Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Road Trips and Desert Graves

Since my father took us on that first holiday down to Amanzimtoti back in the seventies, I’ve been hooked on road trips. We always left at some un-godly hour in the morning, and while the rest of the family slept in the back seat, I’d be sitting, wide-awake, watching the road with my dad. We’d never talk and I never asked how far we still had to go. I was too afraid he’d say “just around the corner”, and the adventure would be over.

You could say it was as early as my 5th birthday that I started learning to drive as well. I’d watch my dad working the clutch, changing gears and maintain a steady speed as we drove through mountain passes and flat stretches of nothingness. The radio would be playing softly in the background, and all you could see were the lights piercing the darkness.

I always knew when we were nearing our final destination, as my father always planned our trips so that we would arrive sometime in the mid-morning, and the rising sun would be the telltale sign that we were on the last stretch. Those in the back seat would start to rise and my mom would offer my dad some coffee. This meant that we would pull over at the next roadside picnic spot, and mother would break out the sandwiches and coffee. My mom asked about the trip down, and my dad would give her the run-down on the traffic, and how the car was behaving. You see, the last stretch belonged to my mother. She enjoyed driving with the windows open and inhaling the crisp ocean air, while singing her favourite songs. We’d be nose to the windows, trying to be the first to see the ocean.

Those were great times, and the start of my Road trip addiction. Ever since then I’ve travelled this country from one end to the other, up and down and across. I’ve been to almost every town you can think of, or randomly pick off a map with your eyes closed. From Pongola to Port Nolloth, and from Alexander Bay to Coffee Bay. I’ve been to little known gems like Pella, and stretched on the beach at Tsitsikama. I’ve seen all the beauty this country had to offer before the developers spoiled the view.

I always thought that the Karoo would be the last bastion of country life, but the rich are buying out farms quicker than you can say “city life”.

It was during one of my road trips that I looked for that piece of land in the middle of no-where, which no one can touch. I don’t care if you offer me twenty million dollars, it’s mine and it’s staying mine, till the day I die.

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My dad paid a pittance for it 30 years ago. I inherited it 2 years ago, and it’s mine. Even if I were to put it on the market for R5 today, no one would want it. You see it’s a ten acre outcrop in the middle of the desert, and there is no running water or electricity. If you were to run electricity to the place, it would cost you a small fortune, and even Eskom’s most hardened workers would refuse to put up the required pylons, or dig trenches in this inhospitable place.

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To me it's paradise and I love it. If you’re able to dig even a half a metre into the ground you can bury me here.

Thanks.

Monday, April 10, 2006

It's Black and White again.

After many years riding for my favourite Motorcycle Club, I handed my colours in on Friday.

This was not as easy to do as I thought, and it took me almost a year of contemplation to take the final step. Our club has been in a bit of a rut lately and it would seem that no-one was prepared to step up to the plate and get things going again. The club has slowly digressed into more of a social club, and it was many a month past that any of us had ridden together. There were many reasons for this, but I’m not here to judge or accuse.

During my years riding for the club, I was part as well as creator of many memorable moments. We had some hairy moments with other clubs, but for the most part I feel comfortable with the fact that I met some amazing people and made friends with people I would ride through sleet or snow. I will continue to do this.

I met some great ladies, and I met some downright scary females. I had more fights than I can remember. Some I’m not too proud of, and others I’d fight again. - Simply on principal.

I was a scavenger by name and method, and since leaving those days behind have met many more scavengers whom were not as gentlemanly as I tried to be. Those were lean years, but I pushed through and came up smiling.

I’ve left many people behind who were not prepared to lift themselves up from their disparity, and who will continue to live their lives on the fringes of underground society, stuffing their noses with powder and stealing to maintain that hopeless and degenerative lifestyle. Good luck with that!

As a biker I’ve never sold myself as knowing better, or taken the higher ground on moral issues. I had equal disdain for idiots in biking as I had for the idiots in mainstream life. Some of those idiots were willing to listen, and although I made no impact on their lives, I thank them for taking the time out to listen.

Just as in life, it is not all bikers that are bad; it’s just the bad in some bikers. And I can vouch for that.


To my brothers;

Thanks for raising the tolerance level to accommodate me.


Cheers!

Thursday, April 06, 2006

Trollmeister, or the Anonymous twit to the rest of you.

The Anonymous Twit now has his own blog. I'm so exited I could crap myself.

Trollmeister
You're probably here cos you saw one of my comments. If it was on your site and didn't include the F word, consider your blog a success. If you've don't have a trollmeister comment on your site yet, I probably haven't visited.


The Troll says:

. So what now?

Well, I've been impressed by the response. Some people actually think this is a good idea. Cool. Can't believe no-one has done it before really. Or maybe they have. Who knows? Who cares?The plan is to pick one or two sites from each day's trolling and highlight them on here - screenshots maybe or just a link - I haven't really decided.Look - I have other projects to work on (2 other sites), I have a busy job, I have a family. So I can't be spending all my time on here sorting out the internet's problems. It'll just be as and when I have the time and inclination, OK?Once again - I'm not out to assassinate anyone here. All I want is to make the internet more reader-friendly and bearable place for your average surfer by pointing out the odd shortcoming or two on sites I stumble across via traffic exchanges (none of which this site is registered on, incidentally). I expect a bit of backchat - I look forward to it, in fact. I want people to respond and do something about tidying their blogs up.

Chihuahua says:

If you’re going to pass critique on someone’s blog, at least do it with some style, wit or pizzazz.

And since you asked, yes it has been done before. To death. For as long as there has been Internet, there have been idiots who slate other people’s work. If we go further back in time you’ll find anonymous critics or trolls, since the beginning of time. And they’ve always hidden behind anonymity or silly pseudonyms like Trollmeister.

The Troll Says:

“I’m not out to assassinate anyone..”

Chihuahua says:

Then how come I get this from you?

Catch ya later, poes.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006

And this:

you fucking ill-educated fuck?

The Troll says:

What happened this week...
(Or why you shouldn't blog unless you have something interesting to say)3 things happened this week.
It snowed in some bits of the usa.
It was April Fool's Day.
The clocks went forward in the usa.
How do I know?!? Cos every f*****g blogger is writing about them.
"I thought it was Spring and then it snowed" [whine, moan]
Yeah - I think you'll find that Mother Nature doesn't (and has never) worked to a day-specific schedule when it comes to seasons. You live on the Canadian border and have done for the last 30 years. And this still surprises you.
The best (i.e. worst) April Fool post I saw was one girl who said she'd been robbed and then the next day told everyone it was an April Fool. What's funny about that? She wan't even injured. Boo.
Every yank is complaining that their body can't handle the hour they didn't get in bed. It's a f*****g hour, FFS! 1 hour! 60 minutes! Do you all live your lives byu the second over there or something?"I got up late and missed breakfast cos of Daylight Savings..." [whine, moan]
GOOD! You might lose some weight then, you fat cow.
Tip: If nothing interesting has happened in your sad little lives, don't post on your blog. Your post will be about as original as your sudden realisation that you breath a gas called Oxygen. (Yes, you do, you ill-educated tosspot - now, don't go and write about it...)
posted by Trollmeister at 1:54 PM 1 comments


Chihuahua says:

It’s what a blog’s there for. To write about your everyday life. No matter how boring or mundane it might seem to the rest of the world.

The Troll says:

Why Troll?
People who leave "nasty" comments on other people's blogs ("Trolls") are just exercising their right to free speech and to not have to put up with the dreadful array of blogtrash that's out there. I'm not advocating hate speech, I'm just wanting to read something more intelligent, something better written, something worthwhile and interesting. That is my right as a surfer. I shouldn't have to trawl through all that bad spelling, terrible grammar and same old "I don't like George Bush much" rubbish.
THAT BORES ME!
I've had enough. So welcome to Trolling For Fun. If your blog is crap - I'm going to tell you.

Chihuahua says :

Why Troll? Because you don’t have anything meaningful to write yourself. Because you have nothing better to do with your free time than to disrespect other bloggers right to freedom of speech. And since there is no Personal Profile on your blog, you remain an anonymous twit.

The Troll says:

Warrior Dog - Chihuahua's Bite. Man, but you're so SCARY!!!!

Chihuahua says:

Are you ten years old or what? My dad’s bigger than your dad.. blah de blah. Fuck, how pathetically childish.

So yes fellow bloggers, this fucker has really impressed me with his style and educated critique. I’m going to be a better person from this day on. I promise Trollmeister, I do.

http://trollmeister.blogspot.com/

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

How the West (rand) was lost.

When I first went to Europe back in ’98 I had a bit of culture shock.

I consider myself pretty well read so it could have been much worse. I always lived outside the box, and during the Apartheid years I took whatever the government said with a huge bucket of salt. My father always said that if something feels wrong then it most probably is. Shooting people and depriving the majority of a decent living, felt wrong, and I hated the Nationalist Party tenfold more, than my contempt for the current league of incompetent fools we call the ANC. But, anyway I’m drifting away from my primary topic of conversation. (As usual)

Europe was an eye opener for me, and if I were able to take at least ten people with me, it would have made my neighbourhood a better place. You see, a small percentage of people on The West Rand are caught in a time warp, and these people are obsessed with a bygone era.

Some men still believe the Mullet is fashionable, even though even I can’t remember that it ever was. Fat women insist on wearing tights, and even though Olivia Newton-John has left the eighties behind and changed her image a long time ago. Certain women on the West Rand just won’t let go. They still have that ridiculous, almost-beehive hairstyle that just looks like crap. Ankle warmers always looked ridiculous and still do. Never mind the over-the-top blue and green trashy makeup, which women still wear.

The thing is; there are places all over the Country (World) where people have difficulty moving on and leaving the ‘good times’ behind, but I’ve only lived on the West Rand so I can’t talk about Germiston or Sasolburg, or other less progressive places in the World. In the West Rand however, these few have turned looking and acting stupid, into an art form.

I grew up in the eighties and enjoyed the club scene as well as the music, but let’s face it, New Romantic suited the times, and the time is gone. I no longer find Yazoo foot stomping good, nor can I tolerate more than 4,5 seconds of Footloose. And if I hear Bette Davis Eyes one more time, I’m moving to a cave. If one more person tells me Steve Hofmeyer is actually a nice person, I’m going to savagely beat them to death. I couldn’t give a shit that he’s a nice person. His music sucks and by ‘Reviving’ (Can’t believe I wrote that!) the music of every crappy musician that ever existed, he’s holding people back from discovering the incredible musical era they live in right now.

As much as I enjoy the music of Led Zeppelin, Dire Straits, Kiss, Metallica, Fleetwood Mac, etc, etc. It does not hold me back from finding new talent every day. You’re not gonna find that by listening to 94.7 or 5FM.
94.7 are holding you back because they’re still caught in the eighties. 5FM has so much Kwaito on the Radio these days, I might as well listen to Kaya Fm.

Okay enough about music.

The West Rand is also the place where people feel comfortable to come and die. The reason for this is two-fold. Firstly, you have three generations stuck in the west. The sixties, the seventies and the eighties people. Very few people move beyond the eighties. Just as a new generation grow up; they’re quickly pulled in, by, whatever era of people can get their hands on them first. They have no time to discover a niche for themselves before they’re dragged down and get stuck in the rut. So it only makes sense that a fifty-year-old man can sit in a pub together with an eighteen year-old, and have a good time. They’re only different in age. Their minds have been closed to progress, and it is a comfort zone they’ll dwell in for the rest of their lives.

The second reason Is the comfort zone; West Rand people don’t get out.
I’m not talking about bikers here by the way. Bikers get out all the time. We travel all over the country to get to Rallies, and we experience different cultures all the time. Bikes and Music are our loves, and we keep up with the times. (Whish I could say the same about their women sometimes)
I don’t have enough fingers and toes to count how many people I’ve met in the west who haven’t been past its boundaries. As funny as the Passport joke (you need one to enter the West Rand) might be to us, it would seem some people take it literally to mean that they should live out their lives within the confines of their immediate neighbourhood.

I remember joking to a friend in the eighties, how Pretoria is 40 kays away from Jo'burg and as many years behind the times. This is no longer the case. Not only is Pretoria/Tswane’s youth, amongst the most liberal in S.A., but they are also sowing the seeds of a hip culture, that’s pulling the younger generation in droves across the ‘border’. They’re experimenting with Music, Sex and Literature in such a free and continental way, that it makes you want to stand up and shout; I’m Alive!

I’ve always said: There is no Progressive thought in The West Rand, and I stand by that.

So get off your fucking ass, and go somewhere!