Friday, May 29, 2015


...he'd be all for the human equivalent of turducken.

In a hundred years, the far away future, when humans have developed extra opposable thumbs and kneecaps have become obsolete; when we all have naguiltjie eyes and our olfactory systems have all but shut down altogether, it is my hope that - in the dusty archives of some preserved time capsule - some historian will dig out my hopelessly haphazard dribblings and be forced to read this shit the same way you are, my dear and faithful friends. You shouldn't be the only ones made to suffer so.

The future is indeed bright.

As opposed to the past. We hark back with fondness and wistful nostalgia to our youth, memories flood back at the soothing tones of a favourite record, or the violent pop of a riot gun. We say things like "Damn, they don't make things like they used to." There hasn't been a great song written in years. And be it a house constructed in the 70s, the Great Pyramids of Giza or whatever, they just don't build 'em like in the good ol' days... We live in a world where as long as you get your union mandated tea break, it matters not if the stadium you're helping build tragically collapses, taking with it countless lives. Seems the crack of a whip got shit done, and I don't mean in the confines of your bedroom/dungeon. Alas, we strive toward a mythical Utopia, and in so doing allow ourselves to be led astray by oppressors more insidious than the old slave masters.

But I'm getting way too serious for a Friday morning.

Aren't we all supposed to have our optimistic, jolly faces on?

I also have several serious theories on the current state of South African politics, but since the proletariat seems to prefer being led around by the nose in much the same way Tommy Lee Jones infamously used a pair of pliers in Natural Born Killers, perhaps it's best I kept my rather more enlightening opinions to myself. The true outrage is not what is happening, but the fact that it is being allowed to happen. The shocking truth is that no one has the wherewithal, or will, to oppose dear ol' Zuma. He will continue snuffling and gorging himself at the trough of plenty and there's fuck all you or I can do about it. At least that warmongering c*nt Obama is plundering resources outside his own borders - his actions, no matter how despicable, are enriching his people rather than impoverishing them.

Ok, so on to the good news. This weekend we escape the foul environs of the city and spend the weekend getting delightfully sozzled in the countryside. It's the Brother-In-Awe's birthday and we're going wine tasting, braaing, eating out, and nursing hangovers whilst wistfully looking poetic on a balcony with coffee in the mornings.

And that's just the natural progression from the dinner club of last night. Billed as an event in which "two buggers and a slap chick" would result in a possible Eiffel Towering, although there were high fives aplenty, it was a rather more moderate affair. The food, obviously, was off the charts. And when you feed this specific combination of people any wine at all, the conversations tend to get fairly raucous. So it was business as usual, except for my unplanned 6-in-the-morning stroll to fetch a car...

Spread The Love. It's Very Odd That You Can't Even.

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