Friday, February 27, 2015


Why do I do this? Because I can.

I get to relieve myself of any issues that are bothering me. Much like a satisfactory dump, I cleanse my colonic conscience and move on with my life. It's cathartic and therapeutic to rant and whinge and then have a private chuckle at all the reactions. It affords me the opportunity to fling my pooh all over the internet and come out the other end refreshed and ready to tackle the problems of the world once more...

And not unlike every other motherfucker with something to sell, it also allows me to shamelessly punt my interests. For instance, I am excited to be playing a show tomorrow night with my band SUBVERS. We're performing at Mercury with some stellar bands. BULLETSCRIPT, THE WARINSANE and WITH DAWN are not only all immensely impressive, but they're all the sorts of lads you could take home to meet your mother. What they get up to with your mother is another issue, although I guarantee you between stealing her cupcakes and stealing her soul, she'll be a satisfied customer either way.

Having my own personal virtual soapbox also allows me to bring certain things to your attention. (As I was waffling/typing out that last paragraph, I had such an important thing to tell you, and now it's gone, like fyne poepies...) Just be glad I don't litter your lunch break reading pleasure with unwanted pictures of cats. Or like everyone else, the result of their first, second and third successful sweaty, heaving pomps. I draw the line just shy of purging my soul by busting out my thoughts on love, life and the universe too. Unless of course there is an urgent message in there somewhere. Like this clearly well thought out post.

I even wax political sometimes. Although I try and retain some modicum of perspective, I am just as guilty as most when airing my views. And my views are generally "don't be a bigoted doos, you bigoted doos". If my mom ever read this shit, I'd get so grounded...

After my friends in other bands had been around for a visit, obviously.

Speaking of, I'm beginning my practice routine in order to perfect my funny walk. I have no idea how on earth it hasn't established itself as a tradition to do a silly walk at every Ministry concert, but I fully intend on rectifying this aberrant oversight. That's right, folks! Next week I jet off to the Big Shitty to see one of my favourite bands right here in South Africa - thanks to Witchdoctor Productions and my ability to survive on end-of-the-month Salticrax all month long. Every month. And Patrick Davidson, the living legend. Thank you.
When he isn't the Grand Facilitator, Patrick enjoys long walks on the beach and romantic gestures in public. He also plays in a band. He and the rest of TERMINATRYX are sharing the stage with Ministry next week! Fucking awesome! Kill 'em dead, guys!

As with everything to which one can sellotape a hashtag, all of a sudden everyone is now a cricket expert. I for one am enjoying this festival of cricket tremendously. I'm really hoping our lads can overcome this very unfair noose of "choker" and go the distance. I don't think it's appropriate to use "choker" in such an unflattering light anyway. I have the greatest respect for the works of Lovelace, Grey, Rotten, Khalifa, Jameson, Rayne and company.Told you my mom would shit herself if she ever found out about this blog...
And whoever thought that "Protea Fire" was a good slogan has clearly never spent long happy summers cursing a variety of tourists who come and burn our fucking mountain down every year. Fuckers. Ryan McLaren, you were robbed, boy.

It's Friday. Go out and do something irreverent.

And a Grumpy Birthday to our very own Minister Of Misery, Lord Doom! See you next week, you gloomy git.

And that's just about all we have time for today. Bedeeah, bedeeah, bedeeah, that's all folks!

Spread The Love. Like A Toddler Smears Pooh On A Wall.

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