Wednesday, February 11, 2015


I remember the following joke from days gone by when I knew clean jokes. Two Jamaican gentlemen arrive at a fancy dress party in perfectly normal clothes and are denied entry. Told they won't be allowed in without costumes depicting emotions, and having no money between them, they come up with a plan. Returning to the party, both naked, the one has his dick in a bowl of dessert, while the other has his wedged into a fruit. Upon a rather nonplussed inquiry they explain "I'm deep in dis pear and he's fucking dis custard..."

Recently I had reason (or not) to write this at someone: Humankind - in all its glorious multi-coloured and multi-cultural history - has been nothing more than a savage and barbaric pantomime of hate in the name of greed.
I can't remember the context and I'm far too lazy to go back and find out. You'll also notice that it's an approximation of the original sentiment as best I can remember, but it'll do to illuminate my point. I don't really have a point, but then the handful of readers I've miraculously managed to hang onto over the past few years would probably have expected that by now.

So, the State Of The Nation Address. Or SONA. Or Same Old Negative Appraisal, if there was a shred of honesty left in civil service. I saw the best advertising board ever this morning...

Damn clever if you ask me. Do you really think they'll allow the EFF to go ahead with their plans to interrupt the middle finger charade with insistent questions about paying back the money? Will red overalls and red helmets hold sway on the red carpet? If anything, I'll be grateful for the distraction from the horrifying abuse the English language is about to receive. You know you're in trouble as a nation when your democratically elected leader makes someone like JuJu sound like a professor in literature.

But for most of us, the daily grind continues - our only concern the traffic this afternoon. Not me, I'm avoiding it all by pounding some picturesque pavements after work and then being whisked off to the inaugural Slappy-hosted dinner club. It'll give me a chance to go and see how the kids are doing (for those of you unaware, I planted some vines recently...).

Anyway, that's me, bar the shouting. And a cautious reminder not to fall into the trap of being a sensationalist dickhead who forgot the loadshedding of a few years back which, coupled with a worldwide recession, somehow still didn't manage to cripple our beautiful nation, its people or our economy. It's like every bastard in Cape Town who complains about the wind due to the severest case of annual amnesia. Fuck, social media really exists solely to highlight the lowest common denominators among us doesn't it.

Spread The Love. Charge Your Vibrator. Bend Over.

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