Although this is a label more honest than most, naming your brand of jelly after the area of the pig from which the product was made, does not a solid selling point make.
It’s Thursday. I thought yesterday was Thursday, which ruined my Wednesday.
I don’t have much to say but I’m not letting a little think like that stop me from inflicting my “not much to say” on you.
I fear I have orangitis – a disorder that arises out of eating too many oranges.
A Blue whale has been found dead on a beach in New Zealand.
The repo rate has been cut by 1%.
A woman has given birth on the London Underground. Don’t know who that’s grosser for…the woman or fellow travellers politely ignoring the miracle of life. HA!
The Guardian reports that media workers are the biggest consumers of wine, drinking on average one and a half bottles a week.
Last night a large group of us headed to the Market Theatre to watch the masterful John Kani himself starring in his own play, Nothing But The Truth. The scuttlebutt is that Kani won’t be playing the role of Sipho Makhaya after this run ends, so grab the amazing opportunity to watch him in this absorbing and extremely moving play. Seriously, how wrong can you go forking out just R50 on Tuesday night for such entertainment?
Kani was wonderful, as was Leleti Khumalo as his daughter Thando. I would say more about the play, but I don’t think it would do it justice.
Apartheid minister Vlok acknowledges foot fetish
Apartheid Minister of Law and Order, Adriaan Vlok, has admitted that he has a foot fetish which shows no sign of abating.
This week, Vlok washed the feet of 13 former police and army members in a dramatic gesture of apology for leading them down the “wrong path” when he was their leader.
Herman Fotherington-Smythe, leader of the Gauteng chapter of Foot Fetishists Anonymous, said there was never any doubt that Vlok had an obsession with feet: “Look, the guy has publicly washed 24 pairs of feet in the past three years. Unless he is an aspiring pedicurist, this is not normal behaviour,” Fotherington-Smythe snorted.
Three years ago, Vlok washed the feet of Rev Frank Chikane, who had been targeted for assassination by Vlok during the apartheid regime. That was followed by a mass washing of the feet of 10 widows and mothers of anti-apartheid activists, the ‘Mamelodi 10’. He’s also alleged to have expressed a desire to wash the feet of pop group Bright Blue, for supporting the ban on their song “Weeping”.
Fotherington-Smythe has urged Vlok to address local foot fetish societies about his problem, in an attempt to live freely as “footie”, as foot fetishists are known in that community.
“As we all know from TV shows like 7th Heaven and Days of our Lives, if you don’t admit you have a problem, and tell everyone you know that you have a problem, God will hate you and continue to make you want to touch dirty feet,” Fotherington-Smythe warned.
It was rumoured that Vlok was spotted this weekend holding a banner shaped like a foot at Drummond during the Comrades Marathon, apparently offering to give tired athletes a foot rub, while apologising for the role he might have played in their “mal” decision to run 89 kilometres in one go.
The Dorothy Parker Divas, a.k.a my bookclub, met yesterday morning at Maggot’s abode, where she served us cinnamon buns and other delicious breakfast things. Oh yes, and wine. In fact, when D arrived with the newest Diva – her two-month old sprog – she all but wept with happiness when Maggot offered her a glass of wine.
Pictured here is A with the book he kindly donated to the bookclub, called “A Boy Called Elton”. It meets DPD requirments completely: it is short, the print is large and the title of the book is easily distinguishable from the name of the author.
Later yesterday, I met Orange Rottweiler for cake at BluBird centre, most unfortunately situated a stone’s throw away from Wanderers cricket ground. Yesterday happened to be the final IPL cricket match, which obviously freaked out all at BluBird as their parking has been used, in the past, by those attending the cricket. Not yesterday, however.
On arrival at the centre, I was examined with a most beady eye (or two) belonging to a makeshift security guard, placed there to discern if I was lying when I screeched “NO! I am NOT going to the cricket, I just want to park and eat some CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!” The dude shoved a ticket into my hand which warned that if I stayed for even one minute more than three hours, I would have to pay a R500 fine. Not exactly great for winning over customers.
This morning I decided to pay SARS what I owe that soul-sucking, monstrous instution. This is easier said than done. After three attempts at using the approved beneficially system on Internet banking, I gave up and emailed SARS for help. This was my response:
We are committed to exceeding SARS Service Charter standards. You will receive resolution and/or feedback within 21 working days.
What I would like to know is on what planet a lag time of 21 working days would be considered exceeding service charter standards? Does SARS’ service charter state that the organisation needs to respond to queries before the ice age arriveth? Before South Africans start voting for candidates who don’t simply perpetuate ineptitude? Before the Pope decides that lambasting the use of condoms is not a particularly helpful position to take? Only then – perhaps – would 21 working days seems a little more acceptable.
Anyway, I’ll get back to you all in a month’s time to let you know if I will ever be able to pay SARS what it’s decided I owe it.
Let’s say that you’ve been residing in a place for about a month that has prevented you from accessing newspapers, the Internet, the radio and television. You are newsless; without information; kind of dull… in essence, you’re like most of the world (this is hypothetical, my dear reader – I know YOU would not actively choose this state of being…would ya?)
Let’s assume you’re finally allowed access to aforementioned media, and the first three headlines you lay eyes on are the following:
– Zimbabwe healther
– Women who smoke more prone to lung damage: study
– Mother feeds baby black tea
You might ask yourself what you now know, as a result of reading these headlines, that you did not know before. The answer is a resounding “NOTHING”.
Zimbabwe is healthier, eh? Than what? A Chris Hani Baragwanath AIDS patient with a CD4 count of 20? Than chocolate? Deep fried lard?
Women who smoke more prone to lung damage, eh? Is this really news? Perhaps next in the series of breakthrough medical headlines of this nature is, “Men more likely to have a penis,” and “Drowning likely to cause death”.
However, without doubt the worst of these offenders is the headline pronouncing that a mother fed her baby black tea. And so? Have we all not been fed tea since we were tots? Is giving your infant black tea akin to feeding her arsenic? Resisting the urge to click out of the website, I read on in order to try discover what the story was behind this headline, not because the headline was so well written and interesting that it basically forced me to read on (surely what headlines are meant to do?)
The story is apparently about how infant formula still hasn’t been delivered
to Gauteng government hospitals, so mothers are resorting to feeding their
babies tea because there is nothing else to give them.
Sigh. Where have all the decent subeditors gone? Subeditors who actually read and understand the stories for which they’re writing headlines? Subs who can do the work for which they were employed, apparently.
Freedom Front Plus leader, Dr Pieter Mulder, has wooed world-renowned chef, Gordon Ramsay, from his new South African restaurant, with an offer to take up the position as personal cook for the FF Plus leader.
Mulder spokesman, Hardus Jansen van den Poggenpoel, was quoted as saying that since the party’s leader accepted the post of Deputy Minister of Agricultural Affairs in President Jacob Zuma’s Cabinet, Mulder realised that he would have to broaden his culinary tastes so as to fit in at Cabinet lekotlas. ”Dr Mulder realised he needed someone who knew how to cook black,” Jansen van den Poggenpoel added.
Mulder has subsequently been banned from entering hotelier and pseudo-American, Sol Kerzner’s new Cape Town Hotel, the One & Only, from where Ramsay was poached. Situated at the V&A Waterfront, the One & Only is one of half a dozen such Kerzner erections scattered around the world…all named the One & Only. Kerner was reportedly extremely aggravated that the top chef had left his hotel, adding that it would be a bugger to lure Jamie Oliver away from those British school kitchens.
When asked why British chef Ramsay was selected to cook ethnic South African cuisine, rather than local chefs well versed in preparing dishes such as morogo, skop and mopani worms, Jansen van den Poggenpoel replied that it was an affirmative action appointment, and that it was rumoured that Ramsay was an anti-abortionist, thus securing his appointment.
Commenting on his new role as Mulder’s chef, Ramsay frothed, “What the fuck do I fucking know about fucking braising worms? I cook whatever I fucking feel like, cocksucker!”
Ramsay will take up residence in Mulder’s servants quarters, but will be allowed to have his family stay on Sundays.
***Ok, fine, this is a joke
Saw “White Wedding” this weekend, after hearing from a colleague that it was very good. I’m pleased to say that it really, really was. In fact, it was totally delightful.
This is the first genuinely funny South African movie I’ve ever seen. And apart from that, most of the characters are extremely engaging, particularly the two male leads, mostly Kenneth Nkosi (Elvis) and Rapulana Seiphemo (Tumi).
One of the highlights was a standout scene near the beginning of the film where the furious girlfriend of Tumi collects Elvis from the bus station and takes him to Tumi’s flat. Unfortunately, I can’t find the name of the girlfriend character, but she was marvellous.
On a more serious note, the movie really did seem to capture aspects of ‘real’ South Africa that are difficult to accept – the fact that small towns full of racists still exist; that a white woman travelling with two black men will most likely raise suspicion and fear; that a woman wandering around on her own for a prolonged period of time stands a chance of being raped and/or murdered.
Importantly, though, the movie also highlighted how tiny acts of kindness by individuals can affect the lives of very many in the most profound ways.
The movie featured also featured British actor Jodie Whittaker as Rose, Zandile Msutwana as Ayanda, and Marcel Van Heerden as Fanie.
Please go see it.