Really? More drivel I wrote 10 years ago…

To bank or not to bank, that is the question…

Understand this – I need my coffee! This morning at sunrise, after feeding the horses in thick mist and frost, I wanted my coffee, only to be met with a faceless message on my overpriced coffee-machine saying, “Fill beans”. Needless to say, the lack of beans at 6:00 in the morning does not bode well for the rest of the day!

My day started with the return of my car to panel beaters to redo the job they didn’t do properly the first time – another bad omen for the rest of the day. On the way from dropping the car, I thought I would just pop in to the bank to collect a replacement card for the one that was swallowed by a bank-owned, bank-operated and bank-possessed machine. At this point, lets just clear up a few things by means of introduction – I hate banks. I hate banks almost as much as I hate politicians. Bank are right up there on my shit-list with the Mozambique Embassy, spietkops, Idols and Retirement Annuities. I would rather have explorative testicular surgery than go into a bank!

Look, the whole philosophy is screwed up – you give the bank your hard-earned money. They take your money, buy foreign countries, make fortunes on selling the inhabitants off as cheap labour to Kazakhstan and then still charge you for the honour off using your money! No, I am not disregarding the fact that they supposedly pay you interest on your money because it simply isn’t true! Without going into a lecture on economics, the simple fact is that unless you have a few millions lounging in some obscure account, there is no way on earth you can come out on top by putting your money in the bank. The interest rate on a positive balance is way below the prime lending rate, and the bank charges overshadow all and any gain you might make on a positive balance. I am convinced that if some clever dick did the maths, suffocating bank charges would conveniently swallow up the 9.8% interest.

Anyway, apart from the obvious mathematical equations, the mere fact that I have to stand in a queue to get access to my own money pisses me off. I don’t stand in queues anyway, but to queue to get to my own money? If I am to stand in a queue, I want a nymphomaniac in white lingerie on the other end, not Hesterkie Haarnaald with an attitude. If I am going to be felt up by a security guard with a probe, it better be Patricia Lewis with a vibrator! If I am going to be enclosed in a glass tank, I better be dead and have millions of loyal subjects filing past to pay their respects!

What happened to good old cash – the foundation of capitalism? My grandmother kept her money in a coffee tin behind the biltong; surely there is more merit in that than making some other person rich? Who owns the banks anyway? They have CEO’s and boards and shareholders and crap, but who do I bliksem when I am an unhappy customer? Its not like the oke in the spares shop you can give a snotklap when he sells you a Datsun part for your Nissan. Its all hidden behind piles of paperwork – I think it is a secret society of tossers who laugh into their cognacs in the dark boardrooms of obscurity.

What suckers we are! We accept all things as the norm and plod along in ignorance believing that other people have our best interests at heart. Se Gat! Everyone is looking after No. 1 and we are mere pawns in the sick chess game between capitalism and democracy. For me there are 2 options only – one is keeping my money safely in a shoebox, where I can pet it and rub it and kiss it every night, the other is to start a stokvel, where we pool our money, buy our own country and sell our own slaves to Kazakhstan! Well, the ugly ones anyway… The pretty ones in white lingerie will stand at the end of all our queues!

I’m sure I didn’t write this 10 years ago…

“That” time of the month…

Got you didn’t I? You started reading this thinking I am going to explain that mysterious occurrence when your wife becomes even more illogical than South African politics? That time of the month when nature provides us with more excitement than a tornado, more thrills than an acid spill and more bang than a nuclear meltdown? Well, you’re wrong. Even I can’t explain that… Nope, I am talking about the time of the month when your expenses exceeds your income, when creditors start sending large men with blunt objects to your door, banks start making obscene phone calls and the grocery cupboard looks like Pick ‘n Pay in Zimbabwe…

Most of us know this time very well – the only lucky bastards who have never experienced this are politicians, “financial advisors” and hookers. By the way, if any of you need financial advice, I reckon prostitutes are the best for this – what other industry, national, international, you name it, can lay claim to a product that you can sell and still have it to sell again? Anyway, the point is that there comes a time when your champagne taste lays waste to your beer budget and drastic measures are called for. As an aid to all my loyal readers, all 4 of them, I have decided to publish my secrets to keeping your kneecaps in tact and remaining upright.

  1. Stop answering your phone on the 15th of every month. Nobody with anything good to say phones you after the 15th. The bank is not going to phone to say thank for the payment so a call from the bank is only going to be bad. Edgars wont phone to offer you free jocks. The National Lottery doesn’t phone the winners so stay off the phone. A little tip in this regard: If you insist on keeping your phone on ‘cos you are awaiting the results of a paternity test or something, don’t answer calls without caller ID. Creditors all hide their caller ID’s because they have become tired of hearing “piss off” as a greeting.
  2. Stock up early in the month. Store things like beer and whiskey in secret places the day you get paid. This way you always have fluids when Rand Water cuts your supply. This works well from the 7th onwards when DSTV cuts your entertainment, since you can send the kids out to look for “treasures” while you watch the washing machine, assuming you still have electricity – if not, refer to point 3
  3. Invest in candles. The council cuts their supply only the 20th so you only have a week or so to drink by candlelight. This also works well since you can double this time as “romance time” keeping your wife, and yourself, happy. There is nothing like passing the lack of electricity off as a planned exercise in “bringing the spark back” to your marriage. Remember however that too much “treasure hunting” by the kids as per rule 2 can put a damper on this romance; however, brewers droop can be cured by Viagra. Once again, stock up early in the month!
  4. Hide! Move articles that are financed off your property. Repossession companies cannot take what they cannot find. Here it is good to be on friendly terms with family and friends, since parking your 4×4 in their driveway for 2 weeks won’t be frowned upon. Also try to be away a lot, leaving your PMS rotweiller and a dead carcass on the front lawn. Carcasses are easy to find – just pop into the nearest mortuary on a Monday morning and ask for John Doe, father of Jane Doe. Mortuaries are overstocked anyway and the Grey Suits in there will be more than happy not to have to paint a smile on the latest dashboard ornament.
  5. Call in sick. This is a good idea at the best of times, but even more so when you have no petrol to get to work. Fill you car early in the month, then call in sick for the rest. This saves your petrol for those emergencies like “holy shit, is that blood? – Lets go to the bottle store immediately!” You will still get paid for the time you spend watching the kids “treasure hunting” and only the worst kind of boss will actually fire you if you do it too often. In this case you simply write yourself a new CV, masters degree and all and get a new job, preferably one with more bottle store credibility.
  6. Pawn things. This is not a good idea since it reduces your primary assets, unless it is absolutely critical like an emergency “holy shit, is that blood? Lets go to the bottle store immediately!” Pawn brokers are obliged to keep things without selling it for the specified amount of time so you have time to get the wife’s food processor back. As per rule 4, you could also pawn your car, since it doubles as a hiding place and provides you with bottle store money!
  7. Sell things. We all have useless items in our homes that could be turned into cash. Here I am specifically thinking about such useless items like Royal Dolton collections, imported vibrators, high-heel shoes, stoves, jewellery and children. These things can extend your bottle store credibility for at least a week and most of it wont even be missed.
  8. Lie. Never give out your name to anyone after the 15th. If someone asks your name, they obviously don’t know you and therefore wont have anything good to say. Pretend to be someone else. Here it is important not to try someone like Jacub Zuma, since your lily white skin would be a dead give-away and he is in more trouble than you anyway! Practise this skill from early in the month, since many a slip has occurred when your kids has done a lot of “treasure hunting” for you and the bloke next to you has become your instant best friend. Say this 100 times: “People I don’t know are not my friends, even if they have offered to pay for the next round” Those of us skilled in this talent can go for 2 weeks drinking with other people’s money and never letting their identity’s slip.

You see, if you follow these simple rules, you can go through life like all the other gravy train occupants. Big corporations doesn’t really need your money – if they did why would they have given you theirs? Simply avoid danger areas like phones and mock – friendly people, as well as the blatantly obvious muscle men and you will be fine. This kind of behaviour can go on for years and if the bloodsuckers do catch up with you, simply throw your hands in the air and declare bankruptcy! This can be very entertaining and relinquishes the need for DSTV. IF all else fails, run for President – as I understand it, he just got a raise…

*sigh* Did I really write this 10 years ago?

The alternative to Petroleum.

Listen, petrol has become so expensive I really believe it is time for us as motorists to stand up and be counted. Too long we have been held at ransom by big corporations for our hard-earned cash. Too long we have had the short and curly’s tugged by greedy CEO’s and politicians. Too long this liquid gold has run freely at our expense…

I am a solution-orientated guy. I don’t see problems, only solutions. So I would not bore you with the details of the problem but rather offer you the solutions. Furthermore, you will be blessed with more than one solution allowing you choose the one best suited to you personally. Now where else in this great country will you get that I ask you with tears in my bloodshot eyes? You should feel honoured to have my wisdom so freely bestowed upon your receptive minds… I should also add that I am only interested in “Sustainable Solutions”. By this I mean alternatives that are not only cheaper, but freely available and possibly, home-made…

Option 1 – Methane:

Methane Gas is a real viable option to petroleum. It is highly volatile and combustible just like petrol so converting you existing skedonk to methane should be as easy as getting arrested. Where would you get it? Well, erm…. from farting, where else? We all do it, some more than others, but it is freely available! A simple diet of beans and curry, a discreet receptacle sewn into your trousers and voila! Think of the employment opportunities – filling stations would consist of 300 previously unemployed people farting into jerry cans. Homeless people could walk around with a latex balloon attached to their butt and sell it on the street corner. The possibilities are endless – boarding school dormitories could be converted to depots, with pupils funding new soccer pitches, hospital food would become gastronomic delights and even aeroplanes could refuel in mid-air compliments of passenger enema’s (Hey, I’ll fart in a jar rather than plunge into a puddle!). Also, it is eco-friendly so no more ozone holes and global warming! Ok, pigs could do the same thing, but it wont be nearly as funny!

Option 2 – Hydrogen:

Imagine your fuel falling from the sky! Yes, it is as simple as that. Hydrogen comes from water – simply run electrical current thru water and the bubbles are pure hydrogen. Run your alternator current thru the float chamber in your carburettor and you have hydrogen! Better still, hydrogen that explodes produces water, so your exhaust simply fills back into your tank. A complete, instant and total collapse of all fuel companies and a massive move towards an eco-friendly planet. Ok, so the planet’s weather will be completely screwed up, with monsoon rains in the Sahara and flooding in the Karoo, but so what? Its all for a better good. The Karoo could do with something to make it interesting. Remember, matter cannot be destroyed so all water used will simply be returned to the atmosphere. Not nearly as funny as the Methane option, but an option nevertheless…

Option 3 – Rubber:

I don’t know what goes into making rubber, but I do know it burns like an irritated mythical dragon. Just take a drive along the N3 and see free enterprise at work – poor people (sod ‘em) burning tyres for the steel. Three days later and a collapsed lung it is still burning. Surely this could be an option. When your tyres are shot, you shove ‘em into the car’s tank and burn away! The minedump-high heaps of used tyres would surely supply us with fuel for many years to come. Ok, so the by-products are toxic, but so what? When has that ever stopped us? The by-products of our current fuel are toxic but we still use it, some even sniff it!

Option 4 – Oxygen:

I don’t really know if oxygen will work. All I know is that the theatre nurses get very upset when I light up a fag… “All that pure oxygen will blow us to smithers” they shout from under their spit-guards. Hey, if it’s that flammable why aren’t we using it? Its free and all around us! If we compress it it generates massive energy. Ever seen a compressor blow up while painting your VW camo-green? It scared the skid-marks off me! Imagine harnessing that power. Ok, so a few cars will explode and send the occupants into orbit, but so what? We have too many people on this earth anyway, and it’s not anymore dangerous than the current weapons of mass destruction we drive!

Option 5 – Bodies:

Look, we all die. We actually do not know what to do with the bodies. Aids, vehicular manslaughter and bad TV will kill us all eventually. In my opinion these bodies are wasted. Burn ‘em for fuel I say. Lets not be sentimental about it – Aunt Rosie was a sweetie, but now she is deader than a doornail, so let her legacy be a trip to Durbs. She would have wanted it. Think of the opportunities – you could specify in your will what kinda car you want to power. I have never driven in a Lamborgini, but I could specify in my will that I want to be the fire in the belly of a Lambo. We could bring back the death penalty and sentence murderers and time-share salesmen to “accelerate until you are dead” We wont have the need for expensive coffins and cry-by-hour crowds, in fact, large corporations would pay your family for the body! Its environmentally friendly too, since I think the only by-products are a bit of methane (all good) and some ash, which could be used to make your roses grow!

You see, there is no need for us to be held captive by large corporations and having the last rand squeezed from our greasy palms. We could become self-sufficient quite easily. It could be a whole new industry with all the benefits like a dental and retirement. BP could become “Body Petrol”, Sasol could be Sasox and Caltex could become Fartex. It’s about time, and “Unite” is what I say – let us all stand together and give big corporations the finger, whilst happily driving home on farts and homegrown initiative. Viva Africa!

Still more stuff I wrote 10 years ago…

Running down the opposition.

We are all born competitive, especially if you are twins… From that first fight for freedom from the folds of femininity, we struggle our way through life trying to be better. Better than most, better than the next, better than the previous, just better. It invades every aspect of our society end filters into the innermost corners of our psyche. Nothing average is acceptable anymore and the standard gets put higher every time we get better. The mere concept of “new” has come to symbolise “better” and simply being the same has come to symbolise a lesser state.

By means of relevance, lets look at cars. Motor manufacturers will have a real hard time trying to market their latest product as “The same as last year” Toyota made headlines in 1984 with their new Corolla 1600GL when they introduced a digital clock as a standard feature. No more ticking dials on your car clock, it now has numbers so therefore is better then before. The first Honda Ballade had a “5 bearing crankshaft” as opposed to everything else that had little midgets juggling the crank for payment in Smarties. The Mazda 626 2.0 SL had “an electrifying top speed of 180km/h”, thanks to an advanced low-friction power plant. If a manufacturer came out with a new car that had these features as its best attributes, we would turn the ships around at the ports amidst guffaws of laughter and ridicule.

In 1971 the only part of China open to travellers was Taiwan. TWA flew to Taiwan and their marketing campaign was based on the fact that they have in-flight movies. In 1990 Kuwait Airways marketed their service as the “Oasis of Peace”… How ill conceived that was! In 1980 Holland had a new Queen, and to celebrate the Royal year, KLM offered to fly you there in a DC10… Gee, thanks, but no thanks. Olympus Camera’s introduced the first “point and shoot” in 1979 and it unimaginably worked with an “electronic brain that does the thinking for you”. I’ll bet my skidmarks that was designed by a woman…

You see, we are always striving towards a better situation, with scant regard for what we already have. Once upon a time it was inconceivable to do the 100m in under 10 secs, or the mile in under 4 mins, today it’s the qualifying time. Where does it end? 100m in 1 second flat like the farting crazy frog? A car that can climb walls? A TV that emits that smells of the picture? A woman that listens?

I have no idea where we’ll be in 50 years time, and frankly, I don’t want to know. 20 years ago we were promised that “by the year 2000” we would be floating around in anti-gravity capsules, with complete meals in a tablet and sex via the internet. Only one of those has come true and it has been the saving grace of many a Star Trek fan. Electric windows in your car was a unaffordable luxury, today even Toyotas has them. What’s next? Force-field windows? Sex with real people? I remember when driving was dangerous and sex was safe…

My point, and believe it or not, there is a point, is that progress and competitiveness goes hand in hand, but for what better good? Are we really better off today than our predecessors? How many times can we go into space before we realise there is fokkol there and its everywhere? How many different ways can my watch tell me its time for a beer? No matter how safe the car, when my watch has told me for the 15th time is time for a beer and I drive home, I will become a dashboard ornament, same as in 1948.

What does it all mean? Simply this, when we stop looking at the High Dive as an Olympic event, but rather as a failed suicide attempt (anyone who willingly jumps from 10 meters and survives is doing it wrong) we will start to realise that all is not as it seems to be. If we accepted what we have and appreciated it, capitalism would cease to exist and we could all get along in our ignorant communist societies. Hell, if there was nothing new or better, I could even welcome my sorry-ass neighbour with his diesel Toyota into my home. Bring on Retro-ism and lets all just get along for the sake of humanity, poverty relief and 70’s style free love!

More stuff I wrote 10 years ago…

Reasons to love this country…or not…

I am a South African. I am proud to be a South African. I don’t want to be anything other than a South African. I love my country of birth and its people…Ok, some of them more or less than others, but I wouldn’t swap them for any other kind of sheep… To me, this is the only country to bother calling home – the stuff running through my veins is green! So, lest we forget what we have, I thought I would put together some of the facts that makes this country worth living in… or not…

Weather:

Ok, enough has probably been said about our weather, but with the recent weirdness (like hail in April) maybe it is worth revisiting. Look, simply put, we take out weather for granted. Travelling around Europe I was painfully reminded of this fact. Sleeping in the car on top of the Alps is not for the fainthearted – Ok, fair enough, only a South African would do such a stupid thing, but still… I wasn’t paying R1800.00 to some cheese-dipping Swiss Heidi for a bed and bog! Also, it doesn’t rain there, not properly! Not donner en bliksem save-the-chickens roof-raising bucketing down properly! They have this pissy snot’n sleet rain that is just plain annoying. It’s not even worth putting a coaster over you beer glass – that’s assuming you are sitting outside under God’s great sky to enjoy your beer, which you cannot do! Everything is inside! Streets and beaches look like Loftus after a game, or an AWB gathering in Sandton… Outside you are padded like Mrs Zuma to keep bits from falling off, then it takes you 28 minutes once you get inside to take everything off so you don’t sweat like Mr Zuma on the witness stand. You have to push a Woolworths trolly around everywhere you go to carry your 14 jackets, 8 scarves, 2 balaclava’s and a primus stove. Heaven forbid if you need a pee! Even if you could find the little bugger under all those clothes, you have more chance of winning the Super 12 than that little trouser snake peeking his head out! Personally I think all Europeans walk around with Jiffy bags sewn into their clothes, or else they are the only nation that’s not only a-retentive, but also p-retentive!

Space:

When we buy a house, we look at the garden – hell, its part of the deal! It comes with the house! We assume it! Imagine this – your estate agent takes you to see a house. The price is a cool million. You have the money, you earned it, you have arrived. You drive through the exclusive estate you are interested, followed by a guided tour of this lovely home. You peek out the back door (the front door was on the road) only to be met with the blank stare from the neighbour’s toilet window. You wonder where you have seen that faraway look before… “Does it have a garden” you ask. “Ofcourse” the agent replies… “For this price you get everything Sir. Just take the A53 to Chelsea where take the train to Land’s End. There you will find a man called Arthur and he will show you to your prime 4feet by 2.5feet paradise. Don’t forget to tip him for watering the daisy…” Gee thanks, but I reckon I will stay where I am – not only can I own a Rotweiller (5 of them in fact) but at least they have to break into a run in order to have their Burglar-bum steaks.  Sure, things are far apart, but if I don’t want to see the neighbour putting electrical appliances on his nipples, I don’t have to.

Women:

We have great women here. Oh yes, we have great women here! Beautiful cancer tans, acid rain bleached hair, big boisterous fun-loving women… Women who can just as easily win a boardroom over as cook a potjie over a bushfire. Brave women. Tough women. Not sissy, smelly, hairy, blank-stared women with skin like classroom chalk. In England I felt like a Chippendale. British women see a South African with a tan, and they melt like butter on an exhaust manifold. You don’t have to charm them into bed, you have to charm them out of bed! Forget your hunter’s instinct, there is no challenge! In Germany the lady who’s B ‘n B I was staying in was shocked to learn that my wife once punched a drunk in a restaurant. (I didn’t tell her the drunk was me…) Our women are unique. From the rugby-widows to the single moms, from the sexy desperate divorcee’s to the Patricia Lewis’s of this country, believe me when I tell you don’t want any other nation’s female genders waking up next to you. We have vattiekakkie women, women with opinions and bolls. That whole “worshipping the man” thing might work in Japan, and it would be novel for a while here, but after a while I would have to give her and her Saki tea a big fat veldskoen kick up her milky white butt. Give me a boeremeisie with a smile and an attitude I am as happy a pig in poop.

Politics:

Yes, I said politics! This is a great place for politics. We have it everywhere! From the office to home, from the bar to house of parliament, we have politics. We are a nation of politicians. Our oldest history involves some idiot with a Red Coat trying to take our legally stolen land. We have been fighting from day one – Jan van Riebeeck fought to get his head on a coin, Simon van der Stel (or something) fought to have mix marriages legalised and led by example! From then to now we have been fighting and arguing about something. Makes for an interesting country don’t you think? Hell, life would be boring if we all agreed! Just imagine peace – wonderful, serene, boring peace. No crime, no one to shoot, no road-rage, no well-timed sign language. Like Jack Nicholson said: “Cant we all just get along?” Hell no, we cant; we hate each other at the best of time and we like it that way. Leave us alone, you and your Truth and Reconciliation farce, you and your Spur family, you and your taxi – we hate each other and we love it! We are diverse and thus we embrace our diversity. Where else can you have a member of parliament use his travel vouchers to buy himself a life – its called free enterprise and we embrace it like we embrace all Australians: With love and acceptance! Baaa Baaa!

Guns:

I had a Swedish client over here a while ago – he was mesmerised by the fact that I own a gun. Hey, we all own guns, or at least have fired one, since most of us did a stint in oom PW’s outdoor club. We are a nation of gun loving hunters. From the earliest Biltong brigades and their Sanna’s, to the homeowner wanting to “protect himself” we have guns in every corner of our peaceful land. Our robberies are armed, not with “box-cutters” but with real live flesh-destroying AK47’s. Our cops carry real cold full metal jacket vattiekakkie pistols. This is a man’s country! Don’t mess with us, we will shoot the shape right out of your shit. We mock the “Gun free South Africa” soap-box politicians as pussies whilst chewing our biltong and oiling the shotgun. If those Arabs decided to highjack one of our planes to fly into the Taal Monument, some Dutchman with a hand like a banana-bunch would have slapped the hair out from under his turban. “Sit down boetie, hierie airoplanes gaans toe a braai on Bloemfontein, en if you is making me late, I will moer you stukkend” Hey , I am all for a gun free South Africa, its just that it is about as possible as Brian van Rooyen admitting he is gay, so I will hold on to mine and hope the AK47’s stops shooting. Anyway, I need my gun, I have a real problem with rats…

Africa is not nor for sissies – this is Marlboro country. We have a lot to be grateful for. I haven’t even covered topics like food, wine and prisons. Suffice it to say that we tend to overlook our blessings. Granted, if you re-read this topic you could say the same things about Australia. They are as blessed as we are, with one small disadvantage – Australians! So to the chicken-run emigrates I say, go! Good riddance. Go see of the grass is greener on the other side. Go live in some foreign country where flatulence is not funny. As for me and my family, we will remain until someone switches the lights off. I love this country and I would not dream of moving. After all, where else can I order a pizza and a beer during a hold-up?

Stuff I wrote 10 years ago…

Moeg vir Mugabe?

I am not a political activist, in fact, the less I have to do with politics, the less grey matter oozes out of my ears. I fail to understand the concept – you elect someone to tell you what to do? I am sorry, but I believe my mommy moer’d me enough to know what to do and when to do it.

So now we have this situation with Mr Mugabe and his cross-border 4×4 excursions. In case you didn’t know, he regularly sends his wife into the promised land of South Africa to stock up on massive loads of milk and honey. All of this while his people starves… He never comes himself; since he knows that a few boers with high-powered rifles would get very trigger-happy. He doesn’t have the same fears back home, since anyone who could actually read the instructions on the box the rifle came in has left! He has a massive mansion tucked away in his “village of birth” which by definition means it is built amongst “his own people”. I am sure the locals’ just love walking past his security guards, of which he has many, peering through the gates at his opulence, whilst carrying the dead, decaying rat carcass they found for supper.

The buzzword with which he justifies all actions is “Colonialism”. Forget apartheid! Apartheid was afternoon tea compared to the evils of colonialism, according to Mr Mugabe. Heaven forbid we should suffer the evils of colonialism – imagine everyone having the protection of the Queen, or having Western civilisation thrust upon you by Dr Livingstone and his faithful servants! Wait a minute – I seem to recall all footage of Mugabe shows him wearing a suit… If colonialism is so evil, why is he not dangling what daddy gave him in a loincloth?

Is it just me or does Mr Mugabe strike an amazing resemblance to a certain Adolf Hitler? Maybe it’s just the moustache…

If I was writing this from Zimbabwe, my door would have been kicked in by now and my lily-white ass taken to jail. This in itself is an oxymoron, since jail promulgates homosexuality, and Mr Mugabe is veraciously opposed to “pole-smokers” and “rugmunchers”. Ok, he doesn’t actually call gay people that, but by association he regards them with even less contempt. Personally, I just think he has a bad experience at Adult World in Bruma, and now loudly proclaims his heterosexuality to allay any insecurity he might have about his manhood…

Listen, I would never advocate war. I spent my time in oom PW’s boy-scouts and I have seen the atrocities of war. However, something needs to be done. There is no way on this earth that a man who has pissed on so many “loyal subjects” from his lofty towers can win an election. It had to be rigged! So it is clear that one will never oust him by “free and fair election”. So what other options are there? I reckon we ship every last homosexual we can find over to Zimbabwe with strict instructions to redecorate…

The man will turn into a jabbering idiot in 3 days! Oh wait, he is that already… Well, anyway, I am sure his cockroach will not only fall off the cork, but it will swim for land as fast as his little exoskeleton will allow. Within a week all Zimbabweans will be able to reclaim their rightful place as part of the developing world. Bob will be so rattled that Dr Phil would offer him free therapy, and by the third time his mansion has changed colour he will flee to Iraq where he will take up a position as suicide bomber number 307.

Failing this, there is always the option of capitalism – you know, that trusty old process whereby one individual seizes an opportunity to make money out of another’s misfortune. The concept is simple – I need money. Oom PW trained me to hit a 10cm x 10cm valplaat from a standing position at 1000 meters. Sometimes oom PW even made the valplaat run at breakneck speed across a grassy knoll…

Bidding starts at R10 000.00, vat inclusive…

Driving for dummies…

Let’s face it – driving on our roads in this day and age is at best life threatening, at worst you become the Minister of Transport. Even the most desolate country road comes with a set of hazards equal to anything Joburg can throw at you. Whether it’s a pothole large enough for the locals to draw water from, or a siege by plastic hanger salesman, one has to have one’s wits about you every second. With this in mind, as well as the looming 2010 tourist influx, I thought it apt to publish a beginners guide to driving in South Africa! Like most laws in good ol’ SA, these are merely guidelines and only have to apply if you really want them to – if you are happy to continue along the road to anarchy, be my guest. Just do it on your own time, on your own roads, in your own car and hopefully far away from my family and I. (‘cept maybe my mother-in-law)

Appendix A: National Highway. National highways for the purpose of this document will denote any road, lane or goat track that has had a government vehicle cross over it in the last 20 years. The maintenance, or lack thereof, is by no means an indicator as to the importance of the said road. It is not uncommon to have sinkholes in the newest of roads and merely indicates an attempt by the government to justify taxes.

Appendix B: Lights. Lights for the purpose of this document will denote any addition made to a vehicle to assist in the gift of sight. Having your passenger hang from the window with a Maglite does not constitute “Light” Candles don’t work well in wind.

Appendix C: Road hazard. For the purpose of this document, “road hazard” will mean anything that might slow your forwardly direction. This might include anything from bona fide accidents, cash-on-transit heists, leftover road building materials and funny kaki men in reflective apparel.

Appendix D: Brakes. For the purpose of this document “brakes” will denote anything fitted to a vehicle to assist in preventing forward motion. Tourists should be aware that RWC’s can be bought with your groceries so “brakes” or “braking” could simply mean a cessation of acceleration.

Appendix E: Hooter. For the purpose of this document, “hooter” will denote anything that communicates. This could vary from an overworked taxi bleeper, honking truck megaphones, screaming passengers and even closed-window mime assisted by a finger, normally the middle.

Appendix F: Drinking and driving. A driver is judged to be under the influence of alcohol or zol when he a) can recite all the government ministers and their qualifications and b) he knows the theory of relativity. Any other driver is considered sober and thus not liable for any misdemeanours like vehicular manslaughter.  Tourists should be aware that taxi fares are cheaper if the driver is under the influence, and frankly, their chances of survival increases exponentially with the decimal point on the breathalyser.

Rule #1

Always try to drive in a forwardly direction. This rule assumes you have assigned the headlight side of your car as the front. Although common, it is considered bad form to reverse at 98km/h on a National Highway. (Refer appendix A)  Coming to a dead end because local government thought it superfluous to finish a suspended crossway does not warrant reverse. The DUI drivers will be upset if they see you flitting past in reverse gear. Turn around and preferable warn oncoming motorists of the impending danger. Pointing the nose of your car in a generally forward direction also help to light up the road ahead, since most cars have poor reverse lights. (Refer appendix B)

Rule #2

As far as possible, attempt to maintain forwardly motion in a straight line. South African roads are conveniently marked with white lines to assist in the straight-line manoeuvre. Although common, swerving across the road for no apparent reason tend to evoke the anger of fellow motorists and could result in taunts like “I’ll donner you and the bastard that made you” and such like. A note for our tourist friends – swerving does not mean the driver is DUI, it simply means he once owned a Taxi and feels lonely. Swerving might me a necessary evil to avoid road hazards (Refer appendix C) Remember that an indicator (Refer Appendix B) or merely a waving arm warrants the driver to cross three lanes at 180km/h, as long as he only kills 4 pedestrians and totals no more than 1 car.

Rule #3

Although rare, it would on the odd occasion become necessary to use the brakes (Refer Appendix D). This could happen gradually as per screaming Zionist bus passenger, or suddenly as per airbag deploying Sandton kugel spotting a sale. This should by no means cause alarm – it is merely standard form for South African motorists. Should braking be used as a means of slowing down, it is advisable to have an effective switching mechanism, preferably connected to some globes, to warn fellow motorists of your intention. Although not entirely necessary, it would be better to slow down or even stop away from speeding vehicles. For this reason the fast lane is generally a bad idea. Should the fast lane be used as a parking space, refer to Rule #2.

Rule #4

As “lights” (Refer Appendix B) are aftermarket accessories only affordable by the elite, another form of communicating with fellow road users becomes critical. For this reason it is necessary to purchase a hooter (Refer Appendix E) This hooter could take the form of a well-voiced fee collector or a more expensive electric version. Having a hooter negates all previous rules and allows the driver free reign across the boundaries of our country. Motorists without this luxury should stay well clear of motorists clearly better off than yourself and as a sign of respect clear the road. Tourists choosing to travel by foot should be aware that vehicular manslaughter is not sustainable in a court of law if the presence of a hooter can be proved.

Rule #5

Drinking and driving, (Refer Appendix F) although a National Sport, should generally be avoided. Driving under the influence induces two effects – suicidal speeding or 1st gear low range in the fast lane. Swerving and braking, as mentioned previously, is no indication whatsoever. Drunk drivers in general are better drivers than the average South African motorist, so albeit technically illegal, the chances of survival whilst under the influence is statistically better. This said, it is advisable to refrain from driving if the road ahead appears to have 8 lanes. There are no 8 lane roads in South Africa and thus this is a good indication if you are able to drive. Should driving be unavoidable, like after a rugby game, choose the extreme left of said 8 lanes.

Statement by the Department of Road Safety:

We, the department of Road Safety, endorse the above rules as an exemplary body of work. We congratulate the writer on summarizing our aims and wishes for the country in such a comprehensive schedule, something we have been unable to do in 10 years of K53. We hereby state our intention to propose the above 5 rules into law with immediate effect and trust that we will be as effective in enforcing these laws as we have been during the genocide on South African Roads.

Footnote:

The writer accepts no responsibility for the above statements. The opinions expressed are wholly my own and the fact that I feel fokkol for anything or anyone should in no way be held against me.

Thank you

Sincerely buggered

Domestic Abuse Awareness…

I watched them arrive at my office – he, a picture of aggression and distrust, she, the beaten wife. Their body language was all closed, arms folded, shoulders turned away from each other and from me.

They had been sent to me by instruction of the court for a four-session seminar on conflict resolution. She wanted to be there so she could tell her story; he was there only because the court had ordered him. This was going to be tough session…

Domestic abuse is a frightening reality in South African society. The department of Justice estimates that 1 out of every four South African women are survivors of domestic violence. (450.311 Domestic Violence: Submission to the South African Law Commission in the Light of International and Constitutional Human Rights Jurisprudence Part 1, May 1997)

According to POWA 1 in every 6 women who die in Gauteng are killed by an intimate partner.

South Africa is said to have the highest statistics of gender-based violence in the world, which includes rape and domestic violence (Foster 1999; The Integrated Regional Network [IRIN])

These statistics are more than 14 years old, but current statistics are difficult to come by.

I believe that a lack of understanding of the extent of abuse is hampering our efforts at effective management of the problem.

Let’s take the couple mentioned in the introduction, and let’s call them John and Mary. They arrived in court because John kicked three of Mary’s ribs in. Mary is a petite woman of indeterminate age; John, a carpenter, is a leathery spindle of a man in his mid-forties.

In my first session I always allow the participants to “get things off their chests” which can be scary, since things often degenerate into screaming matches. What it does do though, is allow me to get a more honest look into their domestic situation.

Mary’s story was very simple, heard countless times all over South Africa: “My husband beats me and this time I had enough and called the cops.” Since Mary had the law on her side, she was quite confident and happy to see John “get what he deserves” – in this case, a humiliating conflict resolution seminar. John’s story was a far more detailed description of years of domestic strife, leading up to the violence. John did not want to take responsibility for his violent behaviour, instead portraying himself as a “victim” of an “evil woman”, which made him “snap”.

Domestic violence is a very serious matter, but unfortunately we often make assumptions based on emotions. As a counsellor, and a man, husband and father, it is sometimes really difficult to remain objective and not choose sides – my natural instinct is to take the woman’s side. However, if you can put your emotions aside for one minute, you might see a very different picture emerging – a picture that can assist us in understanding and managing domestic abuse. Making both victim and perpetrator aware of their actions and the various forms of abuse, is part and parcel of abuse counselling and is needed to bring couples onto a path of recovery.

Physical abuse gets all the press. It gets people into court, and the evidence is as real as the blood. Easily prosecuted, this is the one that brings the cops. Unfortunately, this is often only the culmination of other, less easily identified and prosecutable abuse. It’s easy to find evidence for things like hitting, smacking, pushing, shoving or kicking, but it’s far more difficult to prove “less violent” things like spitting, bear hugging, holding onto clothes or any unwelcome physical contact.

At the one extreme of sexual abuse, violent rape is prosecutable, since there is physical evidence. But much more difficult to prove, and I believe rampant, is non-violent sexual abuse. Very few courts will prosecute a husband for “cajoling” a wife into a sexual act. Luckily the law has changed significantly in later years to include marital rape, but less subtle abuse is mostly overlooked. And some of my participants are shocked to hear that using sex (or withholding it) as a weapon, is classed as abuse – in this regard there are many women also guilty of abuse. In this statement I am not talking about a woman’s right to say no, I am simply talking about instances where sex becomes a weapon used to control or hurt the partner.

Then there’s emotional abuse – I know of very few court cases where someone has gone to jail for this, but it is as real as any other abuse. It includes jealousy, obsessive behaviour, humiliation, breaking the person down, harping on mistakes, harping on the past, making the person feel guilty all the time, etc. Sometimes I think a life of emotional abuse is worse than physical abuse – physical wounds can heal, but emotional wounds take years and sometimes lifetimes to heal, if ever.

Verbal abuse is sometimes classed along with emotional abuse, but I class it separately since I want people to realise that speaking in a disrespectful tone is classed as abuse. Swearing at your partner is never acceptable, but so are unwanted pet names! A relationship that is not based on mutual respect is often evident to outsiders by the language it uses.

Not providing your household with the finances it needs to run is classed as economic abuse. As we all know, money and sex are the two most volatile topics in a marriage so it follows that this is a big one. The breadwinner has a duty to provide for the family – that’s the deal you signed when you said “I do” or decided to move in together. Many households are “dual income” partnerships, and then the problem of “your money and my money” is just as problematic.  However, overspending your partner’s contribution is also abuse! Withholding money, wasting money, using money as a weapon, these are all abusive behaviours and lead to huge conflict.

Stalking is also a form of abuse, and includes unwelcome visitations and meetings, as well as hanging around the victim’s usual hang-outs, hoping for a “chance meeting”. Obsessive behaviour in this context is dangerous and victims must report such actions immediately.

Any forceful attempt to make your partner adhere to your ideologies – ie. any form of intimidation –is considered abuse. You may not force or even coerce your partner into voting the same as you, to join the same church, adhere to the same value system, or even shop at the same shops. In terms of South African law, these actions are illegal, but in terms of the marriage or other committed relationships, these behaviours are destructive.

After I had explained these and other examples of abuse, John and Mary began to realise something: they were both guilty of some form of abuse. Now before you stone me, I am not saying all domestic abuse victims are also guilty of abuse, but the road to healing begins with partners taking responsibility for their actions, whatever they might be.

Mary, for example, had never worked, and tended to spend John’s salary, giving him virtually no control over the finances. She also swore at him publicly, and berated and belittled him in front of the children. And of course none of these actions warrants or justifies his violent behaviour, but they nevertheless constitute abuse!

Domestic abuse is a hugely destructive force in modern living. And among the other challenges like the availability of pornography (a huge contributor to domestic abuse in my opinion), financial pressures in these hard times, the general degradation of the moral fibre of society, our relationships are under severe pressure.

In my line of work, I see some of the worst man has to offer, but I can assure you, domestic abuse is not limited to race, religion or financial status. It affects us all like the ripples in a pond. Breaking the cycle starts with awareness.

Religious fools and other commoners…

It never fails to amaze me. It is should be abundantly clear to all thinking human beings that there are lies and deceptions out there. You are being to lied to on a daily basis – it is the fundamental basis for all marketing! But surely at some point you have to stop and think? Marketing has become the Foie Gras of consumerism – we consume what we are fed and we merrily swallow and ask for more! It is the way of the world that the candidate with the best marketing team becomes the president, regardless of how many little boys he has fiddled with…

And then so it is with the Creation vs Evolution debate. The truth is that the evolutionists gets all the marketing! It’s just that simple – it’s about press and the evolution theory has gotten all of it. Forgotten, unknown, and disregarded is the fact that it is a THEORY, and one that is so poor in rational science that it is flawed at it’s most basic level. Everyone has an opinion though – oh no, EVERYONE! People with zero knowledge of science will sprout words of wisdom regarding the evolution THEORY, the Big Bang THEORY and many other THEORIES as if they have done the research. Well ok, people like to sound informed and that’s fair enough – for the most part these folk just have empty boring lives and thus needs to find social acceptance in pseudo-intellectual discussions. I don’t have a major problem with these people -they’re fun at stampedes.

My problem comes in when these people try to portray creationists as “crazies” or “religious freaks” who believe in an invisible fairy tale. That gets my goat up because even if you remove the religious aspect from the equation, the science supports creationism far more rationally! This debate is very old – I suppose as old as that old rascal Darwin himself would have been. Great examples of the debate can be seen here (the famous Gish vs Doolittle) and here but allow me to poke just a few holes in the basic fundamentals of old earth (evolution) doctrine:

A basic fundamental understanding of evolution relies on the steady progression of life from pond-scum to human, right? It is as crucial to the understanding of evolution as nagging is to marriage. It is at this very level that evolution THEORY falls flat on its self-assured face because nowhere, not in the fossil records, not in any historic records and certainly not in life on earth as we know it, do we find “intermediate species”. There are no half man half apes, no half dolphin half wolf or any other creative designs floating around. It’s call the “missing link” and its missing for a reason – because they never existed. So I ask you, with tears in my baby blue eyes, why do people still promote this “theory” if it fails at this most basic of levels?

Let’s look at the Big Bang THEORY – the premise that the universe originated from a cosmic explosion. In order to adhere to this theory one has to disregard the laws of nature! One of the most fundamental laws on which our planet and in fact our universe operates is the law of “entropy” or “lack of order or predictability; gradual decline into disorder” Basically that means that if you threw a handful of marbles onto a tiled floor they are NOT going to arrange themselves in ordered patterns but they will disperse randomly. This dispersion will move towards chaos and not order – matter deteriorates. Your Hyundai rusts, wears out breaks down; it doesn’t become a Mercedes. But the Big Bang Theorists will have you believe that from chaos (an explosion) comes order, specifically the precise order of our universe! You see – it’s a fundamental flaw in the theory yet people call it science!

And so we can continue to poke holes in virtually all aspects of Darwin folly and yet, evolutionists will continue to call us “ignorant uneducated fools”. The truth is far removed – there is solid science behind creationism, not just religious fanaticism, but you see, it’s easy to accuse us of religious fervor – it’s not so easy to talk real facts! The Institute for Creation Research www.icr.org has spent a lifetime producing solid science. Professors at well known Universities like UCT, who were employed to teach evolution, have come to realise the fundamental flaws in evolution (and got fired for challenging the status quo) and yet, the marketing wheel of evolution keeps turning…

I have to ask – how come the evolution theory has become so popular. It’s science is clearly flawed; so how come? Is there an agenda? Who is pushing it? Here’s what I think – and you can disregard this paragraph if you wish, it doesn’t negate the reasoning I have entered above… The truth is that in order to believe in evolution you have to suspend belief in Intelligent Design, hence God! You cannot be a Bible believing Christian and adhere to evolution. I don’t care much for “Theistic Evolution” – that’s pretty much a cop-out argument. The fact is that you have to be an Atheist in order to believe in evolution. So who or what has an agenda to get God out of the minds and hearts of mankind? Only one power works toward that in everything it does – Satan and his army of demons. Charles Darwin had well documented links to the occult and despite his later claims of Agnosticism as opposed to outright Atheism, the man clearly had no idea of the Satanic powers driving him.

So my own religious views aside, the truth is that there is science supporting creationism, not just religious belief and this is the point I want to make – instead of calling new earth adherents fools and idiots, why not study the science? You might find common sense…

That’s the problem with common sense these days – its not very common…

Hell or health…

As some of you may know, I am a bit of a health freak. Not “I’ll slash you if you wear a leather belt” kinda health freak, but rather “I like regular bowel movements” kinda health freak. One of my bread and butter (figuratively speaking) seminars is one based on the acronym NEW START I might have mentioned this previously, but my memory sucks. Ok, that might not be a good advert for my health promotion… BTW, NEW START stands for Nutrition, Exercise, Water, Sunshine, Temperance, Air, Rest and Trust, but enough about that.

One of the things that blew me away when I first discovered it, is that cancer is not a disease in the true sense of the word. My mom is currently dying of bowel cancer so I have an emotional investment in this knowledge. The truth is that cancer is a physical reaction to a set of circumstances. You smoke, you get cancer – is cancer the problem? No, the smoking is the problem – cancer is the result, the body’s reaction. This might seem like a silly epiphany, but if you think about, 99% of the cancer treatments are geared to treating the cancer, not the cause of the cancer. So not only is our medicine “reactionary” but most cancers return since we do not remove the cause. Preventative medicine or lifestyle choices doesn’t make money, so we persist with violent and mostly futile treatments like chemo.

A friend of mine is dying of breast cancer – doctors gave her 12 months, but with chemo there’s a 20% chance she might make 2 years. She is 8 months into her treatment and she wants to die… What’s the point of a few extra months if you are in hell? It doesn’t make sense. Life is not about time on earth, it’s about living regardless of time! My mom was a walking talking active human being with very little discomfort prior to starting treatment – in the last two years she has become a bedridden vegetable waiting to die! Has the treatment helped? Extended her “time”? No, all it did was destroy her body to the point where her bones broke and she weighs 37kg…My breast cancer friend is in the same boat.

So, in doing this research alongside organisations like Breathe Free in Cape Town and others, I have encountered many “miracle” stories of people who have not only halted their cancers, but cured it. How? It’s actually quite simple –

Cancer cannot survive in an alkaline environment.

Full stop. End of story. It’s that simple. Change your body’s PH level to alkaline and CANCER CANNOT LIVE! Really.

So how do you do that?

Diet.

End of story.

So, I won’t bore you with reams of details – those of you who are really interested will do your own research. I highly recommend you watch the Forks over Knives documentary, available for free on Popcorn Time. Also, research the work of revolutionary scientists like Otto Warburg, Prof Walter Veith et al. Here is a very good start.

Who knew vegetarians were right?