If I Were A Girl

Let’s face it; you’re a lot less likely to hear a song with that title. I guess a lot of guy musicians don’t care that much about being girls. Not even for a day.

Yet every other female “songstress” wants to either ‘Act like a boy’ or they spend a good five minutes or so screaming at the top of their voices about what they would get up to if they were a boy.

This kinda worries me. Why do these women not want to just be women and get on with their lives? Is being a woman/girl/female such a bad thing? Why do they have to be boys to be able to do all these things they sing about in their songs? Why not just do it? Does this mean that men/boys get away with a lot more stuff because they are male? Ok, don’t answer the last one.

What bothers me is that they make it seem like they can’t do certain things because they are women/girls. Why is that? To me that means that they want to do these things, just that they can’t because they are girls. Either that or they spend sleepless nights thinking up ways of getting back at their misbehaving boyfriends. And after thinking of all these many different ways of doing that, they end their thoughts with... “If only I was a boy”.

Yeah like that makes any sense.

First off, if you were a boy, the guy wouldn’t be with you anyways. So you had to be a girl for him to do whatever it is he’s doing. Deal with it, you’re a girl. That’s what girls do. They deal with things like only girls can.
You won’t believe the kind of crap girls can get through that you (as a guy) wouldn’t even begin to bear. Yet guys continue to treat girls the same way. It’s almost as it that’s the way God intended it. Guys will give girls crap, and they’d just deal with it and get over it. Not an ideal setup, but that’s what happens the world over.

For some reason, we treat our women like crap for no particular reason. I guess it’s because we convince ourselves that we’re all wired up that way. But that’s not the way it should be. Nobody said that’s the way it must be.

Not too sure where I’m going with all this. I’m not writing this on behalf of all the men who treat women like crap and trying to tap into their (sub-)conscience, but imagine for a moment if you were a girl. How would you feel if she did to you the same things you do her?

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Age Restricted

We live in a very interesting country.

A country where your age is pretty much a determining factor with regard to the law and all that’s related to it. You’re allowed to do certain things at certain ages that don’t necessarily make a lot of sense once you sit down and think about them.

The main thing that I want you to think about here is sex. Not that you already don’t think about it enough. I just want you to think about it in a legal context.

In South Africa, it is considered illegal to have any sexual intercourse (consensual or not) with anyone under the age of 16; which is all good and well considering the times we’re living under.

I’m all for that. Let’s maintain that. Long live the constitution. Yet the very same legal system that prohibits underage sex, it also says that you can have an abortion at age 12. How does that work? You’re not allowed to have sex before 16, but you can abort a life at 12? How? So in case you end up sleeping with someone (i.e. someone old enough to impregnate you) before you’re allowed to; you are more than welcome to terminate that pregnancy because your body is apparently not ready to bear a child.

What do you know about sex at that age? I mean really. How do you even know about sex when the law says you may not be exposed to any form of sexually explicit material [read: porn] before the age of 18?

I guess it if weren’t for these restrictions, we would be a lot more liberal than we already are.

I love this country.

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Hobbilessness

It's no joke.

It's actually pretty sad how so many black people go around their day-to-day lives without hobbies.

I was watching Miss SA on Monday, and noticed how all the black people (all but one) didn't really have any hobbies as they were shown strutting their stuff catwalk style. One of them actually listed 'singing in a choir' as her hobby. What kinda hobby is that? Singing in a choir? Might as well list singing in the shower as part of her un-ending list of things to do on a lazy weekend afternoon.

Why is it that all black people can call a hobby (men especially) is kicking a ball around, while our white counterparts have such an array of things from which to choose?

White people have a whole world of opportunities in terms of sporting and recreational activities.

I was watching skateboarding on Supersport yesterday and not even one of all those white people who kept flying high up in the air were of African descent. Why is that? And this seems to be an international situation. Have you ever heard of black people going on holiday anywhere else except the beach? I mean, nevermind the fact that 98% of black people can't swim to save their lives, or even be good enough in water to at least enjoy the waves, the salty water and sand they all flock to during summer.

I'm not too sure who's to blame for all this chaos. We can't keep blaming our past for the limited oportunities we were presented all the time. Who's to blame for your not being able to swim or play any other sport except one where you have to kick a ball.
It's most probably because black people indeed are historically disadvantaged. All these other sports/hobbies need some sort of equipment/device in order to be played properly. For soccer, all you really need is two legs (or two arms - for the ladies), and anything round. It could even be a whole lot of old plastic bags balled up together to make a ball and you're sorted.

Reasonable explanation.

This is not only about the men in our societies. Black women too are at a huge disadvantage. All they can list as their hobby is netball. Nothing else. (Well except the 'watching TV, listening to the radio, reading magazines' they mention at every chance.) Speaking of which... what kind of hobbies are those anyways? Watching TV, listening to the radio and reading magazines don't really count as hobbies in my book. Those are normal stuff that everyone who has those facilities available to them can do at any given time.
Seriously.

People (normal people, not you hobbyists) watch TV at least twice a day and for varying amounts of time.
You watch TV in the morning (the news or whatever) then again after work. Now ask yourself: is that a hobby?

Some people even go as far as listening to radio instead of watching TV (while driving or walking around of whatever). Does that make listening to radio a hobby?

While others prefer to read magazines. And I mean magazines, like Financial Mail or CEO os someting along those lines. Curling up on your bed reading Cosmo doesn't necessarily count as a hobby. Or does it?

If this continues, I think the black races is destined for extinction. All our 'hobbies' revolve around doing nothing. Being uninvolved seems to be our biggest and best hobby. Of course except chasing a ball all over the place.

But what happens when you're too old to play soccer? Or netball? And by old I mean your mid 30's. Coz for black people, that's when everything just stops. All of a sudden you're "too old" to be playing anything that might result in you sweating. It is at this point in your life where you start getting involved in those 3 hobbies listed above. It's really depressing.

Another thing black people consider a hobby is... you guessed it. Sex. Black people love sex. Even if they're not having it. Just the thought of the act itself seems to excite them. You wonder why we have such a large number of cousins, half-sisters/brothers and most of whom we don't even know about. That's why when black people meet they have to aks your full names. Surname and all. In case you're their family twice removed or something.

I refuse to have my kids grow up being exposed to only stereotypical black sports/hobbies. I didn't grow up like that, I wont expext them to be.

And plus, I need some proper hobbies myself. Reading a magazine while listeing to radio on TV just isn't gonna cut it.


:Paper!

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Scrutinize my ass!

So there’s this ad on TV. It’s some ad about protecting oneself (yes, I said ‘oneself’) from HIV and all that comes with it. Tag-line: "Scrutinize, turn HIV into HI-Victory". Crappy animation but great message.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m all about an HIV-free generation, but this one really got me thinking. It seems the basic idea around this one is basically about looking out for your male friend in case they’re drunk enough to have sex with the loose-est girl in the club. You know the one who dances the most, drinks almost anything she can get her hands on, grins at almost every other guy who walks past her. Yes you know her.

Let’s be honest here. This is a very important message to all the guys out there who know a guy who does the whole targeting the drunkest girl in the area thing. This advert is talking to you. That’s right. You my friend. You.

As the voice-over lady clearly point out, “if your friend is too drunk to put it on, don’t put him in the game” or something along those lines. Which basically means, if you see that your friend is drunk too drunk to put a condom on. You should stop him. Somehow. Maybe advice him not to go after that girl. But whichever one you choose, just make sure his blood-alcohol level is low enough to allow him to put a condom on properly. I have no idea how any one is ever gonna verify your friend’s condom-wearing abilities under the influence, but this is a task that has been put firmly on your shoulders. You are the person who has to check that your friend can do the deed to do the deed. You know what I mean? So, let’s look at our options here... shall we...?

1. You could always do some stupid pop-quiz thing. You know, like, the basics of putting a condom on. Ask him that and see what he says. Maybe the traffic cops could also adopt this to find out if a person is too drunk to be with the female companion by his side. Anyways...
   

I guess that’s pretty much all you got. Otherwise there’s no other way of knowing if the dude is sober enough to even think about a condom. Still, even 100% teetotallers ignore using a condom sometimes, if not all the time. Even if the guy knows all the basics around condoms there’s still no way of guaranteeing that he’s gonna use it when he gets caught up in the moment of passion.

At the end of the day, using a condom is not really about being too drunk or sober enough to protect yourself. Using a condom each time you have sex is pretty much like everything else in the world. It’s all about choice. You can’t choose for the next person, all you can do is telling that person about the dangers of not using protection; the rest is really up to them. Nobody else. It’s between the two (or more) of them. You can’t make anyone do anything.

With the festive season upon us, obviously drinks will be had so please make sure your friends can put condoms on. If they’re too drunk, then lend them a hand. No, I’m joking. Don’t do that. That’s just off-putting.

Scrutinize, scrutinize. At least check if he’s got one on him. The rest is really out of your hands.

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Take it away black people!

Let’s face it. In line with whole brand consciousness that black people are famous for; the next most favourite thing black people love… is take-aways.

It doesn’t matter where or what they eat. Take-away is a must. KFC, Spur, Wimpy, anywhere they eat. They just gotta have… a “doggy bag”.

After spending only one week, of being exposed to only a handful of places from where I can eat, I’ve come to notice some very interesting things about how we as black people interact with our food. What we do and not do around meals, etc.

One thing that really struck me today was how out of a table seating six. Every one of them left with a plastic bag in hand. And this, after they all had gone to the bathroom together (well, nothing there… they’re women). But when I walked into the restaurant (Spur to be exact) there were six bags with take-aways all round the table. I actually didn’t think too much of it, but it did seem pretty odd. So I took a table within view of that table so I can see what was going on.
Few minutes later… they all came to their beloved plastic bags, smiles and all, and made their way out towards the door.
Now, they obviously didn’t take that food home so they can eat them at a later time, but to make sure everybody knows where they’d just had dinner. Spur. Not just any old food place. A place where you go for very special occasions, I gathered it was some sort of special occasion, coz one of the ladies had a wrapped gift-looking thing in her hand. To the people, this is the ultimate in splurging your accumulated riches. So obviously you want everybody to know you can afford to eat at Spur every now and then. Even if you get home late at night and all your nosy neighbours are asleep, but you know you gotta keep the plastic bag so you can put rubbish in it and place it outside on top of your half-empty rubbish bin to top it all off. Just to make sure they see it.

Ok, lemme give these God-fearing mortals the benefit of the doubt and say they were really and honestly just taking some food home (maybe for the children) to enjoy later. Ok? Cool.

But how do you explain all six people deciding to do the same thing all at once - ask for a doggy bag? Here’s what I think happened. I think one stopped eating. Probably the one who knows she might never get a chance to enjoy such luxuriously juicy ribs and chips. She’s most probable also the self-appointed leader of the pack. So she stopped eating, claiming she can’t finish her food because she’s had too much orange juice. Asked for a doggy bag so she can eat some more either later tonight, tomorrow or whenever really. So the impressionable “second in command” decided to do the same. Probably with a slightly altered excuse, but it worked. So the excuses kept rolling in one after the other. Maybe five minutes apart or something. But at the end of it all, each one had their own doggy bag being prepared by the waitron.

Still can’t really explain how they all ended up leaving the table empty for whatever destination.

Anyways, I don’t understand black people sometimes. Most of them do things for the next person, rarely for their sole satisfaction. I really don’t understand that.

teh PaperCut, signing out. I’m watching 300, excuse me a moment.

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I never told you

My life is ok.

I’m happy as hell.

I’m not sure how you are.

The last time I saw you, you were smiling, so that’s the image I carry with me always. Actually the very last time I ever saw you, you were all squashed up in the back seat of a taxi. I tried to get your attention. I thought of calling you but I knew it would be minutes before the phone rang on your side so I can tell you to look out the window to see me. We were in two different taxis going two different ends of the same town. You had always invited me to your place, but I always came up with some excuse. I guess I was just lazy to come to your side of the world. No idea why. I regret that. I don’t really have any other regrets except for that one thing.

I really wish I had spent a little more time with you. Gotten to know you a bit more. Whenever we were together we could never really talk because you were somehow always a bit busy with work or whatever. We really should’ve made time. I should’ve made time for that. I wanted so much to know more about you. What you were about. What troubles you faced in your life. What made you happy. Really and truly happy. If only…

I’ll never ever get the chance to hear you speak to me again. The stupid jokes. That smile. I’m sure I’ll get to see your face again. But I guess until then, all I’ll have are the pictures of you. Because I n all of them you’re wearing that big smile that I remember you by. If that’s all that’ll keep you in my heart, then that’s all I’ll ever need.

I wish I knew more about you. Your family. Your friends. You spoke about them, but I had never met them. Guess I didn’t try hard enough. I blame myself for the fact that we lost contact somehow. Probably at a time when you needed me most. There’s no excuse or reason for that. I was trying to salvage something that didn’t even deserve the amount of energy I had been busy putting into it. A total waste of time.

I’m really sorry about everything. About the way things turned out. It really didn’t have to end the way it did. In fact it didn’t have to end at all. I should still be able to look at our pictures, call you up and make plans for the next time we’d be together.

I miss your smile. So broad. So genuine. So real.

I don’t know why I’m thinking about you. But I am. And I know you’re looking out for me… Thanx for that.

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It's about the connection

That’s really all it’s about. Connection. Connections.

Look around. There’s probably something next to you that you feel some sort of connection towards. If anything were to happen to that particular thing you would feel like something’s gone wrong somewhere in the world. And then when you take a step back, you realize that it’s really only a thing. An object. Probably made out of plastic (as most things are nowadays). Most probably replaceable at a store near you. The store probably has thousands of them just like yours. But you wouldn’t want those. You’d want yours. Because somehow it feels different to others. Even if you closest friend has one just like it. You still prefer yours.

Yes, the connection we as humans have with objects is quite amazing. To me it’s what makes us human. Imagine if you were surrounded by millions of things and you felt nothing towards any of them.

What would the world mean to any of us if nothing in it meant anything? We’ve come up with a phrase for it; “sentimental value”. Basically the amount of feelings you have invested in that particular object. That it reminds you of something. Of someone. Of somewhere. But does anything change when it’s not there? Maybe. But for how long? A day? Not likely. The longest you’d “feel empty” is most likely to be less than a couple of hours. And in most cases far less.

I personally have a lot of things around me that I feel I shouldn’t be so attached to. Because the reality is, shit happens. Phones break. Laptops get stolen. Cars break. You break your favourite coffee mug. The list goes on and on and on. But can you honestly say you’ve lost a part of you? Literally? I don’t think so. Everything in this whole world is replaceable. Every single thing that was ever made by man; is 100% replaceable. Everything. What aren’t replaceable are the feelings towards that particular object. You obviously won’t feel the same way towards it as you did its predecessor; but it’s more often than not, exactly the same as your old one if not better.

But the fact of the matter is that it is replaceable.

Holding on to old things for ages, might sound like such a sweet thing to do, but in all honesty, you’re just a glorified hoarder. I’ve got a number of things I’ve kept for ages, and every time I come across them I convince myself that the longer I keep it, the more it’s gonna mean one day when I show it to the person concerned on some “hey, still remember this?”. But those days never really seem to come. So I keep stashing the stuff again. That’s really a total waste of time.

I’ve lost a couple of friends and friendships over the years and not one compare to any material thing I’ve ever lost over any given space of time. The thing about losing people it that we often think we can always get other people to replace the ones we are willing to give up.

Human interaction (in all its forms) is important to me. In most cases you find yourself constantly preoccupied by a lot of distractions and so on, without much regard to who you are with, more concerned with what activity you’re doing with that person.

Maybe I’m over-thinking this whole thing.

Maybe not.

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I am a writer

I’ve realised something.

I’m a writer. Wondering how I know… I think like one. I can’t just relax and have normal breakfast like everyone else around me without noticing how they eat. How they carry themselves, etc.

I noticed this morning as I was having breakfast and couldn’t wait to get back to my room and write about it. Not only then, but for the most part of my days, (especially when I’m not doing anything, like chilling on the train or whatever) my brain starts wondering off into a place far far away. Not exactly sure where this place is, but it goes there for a number of different reasons, usually it’s my creative space really. The same place I go for my designs and stuff.

I don’t go all crazy and start lighting candles and burning incense all over the place. Just that my brain sort of goes into overdrive.

I’m no longer able to do anything without thinking about writing it. Ok not necessarily anything.

But the point I’m making here is that I’m transforming into something here. Something I like. Something I’ve pretty much always been. A writer. Though I must admit I haven’t always been a writer. I think before I became a writer, I was and still am first and foremost a reader. I am an appreciator of words in all their form; from poetry to lyrics to articles and everything else in between.

As I sit here in my little hotel room 800+ kilometres away from home. I figured it’s only fair to jot down everything that happens to and around me over the next month or so. I’ve already got two pieces for today. The 1st of December 2008.

I thought of the second one just this morning as I was having my breakfast…
I don’t think I’m gonna lead a normal life in a long while. And I’m not complaining one single bit.

:P

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PaperCut teh CocoNut

Quick question, is that how you spell "coconut"?

Anyways, got some shocking news this morning: that I am a coconut.

Can you beleive it?

A coconut.

For some of you who don't know, in South African lingo, a "coconut" is a black person who acts white. Be it in the way they talk, behave, the music they listen to, basically the general atypical black mannerisms.

Apparently that's what I am.

A coconut.

This was after we were listening to Kaya FM's debate between Hlomla Dandala (COPE youth league member) and some other dude (ANC youth leauge member). Talking about the current state of affairs between this new political party (interim name: Congress of the People aka COPE) and the old/current regime under ANC.

Anyways, this guy we're listening to the broadcast with, out of nowhere, says he's not gonna sit here and listen to Hlomla with his coconut accent. This (I assume) is because Hlomla speaks proper English without the Xhosa (or whatever) accent. And then turns to say, like Mxolisi and them.

I'm like huh!?

And that's when it dawned on me. He's calling me a coconut becuase I speak better English than him. Oh. So the way you speak determines what you are now? Interesting.

I'm not gonna sit here and defend the way I talk, my choice in music, the way I dress, my friends, or anything else for that matter. If you think I'm a coconut, then great. At least I'm me. Imagine if I spoke the same broken English as you. I would kill myself!

Anyways.

I'm called a whole lotta things, simply because I don't call myself anything in particular. Strangers call me a Rasta because of my dreads. Sotho speaking people call me a Mosotho because of my fluency in the language.
Basically you can never tell the kinda person I am from just basing your labelling on one aspect of what you see. I'm a lot of things put together meticulously in one. It takes a long time to get to understand exactly the kind of person I am. And what I basically am about.
Case in point: I never know what to put in those online forms where they want you to fill in the 'About Me:' field. I just can't do it. I don't know why. So I instead put a whole lot of things that I think define me. I add to it every chance I get, so that means if you read it once, you'll still never really know everything about me.

So.

The moral of the story here, is that everything I'm not makes me whatever it is I am.

edit: oh, and... I don't give a flying fuck what you think of me!

:P

have a nice day.

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1001

Congratulations!


You!



Yes, you... are lucky number 1001. That means, you'll be starting us off towards 2000. Well done!
Keep it up! Tell your friends about teh PaperCut.

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teh PaperCut at 1000 degrees

One thousand visitors! Yipeeee!!!!



After blogging for over a year, I've finally reached 100 visitors. Even though I have only a handful of comments, it's still something.

Lucky visitor number 1000 was a person from Pretoria, who came here via the PCFormat forums... no idea who they are though. Otherwise I'd give them a prize. Too bad.



The most popular popular pages are as follows:

1. The main page. (Obviously)


2. Zulu girls' popular asses - Arguably the most controvesial post on this blog. For the simple fact that it disappoints so many people coz it has nothing to do with having sex with anyone or actually showing any Zulu ass. In fact, there isn't even any picture inserted in that post. Sad how misleading some clever wordplay does.


3. Constipated women. No idea why. I don't remember anyone Google-ing this, except this person:
4. And then there's the xhenophobia poem.
5. My other favourite song.
6. The "two things involved" video has also proven to be quite popular over the past few weeks.
7. Archives from June 2008 are also very popular around these parts.
8. My life story also seems to be a hit. Wonder why...?
9. And for some odd reason, people come to my blog trying to find abbreviations for some random stuff, like breakfast. Who abbreviates breakfast anyways? Plus, that blog post was a total waste of space, I was bored. Come on.
10. Last but most undeniably not least. Is my 1 wish.

To all you people who've visited my blog since it's inception. Thank you. More importantly, thanks to the person who made me start sharing my thoughts with you in the first place. (in this post). Your fuckup has been a blessing.

Selah!

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New and exciting ways to kill yourself!

That's right.



Coming to a depression clinic near you. How to kill yourself in 3 easy steps, that's right 3 easy steps.

Are you ready?

Let's go.

Ever noticed how many people are all over the papers for killing members of their family? Yes, sad, very very sad stuff right there. Then you read furhter and find out that the guy (usually it's a guy, no idea why) pointed the gun at himself and is "in a critical condition in hospital"? Irritating isn't it?
Well, if you think that's irritating, can you imagine what the guy's going through? Not only did he kill his whole family and therefore incurring a whole lot of unwanted misery in his life, he also has to live with the fact that he's such an idiot he can't even kill himself properly. Also at the back of his bedridden mind is those bloody ambulance people who resuscitated him after he tried and failed to kill himself.

How smart do you have to be to know what the most fool-proof way of killing yourself is?

I mean really.

I know this might be a touchy subject for some, but let's be real about this. Do these people realise the unneccesary stress and trauma they're putting themselves and those closest to them through? Do they even care? And by care, I mean care enough to do it right? LOL sorry... just had to throw that curveball in there.

Ok so I know you're reading this with anticipation of some proper How To instructions on executing your master plan. So here goes...

• First and fore most, identify your reasons and prioritize them. Allow me to break it down...




• You're in debt. You kill yourself. Problem solved. Right? No. That's a stupid reason. Scratch it off your list. Here's why: let's say you succeed in killing yourself over your debt; what happens after that? First off, you decided to kill your self in hopes that your debts will go away with you. Well, they didn't. Instead, you left behind a truckload of debt, which results in your house getting auctioned off to pay off your huge debt. Your car gets reposessed. Your wife is now a widow. Your kids are miserable their whole life and have to wear clothes from Salvation Army because you were careless with your money by accumulating a lotta debt you couldn't pay off. Everyone in your immediate family starts fighting over your menial inheritance because they all need it to survive after you took the stupid way out.
  So, no. Debt is not a good enough reason. Moving along...
  


• Your wife/girlfriend/gay partner decided to dump your ass. Kill yourself. Simple solution right? No. You die, he/she/it moves right along to the next sorry loser. The same sorry loser who was comforting her at your sorry ass burial. Comes to her on some "He would want you to be happy" crap. One thing leads to another. You're a memory long forgotten. Turns out love is not a good enough reason either. So we move along...
  


• The above mentioned better-half, is cheating. It's wrong yes. Boo hoo. Kill yourself. Great idea, no? No. Not great. You die. He/she still does the exact same thing you killed yourself for. And possibly even more than when you caught her with that midget in your expensive King sized bed on which you consumated your marriage. Sad really. But is it worth dying for? I don't think so... do you? I hope not.
  


• You lost your job or you got fired. Kill yourself some more. No. You die, the company reappoints a new guy to do the same job you killed yourself for. Usually the ad for your position will be out within the same week your family's mourning. So unemployement is not a good enough reason either. Crap, looks like you're running out of 'solid' reasons guy, what to do now? Oh noes...
  


• Your favourite soccer team loses. Oh no! Who would want to live after such a thing. Kill yourself. No. The same team you killed yourself for, actually has another match in two weeks time. And they're gonna win. Where will you be? That's right. You'll be dead.
  Even worse. The same team you killed yourself for, they all get paid around the same amount of money you were getting paid per annum every month. Do they shed a tear about your "untimely" death? I guess not. I wouldn't know. I'm not there when all the adoring female fans throw themselves at them over the terrible game they played. Where are you by the way? Oh, you're dead. Leaving behind all the joys of the world. So soccer or any other game for that matter, is out.
  


• Ok, so let's say you've managed to look past all the reasons I've mentioned. And you still feel you need to leave this cruel cruel World. Go for it. But how? Here's how...




• First of all make sure nobody's gonna find you. Locking yourself in your bedroom is not a great idea. Especially if you live with your mother, father, uncle, weed-smoking aunt, your ex-con half brother, his crack-addict girlfriend who happens to be the one who always asked you for money to buy another hit and of course the neighbours et al. I can guarantee you, your plan will not work. You might die yes, but most definately not from killing yourself. It may be from being killed. But not of your own means, but from your stupidity. 1) Your mother will kick some sense into your ass (not literally, but she will beat you up) for trying to kill yourself. 2) Your dad will want a piece of you for being a coward and killing yourself. 3) Your uncle will destroy you because you're the one he was hoping to get to marry the sweet girl from across the street. 4) Your aunt will beat you up for absolutely no reason, coz she's high. 5)Your brother will beat the shit outta you for trying to get him back into jail; where he was made into a sex slave by Big Joe who's serving a life sentece [so he knows for a fact that if he goes back to jail for your death, BJ will be there. Waiiting.] he's not having any of it. 5) His girlfriend will kill you for trying to take away the only other source of cash. So might as well not do it you see?
  
  Then there's the life long "He tried to kill himself... twice." You don't want that hanging over your head for the rest of your life do you? I didn't think so.
  


• Know your body. This is very important. Shooting yourself will kill you. Only if you do it right. Shooting yourself might kill you, but depends on where you shoot. Your heart is not that vein in your arm that has a pulse. Shooting yourself there is stupid. Don't do it. See the points in bullet number one.
  


• Drinking a whole 750ml bottle of alcohol will not kill you. A 43% alcohol volume is nothing. You might end up excessively stupid & drunk, but you wont die. Again, see the points in bullet number one.
  


• The last thing you need to consider, the consequences. What happens after you successfully kill yourself? What does that solve? Suicide has never solved anything. It most definately never will. What makes you think your death will solve anything anyways?

People who kill themselves are useless diots. [full stop] I'm talking to males here, coz they're the ones who kill themselves the most. Cowards.

read some more here...

I got tired of typing.

Peace & Love

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Facewash for your neck!

That's right.

Face wash wasn't only meant for your face. Aparently, it was also designed to wash your neck area as well.

Unbelievable, I know.

Allow me to edumacate you.

I was washing my face this morning, and for reasons unknown, I noticed the 'Directions of Use' at the back of the tube thing. And after a few seconds of reading, I came accross where it said 'Apply to face and neck area' or something along those lines. Pity this was after I had already washed my face, otherwise I would have given it a shot. Maybe if I had seen the instructions before washing my face I might have given the whole wash you-neck-thing a try. But then again if I had seen the instructions before I even discovered facewash, I may have learnt a long time ago washing my neck and face.

As I was saying, there I was trying to figure how to wash my neck in a basin. I couldn't wrap my head around that. I couldn't picture myself leaning over the basin with my neck directly over the water. It didn't make much sense to me. How are these Johnson's people expecting people to wash their necks. Who does that? Who washes their neck and their faces at the same time? How do you rinse? You'll probably end up with water all down your chest & torso. I've seen some people washing their face (with facewash) while in the bath tub. Now that's creative. I don't think the people at Johnson's anticipated that. I guess that's why they don't specify where you should be washing your neck (and face obviously). Maybe that's why they left out where and/or how you should be standing while trying to wash and rinse your face/neck area.

I guess the bathtub idea isn't so bad after all. But only if you really wanna wash your neck with facewash. Some of us still use the conventional way to washing our necks.

Oh well...

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I'm back!

Ok, I've decided to return to greatness.

This is it.

Ready?

Go.

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Haven't forgotten about you, ok?

I'm just a little busy with some websites.

Apologies for the long silence.

I'm still with you.

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uhm...

i was gonna post something... somehow it slipped my mind...

i'll try again later. stay tuned

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Fandom [#2]

This is very important.

If you're a tourist, or you have absolutely no idea what to wear on a Friday in sunny South Africa. Then this post is just for you.

First of all, let me start off by saying... Hawaiian-shirt Fridays/Cartoon-imprinted-tie Fridays are a thing of the past. If you wanna look 100% Sefrican [sic: South African] you just gotta get yourself some replica shirts. Preferably soccer jerseys, simply because rugby ones are made out of some thick fabric coz the throw themselves around a lot. So go for a soccer jersey instead. Keeps you nice and cool, plus the fabric is so much lighter.

If you live anywhere inside the Free State border, and are of African or coloured descent, then please read the following carefully: STOP WEARING BLOEMFONTEING CELTIC JERSEYS ON FRIDAYS (or any other day for that matter)! Just stop it. Please. I'm begging you. Please. Pretty please with a cherry on top? :(

Why?

Look around you, everyone is wearing it. Every one. Every one and their mother. From the young and innocent to the old and elderly.

Honestly the way everyone seems to have these shirts, you'd swear they're handed out for free at every street corner.

If you life outside of the Free State and wanna show patronage to the mother land. Go right ahead. Wear it any time you feel like it. Just don't wear it till the green starts fading. Eish.

Now, back to the traditional Sporty Fridays dress code code of conduct:

• If you're gonna wear the Celtic shirt, as an example, make sure that there's a game on over the weekend. And if there is, please wear your shirt proudly and grin at fellow Selesele supporters.



• Don't wear formal shoes "to even things out". It's not working. Especially if you are a manager and are tryin to fit in. Wear sneakers. Not your favourite running shoes. Sneakers.
  


• Unless you work out in the sun the whole day. A peaked cap is not necessary.



• Under no circumstances whatsoever must the jersey be tucked into your pants



• You may not wear a formal belt with your jeans. (Are you listening, Mr Manager?)



• If your team is not playing that particular weekend, and you happen to own more than one replicas, (of different teams obviously) please ensure that you are wearing one that is also worn by the majority. If you don't know anything. Don't wear the replics jersey. Your safety and reputation is important.



• Just because you are wearing the same jersey as some stranger in the street, doesn't give you the right to invade their personal space. I understand your excitement in discovering this new style of dress, but hugging strangers is frowned upon.

Ommitted rules also apply. Use your own descretion.

Thank you.

related: Fandom

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Fandom!

I don't think white people give a damn about our (blacks) sports.

Have you ever seen a white guy (or a person of any other race fo that matter) wearing a soccer [team] replica shirt? Ever? I didn't think so.

And yet you see so many black people trying to be all "intergrated" wearing Blue Bulls/Cheetas/Stormers/whaterver shirts like they have shares in the brand.

Ever notice how the streets get swarmed by people (black, white, yellow) wearing a rugby t-shirts? I mean up to a point where you start to feel like an outcast for wearing normal clothes on the day of Die Groot Wedstryd [The Big Game/Match/Whatever]. Your own black people, look at you funny when you walk by staring, they stare at you like you're still stuck in the 90's.

But whenever a local soccer team plays, all you see are thousands of black people from all over the place wearing soccer shirt replicas. I have never seen even one white person wearing a Celtic jersey or Olando Pirates, Sundowns or whatever. They just don't care.

Why should I bother shouting "Blou Bulle" [Blue Bulls] up and down the streets, when you won't ever hear a person of any other race frollicking all over the place screaming Amabakabaka!! ??

semi-related:fandom #2

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/\ untitled \/

i'm thinking about something. something that i just never even thought i would think about. no idea why.

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Can you beleive?!

Not even 2 hours later... another one

COME ON!!!

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Zulu girls [PaperCut Designs]

Clearly there's some sick, twisted, demented sexual fascination with Zulu girls all accross the interwebs, and it seems since my blog post about seeing them in Joburg, people from all over the world have been visiting my blog for all the wrong reasons.

I'm very sorry to have disappointed you in terms of the content of the post, no it's not about how you can fck Zulu girls, but yes it is about appreciating God's creations. Not about perving over them. But that's your choice, sorry my blog doesn't cater to your need to fap-fap over my writings.

But, seeing as you like them so much Mr Perv, here's a lil something for you to drool over while admiring my creativity all at the same time.

1. 
   bigger version from flickr
   
2. 
   it's biggr on flickr

Have fun!

Check more of my pics over here!

Thanks for visiting my blog anyway... tell your friends about me.

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Women are a very constipated species

It's true.

Check, around 86,5% of all constipation relief ads have women in lead roles, talking how dull their lives used to be before they discovered //insert constipation remedy here//.

They go on and on about how crappy they were feeling (excuse the pun), how they couldn't enjoy themselves, couldn't do anything energy consuming, but since a friend (ironically also a woman) recommended Dulcolex/All Bran Flakes/whatever-you-trust (LOL), they are now able to get on with their lives. Like jump around in the park or walk the dog. Coz quite simply put, you never know when nature might call while you're walking the dog or having a picnic in an isolated park far from restrooms.

So it's best to sort out your digestion issues before having fun. That's my advice. Use it. I insist.

I have no idea why. But come to think of it, most of the girls I know have had some sort of constipatory situation to deal with.

I've had a friend of mine actually go to see a doctor in search of some much needed help. I swear. She had to get prescription meds to get things back to normal. Imagine.

Why some women don't have regular, self-cleaning systems like the rest of us, I'll never know.

The Nnumber 2 seems to be a very illusive concept to these constipated women.

Same applies to number 1. You have no idea how many girls/women I know who (at any given point in their lives) have had a bladder infection of some sort. Either that or a yeast infection. It's sad really.

I know this isn't something to joke about. And some people out there (it may be you or somebody you might know) are seriously suffering from the consequences of eating the wrong foods (i.e. foods without any fibre) or just plain laziness to go to the loo.

Though the latter is arguably not an illness of any kind. It's just plain stupidity. In fact, I know of two people; The first one hates going to pee (political correctness is imperative) because it involves the tideous task of taking her pants off, pulling down the undergarment, then sitting on a cold seat then pulling her pants a few (short) minutes later. This is for a number one btw. (As if a quickie is any different) Some people.

Then the other one... goes for a number 2 only after 2-3 days. Simply because she's lazy. And these are her words, and I quote: "I'm just lazy to [read: poop]." close quote. Then the toilet is left smelling like a sewage pipe burst, and she jokes about it. WTF is that about. Some people...

See.

It's laziness.

Next thing they get all infected and miserable and expect sympathy from us (men).

Come on. Do the right thing. Go to the loo every once in a while. It's for your own good.

You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear a woman proudly say:
"I'm human too, I go to the toilet just like you"

Look on the bright side... at least she goes. :P

I sure hope so...

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There are two things involved

Well let me tell you this...

You see in life, there are two things involved.
It's either you are a man, or you are a woman.

If you are a woman, you are safe.
If you are a man, there are two things involved...

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Black people fascinate me

Why are black people so obsessed with labels then claim to be "style conscious"? What's that about?

I swear, for as long as people have been designing things and putting their name on it, black people have been the highest consumers of it.

Nevermind if something looks completely crappy, if it's got a famous name on it, rest asured some black person out there can't wait to spend their borrowed money on it and make sure everyone know it's an Ed Hardy original. Do you even know who the hell Ed Hardy is? I do. And I don't own even one Ed Hardy original, simply because I don't actually care much about what the label says, I'm more concerned about whether I like it or not. Whether I look good in it.

I mean look at all these rappers that are all over our TV screens on a daily. You'll rarely see one just wearing your average clothes and not mentioning what brand it is and how much it cost him. e.g. The Luis Voiton Don himself. Okay, maybe it's their way of bragging about what they've achieved with their God-given talents. What's your excuse?

For some odd reason advertising and the media have been feeding us with the notion that wearing a designer label makes you "hot". Well, maybe it does. Maybe it doesn't. Maybe they're just trying to use the media to popularise their brand so that they can make money. No, wait... isn't that exactly what advertising is all about?

This has gotten so far out of hand that people look at you differently if you're not going with the latest trends, the latest and most expensive brand out the at the moment.

If for some reason you're not driving a car with a recognisable brand then forget about getting that girl you keep running into at the post office. She'd rather die than be seen in your trusted Picanto. Doesn't matter if you're probably the guy she's been looking for her whole life (personality & character wise), all that matters is that you're not driving the "right" car. The "right" guy drives an X6, Q7 or at least a Porsche. You know, that guy who always has a different girl in the front seat. Yeah, that's the guy she'd rather be seen with. Not you Mr. Picanto. No... no... no... ala Amy Winehouse!

It is for this very reason that you find so many of our black brothers are so deep in debt, they can hardly afford themselves. They're more concerned about what the Joneses are up to. You'll rarely see a black guy spending money on what they want to spend money on. In fact, I don't even think they know what they want.
This is true for almost everything. Culture, religion, language, who they socialise with, how they socialise with those people. It's all about what the next person's gonna think. It's never about them first then them later.

Black people are just weird like that. I don't get it.

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\/ untitled \/

So hundreds... okay maybe not hundreds... or celebrities are flocking to historically-impoverished Mother-Africa year in and year out to provide aid to the needy. There's nothing wrong with that, we really appreciate it.

But how many people were in desperate need of aid during the hurricanes in New Orleans? Tens of thousands. And yet very little was done to help them out in any way, the little that was done is nothing compared to the kind or charity that some African countries receive from USAID, UN and the likes.

How come you never hear of a documentary outlining the most porverty stricken areas in the United States? For some reason the media seem to be focusing too much on what Paris Hilton is up to instead of concentrating on what the average American struggles with. For some of us who are overly exposed to American glam lifestyles to a point where we were shocked to see our black brothers and sisters' homes wash away in the tragedy that was Hurricane Katrina. The whole thing lasted only a few weeks on our TV screens before we were blessed with yet another shot of yet another celebrity adopting a foreign child. How come none of these 'celebrities' cared enough about their fellow Americans to try help them out with food and other essentials?

Considering that black American are a minority in the US, I guess there was no way things could've played out any differently. There was just no way GW could've send more people to go help out the poor minority groups stranded atop their houses.

Tinstead of focusing on getting them help, they instead focused on how "ungreatful" they were being for the very little help they were getting and therefore "looting".

Wouldn't you loot, if you didn't have the loot?

Anyways, this is not what this is about...

This is about this:

How come poor people seem to only be potrayed in gangsta-shoot-em-up kinda movies? Either that or some stupid comedy about how much black people love chicken. Why can't we learn anything from America? And yet, Oprah shows some footage about how some black walk for 10 miles just to get to school, and everybody is suddenly in tears and wanting to come to "THE MOTHERLAND" and help out. Again, I'm not saying we don't need your help. We do. But I'm of the opinion that there are people Black, Yellow, Green, Indian, Purple whatever, that are also in serious need of your generosity. What about them?

And why the focus on Africa so much? Do you have any idea the kind of living conditions some Asian countries are living under? Try to look past the 800 million people walking up and down the big city lights in China, look at the way they live in the slums. No wonder some Asian cities have resorted to being sex-tourist attractions. And a majority of "tourists" that frequent those countries are American. Meaning they're making a lucrative business out of other peoples' unfortunate situations.

Considering the number of expats living in the US, I doubt they're all living the high life complete with all the glitz and glamour that comes with proudly annoucning "I live in America now" when meeting with old friends back home. I doubt their lifestyles have changed much. Granted they may have lost their original accents, and probably dream in English now, but I doubt the average American living in the US is any better than I am here in Africa.

This is based simply on the fact that I refuse to beleive everyone in the US is "well off".

I'm pretty sure they go through the same day-to-day struggles we go through.

All I'm saying is, show us the poor people in the US, show us how they live, maybe they need aid muh more than we do.

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Hello "Caller"!

WTF!?!

What the hell's the point of callin into talkshows and radio stations and insist on remaining anonymous?

I mean really now... by simply calling into the damn thing makes you anonymous. You can tell them your name's Joseph and they wouldn't give a dime or a damn. I don't even know why these talkshow people bother asking people's names. What do they do with those names? Nohing. That's what. Absolute nothing. Zilch zero nada niks fokol! The don't even say your name more than once after you tell them (unless is to shut you up coz you keep going on and on about something you don't know shit about but just ramble on about it regardless... eish!) anyway... where was I?

Oh, yah... names. What's the point of being anonymous where there's a chance that even if your name happens to be Lerato from Bloemfontein. Do you have any idea how many Lerato's there are in Bloem? Don't just sit there... do you? I'll tell you... A HELLUVA LOT! That's how many. And you think you're protecting your identity by opting to remain anonymous over the phone in disregarding that the show has millions of listeners... shame. Poor you.

I fail to understand how people's brains work sometimes...

Shout-out to Anonymous from Kimberly. I don't blame you dude, with you guys being the poorest province there is that risk of somebody recognising your voice and of course your name. Just in case your name is Alistair or something... God only knows ho many of you guys are out there... say... 20-ish.

LOL

sorry...

I'm bored.

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1 Wish

Before even clicking on 'Create post' I had already written the final words of this post. Is that normal?

Anyways...

1 Wish.

I wish I lived in a country where we didn't have to wait for international artists to grace our shores before we can actually enjoy some good music. I wish we had more local shows you'd sell your sister to go watch. I wish South Africa was a priority when they plan their "World Tours". I wish we got more music in our stores music stores, that we didn't have to wait six weeks to get 340ml's latest album from the supplier or another branch. I wish there was a music store that sells strictly international music, and by international I don't mean American. For some reason, when someone mentions 'international', people immediately think American. I wish they didn't. I wish they didn't have a corner that's marked 'Other' in the music store close to where I live. I get my musc from that corner. I wish I had a broader scope to choose from apart from all this commercialised music. I wish South African musicians would stop making crappy music and expect us to buy it simply because they said 'support local music' at the end of their textbook interviews. I wish we had less commercialised music. House music in particular. Not all of us want commercialised music. Some of us just want music. I wish South African musicians would stop trying to be "international". No one's buying your CD in the US. I don't even think expats are buying your CD. We're the ones subjected to your endless yappings about being "niggas who aint ready fo yo shit". Guess what? If that's the shit we're supposed to be ready for, I'm never gonna be ready. I wish we had musicians who spoke truth to power. Not these people who are just trying to make a quick buck. Why do we have to hold on to every last word spoken by the likes of Tupac, Erykah Badu, Common, Talib Kweli, AD, Slum Village, MosDef, and The Roots? Why can't we have our own messages in song? For some reason, our music only focuses on one portion of music; the partying side of things. We can't party all the time. What happened to the messages. Messages to uplift us.

How come no one in South Africa makes real music anymore? Music is being made
simply because the contract you signed said you have to keep releasing albums for the next 3 years. Even if your content is the same, just as long as you release something. I wish I had more music. I wish I had an iPod. I wish I had better earphones.

All I wish for is music.

Music speaks to me. Music relaxes me. Music excites me. Music fills the spaces in between. Music makes me wanna get up and dance. Music makes me wanna sit down and listen. Music allows me to be. Music comforts me. Music is my friend. Music can never turn on me. Music will never talk about me behind my back. Music is honest. Music is real. Music is escapism in it's truest form. Music is life. I can't imagine a day without music.

Even though they claim that some music makes people kill people. Music doesn't kill people; people kill people! How come you've never heard of someone having done anything positive and it being blamed on music? People have had tons of babies off Barry White's music. That's all you'll ever hear. That people made babies to his music. In South Africa, gospel (after traditional music) is the most popular type of music, the most produced and the most purchased (also the most repetitive, but that's a story for a nother day). And yet, no one does a good thing and blames it on the music.

My one wish is music.

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PaperCut Designs

Designed these from pics I found on the net. Reproduce or use them in any way. I WILL be suing your ass. I will track you down, trust me.

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Development gets Arrested in SA!

One of the greatest HipHop bands (How do you spell HipHop? Is it Hip-Hop or Hip Hop? anyway) to ever put sound on wax, is set to perform in South Africa this month.

Oh hell yes!!

Arrested Development is coming to the Mother Land (they're also going to be in the Mother City) for the second time only in 14 years. (Do the math, last time they were here was in '94 after Mandela's inauguration.) And somewhere in between there, having faught a losing battle with a popular TV series for having used a name simillar to theirs, it's good to see them not having lost their heads.

Having gone from 19 members to 8 kinda makes me wonder if their music is still the same. I guess having 4 new members team up with 4 original members (especially Speech, the lead vocalist) definately strikes a clear balance between the old architects of HipHop and the new kids on the block.

With classics like Everyday People, Mr Windal and Revolution! it promises to be a surefire head-banger for the conscious rhythm and poetry fan. Staying true to the original art form, it'll be rewarding to see people with something worthwhile performing live. After seeing the likes of Snoop and JaRule on SA stages. It's time for something fresh. It's time for the revolution.

• Official site


• Wiki


• Arrested Devlopment, the TV series

Baseline info: Friday, 10 October 2008
Arrested Development South Africa Tour
Live At Bassline Doors
opens @ 20:00pm
Show starts @ 21:00pm
Tickets @ the door: R200Tickets
@ computicket: R220

Cape Town info: Saturday, 11 October 2008
Arrested Development South Africa Tour
Club Galaxy/West End, Cine
400, College Rd, Rylands7764, Cape Town, South Africa (MAP)
Doors open 8pm
Cost:R160.00

These event organising people should start paying me!

Still. If you go and I don't. You know what to do... email me teh pics: papercut[at]brainstormdesigns.co.za

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SA gets Maxwell'd

Living in Gauteng sucks sometimes.

Turns out Maxwell is coming to SA, and the best thing about it all is that he'll be performing in my hometown - Bloemfontein - this Friday.

What sucks the most is that I wont be able to go see him. I'll be stuck here in the Big Smoke instead of going home and the once-in-a-lifetime chance to see one of my favourite neo-soul singers perfom live!

I know most when most artists come to SA they rarely ever go anywhere else except the 3 main cities ie. Joburg, Cape Town & Durban. But I'm never interested in seeing 50 Cent or Snoop Dogg or any of those people that have made coming here a habit. They're not relevant to my interests. Maxwell, on the other hand, is.

So, if anyone happens to be at MACUFE this Friday, please take some pics and email them my way. the address is: papercut [at] brainstormdesigns [dot] co [dot] za.

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I'm a dreamer...

There's just so many things I would like to do and achieve in my life that I feel like everything else is just a continuous procrastination.

I wanna do things. Create stuff. Design captivating graphics/website/whatever. Engaging creations. So much. I wanna see my stuff being featured on magazines. On randome websites. I wanna know more than I do now. I wanna learn stuff. I wanna teach myself stuff. I wanna see exactly how far I can get as an individual. As young as I am. I feel like I haven't achieved enough. I want more. I'm not greedy, I'm just hungry for knowledge.

And it seems like everyday a new dream pops up. Every chance I get, a new idea crosses my mind and leaves behind its indelible footprints which bother me non-stop. I've got so many things lined up in my head, I wonder if my time on this Earth will be long enough for me to achieve them all. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to work 8 hours a day so I can realise my dreams.

There's just so much I want to accomplish before I reach my death. I'm not being morbid or anything, I'm just being real about things. We all know we're gonna all perish one day. None of us are guaranteed a permanent stay on this planet. Unless you know something he rest of us don't.

I wanna change so many lives. I wanna give so much of me to so many people. People I don't even know. And not in a huge charity event involving sponsorships and whatever. I wanna help people who are far less fortunate than I have been. Sounds cheezy and I don't care. (Funny I should say this coz I don't even give money to beggars. In fact beggars anger me. I don't understand the logic behind someone who'd rather stand at a street corner and beg, rather than work for a sanitation company cleaning bathrooms. Anyway)

I wanna see more of the world. I don't wanna be old and wrinkly at 86 or whatever and only tell be telling my grandkids the same stories about my life in Bloemfontein & Pretoria. I want them to look forward to visiting me so I can keep them entertained with my stories of seeing the world. The experiences. The people. The atmosphere.

I can never stop dreaming. I don't want it to stop. It's one of those things I do best.

"Happy are those who believe in the beauty of their dreams."

A friend once said that to me (damn, just remembered, it was her birthday on the 21st of August. Crap. Forgot to call her. Damn!).

We were chilling at her place a few years ago and I was telling her about where I see myself in the future and what I want to achieve etc. And what she said has stayed with me since that day. I believe in it completely. If I don't believe in the beauty of my own dreams, then who will?

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Tecnology's drawbacks

Using cellphones in arguments is pretty much inane.

I'd rather you call me on my cellphone if you really wanna pick a fight with me. Coz with cellphones, all I can really do is press that red button and then the call's ended. It kinda makes the fight lose it's pizzaz. It missed that extra angry handset bang.

You know, the one where you just throw the damn handset onto the rest of the phone (I dunno what it's called... sue me!). You simply end the conversation with silence. That's not good enough.

If you really wanna hear how angry I am. I'll call you from my office landline. Then just as you try to talk your way out of it. I'll bang the damn phone in your damn ear.

That's the way Graham Bell intended it to be.

:P

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White people need a proper hero!

I'm sick and tired of this crap.



First of all, I don't think some white people even know the real meaning of the word 'hero'. To be quite honest neither do I. Let's face it, 'hero' isn't neccessarily one of those words you'd look up in a dictionary. You just go through life assuming you know what it means.



Hero. Come on. It's pretty straight forward. Hero: the guy who runs into a burning building to save his daughter's favourite doll. Now there's a hero. He doesn't have to save his favourite item in the house, he saves the one thing he knows means something to another person. You get the idea. Good.



Then comes this guy... Vernon Koekemoer. Yes, Vern The Man. He does the most heroic thing evar! (that's right evAr) The heroic of all heroes. Oh yeah. He goes to a rave festival thingy (with a very original name: H20) and does the unthinkable. Poses for a photo for some viral marketting scheme. Yes. That's pretty much all he did. Next thing you know, he's everyfuckingwhere...

• http://ramboguy.co.za/


• and this one


• more here...

All this stemming from a few shots of a guy with waist-high tennis shorts.

Turns out he was just a regular oke, who decided he needed a good time and went to the rave. Can't remember what his real name is though, I think he's 52 or something... Granted the marketting strategy worked. And I have absolutely nothing against that.

Anyway this post is not about good ol' Vern, it's about this guy...

There I am, chilling on an easy weekday listening to The Fresh Drive (5fm) and they just so happen to be having the special guest... Mr Koekemoer himself in the studio. So I'm thinking "O hell yeah, I wanna know stuff about this guy".

Cool, so they introduce him and they basically explain how the whole thing unfolded (him becoming famous and all). Good, now I know the basics. Then it's time for the phone calls. And white people are calling in like flippin maniacs. They're so "stocked" to be talking to him, and that Fresh has brought him into the studio, they can't even ask proper questions... around the end of the show. Some two idiots (two separate callers) call in and can't shut up about how much a hero Vern is. They on some...

Ja, howzit Vern, listen ey Vernon, you're like my flippin hero ey!

I'm like, wat!? Hero? Haibo! How now?

And this is like a looong time ago. Around Feb or something. And this whole 'hero' thing seems to have spread everyfuckingwhere. Since that guy called into the show, only thereafter did I realise how much white people like saying: "you're my hero". Not in the sarcastic or whatever way. And I'm not talking about people who've actually done anything heroic, I'm talking here aboout regular people. Like people who just pose in photos. Just like Vern the Hero.

I think white people need proper heroes. Sorta like black people have so many heroes. And I mean real heroes. I would hate to hear a black kid say they don't have a hero. Alive or dead. Most black people I know, look up to their family members as heroes. Yes, even those with brothers in jail and whatever.

With our history most black people alive today, especially those who died at the hands of the previous government, are our heroes as black South Africans.

But considering the way whites were living pre-94, I doubt they actually have anybody to look up to in a good light. What can they honestly say they have done to better the lives of white people today?

White people need a hero. ASAP.

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I don't undersand why some stores here in SA market the Keffiyeh as women's scarves?

I guess that explains the weird looks I've been getting for wearing mine.

Most people seem to be of the belief that everything that closely resembles anything feminine is indeed feminine. But it's really not. As a matter of fact. The Keffiyeh is traditionally ONLY worn by men. Strictly. Women wear other stuff. For women. Not Keffiyehs.

Crap.

Sucks when you wanna expand your wardrobe and the lady standing behind the counter gives you funny looks when you're eyeing one of the items on display - and it just happens to be a Keffiyeh.

I saw a manniken all dolled up in one - a female one nogal. I felt the urge to educate people but just decided against it. If they think it looks pretty on a female manniken (I'm sure there's one word for that); then I guess there's very little a single entity like myself can do about it.

If they wanna market it as a female accessory then fine. I'll still wear mine!

I guess people don't really care about the significance or meaning behind wearing it. But it's okay.

:P

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Money maker

Mr. Money

I've recently decided I'm gonna start making dollar bills. The interest rate is killing me, maybe I can get a real deal from the Rand/USD exchange rate.

Yeah.

:P

go here...

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I had no idea!

WOW!

Just checked my stats page on my website and noticed that I got some hits from this website. So, out of curiousity, I followed the link to see who it was that came from that site, only to find that it was some sort of design blog that outlines different design styles like the colours to use etc.

And as I scroll down on the archives page.

BAM! There it is. In all its glory, under the title... Black & Red Websites. I like it.

Whoever the site belongs to... thanks for recognising my site. Kudos to you buddy!

:P

Feels good don't it?!

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Definition of self

It seems Facebook is providing me with great material. Me likey.

Anyways...

Why are we defined not by our character but by our posessions? Our acquisitions.

Why can't I just be me? Why do I have to be Mxolisi, the guy who wears specs? Why? Granted it's probably because people see the material stuff before knowing the real person behind those specs.

But it extends even further. Let's say, for argument's sake, *Sbu Mpato buy a red GTI (considering how many of those already are in circulation) and you also happen to have a chipped front tooth. Somehting that has been your unique identifier for as long as you can remember. Have a couple of people know you're now a proud owner of a red VW Golf GTI then all of a sudden the chipped tooth takes the back seat.
You are no longer the guy with the chipped tooth, you're now Sbu The Red GTI Guy. It becomes who you are. It's no longer what you happen to own, apart from your great personality and the jokes you normally tell to get the ladies grinning. You're now the Red GTI Guy. Even after you change the car a few years later, trust me... you're still Sbu The Red GTI Guy.

Even if you get mugged and get robbed of all your clothes (you were just taking a stroll to a nearby neighbourhood on a fine summer night - they came out of nowhere). It's still "The Red GTI Guy" got robbed and was running naked across the hood. Seldom will you hear people say "Did you hear Sbu got attacked?" or "There was a naked guy running past here the other day". You have to be defined by what you have/had.

This is the way soceity is, and there's a pretty much not gonna change anytime soon.

Apart from being defined by material things. You also get defined by the bad thing that you did a good 6 years ago. Or even last night.

Nobody cares that you saved an old lady about to get hit by a truck while crossing the road. What they care about is the fact that you happened to scrap your best friend's new Lambo a few days after having bought it.

Sad really.

Why is that though...?



C'est la vie

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Just a thought...

Help me out here...

All I need you to do is help me out a little bit.

I need you to do two things... 1. Think of Scotland. Ok. Are you done? Great.

Now lemme see if I can correctly guess the Scotland you had in your head for those few short seconds.

It's probably the Scotland where there's men wearing kilts and knee-high white socks... right? Or maybe you even had some Scottish whisky clouding your vision. No one knows for sure except you. But that's not the point I'm trying to make here.

My main concern is not what you were thinking. I know. Shocking. I'm more interested in what you were not thinking.

Yes, what you were NOT thinking.

Here's what I was thinking... I was asking myself...

How come there are no women in Scotland?

Don't look at me as if I'm strange or something. You know I'm right. There're very few women in Scotland. If any.

I have never even heard a Scottish accent done by a female voice. Never. Not ever.

The first thing people (you included) think about when it comes to Scotland is the dress-wearing men, bag pipes, the Lochness, and maybe whisky. Never the hot sexy women of the Scottish highlands (if there are any - I stand to be corrected). Never. I bet you 300 000 Zim Dollars.

I don't think women like their men wearing skirts in public. Maybe they go in hiding, or migrate to neighbouring countries like Finland or Amsterdam (NB: I have absolutely no idea how near or far these countries are from Scotland. I'm just saying. Don't use this in your University thesis. You WILL fail.)

Anyway...

I think either the women have turned lesbian just so they can also get some recognition (by wearing skirts) from the rest of the world.

And it seems Google is in agreement with me. [click here] It seems all the women have taken up manly sports to get some sort of sense of identity considering the fact that the men seem to have completely overshadowed their existence. hence my (and maybe yours too) thinking that there are no women in Scotland.

:P

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Bin Laden Day - WTF?

OK, so somebody decides to recruit some turban-wearing idiots, and convices them they should master the skill of hijacking aircraft so they can crash into some landmark buildings. And these turban-wearing idiots agree.

Right, so over some months (or maybe even years) these guys decide they should execute this master plan. They manage to buy plane tickets on United Airlines headed to New York. Get on the plane. Sit thought the long flight, then with only a few more minutes to spare before the plane lands, they decide to take over and hijack the plane so they can seal the deal.

All this in the name of Allah/Jihad/Holy-War or whatever lame excuse they agreed to call it.

A total of 3 buildings get damaged, loads of innocent people lose their lives. People who most probably have absolutely no influence or input on whatever war was going on between the US and its enemies.
People who were merely trying to provide a better life for their families and those closely related to them.

Based on all this, I only have two fairly simple questions.

1. Why didn't the people hijacking the planes rather crash into the White House or only the Pentagon?
2. If these Middle Eastern countries are so rich from oil mining and so on... why then did they not build or even buy their own aircraft and go crash into whatever? Why still claim so many innocent lives in the process of claiming others?

Next thing the day is 'commemorated' as Bin Laden day or whatever. Though this is not the official name, it seems to have taken quite a liking to the ill-informed.
Why do have to give props to such criminal behavior? (does behavior have a 'u' ?)

Though the day is now been observed as Peace Day in some circles. Still not too sure if that's the official name for it or not. But anyways...

I know we can't keep talking about these things 7 years after they have happened, but I just wanted to get this off my chest.

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Socially speaking

Let's get right into it.

After some active participation on the social network, I've come to the realisation that Facebook is a total waste of time.

You have a large number of people you've only seen pictures of, and somehow ended up adding them as a 'friend' because they were recommended to you. Come on. In real life, stuff like this doesn't happen. Have you ever actually had a friendship recommended to you? No really. Think of it. Picture this... you're hanging with your friends, and then all of a sudden... out of nowhere, this one friend of yours mention that you should probably be friends with his/her other very good friend? Come on. Who does that?

I think the whole "social network" revolution has taken away from the human factor in a lot of things. For example... you no longer have to worry about missing your favourite band's performance, you can just YouTube it and watch it during your lunch hour. No sweat.

I'm no expert, but I think more and more people are spending time "social networking" than actually physically socialising. With other human beings.

We've become so swallowed up by the whole digitally connected that we're losing the human touch in a lot of things. I think as much as technology has come with a whole world of possibilities, it's also brought with it it's drawbacks.

Granted these networks somehow get people in touch and whatnot, but still. Would it kill you to actually go meet your friends than "meeting" every other day on Facebook?

Another something... I have around 56 friends on Facebook. 90% of whom I don't even know. People I've never even met. Not once. Of the 56, I probably only speak to 5 or 7 of them. The rest are either people I've "met" online. People I know nothing about. Except that we happen to be part of the same "social" circle.

anyways...

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