Friday, September 13, 2013


Michael Gira should just be put in charge of the world.

Oh, and before I forget. To all these Middle Eastern child-bride-taking, so called traditionalist, paedophile, minor molesting, detestable halfmen rapist cunts! What the FLYING FUCK is wrong with you? Surely any modicum of common sense or decency should set off big fucking red warning alarms in your opium addled minds! It's a fucking child, for fuck's sake! You sick piece of shit! Close your eyes and picture your own daughter, why don't you... Oh, that's right. I forgot. You also publicly shame, torture and punish rape victims. There are too many people in this world, and whilst I will remain outraged at the unfair involvement of warmongering shitheads like those in the 'Murican government, today you get a free pass to "I don't give a shit if they blast you back to the stone age - in fact I hope they do". If it wasn't for the fact that your women and children would suffer alongside you, I'd actively fucking encourage it. Doos!

I shouldn't read the news. I really shouldn't. It upsets me no end, even when I purposely scroll down to the sports section. It seems the entire planet is hell bent on fucking up more sensationally than the next guy. And it's all pervasive. My friend, Commander Conker is looking to exchange this rat race for the simple life of a farmer out in the middle of the Karoo, tending to a small stud of horses. I think he may be onto something. Although I have a sneaking suspicion it may also have to do with the fact that he's stuck in Tableau Voi. Off the grid and out of the loop? Sounds idyllic right now.

In a rather more pleasant twist on the "fuck this world" narrative, I have rediscovered the 'Is It Just Me Or Is Everything Kak?' series of books. I was given them as a gift a number of years back and have dusted them off for some very enjoyable number 2 chortles. Thanks KJ!

And moving swiftly back to the Voi, because most people are stuck in its inexorable tractor beam death grip, I found myself in the neighbourhood last night for Commander Conker and Rose Thorn's auspicious Dinner Club Hosting Debut. Wow! What a spread! We were treated to some top notch gourmet shit! I hope they realise they're getting plain ol' spagbol when it's my turn... Anyway, a great time was had by all, quaffing wine around the table and talk-shrieking kak for a few hours. Bravo.

And as the weekend approaches, bringing with it the prospect of after-work-football and planned braais and nights out, the weather decides to switch moods and become a suitable Friday the 13th backdrop. So, to one and all: have an awfully sinister day. If you get home and your partner has left the hockey mask or some type of hedge trimmer casually lying around, get the fuck out as fast as your stumpy little legs will carry you and don't look back.

Oh, and one last thing. Fuck the SABC. "We can't (won't) pay thousand of local and international writers their royalties (an internationally accepted legal obligation) because we don't have the money. So pay your TV Licence. It's the right thing to do." Um, one point five billion whats?

NGDG: I cannot believe that in this day and age there are still people running around in white hoods with burning tapers, proclaiming their antiquated ideology at isolated gatherings in the forest. At least wedding season is over for another year.

Spread The Love. You Know, Like Responsible Consenting Adults.

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