Friday, October 31, 2014


Now, now... we'll have nun of that!

So today it's Halloween. But yesterday it wasn't. And yesterday I resolved to pen a piece on the festivities of the night before. Which I didn't. Because I was hung over and not motivated in the least.

I'd gone out with Tarty Farty Tequila Party to go and enjoy an evening watching Gerald Clark perform his awe-inspiring blues-drenched sonic wizardry. At a little place called Bootleggers - humble coffee shop by day, nefarious hang-out for the well to do, but not so gifted in the brain department by night. Accompanied by stand in drummer Jonno Sweetman, it was a show to savour! It was one of those "miracles unfolding before your very eyes" kind of shows. Jonno is a revelation! The man is a a demon on the kit, with more tricks than the collective neighbourhood's kids at Halloween, after having been denied any treats. And Gerald, as always, delivered an evening of glorious genius, entirely lost in his own vibe, and clearly enjoying his music as much as I was.

That is, when I could actually see what was going on. Having found a conveniently nearby perch for my aging arse, I was obstructed by "the masticator" and "the doe". The one's ever-chewing, ever-babbling maw, and correspondingly oversized frame, only outdone by the other's wide-eyed lack of comprehension and ugly high heels - together they contrived to block virtually every angle from which I could watch - at least for the first bit. The place was packed! Eventually one of the deep-V-necks decided he'd recognised a fairly straightforward blues scale and whooped and hollered along as if he had a tie around his head and had been at the free bar of his best friend's wedding.

I also had to go to the lavatory, as you do when gulping down copious amounts of overpriced "craft" beer. Were I a midget or an amputee, perhaps the confined space into which I had to squeeze myself to relieve myself would have been sufficient. As it was I had to lean as far back as I dared, squint down my nose and pray to God I didn't get any on my jeans.

Anyway, we had a radical time. Gerald always delivers a masterclass in musicianship and this night was no different. We were treated to a great performance that included his full varied repertoire and even a whole bunch of songs played using a beer glass as a slide. Magical all round! Thank you Tarty! (Incidentally, from this day forward, she is going to be referred to as Tipsy Gypsy.)

And then last night we descended on the home of Commander Conker and Rose Thorn for a 5 course meal. And some devastatingly good wine. Fuck my life, right?

Tonight I play football and then go and watch a few bands at Mercury do their thing for the Halloween Slaughter. I'm looking forward tremendously to seeing Mr Villain get his "drag-on" and try to hit the highs like George Michael. And then there's the main course, Bulletscript. I struggle to even try and be objective about them. They tick just about every box in my long and unnecessarily full-of-shit list of things that make a fucking brilliant metal band. I can't WAIT! They have also released their debut EP. I highly recommend you get Knotted.

And on that note, on with the dog-and-pony show. Please remember to keep your outfits less than too realistic if you're going anywhere as a zombie. Motherfuckers are unduly panicked about the ebola epidemic in SA. And if you're going as a vampire, lay off the glitter - that shit WILL get you killed. By anyone with a modicum of decency, literary appreciation, or a moral compass.

I'm going as the Pope. In a Sheldon shirt.

NGDG: I don't find the pejorative synecdoche "Soutie" insulting. I'm flattered that you think it would dangle in the sea.

Spread The Love. Get Rid Of The Habit Altogether.

Tuesday, October 28, 2014


Saying 'No thanks' to a blowjob...
There's a first time for everything.

Ah, Halloween! Not just the abbreviation for Tim Burton's dog. Actually, I believe it's derived from "Old Hallows Eve" whatever the fuck that means. I suppose if I'm going to complain about modern day interpretations of classic traditions I should go and read up on the origins of the practice, but this is the internet and most of you have probably already been compelled to type TLDR with an exasperated sigh.

And since all but the most tenacious and therefore the most awesome of my readers are still plodding through today's dose of drivel, I may as well admit to using this very same heading last year. My ever so regurgitated apologies. I myself only found out now...

So, according to a very respected source (also from the interwebs), the costume of choice this year in 'Murica is "Sexy Ebola Nurse". Considering the entire point of a HazMat suit is to cover everything, one wonders just how they're going to go about wearing as little as possible. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for skimpy outfits and promiscuity. After all, the gangly, awkward version of me in my adolescence wouldn't have stood a chance if it wasn't for a metaphorical moral loosening of the belt. But it's morals of a different kind that this behaviour calls into question, not to mention the indictable lack of intelligence and susceptibility to media hype. Yes, I'm the cantankerous old bastard sitting on my porch yelling at the kids to 'git off mah yard!'. Just think - if the Holocaust happened now, this weekend would see frat boys everywhere double teaming drunk, half naked Nazi bimbos on pool tables. Probably even after Pearl Harbour. The real one, not the movie.

I know I'm not the only one weeping for humanity. And I'm dreading the day I have to witness my own (possible future) daughter trying to get away with shit like this - or worse. I'm probably going to reap all manner of dastardly rewards for my shenanigans. I wonder, if I was a young man today, if I'd be taken with the Twerk Or Tweet generation's female of the species. Or if my adult revulsion would remain...
Don't get me started...

But there's good news as well. As usual, the musical underground - other than salivating through prosthetic teeth - has taken this opportunity to put on a variety of mouth watering shows this weekend to commemorate this special spooky holiday!

The Halloween Slaughter is already an established event, now in its fifth year and going strong. Organised by Bulletscript, the formidable line up includes Strident, Junkyard Lipstick, Moment Of Clarity, and of course the irascible riff-monsters, Bulletscript themselves. I cannot tell you enough how much you NEED to see this band. They will tear down your perceptions and reaffirm your faith in the sort of metal that pulls no punches - leaving you bleeding on the floor. I hope Mercury's clean up crew is ready...
Then there's Full Metal Jack at The Rabbit Hole featuring Beeldenstorm and a few others. And if you still haven't had enough blistering local merrills, the following night sees Burning Tone Records' second annual Blitzkrieg, in which they showcase all the bands on their roster - Infanteria, Zombies Ate My Girlfriend, Megalodon and All Guns Full Ammo. Get all your buddies and go! Remember kids, travel in well lit areas and in packs. The locals of Edward Street are the current equivalent of pitchfork wielding witch burners.

But the undoubted favourite of the weekend has to be Attack Of The Ghost Riders, a show that's being put on despite The Black Angels postponing their trip to South Africa. If the line up of The Very Wicked, The Sleepers, Loveglove Pyrotechnic and Playing Dead doesn't get your ghoulies greased, then you may as well stay in your grave this Halloween...

But wait! That's not all! If you fancy yourself a horror movie aficionado, then you probably already know about the annual Horrorfest. If you don't already know, where the fuck have you been? The most prestigious film festival of its kind in SA, now in its tenth year, you daren't miss this 11 day feast of creepy celluloid celebrations.

My sincerest apologies for not keeping it to 140 characters or less.

NGDG: I was eating a bratwurst and drinking a beer. This girl was doing the same. So I asked her what her favourite Woody Allen movie was and she said "Who's Woody Allen?" It was like the Germans HAD won the war.

Spread The Love. Shake Dat Ass?

Wednesday, October 22, 2014


I've been away for far too long.
I was struck down with a vicious bug.
I felt very sorry for myself.
Then I returned to the land of the living and I felt even more miserable.

I'm fascinated by people who are fascinated by something that has sweet fuckall to do with them. People who condemn without really knowing all the facts. People who call into question the very principles on which our lifestyle is based. People who so easily succumb to the mass hysteria created by a "trial by media". A sensationalist media so often scorned for irresponsible journalism by these very same people. People who seek retribution by posting inane quips online like a vengeful horde of witch burners. People who should know better.

The trial of the century...

How has the death of an innocent young woman in her prime affected any of you, other than giving you something to keep you distracted from the real atrocities committed in this world? Spare a thought for her family, who are so bereft they're selling (soiling) her memory to the highest bidder. So that you can all relive the outrage on your Kindles. For shame.

Murder, rape, burglary (more often then not violent), domestic abuse and assault happen so often in our rainbow nation that they are accepted as the norm. Yet no-one blinks an eye until they are directly affected. We just happily pay the ever escalating ADT premiums. But let one famous athlete fuck up (and fuck up he did, make no mistake) and the bilious vitriol spat all over the social media of your choice is so venomous, it threatens to rip apart the fabric of society like an incensed hive mind.

It's an indictment on humanity that so many are so easily swept along and so infatuated with watching a beloved figure falling from his or her ivory tower. You put them there. And now you're the pack of virtual wolves waiting to rip flesh from bone after terminal velocity has taken care of the rest.

I'm no legal expert. I won't even pretend to give enough of a shit about this entire farce to have an opinion. My beef is with you, the viewers, the commentators, the faceless mass of slack-jawed daytime tv devotees, the self appointed judge and juries, the would be voices of an outraged public. Have any legal precedents been set by this apparent miscarriage of justice? Has the accused - after being given the chance to plead his case in court, and facing the charges brought against him by the state - not been found guilty and duly sentenced? Yes, money and connections bring with them the privilege of being able to manipulate the clearly flawed system. But raise your hands - I dare you - if you would meekly surrender your liberty after, say, being arrested for driving under the influence, if you had the means to get out of it.

I have no doubt that a lot of people I know would disagree with me. I have no doubt that the sentence handed down was most certainly lenient. I have even less doubt that circumstances will eventually lead to an even more comfortable application of this sentence. Appeals may even be considered... But to call what has transpired an error is to buy into the rankest conspiratorial suggestion. The world's penetrating glare was focused on every second of this trial. A mistake was simply not an option. Yet even after all the nitpicking and pedantic point-for-point analysis, has even one legitimate legal mind come out and cried foul? Or are the laws of this shining democracy being upheld, even in the flimsiest sense of the word?

Like I said, I certainly don't know nearly as much as so many of you law professors out there. And I most demonstrably give far less of a fuck. But allow me to make a few suggestions on how better to occupy your time:

  • Find an institution that specialises in trauma counseling for the victims of violent crime and volunteer your services.
  • Engage with your community and do something to help similar victims in your neighbourhood.
  • Join the police or study law. Failing that, just turn off your fucking TV when Shrien Dewani is mentioned, go outside, and spend time with your dog.
  • Contribute instead of condemning. Even if what you see is contemptible. If you wasted all your time getting your tits in a tangle over every shitty thing happening in this shitty world, you'd have nothing left but wrung out hands and an impressive collection of hessian outfits.
  • "Get on with it!" Your life, that is...

Let the spluttering indignation begin...

NGDG: Apparently a compromised debit card need only be cut in four through the magnetic stripe. Not 64 pieces, reassembled with pritt, to scan as proof for the bank that I'm still in possession of  said card, or a really crap puzzle.

Spread The Love. For Everyone. Not Just The Victims Of Famous Shitheads And Their Dirty Deeds.

Wednesday, October 1, 2014


I needed to have SOMETHING to write about considering that, if the law of averages is to be believed, some time today, this new post will have some completely unaware stranger read my blog for the ONE HUNDRED THOUSANDTH TIME! I couldn't wait until I had something worthwhile, so I made a little rhyme.
For you
From me.

A kugel did a kegel
As she stood and asked her spiegel
"Who's the bestest of them all?"

But when the answer came
It shocked and left her lame
And prompted her to promptly drop the ball.

THANK YOU ALL for reading the sometimes wise, sometimes wistful, always a complete-waste-of-everyone's-time rants, diatribes and silly stories. I hope you have enjoyed them as much as I have.

Here's to the next 100,000!

Spread The Love. No Really... Spread It.