Do you remember when you were young? And all that was necessary on a hot day was to strip down to your undies and you'd run through the sprayer, screeching with glee? Or when your folks had you running around on the beach in the knee high surf in nothing more than you tidy whiteys - if that? And no one gave a damn...
Glory day. We didn't even care about sunblock...
Then there's today's version. Ok, we get it. You're a little irked because the temperature is slightly above that which contemporary society deems comfortable. And unfortunately all of you have chosen to exclaim and bemoan this fact in the most benign and uniformly irritating manner on any form of social network anyone could wish to think of. It's hot? Really? Well fuck me! Amazing!
Why don't you put yourself in Racheltjie De Beer's shoes? If she didn't already hand them over to her freezing little brother? Because I think you may find that by comparison you have it relatively easy. Not "relatively easy" like when you and your cousins play doctor in the shed. It's more of a theory.
Curious... What is it in the intrinsic make-up of an individual that makes then so vehemently want to share their incredible skills of observation? Do they feel they're earned the divine right, above all others, to be that special person that's ordained to comment on the weather? Or is it merely a social obligation? Everyone is subject to the same weather system at any given time, at least in the same geographical vicinity. Do you think that I am blithely unaware that it is a scorcher? Perhaps it's a social default back up point that everyone reverts to when their brains melt... The only hot I'm interested in is when it's used in descriptive narrative regarding the young ladies. Mmmmm. One up side is the distinct lack of appropriately modest clothing...
Yes, life in Africa is a strenuous affair. What with the natives no longer being satisfied with bringing us our Gin & Tonics and fanning us with large palm fronds... Fuck off or wake up. We still have it better than anyone anywhere. We have the benefit of Western technology, connectivity and interaction. We have weather, locations and views that cannot be beaten. We live smack bang in the middle of the ultimate holiday destination (as proven by the droves of fucking foreigners and Vaalies that infest our paradise at any opportunity) and you're moaning? The only thing you have a right to moan about is the fact that we have to share it.
And the occasional spot of wind...
Oh the wind...
So this week brings with it the glorious re-entry into the world of band rehearsals and the like. Can't wait. All bands have something resembling recording schedules. There are new members to guide through their parts, and some relatively fresh ones with which to forge writing partnerships. Feeling very positive about it all. (Something NOT often associated with GOOD in Africa...)
It's probably worth noting that the published afterlife (for those that don't toe the line very carefully) is exponentially hotter than this little day and probably doesn't hold much in the line of respite. Repent! Lest ye pester the living crap out of us even more when you get to hell!
NGDG: "Why do uber-fashionable girls look like they have a carrot up their rear end? Because they are the carrot. And the rear end is the oversmall designer jeans."
Spread The Love. Less Get Nekkid And Run Through The Sprayers!
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