The Politics Of Politics

I have been complained to, at length, about my tardiness in getting these things written. See last post and also comments thereof. My apologies, again, to all of blogspace. This time, I have a proper excuse. I am struggling with an enormous case of blogger's block. I seem to have no material that I can feast my keyboard thrashing, little digits on. Well, I lie. I do have some material, but it is of a somewhat delicate nature. And I am not talking of any kind of medical problems in my nether regions either. I have no shame. I'll tell that to the world any time. It's about people. And politics.

We very recently had our very own municipal elections. This was great fun, as it always is. I went as early as I could get the chance and then had a very pleasant day off. I like our government. They are just the coolest when it comes to public holidays. Any excuse will do to get people out of work for a day. Anyway, so we all went to make our little x in the block of our preference, which will make a difference of exactly diddly squat in the end. Poor people will still be poor and there will still be a massive demand for housing and basic services. The rich will still be looked after in their cushions of wealth. And the middle class sods will bitch and moan because they feel like they have to pay for everything. Also, can any of you tell me what the name of the counsillor is that you voted for in your ward? Have you ever seen this person? Have you ever heard him or her speak or read anything that they might have written? Did you have any basis for voting for this person, other than his/her political affiliation? I sure as hell didn't. I have no clue who this guy is, but my party's picture was next to his head. I shall vote for him! How do I know that this person will have my interests/wants/needs at heart? I honestly don't know.

But we still do it. We still make our mark and believe that we are doing our bit for the greater good of the country. And we are. Even though I said just now that it would make no difference. What we do with our cross, is to take part. To join in the symbolism of democracy. For if we don't have that, if we don't go through the motions of elections and getting representatives from our communities involved in some level of government, then the road to Africa starts very close to our homes.

Oh bugger. I seemed to have shaken off a bit of the block. Didn't realise how much I had written down until I read through this just now. And this was not actually the politics that I was referring to either.  Guess I have material for the next one as well then.


TFLNOTD:

(351):

the story is to long to tell you via txt so when you notice the tattoo on your ass call me.

We Apologise For The Break In Transmission...

...We are currently experiencing technical difficulties.

Isn't that just terribly annoying? With all our advances in technology, we still get those messages fed to us. Usually on the telly, when watching something really exciting, often at some critical point. Like when you're watching a humdinger of a cricket match, the bowler is on a hat-trick and then Bzzzt, squiggle-squiggle, Blip! And then that message appears. With some horrible elevator music as accompaniment. Terrible. Well, I had a bit of a Bzzzt, squiggle-squiggle, Blip moment reasently. So:

We apologise for the break in transm... Aaaagghhhh! Sod Off!!

Where to begin? It's been so long. I hope I can remember how this works. For starters, let me congratulate fellow blogspace inhabitants Boigz the Blogger and Tequila Tart for keeping things going in my absence. Rose Thorn is also due a post. Tsk, tsk. Come on Rosie, I am sure there have been some interesting events in the Rose Bush recently.

I might have been a little too subtle in my last post. At the time, there were a few things on my mind that I really wanted to write down somewhere, but due to a multitude of reasons, a public forum might not have been the right place for them. I wanted to get that accross somehow.

Part of the reason why I was gone for so long, was that I have been kept extremely busy at work lately. I am now finally back in sunny, windy old Cape Town and things have been a little hectic in the office. Also, I have been cut off from the devil. My IT chief decided to block facebook on the last computers that still had access to it. The bugger. So my online presence has almost disappeared entirely. I will have to find an interweb cafe somewhere to get my fix now. I knew this was going to happen. Getting sucked in to the abyss by the charms of Satan. I now get terribly upset when I see friend requests sent to my email and I can't go and accept them. This torture is probably just part of the devil's evil plan.

Another reason why I haven't blogged is of a bit more of a delicate nature. I have tought long and hard about how I should approach this. What I should and should not write, etc. I have come to the conclusion that the best course of action would be the unwashed, unabridged truth. No sugar coating. Well, here goes:

The very first weekend after my return from forn parts, I went along to my new flatmate's 40th birthday party in the quaint little town of Montagu. Which co-incidentally is where I grew up. Well some of my growing up was done there. My parents still live there, so I could visit them every now and then, inbetween partying with the mates. On Saturday night we went big. Dress-up costumes of comic book heroes and all. The costumes were great. Some of the people really did make a huge effort. Mine was particularly fetching thanks to heaps of help from one half of the Demonic Sibling Wolfpack. She went as Tank Girl, complete with dart in army helmet. Very well done indeed. The whole group of starngely dressed people then went about the town, as one does, and made a turn at the Baines and something (forget what the other name is) pub. I knew it as The Sour Grape, in my youth. Lovely little place. And they serve, wait for it... Yes, they serve the best beer in the world, Napier Bier, on tap. (Just a note: While I am working today, a lot of the mates are in Napier, at the Suntouched Inn, drinking this wonderful beverage. Wish I could have gone). Everybody had some. It was fantastic. We also amused fellow patrons of the establishment with our attire and of course our antics, trying to remain in character at all times. After our beer, we went back to party central, which the flatmate sponsored, including the really good food and a whole lot of booze. Of which I naturally partook handsomely. Lots. There was also a bottle of coffe or chocolate tequila floating about. Now normally I can't imbibe tequila, I wish I could, but for some reason it does not like to remain in my body for more than a few seconds. This stuff, the sweetened version, maybe also a little less potent, I could keep inside. That might not have been good. I ended up keeping about half a bottle in. For those that know me, this is no mean feat. I usually need two beers to send me running to the nearest oral deposit locale. That night, however, all the drink stayed with me. I got blind drunk. Horribly, terribly blind drunk. There are huge gaps in my memory. But I do remember that I kinda hooked up with the flatmate's ex. At the party that he catered for everything. The ex that he still had a thing for. Sometimes, I can be a right bastard.

In my defence, not that I am trying to shift blame in any way, I was....extremely drunk. Judgement buggered off a long time before. I did apparently ask somebody, sometime through the evening if it would be a good idea for me to get aquianted with the lady in question. The answer was a very definite NO. But that was when I could still speak. When I had the ability to form not only complex sentences, but could make sounds come out of my mouth in a way that could be understood by other people from this planet. Later, this was not the case. Obviously, events like this can't remain hidden. The flatmate knew, was not impressed and, skipping a few details, we don't really talk now. We're still living together, which is a tiny bit awkward and strained. I did apologise as much as I could and I do feel terrible about how things happened. There's nothing I can do about it now. All I can do, as I have been since all this happened is to stay out of his way as much as possible, visiting friends 'till the early hours of the morning or just sleeping over. Maybe tings will change sometime. Maybe not.

On top of all this, I was accused of whoring about with another man(I am using this term very loosely)'s wife. The two are going through a messy divorce and I got told how much of a "spineless f*cker" I am, by the husband. This is all happening in PE. I am in Cape Town. For a while, I was in Gauteng. Now, according to urban legend, I am apparently quite well endowed. But surely, IT ISN"T THAT F*CKING LONG! Oh, the drama...

Other than that, life is fantastic. It is wonderful to be back in Cape Town. We seem to have some proper weather again today. I do feel at home here. Albeit at work. I shall try to stop the craziness every once in a while, to keep this here blog as up to date as I can now. Hopefully, the technical difficulties are sorted out soon.

I will also try to change the design of this page a bit. Please bear with me, for I know not what I do.

TFLNOTD:

(224):

update: ifinallt managed t5o be in a. Horizontal position without throwing up... the snmall victories.

The Things We Can't Say On Blogs

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Bugger....
I didn't really think this through all that well, did I?

Oh well, as I can't say that which I had wanted to say, I'll say this: I might be off the airwaves for a while but will start blogging as soon as I have the intrenwebs again. Keep the pieces.

TFLNOTD:

(240):

One of two things would happen: He'd love it, or you'd get a restraining order.

On the road again...

I just can't wait t'get on the road again...etc. It is almost time. Today was my last working day in the country's capital. Only the weekend left and I shall be doing what the song says. Back home...

Contrary to all my beliefs and prejudices prior to coming to Gauteng (that's fancy for Joburg and Pretoria), I actually had a really good time here. I thought it would be horrible. I don't know the roads, I don't know the places, I don't know the people. I thought they would look at me, immediately see I'm not from here and say: "Shoo, away you infidel dog foreign person. You do not belong here." Well, in Pretoria they would say that in Afrikaans. But lo, they did not. Not even the horn helmet wearing, bakkie with blue balls on the towbar driving, baby blue jerseyed, staunch boere Blue Bulls supporters did that. As a matter of fact, I was surprised at how welcoming the people here were. I had a blast at Ellispark (sorry Coca-Cola Park), watching the Lions vs Bulls game. With aforementioned supporters and their red counterparts going nuts around me. All in a good spirit. Not a single punch was thrown in all that testosterone filled extacy. It was just plain fun. For the most part strangers here are just nicer than in Cape Town. They really make an effort to make a person feel welcome. Without wanting anything in return. I met some really wonderful people during my stay. Thank you all for making this little adventure of mine so enjoyable.

I did in fact also know quite a few people around the area. Some that I hadn't seen in ages and it was so good to hang out with them again. Thank you guys for your hospitality. Some that I didn't even get a chance to see while I was here. Sorry to those, I'll try again the next time I'm here for a visit.

The roads weren't too much of a hassle in the end. Thanks to my wonderfully quirky GPS, an hour to work in the morning and almost an hour back home at night and the city council's delightful ideas concerning roadworks, I learnt my way around reasonably quickly. You get to see a whole lot of real estate when you drive around like I do and sometimes, some landmarks stick in your head.

It is, as I am writing this, at 5pm Friday evening, raining. AGAIN. Damn, it's rained a lot while I've been here. Travelling the 1 hour trek, each way, daily in these downpours has not been fun. At all. This I will not miss. I've had a near death experience or two in the wet, that I would rather forget. Compound these hectic thunderstorms with the ever continuing roadworks and you get a really interesting drive home.I am dreading this for tonight.

I also saw many interesting places. I had loads of fun with mates from here at The Red Room. A club originally owned by Ashton Nyte from The Awakening. For those of an alternative persuasion, I would suggest it. I saw Parys, which is the closest that I've ever been to touring Europe. And probably will be for a while. The massive Hartebeespoort Dam, with all its tourist trappings. Which is kinda weird. Everybody from around here go there to get away for a while. And then they're all there. Hmmm... There were more places, but I'll not bore you with a list of all of them.

The only gripe, serious gripe, that I have with this place, is that it seems the larneys don't want to be bothered by ever ringing cell phones. Now I can sortof understand this. You know, they are important, powerful people and they have better things to do than to constantly be on the phone. So, in their larney neighbourhoods, they conspire to get almost zero cell phone reception. This is great for the movers and shakers, but really sucks for a guy from Cape Town, that misses his mates and just wants to have a chat with one of them. I stayed in a small hole in the wall, under a house in Bryanston. For those of you that don't know Johannesburg, but do know Cape Town, it's kinda like Constantia. Like I said. Larney. For those of you that don't know either. I am sorry, there is no help for you. Now, in my shoebox, I had about 2 square feet of area that actually got a cell signal. If I move my head a few inches, the signal goes and my call is dropped. This is infuriating. Were I to get off the bed, where this area of reception exists, and walk the 3 yards to the loo, it goes completely. There were a few times when I would get back to the bed and get a message to say that I missed a call. Because I was busy with whatever Nature had in store for me. Unacceptable. Completely wrong. I don't necessarily need to speak to somebody while I am relieving myself, but the principle of the thing is what bothers me. Get off your high and mighty bloody horses you larney buggers and get some towers in here! Ah, now that I have that off my chest...

As you may be able to deduce, I have enjoyed my stay in Joburg and Pretoria. Loads. But the time has come to pack the bags and go where I belong. Not that I can't ever see myself belonging here. Just not now. Right now, my life, my heart, is in Cape Town. I will miss my friends here, but I will remember the good times I had fondly, for years to come. Besides, it's their turn to visit me again.

Catch y'all at the foot of the most beautiful mountain.....in the world.

TFLNOTD:

(732):

shes 19, drunk and said she has no gag reflex. im trying to decide if i have scruples

(1-732):

you dont

(732):

i dont

Moral Fibre

Apparently fibre is good for you. Keeps you reg'lar. That's if you believe the hot little chick with the seemingly perfect life that got it all in the morning. Advertising would like us to believe that if we take a regular crap, all our problems will disappear and we and our lives will be perfect. They lie. I have proof. There is absolutely nothing wrong with my bowel movements and I am still single, slightly over-weight, greying and not as wealthy as I'd hoped I'd be at my age. But that's not actually what this blog is about. The fibre I would like to talk about is a whole different kettle of monkeys.

Moral fibre won't necessarily keep you going to the loo a lot (although it might), but it does have something to do with who you are, deep inside. I have often thought about morals/morality and was reminded about it by BoigzTheBlogger today. He actually suggested I write about this. Morals are nifty things. What people don't often realise, is that they change with us, as we change as people. Things that were completely taboo a while back, might be absolutely fine today. This, both for individuals and in societies. Usually the change is towards a more liberal view, but it can go more conservative as well. It just depends on how we think at that moment. 

When you grow up, you are taught (hopefully) that smoking, drinking, drugs, stealing is all bad. So is sex. For some people it is the premarital version that is wrong. Some believe that all sex is just bad and horrible (and should be shot). As we get older, people start experimenting with various things. Some try cigarettes, some booze, some weed... This is generally all done in secret, because we don't want to get caught. Because it's wrong. And naughty. And we're gonna get moered if somebody finds out. The smoking ends up looking cool (or so we think). The booze is heaps of fun. The weed is chill maaaaan.... We decide that we kinda like these things that were so against our beliefs. The morals change to accommodate these new ideas. Some continue smoking, some drink more, some get high any chance they get. And then one day a person decides you know, this getting high thing just isn't for me. It screws stuff up man. They go completely anti drugs and never touch anything like that again. The morals shift to accommodate these views as well. But stealing. Stealing stays wrong for everybody forever, right? Not if you're really struggling. Then it becomes a way to stay alive. Not if you're stealing from somebody that has always had more than you. Then it just evens the score. Not if you couldn't give a sh*t about rules, because when has the system ever been there for you? 

Bugger. Sorry. Started getting a bit heavy there. I'll try to tone it down. The bottom line is that morals, no matter how much store we put in them, are not static things. Our moral compass works very much like Captain Jack Sparrow's does. It kinda points the way we want it to. Should it be so? Probably not. But if you can go to bed at night, proud of how you did something or how you handled a situation and not be ashamed of your actions, then I guess you're doing alright.


But that's not all. If you read now, you will get the extended version. 

What Boigz and I talked about was a specific bit of morality. It links in with the buddy code. That mythical contract between all male friends. "You don't go for your buddy's girl." That is just nasty. You WILL lose a friend that way. Maybe more than one. But then there is also "You don't go for your buddy's ex". And "You don't go for any girl your buddy is interested in. Ever". Now to me, that's just silly. While yes, one should not covet they neighbour's ass or wife it doesn't mean any ass or wife thy neighbour has ever seen. If a friend breaks up with somebody and things are still raw and he's still hurting, don't go and shag his ex in front of him. That's a bit rude. Out of respect and a level of kindness one would hope exists between friends, give him time to heal, at least a bit, before you go rubbing his face in it. If things don't work out between people, nobody (including the hurting ex) has the right to expect the two parties from this break-up to never be in a relationship again. And besides, that's stupid. If an ex and a friend can make each other happy, then let them. Wouldn't you rather have a mate that you trust date a girl that you (at least once) cared about, rather than some tool, that you don't know, that will give her grief in the end?

As for the other rule, well, if your buddy is actually interested in a girl and at least tries to make this interest visible to said girl, then back off. If she's not interested in him then, he has no claim on her and she's fair game. If your buddy is interested in a girl and never makes any attempt at making this known, then he can't just go calling dibs. Especially if he bloody well goes and calls dibs on any nice girl that he sees. You can't go creating a virtual dreamworld harem for yourself in the real world. Complete silliness.


I might have started to ramble a bit at the end there. These were some of my morally guided thoughts. They have changed over the years and probably will again. Yours are allowed to as well.


TFLNOTD:

(443):
this is your 3rd pregnancy scare in 2 years, I think its time for you to re-evaluate the whole 'im a lesbian' thing

Nothing But Trouble

You know, Will Smith might have known a thing or two when he was a laaitie. Can't really say the same for his kids. I don't know how those little shoulders can carry such big chips, but that's a different story. When he was still called The Fresh Prince, he had a song that went: "Listen old boy, don't mean to bust your bubble, but girls of the world ain't (insert title here). I really don't get how chicks work. Sometimes I think I do, but then they just come up with something that completely befuddles me again. I'm pretty sure I'm not alone in this. Why then do we bother with them, you ask? Because we can't help it. They look so pretty and they smell so nice and they make us feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Drive us up the wall often, but they do light up our lives. Still, I don't understand them. One of the the things that I just don't get would be how their choices in guys work. I have done a bit of research into this and it seems (according to what they say) that they all want a nice, dependable, good oke, that won't screw them around.

This is complete and utter twally. I have seen it happen so many times. Cool, normal chickies, quite smart too, that go for complete and utter b*stards. Then they whine about how these guys mess them around. Eventually, they might break up with aforementioned b*stards. Swear that they will never let a guy treat them like that again and hook up with the next b*stard that walks around the corner. It seems they have this inborn need to want to fix these problem children. Probably something to do with motherly instincts or something, I don't know. *Sigh* This means that, according to what they say, guys like me (the nice dependable type, according to the people that know me, although they only think they do, because in fact I am a right b*stard - shhhhh, it's called advertising, I might get finally get lucky from this ), should be swimmin' in wimmin, while in fact, we sit at home, alone, proverbial finger in our proverbial.......ear.

They also say that they want to be romanced. They want to feel special. So then guys like me (not really, see above for details), attempt this. These attempts to satisfy this need are seen as being "too much" and that they are being "suffocated" by this "relationship". And they run a bloody mile. The best luck I have had with a girl lately, was to completely, flatly ignore her. This just boggles my mind.

I have to admit that I have not lucked out completely throughout the course of my life. For the most part, I have also dated some really hot girls. Most of them were pretty sharp as well. They must've gone through some moment of weakness at the time. Couldn't find a handy b*stard nearby (this is of course not always completely true, just trying to make a point here). Still, there have been some fun and meaningful relationships along the way. But, as I seem to have developed this thinking illness of late, I had a bit of a thought about all this. For the most part (and I'm talking seriously large majority here), girls that I have dated before seem to be much better off now, than they were with me. And I'm not just talking about then and now, but also better off than they would have been, had they stuck with me until now. Logically, I have to therefor conclude that I have had a positive influence on these girls' futures. I did think about this for quite some time and I have come up with a plan that I think will benifit us all.

Ladies, if you feel like you're stuck in a rut, that you are not realising those wonderful ambitions that you have, that your life is not really going anywhere, give me a call. Let's hook up. I'll make you famous.

TFLNOTD:

(315):

I need to get my pants from under your porch. People are asking questions.

We're sinking, we're sinking!

Yeeeeess..... vell, vhat are you sinking about? Or so the joke goes. I made the mistake of thinking or sinking (you decide which is more apt) recently. It all started with the devil. After a very long time of remaining firm, I have finally given in and succumbed to the evil that is facebook. It's the devil. I am sure of this. Which is why I refused to go on it for so long. But for some reason, everybody on the whole damn planet is on the thing and any photos of any event that people attend, get put up there.

I was at the Rammstein concert in Cape Town. It was the best event that I have ever attended. Completely blew me away. I was in the 3rd row from the barrier in front of the stage, got literally seared by massive flames, and I got to touch the boat! Anyway, as I didn't have a camera there, I was relying on wonderful friends to take pics that I could then get from them later. Their place of choice to stick these? Yup. Bloody facebook. So, the only way for me to get at these wonderful images of flamethrowers in action was on facebook.  I cracked, and walked into the arms of Beelzebub. Which, like I suspected it would, has almost taken over my life. Because it does this. This is how it eats your soul. You very innocently send a "friend request" to one or two people that you know. They "accept" you as their friend and suddenly you see who all their friends are and they let you know what they're doing and you ask some of their friends if they would accept you as well and then, before you know it, you have a whole host of people that you are constantly connected to. You can also "search" facebook for anybody else that you would like to connect with. And they all have "status updates". Which is pretty much just what they're doing or thinking about now or something cool that they saw or heard and people comment on these. And then you think of something witty to say and "post" your "reply" to the comment and you keep checking back to see if anybody appreciated your razor sharp wit. Then somebody else "likes" your reply and another person posts something and you keep coming back to see what's happening now. Then there are the "pokes" which I still don't understand, but I am currently involved in poke wars on two fronts. Also, tags. Which I don't get either, but it involves pictures somehow. I will still get to the bottom of this.

While all this frenetic activity goes on (which eats away all of one's time usually spent writing blogs), you browse through all the friends of friends and see the comments that friends make on their friends' pages and run accross old friends, past lovers and aquaintances. It can be really good to hook up with these people that you might have let disappear from your life over the years. I have spoken to people that I have cared about a lot before, that I somehow lost contact with and it has been very gratifying (it is still the devil though). But, as you go through these people that were a part of your life, you also think back to the times when they were there. What you were doing, how old you were, what your plans for the future were back then. Kinda who you were at the time. This brings me to the title for today (see what I did there?).

So facebook (the devil) made me think about where I am, where I have been and the journey along the way. I have had some fantastic times. Met and spent time with some wonderful people. I have received and given a lot of love. I have had immeasureble support. All of which I am truly, humblingly (that is a word, I have decided) grateful for. I have made some terrible mistakes. Taken some very wrong turns. Hurt and dissapointed many people (very often the same people mentioned before). There are many things that I regtret. Clocks that I wish I could turn back. Words I wish I could swallow to prevent them form causing the damage that they did. Deeds I would walk away from and things not done that I should have rushed to do. I wonder what would have happened, had I chosen this way instead of that. Where would my life have taken me then? Where would I have ended up? Do this for too long and you will go a bit bonkers. Because you can't change the past. You learn from it. You cherish the memories of all the happy times. You appreciate your wordly stuff and the riches you have accumulated in your heart and mind and soul. The impressions made on you by all these people that you once knew and all the choices that you had to make. Because of them, maybe next time your choice will be a bit better.

TFLNOTD:

(206):

This is the last weekend of getting drunk and having sex all nite with the plumber. I'm exhausted all weekend and I'm never going to finish the remodel at this rate