Friday, March 23, 2012


Irreverent, like when Mr Blackheart makes his comments about using chloroform and duct tape. Oh no wait. He's actually being serious...

Anyway, back to business. I have been far too busy for comfort at work of late and have found very little time to write my entertaining (like tuberculosis) and enlightening (like puppy pissed-on newspaper) blog posts for your enjoyment. Let's hope this unfortunate state of affairs will now be a thing of the past and I can once again slip into a more suitably leisurely pace - the kind to which my Capetonian arse has become accustomed. If I wanted to pay exorbitant amounts of money to work myself to death and for the simple right to use a road, I'd move to Jo'burg for sure. I'm just not sure if I'd ever get used to the idea of breathing with a knife and fork. Or how long it would take me to learn all the nightclub-fight-dodging rebuttals. You know, so the pop-up collar brekers don't moer me for having long hair. Or an intellect. Ah fuck me, now I sound like all the gaming nerds.

I was saying something about the e-toll system in Gauteng everyone is so up in arms about. I think we, as residents of the Mother City and custodians of the most enviable lifestyle in the world, have an obligation to ourselves and our way of life to stand against e-tolling as vehemently as those that stand to be affected directly by this barely veiled grabbing hands greed. You see, if the "novelty blue balls hanging from my towbar, I put my effie on whiff a wrench" types start seeing Cape Town as a viable option for relocation, we're all fucked. It's bad enough in tourist season, and even that is extending way past its threshold, but imagine an en masse immigration of Poly-shorted, mouth-breathing, mall-crawling workaholics INFESTING our scared space? Jeesh, can you IMAGINE what the Biscuit Mall will look like on a Saturday morning? Where the fuck are all the housewives from Tableau Voi going to go? South Africa will slowly begin to resemble Somalibabwe, as it fills up from the top with illegal border jumpers. Not that I blame them in the least, I squarely blame the "bring us your lame, deaf, defeated, poor, hungry, desperate and willing to undercut the going rate at which our lazy, entitled locals are prepared to pretend to work" attitude of our elected leaders. And I thought the African Swallow was non-migratory.

Speaking of, the lady of the night that frequents the corner right there by the Biscuit Mall (not so classy now eh, you fucking organic veggie, tofu wine, wanker yuppies...) had the good grace to show me her boobs again the other night as I drove out to pick up a friend of mine for band practice. She's got a kind of "Halle Berry sonne tanne" thing going for her.

I'm glad you asked. Band practices are going very well, thank you. Almost ready to take it to the next level of online talking without actually being able to show anything for it...

Except for Symphonaire Infernus. Now that's going to be a night to remember.

Incidentally, I will be off for a few days, doing boring things like interviewing Fleshgod Apocolypse and building walls in my backyard. I think there should definitely be beer involved. Starting as soon as humanly possible. Roll on beer-o-clock...

NGDG: "Merah, Merah, on the wall, and the pavement and the gutter and on the Peugeot parked nearby, who's a dead terrorist then?"

Fucking genius!

Spread The Love. Go Fuck A Genius. And No, DrHellCuz, I Do Not Mean Yourself.

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