Arnold Schwarzenegger Marketing…True Story
“The Arnold Schwarzenegger Marketing Lesson”
Years ago, Arnold Schwarzenegger taught me an extremely important marketing lesson… Here’s the story (true Story):
As a kid, Arnold Schwarzenegger was a Hero to me. Saving the world, killing aliens, busting the bad guys…and of course…that bike (who could forget the Terminator Bike).
I loved him so much so, that I decided, I would launch a ‘Nick Name Branding Campaign’. The goal – to get my friends to call me…
‘The Maxinator’
(You know, from Arnolds Terminator Movie?). Or even ‘Max Soutternegger’. Had a ring to it.
What followed was one of the most important marketing lessons i’ve ever learned.
Get the details here - READ MORE
If you’re trying to build a brand, then you absolutely need to do this one thing…without it - your efforts are all wasted. Check it out on the Bizsetup blog.
Mistakes
Micheal Jackson he surely could not simply die.
How can a man of energetic dances on stage
Just drop down to the ground at that age.
But just like others whose faces are stuck in earth….
He simply made a grievous mistake
Of forgetting to breathe in and out
Clinging causes the pain
Genuine love and kindness is desperately needed in this world. It comes from appreciating the object, and rejoicing in the object, wanting the object to be happy and well, but holding it lightly, not tightly. And this goes for possessions too. You are in an extremely materialistic society in which the possession of more and bigger and better is held up as the total criteria for being happy. Read more
I did not cry when Michael Jackson died
When I heard that Michael Jackson had died on 25th June this year, I was pained but I did not cry. When his brother Jermaine came out on TV confirming to the world that indeed that Michael was dead that hit me in a sensitive place, but still I did not cry.
Watching the news, I saw thousands of people around the world gather, sing his songs, cry tears for him and dances his moves- but still I could not bring myself to shed a tear. I was so sad that I wanted to cry- but I couldn’t.
I played his music, watched his videos on YouTube, wrote an article about him for The Zimbo Jam and exchanged MJ stories with my wife.
It was emotional- gut wrenchingly so. Then on Tuesday this week, there was the sight of the convoy driving down LA to the Staples Center. I stopped everything I was doing and sat down to watch the live broadcast. No tears still.
His brothers in their dark suits, yellow ties and sequined single gloves. Still no tears. Jennifer Hudson, Mariah Carey, Smokey Robinson and Shaheen Jafargholi all sang their hearts out. Usher cried as he did his performance. There were hugs and tears all round.
Then Michael Jackson’s daughter, Paris, spoke. Unlike everyone else, she did not say “Michael”- she said “Daddy”. That hit home more than I was ready for. He was somebody’s Daddy. He wasn’t just a beautiful voice and awesome dance moves. He wasn’t just a music icon. He was a son, a brother, an uncle, a father.
“Ever since I was born, Daddy has been the best father I could imagine,” she said, “I just want to say I love him so much.”
She had me at Daddy.
An expert blessed with a curse
I hate life just ask Eve,
I rejoice when souls leave.
When lives end i begin,
I’m a spell my victims are dug-in.
I take souls with expertise,
Flexy bodies i simply freese.
On halting lives i am a chief
I devulge and pounce i leave grief.
You feel me each single day
I will meet you in some way
Whether guns you escaped alive
I’m inevitable when i arrive.
I take you once without a chase.
I am an expert blessed with a curse.
The nightmare of peace and stability in Zimbabwe
I had this dream. I was running down Samora Machel Avenue in Harare. There was this big cloud of peace, stability, media freedom and democracy running behind me. The only thing was that I was not running towards it- I was running very fast from it.
Then all of a sudden I was no longer in Samora Machel Avenue. I was running through a train in London’s Subway.
In my mind I could hear loud screams. “Metropolitan Line! Circle Line! Piccadilly Line! Victoria Line!” Over and over again. I turned- and there it was again- peace, stability, democracy- and it had Morgan Tsvangirai’s face. Read more
