as i see it

I must confess, I have a handle on most things in life. For example, I understand why the chicken crossed the road and the tortoise won the race against the hare. Surprise surprise, I even realise why little Miss Muffet peed in her broeks when the spider sat beside her.

What really short circuits my brain waves and blows my mind, are the bloggers who constantly promote their idol Jesus and God and Angels and Fairies, and Saints and etc etc. Where do these lost souls come from?

Christ all mighty, I have come across people with a "one track mind" Usually it has to do with sex, which if you really think about it, is a far more pleasant subject than expounding the existence of god and the life and times of some oke who was nailed to a cross.

You normally find these sad and sorry people, who constantly spread medieval propaganda to be very lonely, desperately unhappy, and who have the intellect of a peanut.

I would like to name and shame the bloggers who constantly blog about their idols like some groupies who idolize Black Sabbath and Ossie Osmond. However I shall desist in doing so, lest they report me to the "Devil" and highlight the fact that I will never ever see the inside of "Heaven" 

Have a "sinful" week and enjoy life.

Oooh, I needed a good fart!!!

Come on guys come up with a caption

Don't get me wrong, I was pumped up during the SWC. Took my eye off the ball some what (No pun intended) but now that it's over, let's refocus, come down to earth and face reality. There's work to be done.

We need to find buyers for Ellis Park, Newlands and Kingsmead. Maybe some BEEEE consortium, sponsored by the Government will purchase the stadiums and convert the area into a second hand car lot. There's money to be made in kick backs, under hand negotiations and fraud.  

Moreover Selebi must be sentenced today, and be put away for 15 years. We must brace ourselves and prepare for more bullshit from Julius Malema. Thanks to Eskom for donating a few thousand tickets to Juju and his cronies. At least that kept him off his soap box for a month.

The cops need to get back to work and find the killer who shot Lolly "Al Capone" Jackson. Glen Agliotti must now get his day in court so that we may find out whether he was behind the murder of Brett Kebble.

Jacob Zuma must rewrite his grade 6 exams so that he can pass his reading exam. The man is grossly inarticulate.

McBride must get his court appearance over and done with. He needs 5 years in jail so that he may learn some self discipline.

So much to do, so little time. 

Hey, please don't get me wrong, but I don't have a problem with people who pray and worship God, Jesus, Mother Mary, Saint whatsesname, Mohammad, Peter Pan or Paris Hilton. To each his own.

What does freak me out, is someone who thanks Jesus Christ, God and the fairies in the garden after a rugby or cricket match when they have just scored a try or a century.

Who remembers a fellow by the name of Hansie Cronje. He was known to pray with his team mates in the dressing room before a match and ask Jesus to help them to perform well against the opposition. Obviously Jesus was overworked at times having to answer a few million prayers across the world and the Proteas lost their game. And then, as we all know, our very own Hansie got caught with his hands in the cookie jar and he blamed the Devil. What a fucking moron.

What about Bakkies Botha, who thanked Jesus yesterday for the talent he had committed to his charge as he ran onto the field against the All Blacks. 4 minutes later Bakkies head butted a little scrum half who was half his size. Not only did he head butt the man, he did it while lying on the okes back. What a fucking coward. 

Oh, and then we have Abie De Villiers. Every time he scores a ton against the opposition he tells the world that if it was not for Jesus, his father, God and all the fairies in heaven for giving him the talent to play a game of cricket, he would not have been able to perform. The next game Abie was out for a "duck" He had nothing to say. What a fucking retard.

The cherry on the top was when an evangelist by the name of Jimmy Swaggard, who made millions singing the praises of Jesus on TV, was caught humping some crab infested prostitute, while still married to the chair lady of his church. What a fucking scum bag.

Makes you think, does it not. 

Yeah, yeah, I know it's old news, but Paris Hilton and her playboy playmate must surely be nominated for the "Dumb, dumb dumber" yearly award. Rumour has it that Ms Hilton confessed to thinking she was at a Britney Spears rock concert in PE, and not a soccer match, when caught smoking dope with her mates.

Besides, how do you manage being singled out among 10,000 Xhosa and Zulu soccer fans who all smoke "gunga" at these events. The mind boggles just thinking about it.

Mind you, not knowing that she was violating her probation when caught driving with a suspended drivers licence in down town LA, just shows you how dumb this chick is. It cost her 23 days in jail.

I must admit I felt a sense of pride when she gushed how much she loved South Africa. When asked to point out where South Africa was after being shown a map of the world, she pointed to Cambodia. Say no more.

How can Ms Hilton's parents allow her to roam around the world with out her leash. I mean any unfortunate person who comes into direct contact with her is liable to catch a heavy dose of herpes.  

Saw her being interviewed at the opening of a night club called "Leather and Whips" Asked whether she was into a bit of spanky, hanky panky, she admitted to her and Britney having tried it out with their teddy bears.

Apparently our Paris is quite articulate. Here are some profound answers she gave to questions asked at interviews.

CNN: So tell us Paris, how how is your new job?

Paris: It's awesome. I am having so much fun

CNN: The time spent in rehab, how was it?

Paris: Awesome, I had so much fun

CNN: And the days spent in Jail, tell us about it?

Paris: awesome, I had so much fun

Ja well no fine

Have a lekker day  

Mark Twain once said "Every one talks about the weather but no one does any thing about it"

Well I must confess, in my home, I am forced to peruse the weather forecast every morning, if only to satisfy my wife's curiosity. You see, she won't get dressed unless I inform her as to what the temprature for the day will be. My usual source of information is News24.

Now, the other day I consulted my major source of information on news24. The informant predicted that the temprature would be "5-13c, more sun than clouds and nippy" So with out hesitation I shouted from the study that the forecast for the day would be "13c max and nippy" ( nippy, roughly translated to those weather gurus means "Fucking cold') Wife in turn shouts from the bedroom that there will no time for a "knippie" (roughly translated for those who are unformiliar with the afrikaans word, which means "a quicky in the shower) 

Now I beg the question? Why do the weather gurus substitute "fucking cold" with the descriptive word " nippy"

Johannesburg seven day forecast.

Wednesday	4-15°C		Early fog followed by sunny skies. Nippy.
Thursday	5-15°C		Sprinkles late. Morning clouds. Nippy.
Friday	6-15°C		Afternoon clouds. Nippy.
Saturday	4-15°C		Mostly sunny. Nippy.
Sunday	6-16°C		Afternoon clouds. Nippy.
Monday	5-13°C		More sun than clouds. Nippy.
Tuesday	5-14°C		Drizzle. Afternoon clouds. Nippy.
Go to Weather24

And then we have "Sprinkles" The only "Sprinkles" I know is the "chocolate" variety on a cake or double thick malt.  

I don't know about you guys, but I would like to be introduced to the person who invented the Vuvuzela. It would give me immense pleasure to stick my finger in his eye, smack him on the head with a baseball bat, kick him in the nuts and feed his limp body to the lions.

I mean really. Watching a soccer match while 70,000 drunken, brainless, retards blow on an instrument that makes a noise equivalent to a million chain saws, is madness to say the least.

Every survey that has been done is in favour of banning the vuvuzela at soccer matches. Where are the days when one can hear the roar of the crowd when a goal is scored. Or better still the applause of 70,000 spectators when Rooney dribbles past 4 opponents and  makes a great pass to Gerrard.

Instead we are subjected to a constant drone equivelant 10 million bees. The vuvuzela to my mind is a "no brainer"

Dear World Cup visitors,

Let the battle commence.  

Look, I have no problem with people suing each other when they feel they have been wronged. I for one would sue the pants off Julius Malema if ever he called me a "bastard" an "agent" or accused me of hiding "rubbish" inside my trousers. My only concern would be if Judge "Sober as a Judge" Motata was presiding over the case.

I mean, wasn't he the oke who called every white man a bastard when he drove his state sponsored Jaguar through Richard Baird's fence while pissed out of his mind. Crikey moses, in the first place, Judge Motata would throw the case out of court on the grounds that I was a pale face, secondly he would fine me R100,000 for wasting the courts time and thirdly I would be deported to the salt mines of Siberia, never to see my family again.

Anyways, I digress. So this fat chick In America, with an arse the size of 10 water melons, is suing "Google Map" for supplying her with "unsafe directions" Apparently she wanted to get from one City park to another and googled the directions on her blackberry.

The shortest route was a busy road with very narrow pavements. Being a fat, hamburger chowing lady, half her butt was waddling down the road and the other half was taking up space in the road. Now instead of waddling against the traffic as she was taught to do when she was in nursery school, she waddled with the traffic.

Along comes a Harley Davidson, mounted by a mean looking Hells Angel, doing 60 miles over the speed limit, and the fat pedestrian wakes up in casualty with a pair of Harley Davidson handle bars stuck up her BUM. 

She is now suing Google for $100,000. Only in America.

PS. Next time I visit the States, I will sue the first person who farts in my company. The charge will be for "Disturbing the peace"

Have a lekker day.         

Look, I realise it's winter, but if you need fire wood to warm your shack, chop down a tree. Telephone poles don't grow again.

Must admit the above picture reminds me of the state of the Nation. As some of you know my Internet has been down for close to 3 weeks now. No matter what I try, Telkom cannot inform me as to when I can expect my ADSL line to be up and running again.

I am told that a cable was stolen. My question is, how long was this fucking cable. Secondly if it was over one kilometer long, how the hell did the thieves dig it up, load it on their one ton bakkie, and ride away into the sunset or moonlight without some one noticing it.

Phoning the call center at Telkom and explaining my problem is like trying to explain to a nusery school child the theory of relativity. They don't care a fuck.

Anyways, excuse me while I go to the kitchen and solve my problem. 

See you in the next world

Have a lekker day    

I must admit, I was at a loss to understand why a book entitled "The Man in the Mirror" was being discounted so soon after being launched. I mean it was launched at R192.95 and now you can buy it at any book store for R2.00. For those of you who have just awoken after 20 years of slumber, the book is all about the life and times of some "ruckbee" player by the name of Joost v d Westhuizen.

Shit man, the dude went on the road for 2 months promoting his "life story" This required him having to confess to all the sordid details of his extra marital sexepades. I mean, this while being married to some pom pom girl who used to sing to 50,000 screaming Bull's surporters before a rugby match at Loftus. I think that this is how they met.

One bright and sunny day, the Bulls were playing the Sharks at Loftus. When Joost ran onto the field, he happen to encounter a pom pom girl by the name of Amor, who was running back to the change rooms after having entertained the crowd. She was wearing "next to nothing" which basically means, she was almost "kaal gat"

While running past this chick, Joost shouted "Hey girl, ek wil jou soen" which, if roughly translated, means "Hey you sexy "ding" I want's to pomp you till your eyes pop out" Amor in turn was so flattered, she responded by shouting "Meet you in the car park after the game, stud"

Joost went on to play the entire game with a hard on, while Amor waited for Joost in the back seat of her 1964 Beetle parked in the car park. Needles to say the Sharks won 78-0 as the Bulls were playing with 14 men the entire game. Joost went on the "walk about" on 3 legs, as concentrating on the game was impossible.

Amor went on to marry Joost, and ended up living in a mansion in "Dainfern" She is now divorcing her "stud" because as she says "She can no longer trust her man to be faithful" Hello, am I missing something here???? 

Joost went on to sell only 10 books as most of his potential readers would have been Bulls surporters. The problem is that 95% of them can't fucking read. (chuckle chuckle :))

Amor went on to sell the details of her life, marriage and divorce to "Huisgenoot" so that all the "tannies" who read the rag mag can say "Ag shame, arme meisie, she deserves a better man"

Have a lekker week

I can't imagine anything worse than having my wisdom teeth extracted by an intoxicated dentist using a long nose pliers, hammer and chisel.

Well, I am afraid there is. Try phoning Telkom to report a fault. I have more chance in conquering Mount Everest in a wheel chair, than those morons fixing my Internet line in less than 3 weeks.

What about asking and pleading with the City of Johannesburg to reconnect my electricity after refusing to pay R2,784,746.00 for one month's usage.

And then there is having to pay a visit to my local bank. I must admit that I am a member of the enlightened tribe who subscribe to Internet banking. But alas, on certain occasions, one is forced to personally visit the bank to collect a credit card or cheque book. 

On the eve of such a visit, I normally haul out my old text books on "anger management" and do a quick revision. On the day of the visit, I inject myself with "keepcalmatallcostmyhemaphol"

Must admit my last visit to the bank was not to bad. In fact it was a hoot. Entered the banking hall where major renovations were taking place. True to form there was the usual sign the size of a bumper sticker.

Dear valued customer 

We regret the inconvenience while renovations are underway.

Ja well no fine. If I was management I would rephrase the sign to read:

Dear customer

You are entering this war zone at your own risk. Any unfortunate moron who breaks a leg while trying to negotiate a pile of cement, does so with out our knowledge.

As for old ladies in wheel chairs, please avoid wheeling over carpentry nails as we will not be responsible for punctures to your bald tyres. No road side assistance will be available in order for you to get to the nearest teller.

Further more, all you absent minded retards who enter the banking hall, contemplating the meaning of life and wondering whether Jesus was gay or straight, to you we say, do not walk under any ladder as you may be cursed with bad luck for the rest of your days on earth.

For those of you who are inconvenienced by all the bad planning by management, to you we say, tough shit. We have a job to do and one of those functions are putting your health and welfare at risk.

PS: Management do not hold themselves responsible for any broken leg, crushed skulls, sinus attacks, dust mites crawling up your backside and/or dry cleaning bills. 

I have a dream, or should I say, I have a wild fantasy. Besides dreaming about winning the lotto, I sometimes imagine myself being able to walk into the office of the CEO of Telkom, grabbing the fucker by his short and curlies (no not down there, on his head) and head butting his flat nose until it is flatter. He he he, chuckle chuckle chuckle. Then I would enjoy hitting the fucker with a baseball bat, kicking him in his nuts, and shoving a hand grenade up his arse.

The only problem is that the fucker would not be in his office as he is always out to lunch.

Now you may ask why I am so angry and frustrated. Well on Sunday the 15th May my business ADSL line went down. I own a small business, employ 3 consultants, operate 3 computers and my entire business is Internet dependent. It is now the 26th of May and I still do not have internet connection.

The day before yesterday, after my one hour electro shock therapy, my staff releasing me from my straight jacket and then swallowing double my recommended prescribed "happy pills" I phoned Telkom and asked if they could give me an estimated time of repairs so that I could plan my business around their incompetence. I got a very informative reply.

Eish, me don't know.

Anyway, yesterday I walked into my local MTN store, produced my ID, proof of my business adress, informed them that all our cell phone contracts are signed with them and that I would like to purchase 3x3G modems, the fastlink E1820 with extended data 1 GB each.

The very helpful and informed saleslady was more than happy to comply. She said that I would be up and running within 2 to 24 hours. When I casually mentioned that I did not understand the meaning of 24 hours but comprehended and understood the meaning of 2 hours, she looked at me and nodded.

She must have noticed that "look in my eyes" People and especially my family have told me that that "look in my eyes" brings on a completely new meaning to their lives.

SO BE IT!!!

Anyways, so I walks into this store called Game and I tune this chick with a fat arse that I have a problem. In fact Zuma would have gripped her stukkend and made her his 17th wife. She checks me out like I have just arrived in my dune buggy from Mars. I explain to her that I bought a Russel Hobbs toaster the the day before tomorrow and when I got to my possy the blerry thing was inoperative.  I think I confused her ever so lightly by using the word "inoperative"

So she looks at me again with this glazed look on her pan and she articulates a very profound word.

She says "HUH"

I says "This blerry expensive thing I bought here the day before tomorrow (today) is "in it's moer man, I mean girl"

She shakes her head from side to side and says "Aaikonna" (Sic) At the time I did not grasp that what she said was "no, impossible, we do not sell broken blerry appliances at Game"

So I says "Hey don't swear at me. Take me to your leader"

So she waddles off in slow motion, walking 2 metres ahead of her backside. Ten minutes later a lady who by all account was the supervisor walks up to me. "You got problem? she demands. Fuck these people are not very talkative I scheme.

"Yes, this thing (pointing to the toaster) it not work. I plug in, it goes phhhhit, whoosh, bang, blows all lights in my house. 

"No problem" she tunes me. She takes a box off the shelf, removes another blerry Russel Hobbs from it's packaging and replaces my broken blerry toaster which goes phhhhit, whoosh, bang into the box.

So the next customer who buys a toaster will be the proud owner of my blerry Russel Hobbs which will not even go phhhhitt.  

Hey guys let's get real. Every time a journalist or a member of the ANC tells me it's night time, I "open the curtains" to ensure the sun is not shining. In other words, I don't believe them. I read some where that some dick head from SAFA  has predicted that Banana Banana has a very good chance of winning the world cup.

I have more chance of giving birth to a mountain lion than our football team winning the world cup. Now don't get me wrong. I am a patriotic South African. I mean check the wing mirrors on my wroom wroom. SA flag and the whole bang shoot. I even ensured that the red colour is on top and not at the bottom. Yeah you dim wits out there, the red goes on top and not the blue.

Now where was I? Ah yes. So Monday night, for my sins, I watched the Proteas cricket team play Pakistan in the 20/20 world cup. Half way through the SA innings my poor dogs were cowering behind my wife's back. You see, I tend to lose it some times and in my frustration I shout at the TV. Like "Hey Smith you fucking dick head, my 10 year old niece can score more runs than you. Better still. " Gibbs you fucking arse hole, you play cricket like a drunken alcoholic at a wedding.

Thank god for the Blue Bulls and Stormers.

On a more serious note. I read that Juju Malema has been forced to attend night school. Apparently it's a course on anger management. He will be taught how to control his temper next time he unintentionally hammers his dick onto a piece of wood while attending extra mural woodwork classes. 

Anyways must run. Have to attend an anger management course on "How not to shout at the TV when the Proteas are playing cricket, thereby scaring my dogs shitless.

      Sorry my boy, won' shout again

Now you guys need to understand that I do not hold myself to be a member of MENSA. In fact I have an IQ equivelant to the average homo sapien. Oh god, did I hear someone ask what MENSA and homo sapien means? (see what I mean?)

Anyways, where was I. Ah yes!

So this dumb chick is asked by airport security in Bloemfontein what's in her luggage. She replies jokingly that she has a bomb and machine gun hidden in her suitcase. Security promply grips her by the arse and frog marches her to the nearest jail cell. This granny obviously has never read a newspaper, watched TV, or flown on an aircraft before. Thank god we were not all born in Cape Town. (*Chuckle chuckle chuckle*)

Talk about "scoring an own goal" Where are all those dumb half wits who call themselves journalists. According to them, Eugene Terrblanche was having gay sex with two of his farm workers before he was killed. It now transpires that he was sleeping when he was hacked to death. Where the fuck do they get their facts from?

What really has me rolling in the isles from laughter is the fact that some mampara calling himself a defence attorney is entering a plea of "self defence" on behalf of his client. This after it was established that ET was asleep after drinking himself into a coma.

I see Juju Malema has been pretty quite as of late. Me thinks that "bonking" Zuma gave him a few "warm klappe" Not that it will keep Juju down for long. I am sure he is taking time out to conjure up some more bullshit.

Any way must run.

Until next time 

Let's face it. Journalism in this country has hit an all time low. Newspaper scribes remind me of a character named "Walter Mitty" Who is Walter Mitty you may ask? Well he was a meek mild man with a vivid fantasy life. At times he would imagine himself to be a wartime pilot, or better still an emergency room surgeon, saving lives. Some say this fictitious character had a major drinking problem. Not unlike some journalist I would imagine. 

Take the Julius Malema disciplinary hearing saga. First it was to be held on May the 3rd. Then it was not to be held at all. At one stage all charges had been dropped. Then all charges had been re-instated. Then he was cited on 5 charges. Then 7. Some said 16. Others said 3 and a half. Oh fuck off and die all of you who cannot get to the truth. 

IS THERE ANY JOURNALIST OUT THERE WHO KNOWS WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON AND WHAT THE TRUTH IS!!!!!

Now, I wouldn't be surprised if I read in the media that the so called "George Smith" who neatly locked the house after popping Lolly Jackson 15 times with a 9mm parabellum, was in fact a transvestite who fell on "its" head while doing a pole dance in one of the clubs. Hey, that sounds plausible.

Let's try the head line. "The so called "George Smith" has left the country" Next day the head line reads "The so called "George Smith" has not left the country" Fuck would someone PLEASE make up their mind. I am CONFUSED.

And then one day we will read. "The so called "George Smith" was found hiding in a closet wearing a pink tutu while embracing the late Lolly Jackson's favourite parrot"

Give me a break!!!!

The past week has demonstrated just how unprofessional some of our newspaper journalists are. Where are the days when journalist took pride in reporting the truth. Today it is all about selling newspapers. 

Let's take the murder of ET. When the news broke the man was reported to be anything from 69 to 78 years of age. If the reporters had pride in their work and checked their facts they would have found that the fucker was born in 1944. My calculation puts the man at 66.

Breaking news had us believe that he was murdered because of a wage dispute. We were then told by some uninformed, rumour mongering, unethical and unprincipled moron that ET was killed because his dick was only 2" long and his lover was frustrated. What about the "fact" that while in jail the man had a lover named "goodluck" Malema.

I mean where does the media get their "facts" from. The dead man was found in bed with his head chopped in half, his left ear was found in the lounge, his dick was hanging from the ceiling fan and all his fingers were missing. We now hear that it may have been a case of self defence. Ja well no fine.

Oh I nearly forgot. First there was a condom found and then there was no condom found. To top it all, some dick head calling himself a journalist, reported that ET and his "two lovers" were having a threesome, the 15 year old who was "married" to the 27 year old accused, got jealous and decided to kill the instigator.

Now my fellow blogger's. If you are as gullible as I, then you would have believed all the above bullshit.

Here is what happened. Et sent the two labourers (accused) to the bottle store to buy some Brandewyn and Coke. After all it was Saturday and ET who was a lonely old man. So to overcome his loneliness he used to drink himself into a coma on Saturday nights. The two accused in knowing this, decided to rob the old man and make it look like a sexual murder. They found him passed out in the bedroom and attacked him with a panga and lead pipe, killed him and shouted "rape" QED