, I-I-I I’m a
I-I-I I’m a, mother-father-gentleman

I-I-I I’m a, I-I-I I’m a
I-I-I I’m a, mother-father-gentleman

I-I-I I’m a, I-I-I I’m a
I-I-I I’m a, mother-father-gentleman

Gonna make you sweat
Gonna make you wet
You know who I am, west side
Gonna make you sweat
Gonna make you wet
You know who I am, west side

I-I-I I’m a, I-I-I I’m a
I-I-I I’m a, mother-father-gentleman

I-I-I I’m a, I-I-I I’m a
I-I-I I’m a, mother-father-gentleman

I-I-I I’m a, I-I-I I’m a
I-I-I I’m a, mother-father-gentleman

Full Translation:

I don’t know if you know why it needs to be hot
I don’t know if you know why it needs to be clean
I don’t know if you know, it’ll be a problem if you’re confused
I don’t know if you know but we like, we we we like to party

Hey there
If I’m going to introduce myself
I’m a cool guy with courage, spirit and craziness
What you wanna hear, what you wanna do is me
Damn! Girl! You so freakin sexy!

Ah Ah Ah Ah I’m a…
Ah Ah Ah Ah I’m a…
Ah Ah Ah Ah I’m a mother father gentleman

Ah Ah Ah Ah I’m a…
Ah Ah Ah Ah I’m a…
Ah Ah Ah Ah I’m a mother father gentleman

I’m a, ah I’m a
I’m a mother father gentleman
I’m a, ah I’m a
I’m a mother father gentleman

I’m a, ah I’m a
I’m a mother father gentleman
I’m a, ah I’m a
I’m a mother father gentleman

I’m a, ah I’m a
I’m a mother father gentleman
I’m a, ah I’m a
I’m a mother father gentleman

I don’t know if you know why it needs to be smooth
I don’t know if you know why it needs to be sexy
I don’t know if you know darling, hurry and come be crazy
I don’t know if you know, it’s crazy, crazy, hurry up

Hey there
Your head, waist, legs, calves
Good! Feeling feeling? Good! It’s soft
I’ll make you gasp and I’ll make you scream
Damn! Girl! I’m a party mafia!

Ah Ah Ah Ah I’m a…
Ah Ah Ah Ah I’m a…
Ah Ah Ah Ah I’m a mother father gentleman

Ah Ah Ah Ah I’m a…
Ah Ah Ah Ah I’m a…
Ah Ah Ah Ah I’m a mother father gentleman

I’m a, ah I’m a
I’m a mother father gentleman
I’m a, ah I’m a
I’m a mother father gentleman

Gonna make you sweat.
Gonna make you wet
You know who I am Wet PSY

Gonna make you sweat.
Gonna make you wet.
You know who I am
Wet PSY! Wet PSY! Wet PSY! Wet PSY! PSY! PSY! PSY!
Ah I’m a mother father gentleman

I’m a, ah I’m a
I’m a mother father gentleman
I’m a, ah I’m a, I’m a mother father gentleman

Mother father gentleman

Mother father gentleman

The very same agency had to get rid of another 20 last months. He wrote one of the classiest exit letters I have ever read. He is a copywriter. For those who don’t know what that is, it’s someone who writes ads. That’s not all but it’s the simplest explanation. If I were an Executive Creative Director, I would hire him immediately. I wouldn’t even ask to see his portfolio. His letter says everything about his character, sincerity and his ethic. If I made a mistake hiring him, I’d be glad I did. Here is his exit letter:

In Canada’s frozen north, during a particularly harsh winter, a starving Eskimo tribe (Inuit for the politically correct) was forced to abandon their eldest matron on the ice. Being a tough old broad, she followed her clan for several days, making sure to keep just out of sight.

One day, a polar bear happened upon her. Taking her for a straggler and an easy meal it strolled up to her, mouth open, ready to swallow with one gulp. The Eskimo lady waited and, once in range, plunged her walking stick down the bear’s gullet.

Hours later the clansmen could see her, cresting a snow hill, dragging behind her enough meat to feed the whole tribe.

Times are tough, and circumstances beyond anybody’s control have dictated that I must leave. Totally understand. But, as Rahm Emanuel would say, “Never fucking waste a fucking crisis, fucker.” Which is another way of saying that it’s actually an opportunity. And I intend on seizing it.

So thanks to every member of this tribe called Arnold. It’s been an honor and pleasure working with you. I hope our paths cross again. Who knows? I might even be back one day. Hopefully with enough polar bear sushi to share.

In the words of a fellow young Canadian:

Never say never,
Rich Tseng

That’s right, he quoted Justin Bieber.

A great deal of intrigue has risen around the word, ‘towning’ or to ‘town’ lately, thanks to the loud and powerful minority on the social networks. Every other day there is someone asking what the word means. To my surprise, I have even seen some of my melanin-disadvantaged brethren use it freely – and correctly at that. I have taken it upon myself to educate those who do not know. So sit down kids and listen to a history lesson you will not find in your textbooks. The origins of Towning. I will give you the raw, naked truth.

Towning is not to be confused with planking. Although it is a form of planking. Don’t worry, I’ll get into it later. I was going to take some time and explain what planking is in case some of you reading this have no idea. Don’t worry if you do not know, you have not missed much. But if you insist and really, really want to know, please consult (to quote George W. Bush) ‘The Google’, and while you’re at it, urbandictionary.com, they are sure to explain to you what it is. Maybe you should simply Google images. As they say, a picture tells a thousand words.

Where was I? Oh yes, towning. This is a very popular word with the Eastern Cape crowd. You can hardly go anywhere without hearing about it. In fact, if it were not for towning, none of us would be here.

Even though the word originated from the Eastern Cape, those who are from that province are aware that it comes from their region, but they would not be able to tell anyone about its history and origins. As a self-appointed towning historian, I believe it is my God-given duty to educate. Well, sit back, get a cup of coffee, tea or whatever it is you drink and take a sip as you read.

Let me cut to the chase right from the get go, beating around the bush isn’t really going to take us far. Do excuse the puns. Don’t worry, you’ll notice them in a second. The term basically means having sex without a condom. Uyatawuna. Ukutawuna. Now you know. However, read on and find out the more interesting aspect of this story. The history of towning. Not so much the history of towning, but the history of the word.

According to legend, ukutawuna originated from one of South Africa’s largest townships, (my hometown by the way) Mdantsane, a township just outside East London. Those of you who have had the misfortune of never having lived there, you have no idea what you are missing. Some of you will know Mdantsane for producing some of the greatest boxing champions in the world and, of course, me.

As  an aside, when then world boxing champion Vuyani Bhungu had just won his championship, an interviewer asked him what he was going to do for his family now that he had won. His response is legendary, ‘I’ll braai them all.’ But let me get back to ukutawuna.

Back in the day, there used to be one taxi route from Mdantsane to East London. If you wanted to catch a taxi from Mdantsane to East London (which was simply called town, or as the Xhosas say, ‘etawuni’) you had to go to the biggest taxi rank in the township. The taxi rank is famously known as Highway. To this day I still don’t know how it managed to get this odd name, especially since there is no highway to be seen anywhere near.

As time moved on, a new area developed in greater East London called Vincent. A mall by the name, *drum roll*, Vincent Park Mall, opened there. As one would imagine, it became very popular. In order to accommodate all the people who worked and shopped there, a new taxi route opened up from Mdantsane and it was named, well, you guessed it, Vincent. This means when you were at the taxi rank in Mdantsane Highway, you could get a taxi that could take you directly to Vincent.

At the taxi rank in Mdantsane Highway, you’d hear taxi drivers shouting to passersby, ‘Vincent! Vincent! Vincent! Vincent!’ For some reason, they always felt the need to shout it in rapid-fire bursts of four as if you wouldn’t know you were going there if they just said it once or twice.

Now you need to follow what I’m going to say closely. I wouldn’t want to lose you after we’ve gone so far in this story.

The Vincent taxi didn’t only stop in Vincent but also went to central town. This raised a bit of a conundrum for the taxis that were going to town but not via Vincent. What to call their route? And how to make it seem more attractive?

Remember, previously they simply shouted, ‘Town!’ Now they had to find a more marketable phrase to make their route more attractive. Thus, ‘Town straight!’ was born.

Remember, both routes end up in town, but the one goes via Vincent. The advantage of simply saying ‘Town straight’ meant that you were letting your passengers know that they could go directly to town without having to go via Vincent. That was a waste of their time. The destination is the same but the time to get there is longer if you go via Vincent. Thus the birth of ‘towning’.

When AIDS came, so did condoms. And so clever boys in Mdantsane started referring to sex without a condom as ‘Town Straight’. It was essentially the same as taking a taxi from Mdantsane Highway and ending up in town without having the hassle of taking the long route. If you had sex with a condom it was like taking a taxi from Mdantsane Highway to Vincent, then to town. It was a longer way of getting the same result.

As time moved on, having sex without a condom was no longer referred to as Town Straight, but a Xhosalised version of it, which is ukutawuna. There are several colloquial references to it now. A person who towns regularly is called a town planner.

Happy towning friends. I kid. I kid. (Well, towning does lead to kids)

It was the best of tweets, it was the worst of tweets, it was an age of Direct Messages, it was an epoch of Facebook status updates, it was an epoch of retweets, it was a season of avatars, it was a season of Facebook status comments, we had nothing before it, we had everything after it; in short, everyone heard us, but nobody listened to us, we were all friends, we were all lonely…

The first time he noticed her was from a response she made to his tweet. He doesn’t remember her reply though. But the picture, or as the people on the social networks call it, the “avatar” was a site, I mean, sight to behold. He replied and then followed her back immediately. Not long after, he sent her a DM. She didn’t respond.

Every time someone sent him a private message he would look only to be met with cyber disappointment, cyber silence. Yet she was tweeting and not responding to him. “I’m sorry if I offended you,” he DMed her. “Uunless you feel I didn’t offend you enough.” He knew this was a risk too but he took it. Her response was immediate. She laughed and called him silly. #TheSocialMediaGods are with me he said to himself. *air punch*

What came next truly surprised him. When he went to other side of the tracks (Facebook), he discovered he had been poked by none other than nice Miss Avatar. He pokes back. She pokes back. He pokes. She pokes back. He pokes back. She pokes. He pokes. She doesn’t poke back but sends him a friend request instead and he does an air punch and does not care about the Windhoek guy coming to him to ask him what he was doing.

Just when he thought things couldn’t get any better, she sends him a message: “I noticed on your tweets that it says, ‘Twitter for BlackBerry’. Well, here’s my BBM pin. Let’s chat!” Then she ell o ells (that’s LOL to you). He thinks this is a match made in Social Media Heaven.

They begin to BBM back and forth, all day and all night. Suddenly they have “insomnia”, which would have been cured immediately if they got off their BlackBerrys of course. They become less sociable with people in their presence but ever more present with each other even though they are nowhere near one another.

They organise to meet. It as if they have known each other for years when they meet. He discovers that the phrases she uses on BBM chat are actually phrases she uses in real life. The awkwardness that one would expect is less pronounced. There is nothing much to prove because they shared parts of who they are in their distance.

They have a great day together. She writes on her BBM status update after the date: “OMG I had the best day ever! BBM heart, BBM hearts in eyes, BBM blushing face and BBM dancing emoticon.”

It is not long before she starts tweeting incomprehensible tweets like: “:-).” That’s it. That’s the tweet. Other tweets are interspersed with hearts. And things like, “What a great feeling.” And no sooner that happens there is a change from “Single” on Facebook to “In a Relationship”. She presses him to do the same. He refuses. She presses some more.

“Why don’t you want to change your relationship status? In fact, you have to say you are in a relationship with me.” He says he doesn’t want people knowing his business. Eventually he succumbs. Her friends comment on the change of relationship status update. Many click like on the new status update – even those who are not happy that she is in a relationship fake happiness for her for her newfound love.

Then without warning things turn for the worst. She subliminally tweet: “How can you greet the whole world on Twitter before you greet me?!” Another one after that one: “You are not in a relationship with the world. I am your girlfriend!” (Don’t know how subliminal it truly is if we can tell that it is in fact subliminal).

People no longer wear their hearts on their sleeves, but on their BBM and Facebook status updates.

She unfollows him on Twitter. He subliminally tweets “Duces” and proceeds to unfollow her. She changes her relationship status update and unfriends him. As much as they have unfollowed each other, common friends still retweet and reply to their tweets which ultimately mean they still see each other tweets anyway. They may be out of sight, but they are not out of site. As much as they want to forget about each other, social media makes sure they are constantly aware of what the other is doing.

Then one day she tweets him a simple, “Hi.” He replies, “; -)”. The cycle starts all over again as they start following each another.  This is love in a time of social media.

This is a great and controversial ad by Nike. What I like about it is that Nike is not afraid of having a point of view. They could have played it safe and said, “Congratulations on retaining the number 1 spot.” Brands needs to have a point of view and that’s what makes them resonate. After all these years, Nike still acts like a challenger sports brand even though it is the number 1 brand in the world. Respect.