There’s gonna be hell to pay


This week I read about a woman who’s been kicked out of church for not paying her tithes. Now I know what most of you are thinking – that’s pretty mean and un-Christian.

Well, you’re wrong. First African Baptist Church (FABC) of Bainbridge’s Pastor Derrick Mike is perfectly within bounds for turfing Josephine King of Georgia out on her 92-year old ass. Once one buys into the whole religious belief thing, one should sure as hell* expect to pay. Nothing’s free (except the coffee apparently), for anyone of any age.

In the video embedded in this article, you will notice that the FABC is one big-assed Church. It must surely cost a pretty penny to keep that monster suspended like belief afloat. Church management are reasonable to expect payment. It’s all business after all.

* If you’re wondering how an atheist can speak of the surety of hell, wonder no more. Hell does exist – in vast parts of Africa, the Middle East and other parts of the world, being ruled by either religious zealots or dictatorial psychopaths, or being torn apart by either or both.


Our Pathetic, Pissant President and his Party Pimps

No, that’s not the headlines you’ll be reading tomorrow if by some cruel twist of fate, Mitt Romney wins the US Presidential elections. No, even if that contemptible Republican weasel, wins, the American press and the people will accept him with open arms.

Strange yes, but that’s the Americans for ya.

I’m actually talking about Jacob Ged-like-you-know-his-name Zuma, the South African version of a George W Bush on ‘shrooms. I vouch that not even Georgie B on his worst day, could ever sink to the despicably deprived depths of Jacob Zuma. Just when you think he’s scraped the bottom of the barrel, he confounds everyone with masterful ease by scraping right through the bottom, to the foot of Satan’s long-drop.

This patriarchal parasite and his pompous henchmen stumble from one scandal to the next, while still holding the ignorant masses in awe of their dastardly deeds, with simple tools like the race card. And by carefully orchestrating the exhumation of apartheid and keeping it on a leash, these scoundrels have a handy hound to beat whenever they’re shown up for their incompetence, greed and lascivious behaviour.

But let’s not forget the President’s official spokes-stooge, Quarter-Pounder Maharaj. He reminds one of a dinosaur whenever he whines on behalf of the President.  He deserves to have a species named for him because of the pre-historic, mind-numbingly stupid, and suck-ass comments he makes. How about Stooge-O-Saurus-Rex?

But back to the President. In a short space of time he’s become the laughing-stock of the world. Thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster, that decent people around the world still love this beautiful country in spite of this clown and his African Neutered Circus, an organization known in more honourable times as the African National Congress.

It is almost  certain that history will remember Zuma as the worst President that South Africa ever had, eclipsing even the vilest apartheid-era politicians.

Unbelievably, none of this seems to trouble our President. More honourable people would have crawled back under a rock, under these circumstances, but our President continues to rock the needle of the disdain-o-meter, off the charts.

An Open Letter to Those Who Voted ANC

Dear South African voter,

This letter is aimed especially at you, you… and you. Yes, you who voted for the ANC repeatedly since 1994 – even after the whiff of the rotting carcass became overpowering.

There, there! It’s all right! I guess you couldn’t possibly know how many maggots were crawling around and living off that putrefying pile of pus. But now you do, don’t you?

You got your democracy. And it felt satisfying. Funny thing that. Really no better than a monarchy or aristocracy or dictatorship when managed by madmen, or power-hungry revolutionaries. But hey, it sounds less evil than apartheid, right? And why not? You get the satisfaction of seeing Black people go one up on the Whities for perpetrating acts of gross insanity.

How could you know that the politicians selected by the party, pretending to represent you, would grow fat with such ease on the taxes that you pissed stones to contribute to the country? How could you know that the treasury could spring so many leaks while in the control of the ANC? Why should reports of their profligate spending of R5 billion on catering, travel and entertainment be such a big deal? Even fat farks deserve a little pampering, right? And you can’t trust these Whitie newspapers to tell the truth, can you?

So R5 billion could have been used to build 1000’s of houses and pay for some services too. So what? It’s only Whities who are complaining. They’ve all got houses and services. They should all just shut the fark up and let us get on with not having any. Right?

Wait! What!

Are you seriously okay with being an average plonker who’s content with things as they are? Well, are you? Do you know how you’re affecting me with your antipathy, stupidity, or ignorance. Even if you don’t care about me, I do. But what about your children?

Are you also content to see them inherit a country ruined by ANC arrogance, incompetence and greed? Well? Are you?

You know what you need to do at the next elections. Don’t fark up again!

Up Yours,


Public disservice announcement for ambitious jihardiots

So you’re just not satisfied with blowing up the odd offending building or bus, anymore? Yeah that just does not cut it these days. The message is really not sinking in. People are just so goddamn stubborn, and simply will not accept the last true faith willingly. What you need is to ramp it up a bit – or perhaps a whole lot.

Yeah! Being blown up into 72 pieces is just not enough. What is required is more pieces and for that you need a bigger bang. Nuclear big!

Well you’re in luck because graphic designer Maximilian Bode has performed the complex calculations to enable you to determine the minimum number of nuclear devices necessary to blow up a whole city, a whole state or province, even the whole world. Because, let’s face it – nothing short of total Armageddon is going to make the infidels sit up and listen. Even if it may be rather difficult sitting up and listening in such a state of bodily separation.

Depending on the size of the device you deviously manage to get your hands on, it would take between 19 (Little Boy used in WW2) and 1 (B53 or Castle Bravo or Tzar Bomba modern-day device), to obliterate New York for instance. You need only be limited by your level of ambition, and capacity to satisfy hordes of virgins.

Off course securing the nuclear fuel for these delightful death devices may be a little tricky, but if you can worm your way into the good books of certain South African politicians who happen to also be senior members of the African Nuclear Commission (ANC), you may be able to secure what you need. All it takes is money, or a car or house or Breitling watch. But it also doesn’t hurt to first secure the services of a middle man, and South Africa has quite a few disgraced former Police Commissioners and assorted suspended “leaders” who will be quite happy to assist you, having had plenty experience in securing stuff.

So I’ll leave you to it then. Go fetch.

For he who is without a book

Were I to come across a burning house,

and not stopping, the abode to douse

I would rush in to save as many books as I could lug.

Finding no books, I’d return with a big jug

of gasoline, and bone dry wood

To end the wretch’s life for good.

My first attempt at poetry.

And what if the poor soul loves his reading on Kindle only?

Too bad I say, man cannot live on Kindle alone…

Animal Farm by George Orwell

My second reading of Animal Farm after a great many years was prompted by a critic of the South African government who like many people living here now, have eventually become disgusted with their [SA government’s] behaviour. The parallels between the book’s plot and characters and the political dispensation and rulers of present-day South Africa are quite remarkable.

An advocate of Socialism, Orwell was prompted to write Animal Farm to expose the false notion that the 1917 Russian Revolution was a progressive development for the millions of poor and oppressed Russians. However, the book eventually came to symbolise any form of political, social or economic oppression of ordinary people in the real world. To that effect, I’ll make some comparisons with South Africa after I’ve dealt with the plot.

The Plot

Inspired by Major, an ageing boar, a group of barn animals on Manor Farm, rebel against the oppressive and neglectful owner, Mr. Jones. After ejecting him and the other humans from the farm, the animals rename it Animal Farm, formulate an ideology called Animalism based on the philosophy proposed by Major, and draw up a charter called the Seven Commandments of Animalism which is painted on the barn wall.

The pigs gravitate into leadership positions, with Napoleon and Snowball being the early candidates. Napoleon however display his hunger for power quite early in the plot, and enlists the help of Squealer [can you think of a better name for a pig?], a pig with natural persuasive qualities, who develops into a propagandist of note. After the owner unsuccessfully tries to take back the farm, in which Snowball demonstrates both bravery and a skill for battle, he has a falling out with Napoleon over the building of a windmill. Napoleon with the help of some vicious dogs whose training he personally supervised, manage to chase Snowball off the farm, and appropriates the main leadership role.

Snowball becomes a convenient scapegoat through the rest of the novel for Napoleon who through Squealer find it quite easy to convince the other animals that he [Snowball] was to be blamed for all the mishaps and setbacks that occurred on the farm.

Napoleon organises and supervises various work details on the farm. Boxer, a horse proves to be a very willing worker, while the sheep [no surprises there] display a remarkable talent for gullibility.

Over the course of the years, Napoleon degenerates into a true despot, who hungers for material possessions as well. He moves into the main farmhouse and uses possessions of the human owners for his own comfort, while these remain forbidden to the other animals. We also notice how the Seven Commandments of Animalism slowly change into something else suiting the dictatorial style of Napoleon, or disappear altogether, amazingly with the approval and agreement of the other animals. Such is the depravity of Napoleon, that he forces false confessions out of some of the animals for imaginary misdeeds, and has them murdered by the dogs in the presence of the other animals.

As time passes, Napoleon collaborates with neighbouring farmers like Pilkington, in violation of the original Seven Commandments, to build a successful farming empire, and eventually the pigs begin to walk upright on their hind legs to mimic their former human oppressors. All this while as the pigs grew fatter, the other animals led a very stark and oppressed existence. The Seven Commandments are reduced to a single one: “All Animals Are Equal / But Some Are More Equal Than Others.”

The book closes on a scene with the animals looking in through the window of the farmhouse where a party is in progress, with the pigs as hosts and human guests drinking and arguing over a card game. We are told that the pigs had become indistinguishable from the humans.

Parallels in the South African Political Dispensation to Animal Farm

Mr. Jones Apartheid or former political dispensation
Manor Farm/Animal Farm South Africa
Major Old [respected] ANC leaders
Napoleon ANC [current leadership]
Snowball White folk, White business, capitalism
Squealer Mac Maharaj, any other ANC spin-doctor
Animalism Freedom Charter, Social Democracy
Seven Commandments New SA Constitution
Boxer Willing, skilled workforce
Sheep Gullible South Africans who continue to vote ANC
Vicious dogs Blue light convoys and personal protection of the ANC leaders
Napoleon’s materialism ANC’s penchant for self-enrichment and bling
Pilkington China as a trading partner
Pigs SA Government

So you thought roads were built for you?

Dear Tax Paying Citizen,

I’m sure that like everyone else who contributes substantially to the South African treasury, you thought that your money was being spent by government to build, upgrade and maintain public roads for your benefit.


Willies Mchunu the Transport MEC for the Kwa-Zulu Natal Province has just confirmed without actually meaning to, that public roads are built for speeding vehicles fitted with flashing blue lights, which among other things transport Members of government and other connected people. According to this government goon, ordinary motorists on public roads are to be merely tolerated, and will be guilty of violating the National Road Traffic Act if they do not make way for the blue-light-brigade.

Off course, I need not tell you that Willies Mchunu belongs to the ANC who are not averse to aping the African continent’s most despised dictators.

So let’s delve deeper into the other privileged beneficiaries of our national roads. There’s the traffic police and their cars with flashing blue lights. The roads were just made to support their talent for bribery and corruption. And let’s not forget how the levying of traffic fines, which takes precedence over traffic safety, contributes handsomely to the local coffers. How can we forget the South African Police Service? They also speed around in their official vehicles, blue lights flashing, rushing to their next act of brutality. Yes, they’re becoming quite adept at beating up and even killing members of the public.

But that’s not all. The construction of roads is a very lucrative business for well-connected contractors who tender for multi-million Rand projects; well-connected to the government that is. And let’s not forget the toll roads which are proliferating like a bad rash. Those who run the companies constructing and managing these blood-sucking operations are without doubt well-connected to government.

They’re all rolling in the dough, while you cough up the taxes, get forced out of their way on the roads your taxes built, get shot at by thugs masquerading as their bodyguards, and even prosecuted to add insult to injury.

Yes, my dear taxpayer, the roads were built by government for government…and their cronies.

Cometh the hour, cometh the Rapture

According to Harold Camping who predicted that all righteous Christians in the world will be Raptured on 21 May 2011, 6PM is the magical hour when it will start.

While Camping didn’t elaborate in which time zone it would occur, we would have to assume that he either meant 6PM local time California where he is based, or 6PM simultaneously around the world. I’m sure all of you who don’t qualify to ascend to Heaven on May 21 because you’re ridiculously rational, will immediately see the problem with the magical hour put forward by Camping. Those of you who are non-Christian believers shouldn’t even bother.

But rather than spoil the last moments on Earth for the selected few by posing these scientific questions which you no doubt have no appreciation for, I would just like to wish you well on your flight upwards to Heaven. May you get great service and an open bar.

I would like to dedicate the song Rapture, by Blondie to all you good Rapturees. I hope you take one last listen to some good earthly tunes before you subject yourselves to an eternity of harp music. This particular version which is a clever mix of Blondie and Jim Morrison of the Doors, may not be to your purist tastes, but just live a little before you depart.

I’m sure those of you who will remain behind like me to face the Tribulation, will appreciate this too while we party on regardless.

How about a Spokespersons handbook?

Take a bow Dumisani Nkwamba. You’ve just joined a long-lost of ANC government spokespersons who are absolute masters at scoring own goals.

There must be a school somewhere in South Africa that’s churning out these idiots by the dozen. Every government department seems to have one or two of them. I’m beginning to wonder if that hare-brained political school that Malema so proudly launched a few years ago, has anything to do with the current crop of foot-in-mouth-diseased spokespersons who have been let loose in the halls of power.

Dumisani happens to be the spokesperson for the Minister of Public Service and Administration. Yes, the self-same bureaucrats who saw fit to keep the Ministerial Handbook secret for the four years since its approval by Cabinet; a document that governs Ministerial expenditure and that should have been rightfully in the public domain.

Needless to say, the only reason the Ministerial Handbook is such hot property right now is because of highly questionable and extravagant expenditure by the members of the ANC government.

The esteemed spokesperson thinks that it was illegal for the Mail & Guardian to publish the Handbook. How strange for a spokesperson of the party governing (or so it seems) this country to accuse someone else of undermining the Constitution? Presumably the ruling Party think they have sole rights to undermining the Constitution?

Dumisani’s hissy-fit about the Mail & Guardian jumping the gun in publishing the document is probably justified seeing as how the remarkably efficient Ministry of Public Service and Administration have been hard at work “in the process of declassifying the document”…for the last four years.

But seriously, these idiots in government are clueless about how the South African public and the world is laughing at their every act of utter stupidity.

Perhaps it’s time they published a Handbook for Spokespersons. They can keep this handbook SECRET as long as they abide by the rules and we are spared their silly statements.

It’s either that or STFU. Somehow I can’t picture them keeping their lips sealed for too long; that much inanity can’t be kept in.

Aaarrrrggghhh! It's started…

May is upon us. The electioneering has started in earnest for this month’s local government elections.

The pompous pricks who have failed to deliver on their previous promises will be at it again – reviving some old pledges with pitiful excuses and spewing up new assurances with the same crafty old vigour.

When the rhetoric runs dry, sometimes the dancing dodos just let their bodies take over – previous election results seems to confirm that it works.

M&G Online, April 26, 2011

If you’re not too concerned or can’t be bothered about how your country is fucked up by seedy, lard-arse politicians, feel free to join the dance of deceit.