This excellent two part article appeared on the blog of Sarah, an Englishwoman endowed with an incisive and razor-sharp understanding of South Africa's recent history. Unlike so many millions of brain-washed lemmings in the UK (and the world), she sees right through the media-contrived smoke & mirrors, lies and myths as propounded by the MSM.
By Sarah, Maid of Albion
It is often said that one man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter, however, this usually means that the other man has been less than fastidious in his choice of hero, or that the "freedom fighter" in question was on the crowd pleasing side.
On the 27th of June, London's Hyde Park will play host to a concert in honour of Nelson Mandela's 90th birthday and we can be assured that it will receive wall to wall coverage by a star struck and worshipping media, who will continue to laud Mandela as one of the greatest, or indeed the greatest, heroes of our time.
No doubt the beaming old man will appear on stage in one of his trademark multi-coloured shirts and cheerily acknowledge the cheers of the adoring crowd, most of whom have been taught to believe in his sainthood since their first days in primary school, which, for many of them, will have occurred around the same time their hero walked free from Robben Island.
The unquestioning belief in Mandela's universally admired saintliness will again be displayed in the press and by the unending line of politicians and dignitaries who will queue up to genuflect before him and sing his praises. It is a brave politician or journalist who would dare to question the godliness of this legend and consummate showman, and hence no such questions will be raised, nor will his much vaunted "achievements" be subjected to any objective scrutiny.
No matter how many speeches are given or how many news articles are written, it is safe to bet that the full truth about Mandela will not be told.
In fact the truth about Mandela is so hidden in mythology and misinformation that most know nothing about him prior to Robben island, and those who do tend to exercise a form of self censorship, designed to bolster the myth whilst consigning uncomfortable facts into the mists of history.
For most people all they know about Mandela, prior to his release in 1990, was that he had spent 27 years in prison and was considered by many on the left at the time (and almost everyone now) to be a political prisoner. However, Mandela was no Aung San Suu Kyi, he was not an innocent, democratically elected leader, imprisoned by an authoritarian government.
Mandela was the terrorist leader of a violent terrorist organisation, the ANC (African National Congress) which was responsible for many thousands of, mostly black, deaths. The ANC's blood spattered history is frequently ignored, but reminders occasionally pop up in the most embarrassing places, indeed as recently as this month the names of Nelson Mandela and most of the ANC remained on the US government's terrorist watch list along with al-Qaeda, Hezbollah and the Tamil Tigers. Of course the forces of political correctness are rushing to amend that embarrassing reminder from the past. However, Mandela's name was not on that list by mistake, he was there because of his Murderous past.
Before I am accused of calumny, it should be noted that Mandela does not seek to hide his past, in his autobiography "the long walk to Freedom" he casually admits "signing off" the 1983 Church Street bombing carried out by the ANC and killing 19 innocent people whilst injuring another 200.
It is true that Mandela approved that massacre and other ANC killings from his prison cell, and there is no evidence that he personally killed anyone but the same could be said about Stalin or Hitler, and the violent history of the ANC, the organisation he led is not in question.
According to the Human Rights Commission it is estimated that during the Apartheid period some 21,000 people were killed, however both the UN Crimes against Humanity commission and South Africa's own Truth and Reconciliation Commission are in agreement that in those 43 years the South African Security forces killed a total of 518 people. The rest, (some 92%) were accounted for by Africans killing Africans, many by means of the notorious and gruesome practice of necklacing whereby a car tyre full of petrol is placed around a victim's neck and set alight. This particularly cruel form of execution was frequently carried out at the behest of the ANC with the enthusiastic support of Mandela's demonic wife Winnie.
The brutal reappearance of the deadly necklace in recent weeks is something I shall reluctantly focus upon later.
Given that so much blood was on the hands of his party, and, as such, the newly appointed government, some may conclude that those who praised Mandela's mercy and forgiveness, when the Truth and Reconciliation tribunal set up after he came to power, to look into the Apartheid years, did not include a provision for sanctions, were being deliberately naive.
Such nativity is not uncommon when it comes to the adoring reporting of Nelson Mandela, and neither is the great leader himself rarely shy of playing up his image of fatherly elder statesman and multi-purpose paragon. However, in truth, the ANC's conscious decision to reject a policy of non-violence, such as that chosen by Gandhi, in their struggle against the white government, had left them, and by extension, their
leader, with at least as much blood on their hands as their one time oppressors, and this fact alone prevented them from enacting the revenge which might otherwise have been the case..
As the first post Apartheid president of South Africa it would, be unfair if not ludicrous to judge Mandela entirely on the basis of events before he came to power, and in any event there is many a respected world leader or influential statesman with a blood stained past so in the next part I shall examine Nelson Mandela's achievements, and the events which have occurred in South Africa in the 14 short years since he took power in following the post Apartheid election in 1994.
Mandela - The Legend and the Legacy Part 2
By Sarah, Maid of Albion
In the second of two articles examining the life of Nelson Mandela, in advance of Friday's concert in Hyde Park celebrating the living legend's 90th birthday, I shall look at his legacy and the new South Africa which he created after coming to power on a surge of worldwide optimism and hope in 1994, when, following the end of Apartheid, he and his followers promised a new dawn for what became termed the Rainbow Nation.
Today South Africa stands out as one of the most dangerous and crime ridden nations on Earth which is not actively at War. In 2001, only seven years after the end of Apartheid, whilst the city of Amsterdam in the Netherlands with 5,6 murders per 100,000 population was declared the "murder capitol of Europe", Johannesburg, with 61.2 murders per 100,00 population and remains the world's top murder city.
In South Africa as a whole, the murder rate is seven times that of America, in terms of rape the rate is ten times as high and includes the ugly phenomenon of child rape, one of the few activities in which South Africa is now a world leader. If you don't believe me, you can read what Oprah Winfrey has to say about it.
All other forms of violent crime are out of control, and Johannesburg is among the top world cities for muggings and violent assault, a fact seldom mentioned in connection with the 2010 World Cup which is scheduled to be hosted in South Africa.
As always with black violence the primary victims are their fellow blacks, however, the rape, murder and violent assault of whites is a daily event, and there is more .....
As with the Matabeleland massacres, news of which the BBC, together with much of the world media suppressed for twenty years to protect their one time hero, Zimbabwe's Robert Mugabe, another secret genocide is being ignored by the world media, the genocide of white Boer farmers, thousands of whom have been horribly tortured to death in their homes since the end of Apartheid. Anyone who clicks on this link {link removed - DMDad} should we warned that it includes some very gruesome images as the savagery of these attacks belie the authorities attempts to dismiss them as nothing more than a "crime wave".
Given that it is now all but illegal in South Africa to report the race of either victim or the perpetrator of a crime (unless the perpetrator is white and the victim black) and as modern South Africa's official crime statistics are notoriously massaged, it is impossible to know the exact numbers of farm murders that have taken place. Many reliable sources estimate the figure as close to 3,000, but even if we take the more conservative figure of 1,600 quoted in the politically correct South African press (but not quoted at all in ours) this is three times the numbers killed by the South African security forces over a period of 43 years, and which the UN calls a crime against humanity.
To put this in perspective, the population of South Africa is 47 million, (13 million less than Britain despite its far greater land mass) of which the 4.3 million whites account for 9.1%, about 1% less than the immigrant population of Britain. Can you imagine the outcry if 1,600 (let alone 3,000) members of a minority community in Britain were tortured to death by the native population?.
Yet when the victims are white, there is hardly a peep in the South African press and silence from the international media. Compare this to when a white youth is the killer, such as in the case of Johan Nel, who shot three Africans, a story which became instant world wide news with the predictable screams of racism and machete wielding mobs baying for his blood.
(And they accuse us of hate?!! Don't such people nauseate themselves with their hypocrisy?!)
Crime aside, Mandela and his ANC inherited the strongest economy in Africa, indeed, despite economic sanctions, South Africa was still one of the richest world nations, and indeed initially there was a brief post Apartheid boom, resulting from the lifting of sanctions and due to the fact that until affirmative action forced most of the whites out of their jobs to be replaced by under qualified blacks, those who had built
South Africa were still in place.
However, any optimism was to be short lived. Now, after just 14 years of rule by Mandela and his grim successor Mbeki, corruption is rife, the country is beset with power cuts and the infrastructure is crumbling.
The nation's great cities like Durban and Johannesburg, which could once rival the likes of Sydney, Vancouver andSan Francisco, had descended in to decaying crime ridden slums within a decade.
And in the last few weeks we have seen the so called Rainbow nations ultimate humiliation, as xenophobic anti immigration violence spreads across the country. ("xenophobic" is what the media call racism when blacks do it) As poverty and unemployment explodes and is exacerbated by the floods of immigrants flooding in to escape the even more advanced Africanisation of the rest of the continent, the mobs
turn on those they blame for stealing their jobs, their homes, and their women.
Thus the cycle turns, and, like watching some barbaric version of "back to the future", on the news we see exactly the same scenes we saw on our televisions twenty years ago, wrecked buildings, burning vehicles, mobs brandishing machetes, axes and knives hacking at everything and everyone which comes within their reach. Most horrific of all, we see the return of that most savage symbol of African brutality, the necklace where, to the cheers of a blood thirsty crowd, some poor trembling soul, with a tire around his neck, is dragged from his home and set alight, exactly as all those other poor souls were set alight throughout the Apartheid years, when we were told it was all the evil white man's fault.
As nothing else the return of the necklace exposes the failure of Mandela's revolution, and those who fought for him should weep.
Under Apartheid, blacks and whites went to separate hospitals but they received world class health care, whatever their colour, now the facilities are collapsing or non-existent. Black children went to different schools than white children, but they received an education, something which is now a privileged luxury. When they grew up, their bosses may have been white, but they had jobs and a living wage, as the recent violence shows us, such security is but a memory for most South Africans.
Eighteen years after Nelson and Winnie made their historic walk towards the cameras, and 14 years, since Mandela assumed power on a tide of optimism, a once proud South Africa slides like a crumbling, crime ridden, wreck towards a precipice created through greed, corruption and incompetence.
For all his gleaming smiles, grandfatherly hand gestures, and folksy sound bites, tomorrow night, when crowd cheers the retired terrorist in the gaudy shirt, they would do best not to focus too closely upon his much admired legacy, as they might just find that the Xhosan Emperor has no clothes. For Nelson Mandela's lasting achievement is that, in the face of a world wishing him well, he, and the party he leads, have shown the world that, for all its flaws, Apartheid was a more benign system than what replaced it, and that the average South African was immeasurably better off under the hated white rule than they are under the alternative which black rule has created.
That is quite an achievement, Mr Mandela, happy birthday.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
To Rent or To Buy, that is the Question...
The maths on the Paul McCartney-Heather Mills divorce is as follows:
After 5 years of marriage, he paid her $49 million. Assuming he got sex every night during their 5 year relationship (which would NOT have happened!) it ended up costing him $26,849 per time.
This is Heather. As you will notice, quite the little psycho bitch...
On the other hand, Elliot Spitzer's call girl, Kristen, an absolute stunner with a body like no other, charges $4,000 an hour. For anything!
This is Kristen.
Had Paul McCartney 'employed' Kristen for 5 years, he would've paid $7.3 million for an hour of sex every night for 5 years (a saving of $41.7 million).
Value-added benefits are: a 22 year old hot babe, no begging, no coaxing, never a headache, plays all requests, ability to wrap both legs around you, no bitching and complaining or 'to do' lists. Best of all, she leaves when you're done, and comes back when you ask her. All at 1/7th the cost, with no legal fees.
Sometimes renting makes far more sense.
After 5 years of marriage, he paid her $49 million. Assuming he got sex every night during their 5 year relationship (which would NOT have happened!) it ended up costing him $26,849 per time.
This is Heather. As you will notice, quite the little psycho bitch...
On the other hand, Elliot Spitzer's call girl, Kristen, an absolute stunner with a body like no other, charges $4,000 an hour. For anything!
This is Kristen.
Had Paul McCartney 'employed' Kristen for 5 years, he would've paid $7.3 million for an hour of sex every night for 5 years (a saving of $41.7 million).
Value-added benefits are: a 22 year old hot babe, no begging, no coaxing, never a headache, plays all requests, ability to wrap both legs around you, no bitching and complaining or 'to do' lists. Best of all, she leaves when you're done, and comes back when you ask her. All at 1/7th the cost, with no legal fees.
Sometimes renting makes far more sense.
For Your Driving Pleasure...
I bought a new Lexus 455lxs and returned to the dealer the next day complaining that I couldn't figure out how the radio worked. The salesman explained that the radio was voice activated.
"Watch this!", he said, "Nelson"! The Radio replied, "Ricky or Willie?" "Willie!", he continued and "On The Road Again" came from the speakers.
Then he said, "Ray Charles!", and in an instant "Georgia On My Mind" replaced Willie Nelson.
I drove away happy, and for the next few days, every time I'd say, "Beethoven," I'd get beautiful classical music, and if I said, "Beatles," I'd get one of their awesome songs.
Yesterday, a couple ran a red light and nearly creamed my new car, but I swerved in time to avoid them. I yelled, "Ass Holes!" Immediately the Australian National Anthem began to play, sung by Thabo Mbeki and Jacob Zuma, backed up by Robert Mugabe and The Zanu PF, with Alec Erwin on guitar, Robert McBride on drums, Jackie Selebi on harmonica, Judge John Hlope on tambourine, George Bush on sax and Dr Manto-Tshabalala Msimang on scotch...
Damn, I LOVE this car!
"Watch this!", he said, "Nelson"! The Radio replied, "Ricky or Willie?" "Willie!", he continued and "On The Road Again" came from the speakers.
Then he said, "Ray Charles!", and in an instant "Georgia On My Mind" replaced Willie Nelson.
I drove away happy, and for the next few days, every time I'd say, "Beethoven," I'd get beautiful classical music, and if I said, "Beatles," I'd get one of their awesome songs.
Yesterday, a couple ran a red light and nearly creamed my new car, but I swerved in time to avoid them. I yelled, "Ass Holes!" Immediately the Australian National Anthem began to play, sung by Thabo Mbeki and Jacob Zuma, backed up by Robert Mugabe and The Zanu PF, with Alec Erwin on guitar, Robert McBride on drums, Jackie Selebi on harmonica, Judge John Hlope on tambourine, George Bush on sax and Dr Manto-Tshabalala Msimang on scotch...
Damn, I LOVE this car!
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Colonoscopy, anyone......?
I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an appointment for a colonoscopy. A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis . Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner. I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn't really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, quote, 'HE'S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BEHIND!'
I left Andy's office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called 'MoviPrep,' which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America's enemies.
I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous. Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor. Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 gallons.)
Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes - and here I am being kind - like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.
The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, 'a loose watery bowel movement may result.' This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.
MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too graphic, here, but: Have you ever seen a space-shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into thefuture and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.
After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep. The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, 'What if I spurt on Andy?' How do you apologize to a friend for something like that? Flowers would not be enough.
At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the heck the forms said. Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked.
Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep. At first was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode. You would have no choice but to burn your house.
When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere.
I was seriously nervous at this point. Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was 'Dancing Queen' by Abba. I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, 'Dancing Queen' has to be the least appropriate. 'You want me to turn it up?' said Andy, from somewhere behind me. 'Ha ha,' I said. And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.
I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment, Abba was shrieking 'Dancing Queen! Feel the beat from the tambourine ...' and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood. Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that it was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors.
I have never been prouder of an internal organ.
Written by Dave Barry, a Pulitzer Prize-winning humor columnist for the Miami Herald.
I left Andy's office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called 'MoviPrep,' which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America's enemies.
I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous. Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor. Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 gallons.)
Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes - and here I am being kind - like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.
The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, 'a loose watery bowel movement may result.' This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.
MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too graphic, here, but: Have you ever seen a space-shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into thefuture and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.
After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep. The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, 'What if I spurt on Andy?' How do you apologize to a friend for something like that? Flowers would not be enough.
At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the heck the forms said. Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked.
Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep. At first was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode. You would have no choice but to burn your house.
When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere.
I was seriously nervous at this point. Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was 'Dancing Queen' by Abba. I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, 'Dancing Queen' has to be the least appropriate. 'You want me to turn it up?' said Andy, from somewhere behind me. 'Ha ha,' I said. And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.
I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment, Abba was shrieking 'Dancing Queen! Feel the beat from the tambourine ...' and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood. Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that it was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors.
I have never been prouder of an internal organ.
Written by Dave Barry, a Pulitzer Prize-winning humor columnist for the Miami Herald.
Friday, July 18, 2008
And for every clever Darkie, there's another fuckin' daft Darkie...
This is from our very own Minister of Safety and Security...
I was going to ask how thick one needs to be to be a MP in SA, but it's really not necessary now...
I was going to ask how thick one needs to be to be a MP in SA, but it's really not necessary now...
What did we do to deserve it?...
Italy's new cabinet...
...and this is South Africa's new cabinet...
{sigh}...................
...and this is South Africa's new cabinet...
{sigh}...................
Whether or not you are a country music fan,...
this is truly the work of a deep thinker, and highly intelligent person.
So simple, yet so profound.
I wonder if all that weed he smoked had anything to do with it?
Words of wisdom from that famous philosopher Willie Nelson, on his 75th birthday:
So simple, yet so profound.
I wonder if all that weed he smoked had anything to do with it?
Words of wisdom from that famous philosopher Willie Nelson, on his 75th birthday:
'I have outlived my dick.'
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Ok, so we have at least one clever darkie on the Dark Continent...
unless, of course, "Alibi" is his excuse and not his surname...
Interesting reading, to say the least, especially the paragraph about South Africa...
An interesting reflection on, and a wake-up call for, social and political organization in the cultures of Africa, published in the Nigerian Daily Trust newspaper.
Posted to the web 25 October 2007
I Agree with Dr Watson - by Idang Alibi
A few days ago, the Nobel Laureate, Dr James Watson, made a remark that is now generating worldwide uproar, especially among the blacks. He said what to me looks like a self-evident truth. He told The Sunday Times of London in an interview that in his humble opinion, black people are less intelligent than the White people.
Since then, some of us cannot hear anything else but the outrage of black people who feel demeaned by what Watson has said. So many people have called the man names. To be expected, some have said he is a racist. Some even wonder how a "foolish" man like Watson could have won the Nobel Prize. Even white people who, deep in their heart, agree with Watson want to be politically, correct so they condemn the man. Why are we blacks becoming so reactive, so sensitive to any remarks, no matter how well-meaning, about our failure as a race?
I do not know what constitutes intelligence. I leave that to our so-called scholars. But I do know that in terms of organising society for the benefit of the people living in it, we blacks have not shown any intelligence in that direction at all. I am so ashamed of this and sometimes feel that I ought to have belonged to another race.
Nigeria my dear country is a prime example of the inferiority of the black race when compared to other races. Let somebody please tell me whether it is a manifestation of intelligence if a people cannot organise a free, fair and credible election to choose who will lead them. Is it intelligence that we cannot provide simple pipe-borne water for the people? Our public school system has virtually collapsed. Is that a sign of intelligence? Our roads are impassable. In spite of the numerous sources that nature has made available to us to tap for energy to run our industries and homes, we have no steady supply of electricity. Yet electricity is the bedrock of industrialisation.
When you agree with the school of Watson, some say you are incorrect because all these failures are a result of poor leadership. Why must it be us blacks who must always suffer poor leadership? Is that not a manifestation of unintelligence?
In the name of international trade, bilateral co-operation, globalisation and other subterfuges, the norm in the world today is for smart people to appropriate the wealth of other people for themselves and their countries. But more among the blacks than any other race, the practice is to steal from their own country and salt away to other people's country. Is it intelligence that our leaders steal billions of Naira (Nigerian currency) and hide in other people's country?
Anywhere in the world today where you have a concentration of black people among other races, the poorest, the least educated, the least achieving, and the most violent group among those races will be the blacks. When indices of underdevelopment are given, black people and countries are sure to occupy the bottom of the ladder. If we are intelligent, why do we not carry first when statistics of development are given?
Look at the African continent. South Africa is the most developed country because of the presence of whites there. This may be an uncomfortable truth for many of us but it exists nevertheless. If the whites had been driven away after independence, we would have seen a steady decline of that country.
In terms of natural endowment, Africa ought to be the richest of the continents but see the mess we have made of the potential for greatness which God in his infinite wisdom has bestowed upon us. We have proved totally incapable of harnessing the abundant natural resources to become great. Today, there is a renewed scramble for the wealth of Africa. China, our new "friend", does not bother about the genocide against fellow blacks in the Sudan by the Arabs who control the affairs of that country. They say they do not want to interfere in the internal affairs of any country. All they want is the oil in Sudan to run their industries. Yet, we blacks have not seen the Chinese action as an affront to our sensitivities. Every race takes us for granted because we are so weak and so foolish, if you permit me to say it.
I am really pained by our gross underachievement as a race. Instead of regarding bitter truths expressed by the likes of Watson as a wake-up call for us to engage in sober reflection, we take to the expression of woolly sentiment. For me, this type of reaction is a further evidence of our unintelligence. A man of intelligence recognises genuine criticism against him and takes steps to improve himself in order to prove his critics wrong. But for us blacks, our reaction is to abuse the man who expresses worries about our backwardness.
Other races are deeply worried about us because we are a problem to the world. We suffer from the five Ds: disorderliness, debts, diseases, deaths and disasters. Our disorderliness affects others or else they won't be too bothered about us. Many are afraid because our diseases could infect them. Polio has been eradicated all over the world yet it is still found in Nigeria here. When they give us money to help us eradicate it, our thieving officials will embezzle the money; the virus will spread and endanger the health of not only our people but other people as well.
Out of a shared sense of humanity, some cannot bear to see how we die in thousands almost every day from clearly preventable diseases and causes. For years now, our people die extremely painful but perfectly preventable deaths from buildings which collapse because they were poorly constructed. How can you tell me we are as intelligent as others when we set traps for ourselves in the name of houses and others do not do so? Some people are extremely frustrated about us. If they have a way of avoiding us, they will be too glad to do so because we are a problem.
As I write this, I do so with great pains in my heart because I know that God has given intelligence in equal measure to all his children irrespective of the colour of their skin. The problem with us black people is that we have refused to use our intelligence to organise ourselves socially and politically.
It should worry us that we do not invent things. We do not go to the moon. Our societies are not well-organised. We have the shortest lifespan of all the races. Something must be wrong with us. Why are we not like others? Our scholars will be quick to say that these are not the only ways of measuring intelligence. They will quote other scholars to adumbrate their point, but the fact remains that we are not showing intelligence. Others are showing it more than we're doing. If they are not more intelligent than we are, let someone tell me how to put it. God himself must be frustrated with his black children. They must be an embarrassment to him. He has given us everything he has given to other of his children; why are his black children not manifesting their own gift?
A few years ago, the whites used to contemptuously call the Japanese "little Japs". Today, the Japanese and other Asians have pulled themselves up by the bootstrap and have arrived. No one speaks of the Japanese or Asians with contempt anymore. When people like Watson speak about us in unedifying terms, we should take it as a challenge to prove them wrong by sitting down to plan how we can become world-beaters. If our political leaders are the reason for our backwardness, we should resolve to get the kind of leaders who will be instrument for our rapid progress. I may not know how intelligence is measured but my limited knowledge of intelligence is that it can also be measured by the kind of leaders a people decide to have. If, for instance, our professors preside over the massive rigging of elections, it means that we do not have very intelligent professors. Such rigged elections will no doubt produce unintelligent leaders. Such unintelligent leaders will do stupid things which will prove that we are not as intelligent as other races.
Do I sound confusing or intelligent?
I am ready for some of our 'patriotic' intellectuals who will write and abuse me for the 'outrage' I have expressed here but I stick to my guns: we lack intelligence and as stated in the Bible, anyone who lacks intelligence should cry unto God who is the custodian of wisdom to bestow some upon him. We should go on our knees today and ask God why we do not appear as intelligent as our other brothers. I am confident God will reveal to us what we must do, and urgently too, to change our terribly unflattering circumstances.
Interesting reading, to say the least, especially the paragraph about South Africa...
An interesting reflection on, and a wake-up call for, social and political organization in the cultures of Africa, published in the Nigerian Daily Trust newspaper.
Posted to the web 25 October 2007
I Agree with Dr Watson - by Idang Alibi
A few days ago, the Nobel Laureate, Dr James Watson, made a remark that is now generating worldwide uproar, especially among the blacks. He said what to me looks like a self-evident truth. He told The Sunday Times of London in an interview that in his humble opinion, black people are less intelligent than the White people.
Since then, some of us cannot hear anything else but the outrage of black people who feel demeaned by what Watson has said. So many people have called the man names. To be expected, some have said he is a racist. Some even wonder how a "foolish" man like Watson could have won the Nobel Prize. Even white people who, deep in their heart, agree with Watson want to be politically, correct so they condemn the man. Why are we blacks becoming so reactive, so sensitive to any remarks, no matter how well-meaning, about our failure as a race?
I do not know what constitutes intelligence. I leave that to our so-called scholars. But I do know that in terms of organising society for the benefit of the people living in it, we blacks have not shown any intelligence in that direction at all. I am so ashamed of this and sometimes feel that I ought to have belonged to another race.
Nigeria my dear country is a prime example of the inferiority of the black race when compared to other races. Let somebody please tell me whether it is a manifestation of intelligence if a people cannot organise a free, fair and credible election to choose who will lead them. Is it intelligence that we cannot provide simple pipe-borne water for the people? Our public school system has virtually collapsed. Is that a sign of intelligence? Our roads are impassable. In spite of the numerous sources that nature has made available to us to tap for energy to run our industries and homes, we have no steady supply of electricity. Yet electricity is the bedrock of industrialisation.
When you agree with the school of Watson, some say you are incorrect because all these failures are a result of poor leadership. Why must it be us blacks who must always suffer poor leadership? Is that not a manifestation of unintelligence?
In the name of international trade, bilateral co-operation, globalisation and other subterfuges, the norm in the world today is for smart people to appropriate the wealth of other people for themselves and their countries. But more among the blacks than any other race, the practice is to steal from their own country and salt away to other people's country. Is it intelligence that our leaders steal billions of Naira (Nigerian currency) and hide in other people's country?
Anywhere in the world today where you have a concentration of black people among other races, the poorest, the least educated, the least achieving, and the most violent group among those races will be the blacks. When indices of underdevelopment are given, black people and countries are sure to occupy the bottom of the ladder. If we are intelligent, why do we not carry first when statistics of development are given?
Look at the African continent. South Africa is the most developed country because of the presence of whites there. This may be an uncomfortable truth for many of us but it exists nevertheless. If the whites had been driven away after independence, we would have seen a steady decline of that country.
In terms of natural endowment, Africa ought to be the richest of the continents but see the mess we have made of the potential for greatness which God in his infinite wisdom has bestowed upon us. We have proved totally incapable of harnessing the abundant natural resources to become great. Today, there is a renewed scramble for the wealth of Africa. China, our new "friend", does not bother about the genocide against fellow blacks in the Sudan by the Arabs who control the affairs of that country. They say they do not want to interfere in the internal affairs of any country. All they want is the oil in Sudan to run their industries. Yet, we blacks have not seen the Chinese action as an affront to our sensitivities. Every race takes us for granted because we are so weak and so foolish, if you permit me to say it.
I am really pained by our gross underachievement as a race. Instead of regarding bitter truths expressed by the likes of Watson as a wake-up call for us to engage in sober reflection, we take to the expression of woolly sentiment. For me, this type of reaction is a further evidence of our unintelligence. A man of intelligence recognises genuine criticism against him and takes steps to improve himself in order to prove his critics wrong. But for us blacks, our reaction is to abuse the man who expresses worries about our backwardness.
Other races are deeply worried about us because we are a problem to the world. We suffer from the five Ds: disorderliness, debts, diseases, deaths and disasters. Our disorderliness affects others or else they won't be too bothered about us. Many are afraid because our diseases could infect them. Polio has been eradicated all over the world yet it is still found in Nigeria here. When they give us money to help us eradicate it, our thieving officials will embezzle the money; the virus will spread and endanger the health of not only our people but other people as well.
Out of a shared sense of humanity, some cannot bear to see how we die in thousands almost every day from clearly preventable diseases and causes. For years now, our people die extremely painful but perfectly preventable deaths from buildings which collapse because they were poorly constructed. How can you tell me we are as intelligent as others when we set traps for ourselves in the name of houses and others do not do so? Some people are extremely frustrated about us. If they have a way of avoiding us, they will be too glad to do so because we are a problem.
As I write this, I do so with great pains in my heart because I know that God has given intelligence in equal measure to all his children irrespective of the colour of their skin. The problem with us black people is that we have refused to use our intelligence to organise ourselves socially and politically.
It should worry us that we do not invent things. We do not go to the moon. Our societies are not well-organised. We have the shortest lifespan of all the races. Something must be wrong with us. Why are we not like others? Our scholars will be quick to say that these are not the only ways of measuring intelligence. They will quote other scholars to adumbrate their point, but the fact remains that we are not showing intelligence. Others are showing it more than we're doing. If they are not more intelligent than we are, let someone tell me how to put it. God himself must be frustrated with his black children. They must be an embarrassment to him. He has given us everything he has given to other of his children; why are his black children not manifesting their own gift?
A few years ago, the whites used to contemptuously call the Japanese "little Japs". Today, the Japanese and other Asians have pulled themselves up by the bootstrap and have arrived. No one speaks of the Japanese or Asians with contempt anymore. When people like Watson speak about us in unedifying terms, we should take it as a challenge to prove them wrong by sitting down to plan how we can become world-beaters. If our political leaders are the reason for our backwardness, we should resolve to get the kind of leaders who will be instrument for our rapid progress. I may not know how intelligence is measured but my limited knowledge of intelligence is that it can also be measured by the kind of leaders a people decide to have. If, for instance, our professors preside over the massive rigging of elections, it means that we do not have very intelligent professors. Such rigged elections will no doubt produce unintelligent leaders. Such unintelligent leaders will do stupid things which will prove that we are not as intelligent as other races.
Do I sound confusing or intelligent?
I am ready for some of our 'patriotic' intellectuals who will write and abuse me for the 'outrage' I have expressed here but I stick to my guns: we lack intelligence and as stated in the Bible, anyone who lacks intelligence should cry unto God who is the custodian of wisdom to bestow some upon him. We should go on our knees today and ask God why we do not appear as intelligent as our other brothers. I am confident God will reveal to us what we must do, and urgently too, to change our terribly unflattering circumstances.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Current Listening...
My music taste is, to say the least, varied. Some would say "fucked up", while yet others would say "fuckin' weird".
So what, I say...it's my choice. Here's what I'm listening to currently, in the car...
Bullet for My Valentine - Scream, Aim, Fire
Cold Play - Viva la Vida
Good Charlotte - Good Morning Revival
The 69 Eyes - Angels
Alterbridge - One Day Remains
Stacey Kent - Breakfast on the Morning Tram
Seether - Finding Beauty in Negative Spaces
Rammstein - Herzeleid
Evanescence - The Open Door
I did say the list was varied. Do yourself a favour, grab some of these albums (depending on your taste). I think they're all great for their own reasons...
So what, I say...it's my choice. Here's what I'm listening to currently, in the car...
Bullet for My Valentine - Scream, Aim, Fire
Cold Play - Viva la Vida
Good Charlotte - Good Morning Revival
The 69 Eyes - Angels
Alterbridge - One Day Remains
Stacey Kent - Breakfast on the Morning Tram
Seether - Finding Beauty in Negative Spaces
Rammstein - Herzeleid
Evanescence - The Open Door
I did say the list was varied. Do yourself a favour, grab some of these albums (depending on your taste). I think they're all great for their own reasons...
Monday, July 14, 2008
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Another Year goes by...
for my baby...
Yesterday, the 7th July, was my daughter's 22nd birthday. Hard to believe that time has flown so quickly, but I can still remember the first time I saw her, about 30mins after her actual birth.
Tamlyn Christine Douglas was born at 07h54am, in Parklands Clinic, Durban, South Africa. She was born by Caesarian Section as her mother's pelvis was deemed too small for natural birth by her Gynae.
I knew straight away that she would be a handful, judging by the determined expression on her chubby face and the two hands that stuck out from the green towel she was wrapped in, both fists in the classic "zap" fashion (thumb sticking out between fore- and middle fingers), as if to say to the world, "Right fuckers, I'm here, start shitting yourselves".
I even remember the soft, velvet, touch of her skin. There's no other feeling like a new-born's skin texture.
Anyway...on Tamlyn's blog, you will note that her boyfriend (nice guy), Scott, took her to the Edinburgh Zoo for the day, and judging by the photos, they had a great time.
Again, darlin', Happy Birthday, and I know there's going to be many more...
Semper Amor.
Dad
xoxo
And before the rest of you start saying I don't look old enough to have a 22yr old child....hey, I'm actually 74 and look fuckin' good for my age :-)
Yesterday, the 7th July, was my daughter's 22nd birthday. Hard to believe that time has flown so quickly, but I can still remember the first time I saw her, about 30mins after her actual birth.
Tamlyn Christine Douglas was born at 07h54am, in Parklands Clinic, Durban, South Africa. She was born by Caesarian Section as her mother's pelvis was deemed too small for natural birth by her Gynae.
I knew straight away that she would be a handful, judging by the determined expression on her chubby face and the two hands that stuck out from the green towel she was wrapped in, both fists in the classic "zap" fashion (thumb sticking out between fore- and middle fingers), as if to say to the world, "Right fuckers, I'm here, start shitting yourselves".
I even remember the soft, velvet, touch of her skin. There's no other feeling like a new-born's skin texture.
Anyway...on Tamlyn's blog, you will note that her boyfriend (nice guy), Scott, took her to the Edinburgh Zoo for the day, and judging by the photos, they had a great time.
Again, darlin', Happy Birthday, and I know there's going to be many more...
Semper Amor.
Dad
xoxo
And before the rest of you start saying I don't look old enough to have a 22yr old child....hey, I'm actually 74 and look fuckin' good for my age :-)
Monday, June 30, 2008
A Good Way to Start the Week...
My neighbour found out her dog could hardly hear so she took it to the veterinarian. He found that the problem was hair in its ears.
He cleaned both ears and the dog could hear fine.
The vet then proceeded to tell the lady that if she wanted to keep this from recurring she should go to the store and get some "Nair" hair remover and rub it in the dog's ears once a month.
The lady goes to the pharmacy and gets some "Nair" hair remover.
At the register the chemist tells her, "If you're going to use this under your arms don't use deodorant for a few days."
The lady says: "I'm not using it under my arms."
The chemist says: "If you're using it on your legs don't shave for a couple of days."
The lady says: "I'm not using it on my legs either; and if you must know, I'm using it on my schnauzer."
The chemist says: "Stay off your bicycle for a week."
He cleaned both ears and the dog could hear fine.
The vet then proceeded to tell the lady that if she wanted to keep this from recurring she should go to the store and get some "Nair" hair remover and rub it in the dog's ears once a month.
The lady goes to the pharmacy and gets some "Nair" hair remover.
At the register the chemist tells her, "If you're going to use this under your arms don't use deodorant for a few days."
The lady says: "I'm not using it under my arms."
The chemist says: "If you're using it on your legs don't shave for a couple of days."
The lady says: "I'm not using it on my legs either; and if you must know, I'm using it on my schnauzer."
The chemist says: "Stay off your bicycle for a week."
Monday, June 23, 2008
The Past Weekend...
saw me alone again, with Steph being back in Cape Town.
On Friday afternoon, I had drinks with my best non-fishing drinking buddy (I had to clarify that, or the Kosi Fishing Team would gut me). It's always good to get together with "P", as we share more in common than just a penchant for good beer and whisky. We also share views on a lot of things, enjoy the same types of music, and just generally enjoy talking kak.
When I got home, I was at a loss for what I was going to do for the evening so I jumped onto the WWW and looked up the Blues Room, a music bar in Sandton, to see who was playing that night. It turned out to be a local duet, Harris Tweed, whose young singer has a great voice and is multi-talented, playing electric piano and guitar.
I arrived at the door a little before 19h30, official opening time and took a walk around some of the shop windows in the mall. When the doors opened, I was second in the door and was a little unnerved by the big, black, bouncer seated in the entrance. What made it worse was that his left hand was wrapped in a plaster cast. Jokingly, I asked him, "So what does the other guy look like?" and in return he said to me "It's a long story", so I left it at that and made my way downstairs to my table.
I ordered my first Capn's Organ of the night (not the first of the day, as I'd had a couple earlier with P) and looked through the menu, settling on a seafood paella which turned out to be rather dry and disappointing, and full of pieces of bay leaves.
After the meal, I paid my bill and headed for the bar, hoping to get a good view of the band. As it happens, Cherilyn (lead singer) came and stood right in front of me, chatting to some bald dude who gave her a couple of CDs with song names written on the covers. The young lady is very petite, has a rather irritating giggle for a laugh, but makes up for it with her music.
Before Harris Tweed came on stage, there was a solo guitarist, Jonathan Taylor, who did a few of his own songs to try and warm up the audience. When he came off stage, he was walking through the bar and crowd, peddling his CD, but I didn't buy a copy. I did, however, compliment him on his guitar work and the first song he performed, but the rest of his songs were a bit depressing, akin to a male Alannis Morissette, all about breaking up with a girlfriend.
Harris performed for a about an hour and were given two standing ovations and returned with two encores, much to the delight of the crowd. Darryl, co-band member on bass guitar and organ, had about as much character as the floor he was standing on and didn't do much the entire evening except for smile at Cherilyn. She, on the other hand, struck up a great rapport with the crowd and had some of them giggling along with her at her own couple of mistakes.
Almost as soon as they walked off stage, I walked out the door and headed for my car, having had a very pleasant evening.
Saturday was spent watching a number of rugby matches on the goggle-box, including the rather disappointing SA vs Italy match. I reckon, after that performance, the All Blacks are going to annihilate SA in the upcoming Tri-Nations, and the Aussies will probably give us a going-over too. SA were really not convincing in their play, never getting the ball wide enough for most of the game leaving Bryan Habana to go and look for the ball, often getting himself into rucks and mauls for something to do. Anyway, at least it was another win for the team...
And, oh yes, lest I forget...the new Wheelie Bin arrived on Saturday afternoon. All shiny and black, brand spanking new with duct tape still holding down the lid, it looked a treat. Then I took it into the yard and spray painted the house number on it, so that no fucker would come and nick my nice new bin. The Wheelie Bin lady's insurance have written her car off, obviously deciding that it will be cheaper to replace, rather than fix, her sledge. And now they can also justify the huge increase they are going to slap onto her premiums too. As she left, I said to her "Drive safe" at which she gave a small laugh and got into the silver VW bakkie she was using to deliver the bin. Do you think I'm joking, you daft fuckin' cow? People like you cost this country millions every year in unnecessary effort and expense, as well as pushing up my premiums to pay for your fuckups.
Anyway, I pottered about the house a bit, watched the afternoon game and chilled out with a cold Capn's Organ and a hot curry I put together earlier in the day.
On Sunday, I woke up about 8am, and decided I better get up and do some more odd jobs about the house and ended up cutting some wood for the fireplace, as it's quite kewl on some nights. I reckon I just about cut enough for the week, so my back has some time to rest before I have to cut some more.
Once I'd showered, I dredged on some jeans and a long sleeve shirt, zipped up the leather waistcoat and donned my crash helmet and went for a leisurely cruise on the Marauder (the new model is called the Boulevard). I ended up going all the way up to Roodepoort area, then turned back through Cresta, Randburg, Fourways, Kyalami and back home along the Old Pretoria Highway, in total doing about 75km. So much for a short cruise. My butt was killing me by the time I got off the bike.
The evening was spent in front of the telly, with a fire burning in the Morso and I ended up going to bed after the Spain/Italy Euro 2008 football match (it is "football", and not "soccer", and should remain so). Italy just did not want to win the match, and I bet Wreckless is a bit disappointed this morning as he is of Italian descendancy. Sorry dude...next time leave the prima donnas at home and bring the World Cup winning team instead.
Anyway, I went to bed and read my book for a while, putting the light off and listening to the cat purring in her bed on the dresser next to me, a little after midnight.
Hope you guys all had a great weekend too...
On Friday afternoon, I had drinks with my best non-fishing drinking buddy (I had to clarify that, or the Kosi Fishing Team would gut me). It's always good to get together with "P", as we share more in common than just a penchant for good beer and whisky. We also share views on a lot of things, enjoy the same types of music, and just generally enjoy talking kak.
When I got home, I was at a loss for what I was going to do for the evening so I jumped onto the WWW and looked up the Blues Room, a music bar in Sandton, to see who was playing that night. It turned out to be a local duet, Harris Tweed, whose young singer has a great voice and is multi-talented, playing electric piano and guitar.
I arrived at the door a little before 19h30, official opening time and took a walk around some of the shop windows in the mall. When the doors opened, I was second in the door and was a little unnerved by the big, black, bouncer seated in the entrance. What made it worse was that his left hand was wrapped in a plaster cast. Jokingly, I asked him, "So what does the other guy look like?" and in return he said to me "It's a long story", so I left it at that and made my way downstairs to my table.
I ordered my first Capn's Organ of the night (not the first of the day, as I'd had a couple earlier with P) and looked through the menu, settling on a seafood paella which turned out to be rather dry and disappointing, and full of pieces of bay leaves.
After the meal, I paid my bill and headed for the bar, hoping to get a good view of the band. As it happens, Cherilyn (lead singer) came and stood right in front of me, chatting to some bald dude who gave her a couple of CDs with song names written on the covers. The young lady is very petite, has a rather irritating giggle for a laugh, but makes up for it with her music.
Before Harris Tweed came on stage, there was a solo guitarist, Jonathan Taylor, who did a few of his own songs to try and warm up the audience. When he came off stage, he was walking through the bar and crowd, peddling his CD, but I didn't buy a copy. I did, however, compliment him on his guitar work and the first song he performed, but the rest of his songs were a bit depressing, akin to a male Alannis Morissette, all about breaking up with a girlfriend.
Harris performed for a about an hour and were given two standing ovations and returned with two encores, much to the delight of the crowd. Darryl, co-band member on bass guitar and organ, had about as much character as the floor he was standing on and didn't do much the entire evening except for smile at Cherilyn. She, on the other hand, struck up a great rapport with the crowd and had some of them giggling along with her at her own couple of mistakes.
Almost as soon as they walked off stage, I walked out the door and headed for my car, having had a very pleasant evening.
Saturday was spent watching a number of rugby matches on the goggle-box, including the rather disappointing SA vs Italy match. I reckon, after that performance, the All Blacks are going to annihilate SA in the upcoming Tri-Nations, and the Aussies will probably give us a going-over too. SA were really not convincing in their play, never getting the ball wide enough for most of the game leaving Bryan Habana to go and look for the ball, often getting himself into rucks and mauls for something to do. Anyway, at least it was another win for the team...
And, oh yes, lest I forget...the new Wheelie Bin arrived on Saturday afternoon. All shiny and black, brand spanking new with duct tape still holding down the lid, it looked a treat. Then I took it into the yard and spray painted the house number on it, so that no fucker would come and nick my nice new bin. The Wheelie Bin lady's insurance have written her car off, obviously deciding that it will be cheaper to replace, rather than fix, her sledge. And now they can also justify the huge increase they are going to slap onto her premiums too. As she left, I said to her "Drive safe" at which she gave a small laugh and got into the silver VW bakkie she was using to deliver the bin. Do you think I'm joking, you daft fuckin' cow? People like you cost this country millions every year in unnecessary effort and expense, as well as pushing up my premiums to pay for your fuckups.
Anyway, I pottered about the house a bit, watched the afternoon game and chilled out with a cold Capn's Organ and a hot curry I put together earlier in the day.
On Sunday, I woke up about 8am, and decided I better get up and do some more odd jobs about the house and ended up cutting some wood for the fireplace, as it's quite kewl on some nights. I reckon I just about cut enough for the week, so my back has some time to rest before I have to cut some more.
Once I'd showered, I dredged on some jeans and a long sleeve shirt, zipped up the leather waistcoat and donned my crash helmet and went for a leisurely cruise on the Marauder (the new model is called the Boulevard). I ended up going all the way up to Roodepoort area, then turned back through Cresta, Randburg, Fourways, Kyalami and back home along the Old Pretoria Highway, in total doing about 75km. So much for a short cruise. My butt was killing me by the time I got off the bike.
The evening was spent in front of the telly, with a fire burning in the Morso and I ended up going to bed after the Spain/Italy Euro 2008 football match (it is "football", and not "soccer", and should remain so). Italy just did not want to win the match, and I bet Wreckless is a bit disappointed this morning as he is of Italian descendancy. Sorry dude...next time leave the prima donnas at home and bring the World Cup winning team instead.
Anyway, I went to bed and read my book for a while, putting the light off and listening to the cat purring in her bed on the dresser next to me, a little after midnight.
Hope you guys all had a great weekend too...
Eishkom are starting their shit again, I see...
During the Euro 2008 game between Spain and Italy (sorry for you, Wreckless) we had eight (8) power failures, ranging in duration from two to about ten minutes.
And now, this morning, we've already had one as well. I wonder how many we'll end up having...
And now, this morning, we've already had one as well. I wonder how many we'll end up having...
Friday, June 20, 2008
Thursday, June 19, 2008
IMPORTANT!!! Motorists beware...
of intersections (at night or day) where you are stopped in poor light, or there are obstructions blocking your view of the surrounds of your vehicle.
I was on my way home from Action Drinkit last night, having only had five drinks over the period of the game and after-game drinks. Certainly, I wasn't in any way drunk. I was, however, very alert as most of us are these days. And just as well too...
I pulled off the highway at the M1 South, Woodmead offramp (over the highway from Makro), stopped at the traffic lights and noticed two black dudes standing on the inside of the road. One was selling bunches of roses and didn't approach me, so he was no threat. The second, however, was quite well dressed in jeans, hoodie and beanie, and looked at what I thought, was me. Afterward, I realised he was actually passing a signal to his accomplice who was in the bushes behind, and to the left, of my car in my blind spot.
He came up to my car, pleaded hunger and I ignored him at which I also got an eerie feeling and looked left to the passenger side. At that exact moment, his accomplice, who had come out of the bushes, looked in my window, briefly at me, then at what was on the passenger seat. All that was there, luckily, was a plastic carrier bag with milk in it. I looked straight into number two's eyes and it was amazing how calm and emotionless he was, like it was just another day in the office.
I immediately realised what was happening and gunned the car forward a couple of metres, at which both of the black fuckers moved towards the rear of the car. I then slammed the car into reverse and gunned it backwards, knocking the first guy on his arse, but not hard enough that he and his mate could not run away into the bush where number two had come from.
I then went forward again, through the red light and moved slowly toward the next intersection, all the while looking for them coming out of the bush again, but they never showed themselves.
I carried on slowly, got onto the phone and called the SAPS to report what had happened and they said they'd send a car to investigate. Whether they did or not, I don't know as I went straight home.
A few lessons for those of you out there to remember, should something like this (hopefully not) ever happen to you:
1. Always be alert, regardless of time of day or night, or location;
2. If you see someone suspicious, do not focus all you concentration on him, but watch your side mirrors for his companion/s.
3. Watch out for suspicious persons making strange signals to someone you can't see;
4. Make sure the first suspicious person knows you are aware of him. I pointed my index and middle fingers at my eyes and then at him, to show him I was watching him. As in my case, however, it will not always deter them;
5. If the location is poorly lit, do not come to a complete stop, rather keep moving slowly forward, check the intersection and then go through the red light;
6. If there is a camera at the intersection, stop. If something happens here, you can move forward and hopefully get the camera to take a picture of the fucker who is trying to infringe upon your rights to safety;
7. Keep the SAPS emergency number on your phone, 10111. Save it as the first number in your phone book, so that it is easily accessible;
8. Report all incidents of this nature. The more that are reported, the more that has to be done by our lazy SAPS and the more of these fuckers might get caught;
9. If you are not already, become a member of eBlockwatch (it's free and nationwide) and report ALL incidents to them. They have serious connections into the SAPS and they are successful in many cases of bringing criminals to justice.
In the words of an old TV series police office (Hill Street Blues, I think it was), "Be careful out there..."
I was on my way home from Action Drinkit last night, having only had five drinks over the period of the game and after-game drinks. Certainly, I wasn't in any way drunk. I was, however, very alert as most of us are these days. And just as well too...
I pulled off the highway at the M1 South, Woodmead offramp (over the highway from Makro), stopped at the traffic lights and noticed two black dudes standing on the inside of the road. One was selling bunches of roses and didn't approach me, so he was no threat. The second, however, was quite well dressed in jeans, hoodie and beanie, and looked at what I thought, was me. Afterward, I realised he was actually passing a signal to his accomplice who was in the bushes behind, and to the left, of my car in my blind spot.
He came up to my car, pleaded hunger and I ignored him at which I also got an eerie feeling and looked left to the passenger side. At that exact moment, his accomplice, who had come out of the bushes, looked in my window, briefly at me, then at what was on the passenger seat. All that was there, luckily, was a plastic carrier bag with milk in it. I looked straight into number two's eyes and it was amazing how calm and emotionless he was, like it was just another day in the office.
I immediately realised what was happening and gunned the car forward a couple of metres, at which both of the black fuckers moved towards the rear of the car. I then slammed the car into reverse and gunned it backwards, knocking the first guy on his arse, but not hard enough that he and his mate could not run away into the bush where number two had come from.
I then went forward again, through the red light and moved slowly toward the next intersection, all the while looking for them coming out of the bush again, but they never showed themselves.
I carried on slowly, got onto the phone and called the SAPS to report what had happened and they said they'd send a car to investigate. Whether they did or not, I don't know as I went straight home.
A few lessons for those of you out there to remember, should something like this (hopefully not) ever happen to you:
1. Always be alert, regardless of time of day or night, or location;
2. If you see someone suspicious, do not focus all you concentration on him, but watch your side mirrors for his companion/s.
3. Watch out for suspicious persons making strange signals to someone you can't see;
4. Make sure the first suspicious person knows you are aware of him. I pointed my index and middle fingers at my eyes and then at him, to show him I was watching him. As in my case, however, it will not always deter them;
5. If the location is poorly lit, do not come to a complete stop, rather keep moving slowly forward, check the intersection and then go through the red light;
6. If there is a camera at the intersection, stop. If something happens here, you can move forward and hopefully get the camera to take a picture of the fucker who is trying to infringe upon your rights to safety;
7. Keep the SAPS emergency number on your phone, 10111. Save it as the first number in your phone book, so that it is easily accessible;
8. Report all incidents of this nature. The more that are reported, the more that has to be done by our lazy SAPS and the more of these fuckers might get caught;
9. If you are not already, become a member of eBlockwatch (it's free and nationwide) and report ALL incidents to them. They have serious connections into the SAPS and they are successful in many cases of bringing criminals to justice.
In the words of an old TV series police office (Hill Street Blues, I think it was), "Be careful out there..."
I got a video-linked chain mail message...
on my Facebook page the other day. As I get quite a few of these, I don't usually browse them until a few days later or when I have "nothing else" to do.
This one, however, got me sad and a little bit annoyed at the same time.
Most of us who have the internet or watch news on TV will probably know about this story, but I want to relate my thoughts on it. They are, as usual, my personal thoughts so don't take offense...make up your own opinions rather.
This is the text that goes around with the video:
"First, please be self-prepared for the following video..
It's really sad about the fact that...the world is unfair..
The last photo of the vid shows that an eagle was waiting for the child to die so it can eat his meat... this photo was awarded for the Pulitzer in 1994... It's taken by a photographer, Kevin Carter, who died of depression after 3 months from taking this photo... The most important message is: Help those whos in need...We should be grateful that we're the lucky ones... Dont waste any food and water anymore... PLEASE SPREAD THIS OUT AND PRAY..PRAY FOR THOSE WHOSE IN NEED..!"
Here is the video that accompanies the above text:
Yes, it is sad, but I want to correct a few misconceptions created by the author (knowingly or not, I'll never know).
Firstly, The "eagle" in the video is actually a vulture. Eagles seldom eat dead flesh and will preferably kill their own prey. Vultures, on the other hand, will seldom kill their prey but will wait patiently while it dies.
Secondly, Kevin Carter (South African journalist who took the photos) did not die of depression. He actually committed suicide by gassing himself in his own car. The reasons for committing suicide may have been brought on by depression, but that did not kill him.
Thirdly, and this is my own belief, prayer will not help but if that's the way you do things don't let me stop you. The only way things get done, or rectified, is if the human beings in the disastrous situation manage to help themselves, or other human beings in a position to help, actually do. Ultimately though, prayer will achieve nothing except help the person praying feel better about him/herself. It certainly won't create a better frame of mind in a life-threateningly hungry child.
In case you're interested in reading more about Kevin Carter, here's a link to a very comprehensive article. Perhaps some of you remember that there was a song written about him too, by the Manic Street Preachers?
Hi Time Magazine
Hi Pulitzer Prize
Tribal scars in Technicolor
Bang bang club AK 47 hour
Kevin Carter
Hi Time Magazine
Hi Pulitzer Prize
Vulture stalked white piped lie forever
Wasted your life in black and white
Kevin Carter x3
The elephant is so ugly he sleeps his head
Machetes his bed Kevin Carter Kaffir lover forever
Click click click click click
Click himself under
Kevin Carter x3
This one, however, got me sad and a little bit annoyed at the same time.
Most of us who have the internet or watch news on TV will probably know about this story, but I want to relate my thoughts on it. They are, as usual, my personal thoughts so don't take offense...make up your own opinions rather.
This is the text that goes around with the video:
"First, please be self-prepared for the following video..
It's really sad about the fact that...the world is unfair..
The last photo of the vid shows that an eagle was waiting for the child to die so it can eat his meat... this photo was awarded for the Pulitzer in 1994... It's taken by a photographer, Kevin Carter, who died of depression after 3 months from taking this photo... The most important message is: Help those whos in need...We should be grateful that we're the lucky ones... Dont waste any food and water anymore... PLEASE SPREAD THIS OUT AND PRAY..PRAY FOR THOSE WHOSE IN NEED..!"
Here is the video that accompanies the above text:
Yes, it is sad, but I want to correct a few misconceptions created by the author (knowingly or not, I'll never know).
Firstly, The "eagle" in the video is actually a vulture. Eagles seldom eat dead flesh and will preferably kill their own prey. Vultures, on the other hand, will seldom kill their prey but will wait patiently while it dies.
Secondly, Kevin Carter (South African journalist who took the photos) did not die of depression. He actually committed suicide by gassing himself in his own car. The reasons for committing suicide may have been brought on by depression, but that did not kill him.
Thirdly, and this is my own belief, prayer will not help but if that's the way you do things don't let me stop you. The only way things get done, or rectified, is if the human beings in the disastrous situation manage to help themselves, or other human beings in a position to help, actually do. Ultimately though, prayer will achieve nothing except help the person praying feel better about him/herself. It certainly won't create a better frame of mind in a life-threateningly hungry child.
In case you're interested in reading more about Kevin Carter, here's a link to a very comprehensive article. Perhaps some of you remember that there was a song written about him too, by the Manic Street Preachers?
Hi Time Magazine
Hi Pulitzer Prize
Tribal scars in Technicolor
Bang bang club AK 47 hour
Kevin Carter
Hi Time Magazine
Hi Pulitzer Prize
Vulture stalked white piped lie forever
Wasted your life in black and white
Kevin Carter x3
The elephant is so ugly he sleeps his head
Machetes his bed Kevin Carter Kaffir lover forever
Click click click click click
Click himself under
Kevin Carter x3
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