Are you scared?

Who’s scared? This country is burning; we’re falling deeper into a hell that we will not come back from. The People are realizing that they have more power than they could ever imagine. I’m scared. Realisation is always a scary thing. There is that moment when clarity dawns and after that the storm comes and anything can fucking happen. We are seeing the People wake up and take their futures into their own hands. And just look at the power that comes with that. Those that stand in their way are being burned, fucking set alight. Our President-to-be has been warned and he will see this place in flames and he will hear screaming so horrible that he will want to take his own life. Half out of fear, half out of guilt. We will all be judged, but none more-so than him.

For too long the People have stood around, celebrating “freedom”, dancing around and shouting “Amandla”. What freedom? That is what they are asking now, and rightly so. Now the dancing has stopped, now the music has stopped. People are looking at each other and asking “hang on, what have we actually gained here?” The right to walk around after dark and the right to vote for their Liberators is what. My God, that really is all. And look where that has got us. The truth will eventually out and holy shit, what a gruesome truth it is.

The Liberators have turned into greedy, self-serving whores. Too proud to listen to amplified criticism and too scared to admit that they know fuck-all about handling responsibility. Now they bare the biggest responsibility of all, they are responsible for the stolen lives of innocent people and all they can do is sit around a shimmering table and ask themselves questions without trying to answer them. Trying to look like they care.

People, this is your reality: You are no freer than you were 14 years ago and I am deeply sorry. I don’t pretend to be an innocent sympathizer but I also do not take responsibility. I am happy that you have realized your power and also dead fucking fearful of you. Two years ago I believed in this country, that things were only going to get better. How ignorant I was, indeed, we were all ignorant. Things will get much worse now, before they get better. God save us. Our future will be written out in blood if your calls are not met. I beg you however, for your own good, to keep violence, fire and craziness to the absolute LAST second. If you are too early these bastards will not hesitate in pulling the trigger, they are foaming at the mouth with power and will do anything to keep it. What you have done is made them fearful and fear is met with defence – of any measure possible. We all hate fear and we will do anything to protect ourselves from It. Be willing to listen and to debate but stand firm with your fire and craziness in hand. Show them you will not tolerate their lies and games any longer. Your very lives are at stake.

Fantasy Busters

I myself like to watch mythbusters when I "eat sandwiches". Being an engineer myself i am often keen to see the answers to some of the things they do. But yesterday I watched them disprove the breathing underwater from a car tyre theory. Much to my dismay it is just a myth used in the movies.
This got me thinking though. How boring must your life be if all you do is go around and destroy peoples fantasies...I mean I want to believe that I can jump out of an airplane and land on a hay stack and be ok or even get through a laser beam field without setting off alarms. I mean those are the kinds of thoughts that keep me going and happy everyday!

Street Racer

This past weekend I had an enviable time at Ramfest outside Worcester. There is nothing quite like spending a weekend with friends, seeing your favourite bands live one after the other and being able to swim in an actual river.

One thing though has stood out from that weekend. It is a conversation I had with a guy who dwarfed the porta-loos and smelled far worse. He was camping near to us and accidentally stumbled into our camp. Being in the festival vibe, we got chatting to him – there were a number of us at our camp at the time.

He stood towering over us and the conversation immediately turned to cars. A topic he clearly enjoyed. This though is where it gets scary and positively silly.

This man told us about his Ford Fairmont. For those who don’t know, it’s a big saloon car about the size of a 5-series BMW. I don’t remember all the details about what he had done to “pimp” it out but he told us, and I quote, “I spend about R7000 on my Fairmont every month.”

At this, we all looked around at each other in disbelief. I asked him how he possibly gets that right and he told us of how he has to replace his tyres every month, then there’s the petrol that he burns demolishing his tyres and then small touch ups and tweaks that are required. I quote again, “You see, because I go get drunk and then race around the streets.”

I ask him, “Do you race. Do you go to drag races or anything?”

He replies, “No, I only drive, race around town on weekends. In the week I use my Bantam.”

If you can’t already see what’s wrong here then I spell it out. This sad guy spends R7000 a month on a car he only uses on weekends. What’s even sadder is that the car is a Fairmont and not something more hot-rod like. The part that worries me the most is that he gets drunk. He drinks and goes out and races his car. He’s probably that guy who pulls off at the lights only to have you pull up next to him nice and genteelly at the next set of lights. He’s also probably the idiot who caused a big crash on the weekend and walked away while an innocent, sober person is left dead or paralysed.

The cherry on top however is that when I asked him if he sees anything wrong with doing this and, quite frankly, wasting his money every month, he just shakes his head, “No way man, it’s awesome.”

Ok, I know this is a bit of an advert. Sorry okes, but I gotta do it.

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Doors

Myself and two mates were heading home after seeing a gig in Muizenburg. One of the guys in the car had been on the front page of the newspaper that same day and had been on the radio a couple of days before. We were all joking that it was his chance to make it big now that he's been in the media so frequently. We started making up metaphors (and repeating old ones) for getting your break, catching the elevator going up, getting your foot in the door, getting your hand in the panties, through the threshold, you get the point. But. While we were carrying on like that, my mate, the subject of this playful ridicule and whom was driving, I notice he was looking at his door more than the road. Like really inspecting it. Shaking it.

I asked, "What you doing?" pointing to his door.
He says, "You said my door was open"

If your brain implodes and you don't hear it, does it really implode?

Last night I felt like a huge tit. One of those ugly ones where the nipple covers most of the tit, you know?
Like that.

I went with a mate to The Assembly in town for Cokey Falkow's "farewell party" and after sitting around for about 30 minutes my mate turns to me and say's "I don't think anything is happening here tonight"
I said "Ag man, just chill, it's on." We bet 50 zar.

Ten minutes late we jolling some foosball and two okes ask us if they can play doubles with us. Turns out the one guy was the manager and he told us it was Cokey's farewell party but he wasn't gettting on stage for a show.

Felt like a douche.

He's on tonight (Wednesday) at La Med for his last show before heading to LA to try his hand at some acting. Good luck!

Mozzies! Arghh!

What is the the point of mosquitoes?

It's a question as old as time itself but it has yet to be answered adequately. The best answer I've found is "they prevent overpopulation". As harsh (and funny) as that answer is, it doesn't really give a full answer. That's because not all mozzies are murdering little fuckers.

What about those mozzies that populate non-malaria areas? What's the point of them?

I reckon what has happened is that these sadistic half-gram buggers are the losers of the species and they know it. I mean, if all your cousins up north have this cool power to yield over humans and you have nothing you'd be pretty pissed off. So, to get their own back and show their cousins they're also cool they fly around your ear just as you're happily dozing off and cause you to slap yourself with rage while they flit off in that irritatingly smooth way to perch on the ceiling just out of your reach.

They then sit there and spit your own blood back at you as all you can do is try stare the thing to death while trying very hard not to have a heart attack.

On second thoughts, maybe "they prevent overpopulation" is a good answer after all.