As if a KFC snackbox wasn’t nauseating enough, the other day I came across a bottle of Parlotones wine. It was rose’, a wine much like their music – produced to appeal to the largest slice of an undiscerning demographic.
The week before at the cinema I was subjected to a 3D music video by none other than the Parlotones – an Olympian leap onto an already groaning bandwagon.
(Honestly, what’s next, 3D Antiques Roadshow?)
And the week before that, in the esteemed publication Heat (SA’s only weekly glossy), I couldn’t help feeling my bowels quake at the sight of a sidebar laughing at a new shoe on the market complete with a little Parlotones logo stitched into the side. The header was something droll – “Step into the Parlotones’ shoes”.
Now I’ll be honest, I’m not a fan. Even though I bought a Parlotones cd the other month for R80 I haven’t got past the first thirty seconds of the opening track because it’s just so annoying – the kind of wimpy commercial rock that could only appeal to upper-middle class white girls from Herschel. And I have to admit I fucking hate the Clockwork Orange eyeliner. So this is clearly not an objective opinion, but I don’t think anyone could reasonably disagree with the statement that the Parlotones are massive sell-outs.
(Upon writing, it has been brought to my attention a limited edition {only 5 million produced} Parlotones laptop is available… for fuck’s sake!)
Then I got to thinking about the fine line between art and commercially-produced stool-samples, its success based purely on the scope of appeal. Are television ads for McDonald’s or Mr Price modelling shoots considered art?
And then I got to thinking that maybe the Parlotones don’t consider themselves artists at all but merely entertainers or more specifically a brand. If they are only, unashamedly, in it for the money then is there anything wrong with branding their logo on anything from Pick ‘n Pay milkshakes to kwaai hubcaps?
Not at all, I suppose, as long as they don’t expect us to regard them as anything more than whores willing to sell themselves to the highest bidder.
And still then I got to thinking that if it was me being offered large sums of money to promote KFC or some shoe company would I turn it down or would I sell my creativity to the Devil (because make no mistake, Colonel Sanders is the Antichrist) (and make no further mistake, your creativity is your soul)?
I would love to say of course I wouldn’t be such a hack, but how could I know unless I’ve been in that situation?
I suppose that even rock stars need you eat – man cannot live on barely-legal groupie-sex alone – so maybe getting a fast food company to sponsor species-36 burgers for life or a clothing manufacturer making sure you don’t run around like a rural farm kid for a year or so isn’t that bad. Who am I to judge?
It might lose them respect, but I’m sure it gets them paid and laid.
However, I can’t help thinking that in the long run it’s a bad idea, because when the tennis-tekkies are worn out and the fingers licked clean what will they have left?
So cheers to the Parlotones’ no doubt forthcoming Christmas album – who needs credibility when you’ve got money?
I Warned You About That 3D TV
When the world ends you can only imagine the whining. “Ooh, you didn’t tell me about it.” ”It’s not fair, boo hoo.”
Or the self-righteous indignation. “How dare you!” “Do you know who I am!” “Do you think my cheeks are always this puffy!”
But it’s over. Deal with it.
Jesus is coming… look busy.
Actually, it’s probably not Jesus. It’ll more likely be those biblical biker bastards of the Apocalypse – War, Pestilence, Disease and Death… I might have said Eugene Terreblanche but we all know he can’t ride a horse.
Or not on horses or motorbikes but definitely BMW 4X4s – the ultimate nobs in the ultimate nob-mobiles.
How do I know the world is ending? Let me explain…
You know in all those alien invasion movies or when a meteor is about to crash into Earth and the one thing they all have in common is there’s a black president in the White House… there you go.
As an aside: I remember just before the Stateside elections when Obama’s granny died and they had that pic in the papers of him shedding just one tear and I said to a white woman in the queue at 7-Eleven, “His publicist must be doing cartwheels” and she said as though I hadn’t even spoken, “We’ve been listening to an old Prophets of the City song all morning at home” and then started singing “We’re gonna have a black president” as only a middle-aged white hippy can sing and I said, “Hold on a second, Mugabe’s black, Idi Amin was black. How on earth does that make a difference?” and she ignored me and took her milk and bread home with her and I thought isn’t rooting for Obama because he are black as racist as saying that in the latter part of the twentieth century there’ve been more dictators of colour than any one’s that are white, so who’s to blame for the sorry state of the world?
Another portent of our destruction is how godless we’ve all become!!! I mean how can we arrogantly believe that we evolved from monkeys? Is the explanation that God made Man out of dirt (hence the dirty thoughts) and then made Whoa-Man out of a rib (“Whoa man, that’s my fucking rib!”) not good enough for us anymore? The Big Man, getting bad press and no respect, is about ready to bust a cap for real.
As an aside: People who base the Bible’s legitimacy on the fact that it’s been around for a long time make me want to buy and bury Harry Potter novels all over the place so in a million years when humanity has destroyed itself and evolved all over again they’ll be saying things like, “For Dumbledore’s sake!” or “Voldemort made me do it!”
Or if you believe aliens created us and are watching from the mothership then it’s definitely all over. How fucking boring have we become? The last interesting decade was the 80s – the 90s only had paisley shirts and Britney Spears to offer and the 00s two crap Matrix sequels and everyone wanting to be a surfer-dude! If my name was Darlovax IV and I had access to a Deathstar-sized vaporizer it’d be curtains for the mundane meat-sacks.
So now we’ve established irrefutably that the world is coming to an end you’re probably wondering when the zombies will start to take over, because George Romero would no doubt agree it’s definitely zombies that are going to destroy civilization.
Hold on, I’m getting ahead of myself. It’s not zombies that will be the cause, it’s 3D cinema. Let me explain…
As all pirates will know covering one eye makes you lose depth perception – not good if you’re counting booty or counting on being a ping-pong pro.
The way we see three dimensions is that the shutters in our eyes open and close rapidly and we kind of see everything from two angles and they’re put together into one picture.
This is all very scientific, as you can see.
What 3D cinema does is cause your eye-shutters to open and close at megasupaspeed (a scientific term, trust me) thereby and thus causing your brain to (really) re-wire itself on the go. They say that watching 3D is bad (m’kay) for old people, children, and pregnant ladies (pregnant slappers can watch as much as they want).
But because 3D is kind of crap unless it’s cartoon, it’s mostly kids that watch it [insert dramatic music]!!!
There have been no studies on the effects of long term 3D watching, and now 3D tvs are coming out, and in ten years or so when the kiddies brains have all been re-mashed and filled with subliminal Coke ads and are generally of no use anymore we will have our first zombie-related incidents.
We all know this kind of infection spreads like margarine with low self-esteem and because their brains are of no use anymore they’ll all be walking around wanting to eat yours (it’s the fastest way of getting it back in their head) (it’s not like they want to eat your brain, they just want to borrow it).
I would go on to tell you that our only hope will be the combined might of William Shatner, David Hasselhoff, and Mr T, but I don’t want to spoil the ending.
Or the self-righteous indignation. “How dare you!” “Do you know who I am!” “Do you think my cheeks are always this puffy!”
But it’s over. Deal with it.
Jesus is coming… look busy.
Actually, it’s probably not Jesus. It’ll more likely be those biblical biker bastards of the Apocalypse – War, Pestilence, Disease and Death… I might have said Eugene Terreblanche but we all know he can’t ride a horse.
Or not on horses or motorbikes but definitely BMW 4X4s – the ultimate nobs in the ultimate nob-mobiles.
How do I know the world is ending? Let me explain…
You know in all those alien invasion movies or when a meteor is about to crash into Earth and the one thing they all have in common is there’s a black president in the White House… there you go.
As an aside: I remember just before the Stateside elections when Obama’s granny died and they had that pic in the papers of him shedding just one tear and I said to a white woman in the queue at 7-Eleven, “His publicist must be doing cartwheels” and she said as though I hadn’t even spoken, “We’ve been listening to an old Prophets of the City song all morning at home” and then started singing “We’re gonna have a black president” as only a middle-aged white hippy can sing and I said, “Hold on a second, Mugabe’s black, Idi Amin was black. How on earth does that make a difference?” and she ignored me and took her milk and bread home with her and I thought isn’t rooting for Obama because he are black as racist as saying that in the latter part of the twentieth century there’ve been more dictators of colour than any one’s that are white, so who’s to blame for the sorry state of the world?
Another portent of our destruction is how godless we’ve all become!!! I mean how can we arrogantly believe that we evolved from monkeys? Is the explanation that God made Man out of dirt (hence the dirty thoughts) and then made Whoa-Man out of a rib (“Whoa man, that’s my fucking rib!”) not good enough for us anymore? The Big Man, getting bad press and no respect, is about ready to bust a cap for real.
As an aside: People who base the Bible’s legitimacy on the fact that it’s been around for a long time make me want to buy and bury Harry Potter novels all over the place so in a million years when humanity has destroyed itself and evolved all over again they’ll be saying things like, “For Dumbledore’s sake!” or “Voldemort made me do it!”
Or if you believe aliens created us and are watching from the mothership then it’s definitely all over. How fucking boring have we become? The last interesting decade was the 80s – the 90s only had paisley shirts and Britney Spears to offer and the 00s two crap Matrix sequels and everyone wanting to be a surfer-dude! If my name was Darlovax IV and I had access to a Deathstar-sized vaporizer it’d be curtains for the mundane meat-sacks.
So now we’ve established irrefutably that the world is coming to an end you’re probably wondering when the zombies will start to take over, because George Romero would no doubt agree it’s definitely zombies that are going to destroy civilization.
Hold on, I’m getting ahead of myself. It’s not zombies that will be the cause, it’s 3D cinema. Let me explain…
As all pirates will know covering one eye makes you lose depth perception – not good if you’re counting booty or counting on being a ping-pong pro.
The way we see three dimensions is that the shutters in our eyes open and close rapidly and we kind of see everything from two angles and they’re put together into one picture.
This is all very scientific, as you can see.
What 3D cinema does is cause your eye-shutters to open and close at megasupaspeed (a scientific term, trust me) thereby and thus causing your brain to (really) re-wire itself on the go. They say that watching 3D is bad (m’kay) for old people, children, and pregnant ladies (pregnant slappers can watch as much as they want).
But because 3D is kind of crap unless it’s cartoon, it’s mostly kids that watch it [insert dramatic music]!!!
There have been no studies on the effects of long term 3D watching, and now 3D tvs are coming out, and in ten years or so when the kiddies brains have all been re-mashed and filled with subliminal Coke ads and are generally of no use anymore we will have our first zombie-related incidents.
We all know this kind of infection spreads like margarine with low self-esteem and because their brains are of no use anymore they’ll all be walking around wanting to eat yours (it’s the fastest way of getting it back in their head) (it’s not like they want to eat your brain, they just want to borrow it).
I would go on to tell you that our only hope will be the combined might of William Shatner, David Hasselhoff, and Mr T, but I don’t want to spoil the ending.
Our Fragile Democracy
Is South Africa a democracy? Or are we merely playing at one?
At the moment we have a Constitution and the right to vote; we have freedom of movement, expression and association. The terror that was apartheid is a long-dead animal with no chance of resurrection… at least not in its old form.
I’m not sure if most in this country realise how fragile our freedoms are today. It is very easy for the ANC to tolerate an inconvenience such as voting when the margin between victory and loss is so wide.
We have already witnessed how ungracious they are in defeat.
In 2009, when the Democratic Alliance won the honour of governing the Western Cape, the MK veterans’ association threatened to make the province ungovernable, even though this victory was not through floor-crossing or any other kind of bureaucratic interference, and on Sunday Julius Malema, president of the ANCYL, told us in his inimitable vitriolic and nonsensical fashion that someone who “looked like” Helen Zille would never “rule” the Western Cape.
A telling remark that exposes the youth leader’s ideas about his position not being one of public service but “rule”.
Every day new incidents of corruption, mismanagement and unnecessary spending come to light through the hard and often dangerous work of investigative reporting across South Africa. This “negative” and “unpatriotic” reporting has caused such embarrassment to the alleged “leaders” that journalists suffer threats, are offered bribes and investigated by our National Intelligence Agency.
This “forced transparency” is so undesirable to our rulers that they will do anything to cover it up.
The proposed Protection of Information bill cannot be allowed to become a reality. The weak argument for the protection of “state secrets” is utter nonsense – we are not at war or under threat of invasion; our war is a war against tyranny; our greatest threat is incompetence and greed.
This bill will be nothing more than the legal gagging of journalists who are our first defence and our last hope against power-hungry politicians.
“War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength.” – Is this what they would have us believe?
At the moment we have a Constitution and the right to vote; we have freedom of movement, expression and association. The terror that was apartheid is a long-dead animal with no chance of resurrection… at least not in its old form.
I’m not sure if most in this country realise how fragile our freedoms are today. It is very easy for the ANC to tolerate an inconvenience such as voting when the margin between victory and loss is so wide.
We have already witnessed how ungracious they are in defeat.
In 2009, when the Democratic Alliance won the honour of governing the Western Cape, the MK veterans’ association threatened to make the province ungovernable, even though this victory was not through floor-crossing or any other kind of bureaucratic interference, and on Sunday Julius Malema, president of the ANCYL, told us in his inimitable vitriolic and nonsensical fashion that someone who “looked like” Helen Zille would never “rule” the Western Cape.
A telling remark that exposes the youth leader’s ideas about his position not being one of public service but “rule”.
Every day new incidents of corruption, mismanagement and unnecessary spending come to light through the hard and often dangerous work of investigative reporting across South Africa. This “negative” and “unpatriotic” reporting has caused such embarrassment to the alleged “leaders” that journalists suffer threats, are offered bribes and investigated by our National Intelligence Agency.
This “forced transparency” is so undesirable to our rulers that they will do anything to cover it up.
The proposed Protection of Information bill cannot be allowed to become a reality. The weak argument for the protection of “state secrets” is utter nonsense – we are not at war or under threat of invasion; our war is a war against tyranny; our greatest threat is incompetence and greed.
This bill will be nothing more than the legal gagging of journalists who are our first defence and our last hope against power-hungry politicians.
“War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength.” – Is this what they would have us believe?
A Country of Boys
When I was growing up my mother always told me, “Manners make a man.” She told me this so often that it must have stuck, and it has guided my behaviour throughout my life.
There is the myth in Africa that to be considered a “real man” one must have as many sexual partners as possible, callously disregarding a woman’s worth, as though they are mere meaty morsels to be devoured.
Men on this continent appear to think that the number of women they impregnate, the number of children they “father”, somehow proves their strength. I must add that the actions of our president, Jacob Zuma, do nothing but perpetuate this behaviour.The truth is that any boy can make a baby, but it takes a man to be a father.
I believe that the measure of a man is the respect he shows to women; particularly the woman he is courting, in a relationship with, or married to.
The behaviour that stems from this belief is more than the mere façade of opening car doors or writing love letters when courting a lady; it is not a ploy to obtain love or sex. True, deep respect will not falter or be hidden when in the company of boorish male friends or colleagues.
This idea is proved when I observe the actions of my friend, Mark, a true English gentleman who stands when a lady arrives or departs a table, and compare it to the gorilla stomping down Long Street who throws his arm around a woman he does not know and dribbles, “I want to make you my wife.”
It is no wonder that Mark is adored by the women he knows and respects, while the “little boy” on Long Street is left with a disgusted dismissal to slouch off with his equally insignificant male cohorts.
This abhorrent view of women as objects solely for male sexual consumption, with little meaningful worth, appears endemic on our continent, in our country’s culture, regardless of the fact that it is the majority of women who raise and feed the children, while the father is either unemployed or absent.
These actions scar our society deeply. It is so bad that South African women seem to just have accepted it as a part of life – the way it has always been and will forever be.
This attitude spreads disease, amasses the population, and leaves the children of our country with a despicable model of male behaviour – a model which they will go on to imitate.
The responsibility of changing this facet of our culture lies with both men and women because these roles in society are learned from those who raise us.
Men must adopt an attitude of respect and treat any behaviour or comment to the contrary with the contempt it deserves.
And women must raise their children to know that a man is more than a walking penis, and that their duty is to be more than a pathetic propagator of the population.
It cannot be said enough: the measure of a man is the respect he shows to women.
Right now we are living in a country of boys – our president’s irresponsible, immature behaviour includes him in this sample. The question is, can we become a country of men?
There is the myth in Africa that to be considered a “real man” one must have as many sexual partners as possible, callously disregarding a woman’s worth, as though they are mere meaty morsels to be devoured.
Men on this continent appear to think that the number of women they impregnate, the number of children they “father”, somehow proves their strength. I must add that the actions of our president, Jacob Zuma, do nothing but perpetuate this behaviour.The truth is that any boy can make a baby, but it takes a man to be a father.
I believe that the measure of a man is the respect he shows to women; particularly the woman he is courting, in a relationship with, or married to.
The behaviour that stems from this belief is more than the mere façade of opening car doors or writing love letters when courting a lady; it is not a ploy to obtain love or sex. True, deep respect will not falter or be hidden when in the company of boorish male friends or colleagues.
This idea is proved when I observe the actions of my friend, Mark, a true English gentleman who stands when a lady arrives or departs a table, and compare it to the gorilla stomping down Long Street who throws his arm around a woman he does not know and dribbles, “I want to make you my wife.”
It is no wonder that Mark is adored by the women he knows and respects, while the “little boy” on Long Street is left with a disgusted dismissal to slouch off with his equally insignificant male cohorts.
This abhorrent view of women as objects solely for male sexual consumption, with little meaningful worth, appears endemic on our continent, in our country’s culture, regardless of the fact that it is the majority of women who raise and feed the children, while the father is either unemployed or absent.
These actions scar our society deeply. It is so bad that South African women seem to just have accepted it as a part of life – the way it has always been and will forever be.
This attitude spreads disease, amasses the population, and leaves the children of our country with a despicable model of male behaviour – a model which they will go on to imitate.
The responsibility of changing this facet of our culture lies with both men and women because these roles in society are learned from those who raise us.
Men must adopt an attitude of respect and treat any behaviour or comment to the contrary with the contempt it deserves.
And women must raise their children to know that a man is more than a walking penis, and that their duty is to be more than a pathetic propagator of the population.
It cannot be said enough: the measure of a man is the respect he shows to women.
Right now we are living in a country of boys – our president’s irresponsible, immature behaviour includes him in this sample. The question is, can we become a country of men?
Defending the Right to Offend
Why was it that when talking to a black Zimbabwean cab driver I felt uncomfortable when he said, “Blacks can’t run a country!”?
His opinion, he told me, was born from his observations of the goings on in his own country, and the state of the rest of the African continent.
While analysing my own internal feeling of discomfort I concluded that I, along with most whites in the Western world, have become a victim of oversaturation of political correctness.
Political correctness is defined as the avoidance of forms of expression or action that are perceived to exclude, marginalise, or insult groups of people who are socially disadvantaged or discriminated against.
By this definition, and by society’s example, it is politically incorrect for me to say that women are bad drivers, but within the p.c. boundaries for First for Women Insurance to discriminate against men in their service and ridicule them in their advertising.
Don’t get me wrong, I find the fact neither offensive nor amusing, but rather interesting in what it reveals about our social mindset.
Why is it socially acceptable for there to be a Black Editors’ Forum, but unthinkable for it to have a white obverse? Are blacks secretive and racist? Don’t they think that whites have anything intelligent or meaningful to contribute?
I don’t believe this is the case, so why the discrimination? And why the lack of public outcry?
Because to question a black forum for blacks only is deemed as being insensitive for the years of oppression that they underwent – the fact that it marginalises whites, coloureds and Indians is inconsequential.
It is true that white males have dominated the business and political worlds for centuries, and that this should and is changing, but this obsession with being politically correct is changing our discourses beyond repair.
We find ourselves constantly biting our tongues when discussing politics in the company of South African blacks; walking on eggshells around Christians in case our own beliefs offend them.
Am I racist or an Afro-pessimist? If so, then why do my Zimbabwean and Congolese friends have the same views about the direction our South African leadership is taking us? They’re black; have their minds all been colonised so they can’t think objectively?
Am I insensitive to others’ beliefs? When a Christian wants to convert my friend, Mark, but puts his fingers in his ears when Mark talks about evolution, who is narrow-minded?
This ridiculous idea that it is disrespectful to have a differing or controversial opinion on anything stems from fear – the fear that we will appear intolerant if we speak our mind or question another’s views; the fear that we will be ostracised by our community, or one day even incarcerated.
There seems to be a belief that one has a right to not be upset or offended, but our Constitution bestows no such right.
For there to be healthy, robust and meaningful debate on anything there is the guarantee that some people will be offended – to end racism, sexism, and all the other “isms” in our society thought leaders need to express their views without fear.
We must understand that we have the right to offend.
His opinion, he told me, was born from his observations of the goings on in his own country, and the state of the rest of the African continent.
While analysing my own internal feeling of discomfort I concluded that I, along with most whites in the Western world, have become a victim of oversaturation of political correctness.
Political correctness is defined as the avoidance of forms of expression or action that are perceived to exclude, marginalise, or insult groups of people who are socially disadvantaged or discriminated against.
By this definition, and by society’s example, it is politically incorrect for me to say that women are bad drivers, but within the p.c. boundaries for First for Women Insurance to discriminate against men in their service and ridicule them in their advertising.
Don’t get me wrong, I find the fact neither offensive nor amusing, but rather interesting in what it reveals about our social mindset.
Why is it socially acceptable for there to be a Black Editors’ Forum, but unthinkable for it to have a white obverse? Are blacks secretive and racist? Don’t they think that whites have anything intelligent or meaningful to contribute?
I don’t believe this is the case, so why the discrimination? And why the lack of public outcry?
Because to question a black forum for blacks only is deemed as being insensitive for the years of oppression that they underwent – the fact that it marginalises whites, coloureds and Indians is inconsequential.
It is true that white males have dominated the business and political worlds for centuries, and that this should and is changing, but this obsession with being politically correct is changing our discourses beyond repair.
We find ourselves constantly biting our tongues when discussing politics in the company of South African blacks; walking on eggshells around Christians in case our own beliefs offend them.
Am I racist or an Afro-pessimist? If so, then why do my Zimbabwean and Congolese friends have the same views about the direction our South African leadership is taking us? They’re black; have their minds all been colonised so they can’t think objectively?
Am I insensitive to others’ beliefs? When a Christian wants to convert my friend, Mark, but puts his fingers in his ears when Mark talks about evolution, who is narrow-minded?
This ridiculous idea that it is disrespectful to have a differing or controversial opinion on anything stems from fear – the fear that we will appear intolerant if we speak our mind or question another’s views; the fear that we will be ostracised by our community, or one day even incarcerated.
There seems to be a belief that one has a right to not be upset or offended, but our Constitution bestows no such right.
For there to be healthy, robust and meaningful debate on anything there is the guarantee that some people will be offended – to end racism, sexism, and all the other “isms” in our society thought leaders need to express their views without fear.
We must understand that we have the right to offend.
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