Forgiving Tiger, Terry and You

Stars sometimes fall to earth because they're, well, they're just people. Surely this is a tired topic. But I feel compelled to weigh in, as a fellow person who has often taken a hard look in the mirror and at photos tagged with my name on Facebook and not always loved what I've seen.

For now, let's leave lucrative brand sponsorship deals aside, wherein it's all about a lilywhite reputation, which is generally fictitious anyway.

There's a more complex question to consider: what is the tacit social contract between public figures we admire, and us? Do we expect wholesomeness? Moral rectitude? Perfection? People to model ourselves on? Or might we learn to admire people in whom we can see some of ourselves? In ancient Greece, even the gods were, well, human.

The behaviors of athletes, actors and politicians that so outrage us are nothing new. It's just getting harder to cover it all up. In a world of ever-eroding privacy, embarrassing photos on social networking sites, and the uneraseable public memory that is the internet, I wonder whether an era of forgiveness could one day dawn.

Go on: let your eyes roll. How utopian and naive of me, right?

There's an interesting idea I came across recently, a suggestion that our obsession with celebrities and their exploits is in itself a kind of cover-up. A distraction from much darker stuff that's being committed by the invisible super-rich and super-powerful who sit in the air traffic control tower of contemporary society. Why get worked up over what's going down in the back reaches of the Amazon, or in the back offices of Westminster, when you can freak out over Chelsea captain John Terry having a good old fashioned affair?

Here in the UK, the buzz around removing Terry from his role as England captain has almost too-obvious parallels with the current feeling about our Prime Minister. We aren't happy with the status quo of government. We don't know when an election will be called. Until then, we express our collective (and perhaps justified) political frustration through the metaphor of sport and celebrity. Similarly, the revelation of Mr. Woods' exploits offered a welcome distraction from growing economic disparity, bank bonuses, and Wall Street returning with alarming speed to its old and dangerous ways. Some would say that this is exactly the point of sport and celebrity. To provide a collective emotional outlet.

But a collective emotional outlet doesn't solve the real problem.

I'm not saying I condone what these gentlemen have done or not done, nor would I necessarily choose to pay them (or any human being, for that matter) exorbitant sums to represent my brand. But they're guys with big egos who happen to be really, really good at something to which the rest of us aspire. So marriage (and maybe best mate-ship) aren't among their gifts. So what? That simply puts them in the company of Zeus, Athena, and their ilk. Still worthy of awe. It's just a different kind of awe.

This leads me to think about the oft-reported stories of those unfortunate university grads who have lost out on jobs because of supposedly character-revealing photographs and/or videos that circulate through social networking sites and were viewed as part of a background check by Human Resources. Those of us of a certain age read these everyday dramas in the freesheets and shake our heads, thinking, geez look how stupid these kids are. It's the contemporary equivalent of "in my day we listened to music -- today the kids just listen to noise." IE, perhaps we're a bit out of touch.

Because isn't having some over-the-top fun -- even at the expense of our dignity -- part of how we become well-rounded people? The same is true of making big mistakes. Even marriage-destroying mistakes. Depending upon how we deal with the fallout, making mistakes can be one of the most powerful ways that we learn and become who we truly are.

Already, a younger generation is prepared to overlook certain aspects of its peers' multimedia data shadows. Because hey, silly stuff happens and generally gets photographed and uploaded. There's a difference between what's criminal and what's embarrassing.

Idolising -- or even just hiring -- flawed individuals requires a shift in cultural context. And this may be exactly what's emerging from a generation that takes ubiquitous connectivity for granted. Thus, if technology won't let us forget and move on, if we can't untag every unsavory moment captured in digital media and consigned to servers in perpetuity -- and increasingly, our every moment, unsavory or otherwise, IS sitting on a server in perpetuity -- then we might have to rely on our cultural and ethical values to do the forgetting. Or even better, the forgiving.

Learning to love football.

I figured it was time. To find out just what the emotion and fuss around professional sports is all about. I'm into emotion and fuss. Also, apparently, sports are big business. I'm into big business too.

Until now, it's all been over my head and honestly, I really haven't cared. I've just never been a sports fan. Sure, as a kid I enjoyed watching ice dancing during the winter Olympics. As an adult, my heart beats a little faster when I watch Serena do her thing in centre court. But beyond that, sportsfanship was the domain of manly boys and bullies. People who were, you know, coordinated, had physical prowess on the kickball field and therefore didn't get picked last every time. Me, I got picked last.

Fortunately, times have changed and so have I. For one thing, I'm nominally British now, a status which entitles me to a number of special privileges, from socialised healthcare to calling it football instead of soccer. So I've decided its high time I get more involved in my adopted nation's passion. Soccer, which is to say, football.

And, as in all new endeavors I undertake, I've found myself a coach, an advisor, a mentor to guide me through the process.

His first lesson -- my first step on the road to fandom -- was deceptively simple. "You must adopt a team."

Easier said than done. First of all, the very term "adoption" is loaded for me. You see, I am adopted. As are my brother, sister, and every family pet we've had. Adoption is serious stuff. Big commitment. Love, even. The family-dysfunctional kind.

But a lesson is a lesson, and so adopt I would. After all, I adopted a nation-state. Why not a team? And so I did, this weekend.

So many factors to consider. Where I live. (Think globally, act locally.) The philosophy behind the team (who knew that teams have philosophies?) The ownership of the club. The cultural diversity of their players. Their performance on the pitch. (I love pitch performance. I did spend years in marketing.) Their ranking in the Premiere League. Their sponsors. And most importantly for me, their brand reputation. Let's face it, even I know which team brands signify that you're a tosser, a toff, a hopeless cheer-for-the-underdog type, or a pretentious arriviste who's a bit too shiny shiny. Such is the power of brands.

You are wincing at my overconsideration and near-paranoia, because you, of course, already are a sports fan.

The thing you must consider is that for most people, the team that is theirs -- the team that is yours -- is an intuitive and obvious thing, like breathing: you support the Yankees because you support the Yankees. Your parents did (or didn't.) Your friends did (or didn't.) It was the first game you went to. It was just an organic part of life, right? You didn't have to think about the brand, because you were probably a kid. And the brand was simply sold to you. You didn't have a fully-formed life that your team needed to fit into.

I do. Hence, all these considerations. What if I make the wrong choice, adopt the wrong team?

Well, like anyone we adopt, we deal with who they are, and they transform us.

I will tell you right now that I have some mixed feelings about my choice. I can't say I've had a love-bond with my team yet. I may need to go see them for real in order to do that. I'm not even sure I'm ready to tell you whom I've chosen.

On one hand, they're the obvious choice for me. On the other hand, it's a bit embarrassing because they're the obvious choice. I'm not sure how I feel about what my new team says about me. Or what I'll go forth to say about them. One thing's certain: my choice proclaims that I'm a toff-wannabe and frankly a bit of wanker. And now I've given it away.

Still, I can report, even this early on in my journey to sportsfanship, that it's already fun to have something mindless and non-earth-shattering to follow in the news, something physical and strategic and narrative and alive to learn more about, to get worked up about, to care about... and ultimately to share with others.

I think I might be beginning to get it.

Elevated reality.

I have an idea for a realtime utility/application/brand/service.

Instead of augmented reality, it offers something that I call elevated reality. It enables any place, relationship, or experience to become an opportunity to learn. To be truer to your real self.

Instead of offering mere information, it offers inspiration. But not any kind of inspiration. Not generic self-improvement stuff that you can find at Waterstones or on Amazon. It offers inspiration that will be uniquely motivating TO YOU.

In other words, as you let this service get to know you, it personalizes what it does for you. Take some people I know, for example. For Mark, it might mean helping him make purchasing decisions that are in synch with his personal values. For Chris, it might involve some nudging to take a particular photograph in a way he hadn't considered before. For Roberta it might mean tasting a strange new dish that's just been concocted around the corner. For Claudie it might mean exploring new (or ancient) forms of sacred movement. For Matthew it might involve time-shifting his own brilliance so he can experience it the way others do, for Kate it's steady encouragement, for Sam it's pointing to new sources of challenge, for Eivor it might involve connecting with someone who misunderstands an author she loves. And so on.

Imagine if the continual school that is life were enhanced by realtime connections to ideas, things, places, people -- just when we would most benefit from that connection. It's not a friend-finder or an interesting-experiences guide -- it's more like a coach, a teacher, an agent-companion that makes your journey more personally and emotionally productive. It makes your real life a school. In realtime.

This is what elevated reality would be.

Anyone interested?

5 Good Fights

One of the things I have come to appreciate about living in London is that here, more than anywhere else I've ever been or lived, the past and the future are in constant debate with one another. They wrestle, sometimes constrain each another, and the tension between the two can be exasperating. Because it's a fight between well-matched opponents. And the result is an environment and a citizenry that's dynamically open, stubbornly opinionated, brash and gently polite all at once.

So I've been thinking about the value of the "good fight." And I've come up with 5 well-matched opponents that particularly interest me.

Transformation and Tradition

Intuition and Evidence

Transience and Permanence

Humanity and Technology

Individuality and Community

Interesting stuff lies in the ambivalent spaces between these pairs of seeming opposites. Opportunity emerges from the creative abrasion that happens when you force them into the boxing ring together. I'm not talking harmonious yin and yang here. I'm talking about messy arguments, heated challenge, a fight to the finish that may or may not end in a tie.

I wonder what other good fights we might instigate. Any thoughts?

Slipping in Realtime

I just had lunch at one of my favorite places for comfort food in London. It wasn't as good as it always was. And funnily enough, I was at its sister restaurant for dinner last night which also wasn't quite as good as it was last time. Has the recession taken its toll on the kitchen, the servers, and the overall experience? Is corporate management cutting the wrong costs?

Or was it just a coincidence?

I thought about posting something in realtime. To Yelp, to Tweet my disappointment. But then I wondered: is there any margin for error anymore? In realtime, must business be absolutely perfect, all of the time? Would the right people read my post? If management were monitoring the stream, my opinion might create an opportunity for improvement. But other customers might turn away, and the downward spiral of quality deterioration could continue.

In realtime, what's the right thing to do?

Metail

So it's a horrible-sounding term. But it's coming.

Metail is the hybrid of media and retail -- personalized just for you. Retail, after all, is media. It's a channel through which content is delivered. Branded content, entertaining content, useful content.

And as the digital and physical realms mashup into one continuous live experience, a live experience that's increasingly personalized, retailers must morph into metailers.

What do metailers do? They think and behave like media channels AND point-of-sale providers simultaneously. They program ever-changing, sometimes serialized, time-relevant content and context into their physical space. They consistently integrate this programming into online channels and screens, from the desktop to the mobile. Time-relevant programming could include niche-shopping nights (girls night out at Victoria's Secret, gay night at AussieBum) rush hour benefits (instant-pickup pre-bagged groceries, office-to-dinner quick makeover) or sports event shopping (discount for 5 minutes after your team scores) and the like. It also includes personalized, life-moment programming. The High School Graduation, Learning To Drive, and Just Got Engaged life moments suggest any number of personalized promotions and services that could drive sales. Tie ups with movies, games and television properties could make these life-moment programs even more compelling.

Because shopping is as much about entertainment as it is about utility, co-branded in-store experiences provide opportunities for new revenue streams for the metailer. Events, branded content partnerships, and the sale of media space itself are integrated into the economics of the metail business model, as are the data analytics of shopper behavior.

As long as I get a cut of the action, I don't mind if data about my behavior patterns convert into revenue. Metailers must earn the permission to track our behavior in the store by providing extra benefits to us for doing so. Benefits like secret discounts, early-access to promotions and sales, limited edition products, etc. So that over time, metail provides a customized, realtime experience -- and highly engaging reasons to consider and buy -- for each and every one of us.

To the Serpentine, go!

I'll keep this brief. The Jeff Koons show at the Serpentine Gallery is disturbing, silly and brilliantly smart all at once. He was the reason I decided to become an artist years ago, and the Popeye Series has me wondering why I ever stopped. Just outside the gallery, this year's Pavilion is a masterclass in What Architecture Is (and Is Not.) It reminds you that you're in a physical body, yet have senses and perceptions that can extend beyond your physical self. It's playful and functional and it has the realtime characteristics of simultaneously existing as a virtual experience and a solid object. (In a way, the Koons show does the same thing.)

All in all, a visit is a really good way to spend some precious realtime. In the middle of one of the world's great urban parks, no less. Food for the brain, soul and Flickr photostream.