Alistair Fairweather

For the first thirty years of my life I never struggled with weight. I ate what I wanted, exercised a fair amount and everything ticked along merrily. Eventually, though, the creeping neglect got me. Over the last three or four years I've steadily put on weight, and now I'm at nearly 90KG - a good 10KG more than I should probably weigh.

When I complained about this to my friends, and they were generally unimpressed. "Your metabolism only slowed down now, we've had to deal with this for ten years already." Ouch. Point taken. I've spent the last 18 months trying to lose weight and get fit again, but it's been too piecemeal and erratic to make much of an impact. Work stress, lack of sleep and a tendency to comfort eat to deal with those two things has only made things worse.

And so, I've taken the plunge and signed up for the Sleek Geek challenge. I've got twelve weeks to lose as much fat and gain as much fitness, muscle and confidence back as I can. One of the requirements is a set of "before" pictures - front, side and back. When I look at these photos of myself I'm a little horrified. I promised myself I would blog them, but I'm less gung ho now. I'm a pretty vain person at heart and I hate how I look here. You can tell from my expression how much I'm enjoying the process.

I thought long and deeply about why I'm doing this challenge. It's not just my vanity. I don't feel good, healthy or confident at the moment. It's not the extra KGs so much as what they represent: neglect, excess and unkindness to myself. I'm never going to be 21 again, but I don't want to be. I just want to be able to go to the beach or the gym without feeling self conscious.

So, here I am, at my most vulnerable. At the very least I've made the challenge very real for myself. Let's hope the "after" pics are worth the embarrassment.

See the full gallery on Posterous

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Woah, big guy

Mon, 30 Jan 2012 03:55:34 -0800

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Rad cloud

Wed, 25 Jan 2012 09:29:05 -0800

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Behold! The Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch!

Sat, 21 Jan 2012 04:55:44 -0800

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Finally got this framed, after a decade. Gonzales approves.

Sat, 21 Jan 2012 02:55:46 -0800

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The newest addition to Casa Fairweather-Whitehouse. Note obvious brand plugs.

Sat, 14 Jan 2012 07:40:30 -0800

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The roof is on flower. #neighbourgoods #johannesburg

Sat, 14 Jan 2012 03:40:43 -0800

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The alien, it stirs. #tea #johannesburg #neighbourgoods

Sat, 14 Jan 2012 03:10:32 -0800

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#stairstare #southafrica #Johannesburg

Sat, 14 Jan 2012 00:25:32 -0800

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How I calculated the internet's electricity bill

Wed, 14 Sep 2011 02:07:00 -0700

I'm not exactly a natural maths whizz, a fact made abundantly clear earlier this year when I wrote that R1 invested in Apple in 2000 would now be worth around R1280. The correct figure is, in fact, R13.80. Since then I've made a habit of triple checking all my calculations. My latest column is full of such calculations, so I thought I'd better share my workings with my esteemed readers, in case I've made any other monumental cock-ups.

Let's start with total supply:

Wikipedia tells me that the world's supply of electricity in 2007 was around 19.89 trillion KwH (19,894,777,395,212 to be precise). I've rounded that up to 20 trillion, because it has almost certainly grown since then, and 20 is a much rounder and nicer number to start with.

Now we figure out the internet's usage:

If we assume, conservatively, that 5% of electricity supply is used by the net (thanks Kevin Kelly) then that means it uses 1 trillion KwH in a year. Note I've rounded the internet's footprint down (it's almost definitely closer to 6%) because I rounded the total supply number up.

...and then we figure out the cost per KwH:

Electricity prices vary widely between countries (thanks again Wikipedia) as do internet penetration rates. That makes calculating an average electricity cost quite tricky, because the internet's infrastructure is spread all over the globe.

What's more the internet penetration rates aren't really a good measure of infrastructure. For instance a disproportionate number of the world's biggest websites are hosted in the USA and China. That makes the USA and China's electricity costs much more important to than, say, ours or Argentina's. Just to get a feel for the scale, I cross referenced the top 10 internet nations against their electricity prices per KwH. You can see my workings here.

That gives me a rough weighted average of 18 US cents per KwH for the globe's top 10 internet using nations (who account for well over two thirds of all usage).

...and finally the total bill:

If the net's machinery is spread proportionally between these countries, that would make the yearly bill around $180 billion since:

1 trillion KwH X $0.18 = $180 billion

However it's likely that both America and China host disproportionately large shares of said machinery. Since they both have cheaper electricity than the average, the bill may very well be as low as $120 billion.

Then again, I may be underestimating the cost for the other third of internet using countries, many of whom have much higher costs per KwH (Denmark's is over $0.40 and Italy's is $0.37). So I wimped out and went for a range of possible costs rather than an absolute amount. This also allows for some wiggle room on the internet's usage and the world's total supply - both of which affect the final number.

So, as I said in my column, I put the current yearly bill at between $120 billion and $200 billion. But if a gun were held to my head I would go for $150 billion as a good guess.

Phew. Any questions?

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7 reasons I love Masterchef Australia, even though I loathe reality TV

Sun, 14 Aug 2011 04:59:00 -0700

Reality TV represents a low point in the history of culture for me. Take Survivor for instance: a show that purports to be about humans triumphing against the elements, but is really an excuse to watch people grub around in the dirt and debase their morals in search of cash.

But hey, at least they have to actually run around in loin cloths and endure some hunger and cold. All the sub-humans on the glut of shows containing the word "Jersey" have to do is act out their crassest impulses and they are instant stars. And don't get me started on the Kardashians. Trash with cash is still trash, it's just more nauseating trash. In the long term we all know the nadir that reality TV is quickly approaching: a show about watching constipated people straining on the toilet. That's what it's all about in the end: bodily excretions.

So it takes a lot for me to not just watch but actually love a reality show. Masterchef Australia is the second show to manage that (the first was Project Runway, but the current season sucks), but I've never been as genuinely impressed and touched by a show as I have by Masterchef Australia season 2. I have tried to figure out what exactly I love about the show, what lifts it above the rest of this dreary, grubby genre.

1. Real talent

As with Project Runway, Masterchef contestants can do something that takes incredible talent, something most people wouldn't dare to try or have the first idea of how to do. They cook incredible food in almost no time at all, and compete against some of the world's top chefs in celebrity challenges.

Contrast that with a show like Big Brother. What do you have to do? Sit around, say "controversial" things, act like an ignorant boor, and hope your antics are pleasing enough to the millions of slack jawed yokels who will vote you in or out of the house. Voyeurism at it's most mind numbingly banal.

2. Real people with real emotions

When contestants hug each other on Masterchef Australia, you really feel like they mean it. This isn't that mandatory American "OMG!" hug that you see on other shows. These guys and girls cry when their friends are eliminated. Yes, there's some bitchiness, but it's marginal and incidental, and not the core of the show.

And they also show negative emotions more willingly. When a group of previously eliminated contestants were allowed back into the show, several of the top 8 made no attempt to hide their dismay. Contrast that to other competitive shows like the revolting The Bachelor: every emotion has the metallic tang of cold, calculating performance. All lizard brain and no frontal lobe.

I've never seen the original BBC version, so I'm not sure if this existential warmth is peculiar to the Australian version of the show. Either way, it makes the whole thing so much more real (as opposed to other reality TV shows that feel completely staged and stilted).

3. Aussies!

I never thought I'd fall in love with a show peopled by Aussies. The idea of sitting through Neighbours et al makes me physically shudder. But in the end the Australians on Masterchef have proved to be one of the main reasons I keep watching. Not only are they varied and interesting characters - a testament to Australia's urbane and culturally diverse society - they are also filled with the spirit of self belief and positivity.

Australians have shaken off the low self esteem of being a "colony" and are now closer to the Americans (I mean the cosmopolitan, progressive ones) than to their sclerotic European forebears. You can't help but be buoyed up by their cheerful good humour and fair spiritedness. These are truly civilised and evolved people, and that makes them a joy to watch and get to know.

4. George, Gary and Matt

Everything in point 2 and 3 goes double for the judges. When they encourage, you feel their passion. When they chide you feel their concern. When they enjoy, you enjoy with them. And let's not forget that these are all world famous chefs and foodies.

Masterclass isn't my favourite part of the show, but it shows just how good Gary and George are at what they do. These are true masters of their art, and their enthusiasm and passion is magnetic. They see food as more than just something to eat, or something to sell - they see it as an integral part of culture, of enjoyment, of society and of life.

On top of all the skill and taste, they are also really good fun. George and Gary's banter is natural and warm and their repartee with the contestants is fantastic. You feel their genuine affection for the contestants, and their genuine sadness when they are eliminated. And Matt's flamboyant outfits are always a treat.

Hello chaps!

5. The clever format

The sheer variety of challenges and tasks keeps the show interesting. Whether they're straining their creativity in an invention test, or sweating over technical skills and presentation in a pressure test, you're always intrigued (and sometimes horrified) by the outcome. And because all of this variety is held together by structure (each week has one of each challenge), you never get confused or lost as to where they are in the competition.

6. Celebrity chefs

Even if they just showcased Australian food stars, the show would be interesting, but these guys have featured the best of the best from around the world. The ultimate treat for me was watching the contestants cook with the incomparable Heston Blumenthal, though Fergus Henderson was a close second. And there are literally dozens more of these incredible foodies on the show.

7. Adriano Zumbo

Although many celeb chefs featured are more famous than Zumbo, none of them are quite as amazing or amusing. Aside from his incredible talents as a pâtissier, he is also hilariously dry and witty. The Masterchef organiser have decreed him to be there torturer-in-chief - the go to guy for impossible pressure tests - and he never disappoints. The V8 cake episode is a particular favourite of mine, although the macaron tower was also pretty mind boggling.

I don't think I can say it better than I did on Twitter recently:

Adriano Zumbo is a mad genius. That impish grin - a serial cruller, a stone cold pâtissier, a chocolate pornographer.

The cheerful sadist himself

It's not all sweet thyme...

Masterchef has its flaws of course. I find it unwatchable without PVR, due to the annoying, repetitive editing ticks they have copied from American shows. You know what I mean: the way they cut to an ad break just before a winner is announced, and then repeat the last 5 seconds of dialogue from before the break, just to build suspense (AKA irritation).

They've also inherited that annoying habit of repeating the obvious not one but three times. "If I lose this challenge, I am going home." Yes, thanks Aaron, we heard you the first two times. Thank you PVR, you beauty.

...but it's changed my life

It's pretty rare, at least in my experience, for TV to have a material effect on your life. It's entertaining at times, but it's generally pretty shallow. But Masterchef has me excited about cooking again, trying new recipes and new foods. That's marvellous if you think about it: a bunch of cheery Aussies on the other end of the planet have changed my attitude to food. Good on ye I say.

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Why recessions, like forest fires, are natural and good

Mon, 08 Aug 2011 14:06:04 -0700

Every country in the world has spent the last half decade battling with varying degrees and flavours of recession. Since the start of the global financial crisis in 2007, tens (possibly hundreds) of millions of people have been forced into unemployment. Millions of homes around the globe have been lost to liquidators and banks. Governments, once rolling in tax revenues, are now forced to make impossibly painful political choices about which social services to cut, and how to manage their enormous debts.

Although the effects of the Great Recession have been skewed towards to rich North, the entire world has suffered. The hardest hit are the poorest of the poor in countries that rely heavily on international aid. With the European Union struggling to bail out its own members, Somalia and Myanmar are not exactly top of the priorities list anymore.

So, how can I be so callous as to suggest that recessions are not only natural but good? It stems partly from my belief in the market - one of humankind's greatest achievements. Right now that's not a very fashionable philosophy. In fact I regularly draw scorn and eye-rolling when I express it in public.

But just stop and think about it: an entire globe's worth of resources are currently being distributed, divided, combined, refined, finished and allocated, all without any meaningful kind of central planning. That's pretty miraculous, given that human beings are notoriously selfish, short-sighted and irrational.

Nasty, brutish and short

We lived for the first 100,000 years of our existence in tiny hunter-gatherer bands - unable to cooperate or share territory with each other, essentially beasts. It's fashionable to paint the modern era as dystopic and soaked in misery, and yet there are more people living comfortable, happy, productive lives right now than the combined total of all the people that lived before the year 1800. Imagine having a rotten tooth in the year 400. Not a pretty thought. But now the worldwide market for dentistry skills and tools means that even quite poor people don't have to suffer through that worst of all pains.

Are the markets sometimes cruel and capricious? Yes. Do they sometimes conflict with the ideas of social justice? Definitely. And are they prone to manipulation, unfairness and given to rewarding the wicked? We all know these things are true.

And yet almost all criticisms of the markets are really criticisms of people and their flaws. We distort our markets with silly rules, short sighted barriers and monopoly power, and then we complain that the outcomes are not what we expected.

Nothing's fair in love or war

Generally, when left alone, markets will allocate resources efficiently. Granted, efficiently doesn't always mean fairly. But that's mainly because "fair" is actually a weasel word beloved of politicians and sales people. Fair by whose standards? Fair in what sense? An entrepreneur will not have the same sense of fairness as an established business person, and neither of them will agree with the guy stuck in long term unemployment.

Do I advocate pure, unadulterated capitalism - go back to laissez-faire and let the chips fall where they may? Definitely not. I believe in social safety nets, and I believe in giving people a hand up (though not a hand out). What I do advocate is allowing markets to take care of everything that they can, and only intervening where necessary.

"But how can you still worship the markets after they have failed so spectacularly?" you might ask. Simple: it was not the markets that failed, but us. Saying the markets failed is like saying the weather failed because you didn't get the sunny day you wanted. It's like saying exercise has failed because it is too hard, and doesn't lead to instant weight-loss after the first 20 minute session.

One of our greatest flaws as a species is our inability to accept reality - particularly when it's uncomfortable or at odds with our own hopes or ideas. This is sometimes a force for incredible power and good. Most great inventions, much great art and many great events are born out a need to confront and overcome suffering.

But more often it's a force for unreality, for avoidance and obstruction. Often what we think of as "bad" or "harmful" is merely personally inconvenient. We would rather take a pill to lose weight than exercise. We would rather pay the minimum on our maxed out credit cards than stop eating in restaurants for a month. We would rather give our constituents free health care before an election than raise their taxes to fix the roads.

Burn baby, burn

And this unwillingness to accept reality extends to every aspect of our dealings with the planet and each other. Few things capture this more succinctly than the way we deal with forest fires.

In many of the world's forests a natural cycle has been playing itself out for millions of years. During prolonged wet periods the vegetation becomes lush and overgrown. Then, when the climate becomes drier for a few seasons, fires sweep through the forest, felling many larger trees and all of the underbrush. This allows for new growth and rejuvenation, and is a vital cleaning system for the whole biosphere.

Then along come humans, convinced of their own power and rightness, and proceed to stamp out "wildfires" and clear underbrush manually. We build our homes closer and closer to the forest edges, and covet the lumber for our furniture and industry. We can't allow the forest to burn! No, we are captains of this planet. We are in charge.

Apply this logic for a decade or five, add some global warming and some La Niña and El Niño effects, and you have wildfires that span entire continents, that burn for months or even years and produce enough smoke to be seen from space.

And why are they so big and uncontrollable? Because we've delayed the inevitable natural cycle, and ended up just exacerbating it. But do we recognise this reality when our houses are burned down? Nope. Instead we say "Someone should take responsibility for this. It must be stopped. It's not fair. It's the governments fault. And big business."

Recessions are very like forest fires. The economy goes through a growth spurt and people are filled with positivity and confidence. All kinds of small businesses spring up and flourish. When the economy inevitably contracts again, confidence falls and fear takes over. People stop spending, and many new businesses (and some old ones) are swept away in the ensuing recession.

Creative obstruction

If this seems Darwinian that's because it is. Capitalism is about creative destruction. If you can do something better, quicker or cheaper, then people will shift to your product or service. If you protect or prop up industries, you ensure that they will never change or innovate and never meet their customers' needs. Just look at Telkom or Air France. By protecting industries, you stop people who could do the job better from entering the market.

Governments and central banks around the rich world have been playing this game with the economy for over two decades now. Unwilling to accept recessions as part of the natural order of things, they have repeatedly blunted their effects and limited them to a few months at most.

How have they done this? By lowering interest rates, pumping stimulus spending into the economy and - when those avenues eventually ran out of juice - quantitative easing. In a fascinating article in the New York Times, Nate Silver points out that the American economy is lagging 40% behind its long term growth rate. By repeatedly putting off the Great Recession, the Fed and the US government only made it much worse.

What's worse, their efforts to prevent two previous recessions have distorted financial markets, and caused the financial sector to balloon into one of the world's largest and most profitable industries. The literally free money created by a prolonged period of near zero interest rates after the dot-com bust led directly to the current crisis. Sub-prime mortgages would not have been palatable if real interest rates were not close to zero.

When the bubble did eventually burst, the financial sector had grown so rich and important to the global economy that the effect of the shock wave was magnified many times in the real economy.

We see a similar dynamic playing itself out in Europe. The EU is unwilling to admit that Greek is bankrupt, and so it keeps propping it up with half-hearted bail outs, all of which only prolong the agony of ordinary Greeks. Greece's growth is unlikely to rise above 2% in the next decade, which makes their debt (which will soon reach 150% of GDP) unsustainable. But, as with forest fires, we don't want to accept the uncomfortable truth: Greece is bust. By plugging their fatal wound, we ensure they will die slowly of septicaemia instead of quickly, from blood loss.

A tourniquet, not a transplant

Does this mean that I think that Obama's administration was wrong to intervene in the markets and prop up the financial sector during the teeth of the crisis? Actually, no. The scale of the crisis threatened to completely overwhelm the global financial sector. That would have threatened every business in the world, and could have turned the Great Recession into a second Great Depression. Putting out the edge of a wildfire that threatens lives and homes is different from dousing a fire in the middle of the wilderness.

What I do object to is the rich world's dogged insistence on stimulating their way out of the recession. Rather than stop once the immediate danger was over, governments continued pumping money into their economies. The results of that strategy are now clear: the "contagion" has spread from the financial sector into sovereign debt.

The best example of this is Ireland. When the Irish government unilaterally agreed to act as a back-stop for all the debt of Irish debt, they didn't understand the magnitude of the task they were agreeing to. Now they are literally at the brink of ruin. And, like the rest of Europe, their generous social transfers - now taken for granted by the recipients - look increasingly unsustainable.

And that's another function of recession: it focuses government spending on the truly needy and away from the merely entitled. Millions of British pensioners enjoy "universal benefits" like cheaper fuel and free bus rides, regardless of whether they are rich or poor. This may be more fair (there's that word again), but it's not more sustainable.

It's fairly likely that the rich world will be in recession again within the next year. But this time, thanks to their frantic efforts to avoid the last one, there is nothing left in their arsenal. Interest rates are at zero, government debt is already too high, and thus the appetite for more quantitative easing is nonexistent. Tax cuts are impossible, and austerity measures are the order of the day. This time the fire is going to sweep unhindered through their economies.

But once the cleansing fire has passed, they have a chance to learn from their mistakes, to clear away the detritus and the useless dead wood, and to encourage new growth that will sustain their next generation. Or they could keep pretending that they're in control, and ordering people not to evacuate from their homes as the fire rushes towards them. Check out the emperor's new clothes everyone, they sure are shiny.

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I have tasted the Mango, and found it unexpectedly sweet (Sorry, Microsoft)

Sat, 06 Aug 2011 04:54:56 -0700

I'm not the biggest fan of Microsoft - I've made that pretty clear over the years. It has spent a decade in various degrees of stagnation, largely thanks to keeping Uncle Fester's evil twin as its CEO. It has made a string of expensive and stupid acquisitions, including buying profit-less Skype for $8.5 billion, and pumping a reported $1 billion into an ailing Nokia in an attempt to buy its way into a market in which it has proved too inept to make its own way.

And it has let the new Gang of Four (Apple, Google, Amazon, Facebook) colonise all the vibrant new markets from mobile phones and tablets through to search and social media. After two decades of almost complete dominance in the realms of software, Microsoft now looks like a bit of a lame duck.

And so when I heard about Windows Phone 7, it was all I could do to stifle a yawn. "Wow," I thought, "so Microsoft has finally caught up with the iPhone circa 2007. Pity it's 2011." (I'm a lot more sarcastic in my head than I am out loud). I've never seen a Microsoft mobile device that impressed me in the least bit. Its Windows CE devices were just depressingly bad - at least the ones I saw and played with anyway.

And so when I picked up Chris Rawlinson's new Samsung Focus running Windows Phone 7 "Mango" - the latest version of the operating system - I wasn't expecting much. I'm an iPhone guy, and a snob, and (as I've said) I have pretty clear feelings about M$oft.

The interface is much slicker and more beautiful than any of the videos I'd watched led me to believe. Samsung's beautiful AMOLED screen certainly helps. It seems a little less sharp than the iPhone's retina display, but the colours are incredibly vivid. Having grown up under the yoke of Microsoft's trademark interface design ethos (ie difficult, fiddly, clumsy and flat), I was expecting Mango to be more of the same. It's not. Intuitive, fluid, immersive and reactive - this is a great user experience. It's quite different from the iPhone, but for once "different" doesn't just mean "we changed it so we wouldn't get sued" or, even worse, "crap and poorly thought out".

I particularly enjoyed the active panels on the home screen, and the way social media and your contacts list are so neatly interwoven. The interface isn't just a product of care and thought, but of passion and joy - things that have lacked in so many of Microsoft's core products for years.

And so, I am eating humble pie. Microsoft, I will stop jeering at your failure with the aborted Kin, and at the crapness of Windows CE. Your mobile team have really impressed me, and that takes a lot.

Whether Mango will be enough to reverse the stranglehold that Android, RIM and Apple have on the market is another question. It would tragically ironic if Microsoft finally found their mobile mojo two years too late. They are going to have to pump billions into their applications platform in order to get a brand new ecosystem off the ground from a standing start. Without the buy-in of third party developers they are just not going to be able to make any headway.

But the Nokia deal is starting to look a little less foolish. If Nokia's manufacturing scale can be combined with Mango's beauty in a pleasing package, then Nokia has a chance to rise from it's early grave. The problem is that both Nokia and Microsoft will have to spend their way into the market even to be heard. The momentum is not on their side.

Be all that as it may, the Focus is a beautiful device, running a beautiful operating system. I am still happy with my iPhone, but I can imagine this bad boy is a lot of people's idea of heaven. Chris, being a gentleman of taste and of means, got his hands on the phone well before they will be available here, so don't rush out looking to buy one.

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6 reasons why RICA is a waste of everyone’s time and money

Thu, 14 Jul 2011 04:25:06 -0700

The deadline has passed, the nagging is over, and (most) people are now registered with RICA. Most of us still aren’t sure why we had to register at all. The truth is RICA is a pointless exercise, even by the extremely low standards of other red tape.

The Regulation of Interception of Communications and Provision of Communication-Related Information Act, better known as RICA, does just what its full name suggests: it regulates interception of communications by our government. In other words, it allows them to “listen in” to communications like cell phone calls where they deem it necessary, and to keep track of communications between people (such as how often person X phoned person Y on Z day).

As with so many laws, it has the best of intentions. Criminals use cellphones to plan and coordinate crimes, particularly high profile robberies and armoured car hijackings. So, make everyone who has a SIM card register their name and address, and you can track the criminals. Brilliant, right?

Wrong. Like FICA before it, RICA is an attempt to legislate an issue into submission. But the practical application and enforcement is so full of gaping holes that the law was hamstrung before it was even enacted. There are many reasons for this impotence, but here are the six most critical ones:

1. Proof of address is a joke

A regulation system is only as good as its weakest link, and in this case proof of address is that link. What constitutes proof of address? A utility bill, a bank statement, a lease agreement or a letter from a landlord or employer (as well as some more exotic options).

Sounds reasonable right? Yes, except that any of these documents may be up to three months old. Criminals aren’t known for maintaining fixed addresses, and so a three-month-old document may be three addresses ago.

And there’s precious little checking of said documents. When you registered for RICA, did anyone phone your bank or your landlord to check your statement or lease was valid? I thought not.

Any criminal with a R1,800 netbook and a R600 scanner can fake a Telkom bill. And these aren’t street criminals we’re after, remember, these are the guys who hit armoured cars and rob banks. They have resources, intelligence, organisational skills and strong incentives. A fake lease is a mere speedbump to these guys.

2. Identity documents are easily faked or bought

ID documents are slightly more challenging and expensive to obtain, but have most of the same weaknesses as proof of address documents. Our Home Affairs department is, unfortunately, shot through with corrupt officials. The situation seems to have improved recently, but a determined criminal will find a way to get their hands on a fake ID of some kind.

And even if Home Affairs were magically rehabilitated overnight, ID documents can still be faked. Did anyone scan your barcode when you registered? Did anyone painstakingly check that your photo hadn’t been swapped out for another? No? How surprising.

3. Multiple SIM cards are allowed

There’s no practical limit on the number of SIM cards any one person can obtain. This means a criminal can register scores of SIMs with five different providers and simply change cards each week or even each day.

4. It has created a market for SIM cards

Remember those traffic lights in Joburg that stopped working because their SIM cards had been stolen? Most people assumed the thieves wanted free calls, but it’s just as likely that they wanted registered SIM cards.

What’s more, criminals need not even go to all the trouble of stealing or registering their own SIMs. Street vendors are already selling RICA’d cards. SIMs used to be worth a few cents, now they are worth good money. All that a vendor needs to spend is a little time at the local recharge kiosk. And criminals won’t be the only people tempted to avoid RICA registration.

Sure, selling registered SIMs is illegal, but so is speeding, urinating in public, selling fake DVDs, jaywalking and hawking without a license. The cops have better things to do than bust hawkers for peddling shady SIMs.

5. No one is going to report a “stolen” SIM card

In theory a street vendor could be held liable if a SIM in his or her name is used during a crime. But how practically applicable is that? They could simply claim that their SIM card was stolen.

And, yes, they have a duty to report such a “theft” to the local police, but let’s be serious here: does anyone really see that happening? “Oh yes, officer, I’ve trekked across town and waited in line for 30 minutes to tell you that R1.50’s worth of SIM cards was stolen from me today. Oh yes, please, lets fill out a full crime report.”

6. Enforcement costs will be prohibitive

Let’s assume that our already stretched organs of policing and justice are completely committed to upholding this law. Do we have enough police officers to catch all these RICA offenders, even if that were their only duty? I highly doubt that, just as I highly doubt they could ever completely stamp out littering.

No doubt RICA will be marginally useful to the police in being able to record calls between suspected criminals, but without a way to definitive link those SIMs to their owners, this is of limited use in getting them convicted.

If they catch the robbers or hijackers red handed and confiscate their phones, then RICA may be useful. Probably less probative though, than the stolen cash boxes, AK47s and security camera footage.

Remind me again what the point was?

The most common retort to all of my arguments is “Well, at least it’s better than nothing.” But that’s the thing – it really isn’t. All RICA does is give us a false sense of security that bad guys can be tracked down.

If it had cost us nothing and worked 10% of the time it might be worth it. But RICA appears to have cost billions (particularly if you include all the costs the networks absorbed) and we’ll be lucky if it works 1% of the time. Surely there’s a cheaper way to catch criminals?

I’m well aware that RICA is about lot more than just tracking criminals, and that it regulates an entire sector of society. It makes phone tapping by private investigators and voicemail hacking by journalists explicitly illegal. This is a good thing. It also makes it harder for the state to abuse its power by regulating its ability to intercept our communications. Also a good thing.

The problem is that most ordinary people will benefit from none of these things. Instead they will be forced to jump through pointless bureaucratic hoops – none of which are needed by the sensible portions of RICA.

So in the end RICA, like FICA, makes ordinary people’s lives more difficult and accomplishes few of its high ideals. That, to me, is the definition of bad legislation.

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Black Swan - requiem for a dancer

Sun, 20 Feb 2011 05:56:00 -0800

Ballet has always been a loaded subject, suspended uncomfortably between art and masochism, between the divine and the pathological. But Black Swan transcends ballet, playing more like the dark existential crisis of Dr Jekyl and Hyde than the fairytale of Swan Lake, around which it is written.

Darren Aronofsky has always been drawn to the obsessive, self-destructive corner of human nature. His heroes are junkies, math geniuses and grieving scientists - all of them teetering on the edge of sanity. But never has he had a better subject than Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman) - a delicate, emotionally neutered ballerina approaching the end of her career.

Aronofsky is a master of claustrophobic first person perspective. From the moment we meet Nina we are sucked into her world, floating behind her as she jitters and frets her way through the world. We cannot escape her growing anxiety any more than she can.

But it's when Nina finally gets her big break - a leading role in a new production of Swan Lake - that the torture really starts. Obsessed with perfection, terrified of injury and visited by horrific visions of an evil twin, she is constantly on the edge of complete emotional breakdown.

It doesn't help that every other major character in the film, from the predatory dilettante of a director (Vincent Cassel in creepy, superb form) to the damaged, possessive mother (a signature Barbara Hershey role) has their claws deep in her, sucking at her life force.

Lily, played with impish delight by Mila Kunis, is Nina's rival and counterpoint: sensuous, dusky, uninhibited. She smokes, takes drugs and talks with obvious relish about "sucking cock". Nina is simultaneously horrified, fascinated and jealous. The few glimpses we see of Nina's dark side - masturbating wildly on her bed, fantasizing about lesbian sex - suggest that she longs to be like Lily.

Although many of the dance scenes are beautifully shot, there's a curious detachment, an anatomical fascination that is often disturbing. Aronofsky lingers over the unpleasant physical reality of the dancers - their ruined feet, their torn muscles - as though picking at a scab.

Nina is more like a specimen than a character - a rare butterfly that Aronofsky has pinned down for leisurely dissection. Beneath her facade of the prima ballerina, Nina is unravelling - scratching herself raw, leaking blood and shedding skin. By the middle of the film this physicality becomes utterly surreal - she begins sprouting phantom feathers and limbs.

There's a touch of the terminally ill in Portman's appearance. Shrunk down to an alarming weight, she is all angles and sinew, her delicate neck constantly taut as though it was being stretched from above. But it's her emotional intensity and range that makes the performance so mesmerising.

It's an unlikeable role - a simpering wreck of a girl crushing her life's dream in the desperation of her grip - but Portman holds our attention throughout, if not our symphathy. That's no easy feat considering Aronofsky's penchant for following a spiral relentlessly to its nadir. For all his genius he tends to bludgeon his point into his audience. By the end we are begging for her release - holding our breaths that she might somehow escape the madness that is swallowing her whole.

Portman has a real chance at winning the Oscar, not least because the Academy has always had a soft spot for people who play the mentally ill or challenged. It's like a macabre reversal of the old murder defense: "Winner by reason of mental disease or defect." The only thing they like more is a screen goddess who puts on the ugly - just ask Charlize Theron.

Many people will hate this film, just as they hate the rest of Aronofsky's work. His stylised aesthetic and taste for gristle do not make for comfortable viewing. There's nothing pretty about Black Swan, and not much that would be considered conventionally enjoyable.

Still, it has the fascinating, morbid attraction of a watching an autopsy performed live. It's beautiful in the same way as a nightmare is beautiful - unrelenting, inescapable, all-encompassing.

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