I have two girls. Two beautiful girls. A little princess. And a slightly bigger angel. My girls. My life.

My girls they love to dance. Ballet. Jazz. Hip Hop. Tap. Crazy. You name the style and they have it. Just a shame their dad was born with two left feet…

I have the dancing ability of the Elephant Man. Some say it is cute. And then laugh when they can’t keep a straight face. Others just burst into laughter straight away. But it hasn’t stopped us from dancing our life away. It hasn’t stopped us from having our music moments. Let me tell you a bit about those moments…

I lie in on Sunday mornings. Not too late. But a little. My beautiful and suffering wife takes on Sunday mornings. Making Belgium waffles or pancakes or vetkoeke. And bacon. In the words of my little princess… “I loooove bacon”. But it sounds more like “I luuuuuuuuv bay-kin”. It’s Boston you see. It is rubbing off on her. But I lie in like a lord while the smell of love fills the air.

But I don’t lie alone. My big angel comes to join me. Just the two of us. Little princess is in the kitchen with mom learning how to cook. So we lie in bed. She lies in my arms and together we listen to music. No. We “play argue” about music. Channel hopping between VH1 Classics and MTV. She laughs at the big hair of the 80s and the crap music back then. I laugh at the lack of proper lyrics and new styles in the music of today. And we argue about who has the best music taste. She rolls her eyes when I go “Yeah” to Springsteen dancing with the Courtney Cox or do my MC Hammer impressions to “Can’t Touch This“. I laugh at her doing a hip hop impression with her skinny legs and the girlie voice when she goes “Yo!”

But sometimes we go quiet for a moment. A song comes up that makes us go quiet. And we just lie there. She in my arms. And I hold her a little bit tighter than before. It’s then that the music knows no age. It’s when the music goes straight to the heart. And the stomach. It just tells you to lie back and listen to the voice and melody. The words doesn’t even matter. It’s just a song that reminds the two of us that we are lucky. Lucky to have a mom who loves us. And a mom we love. And a little sister that’s a little bit crazy. And lucky that we have our little Sunday morning of music. And love.

We always goes quiet when Sinead O’Connor tells us Nothing Compares. Because we know. Nothing compares. Nothing compares to the laughing and the music in our house. To the love you can almost touch in our house. And nothing compares to the big angel and me lying back and enjoying our Sunday morning of music. Just a dad and his girl.

Sinead always does that to me. I look at her face and remember that she was the first crush I had. But it was just that video. And when she cries. When the tears starts rolling down her face. All I wanted to do was just hold her and say “It’s okay Sinead, we love you”. Of course I knew it was just a video. Just a song. But I always felt that she just needed a hug and a whisper that “it’ll be okay”.

But there is a new song that also makes us go quiet. A song of today. It’s not the words. Like Nothing Compares wasn’t about the words. It was about Sinead being lost without love. She reminds me about those out there with no love. Those with no Sunday mornings. This new song just reminds me that there isn’t enough love out there.

It’s different from Sinead. This song doesn’t make me feel sorry for singer. The song doesn’t tell you about the love that is missing in that life. But this song hits me. Always. I don’t know what it is. But it reminds me that most people don’t know that love. Love that hurts because it is so good. Love that makes you cry because you are so happy. This song haunts me. It makes me miss people I don’t even know. And I can see my angel feels the same when we lie in bed and listen to this song. Watching the tv. But not seeing the song. Just letting it flow.

That’s my Sunday morning of music. And love. And then there is the Sunday afternoon of music and love. Crazy music. Crazy times. Crazy love. That’s my little princess. And Love Is In The Air.

It’s from one of my favorite movies of all time. Strictly Ballroom. Make no mistake. I am not into ballroom. Or musicals for that matter. But this is one awesome movie. This guy can dance. And you should see me and my little princess make our moves on this song.

It’s just crazy. I never tell her when I am going to play it. Never. I just switch it on and watch her reaction. She’ll be in the lounge and I’ll put the boom-box on in the kitchen. Loud. No. LOUD! All she needs are those first few keys to play. And then she runs into the kitchen and shouts, “Louder dad! Louder!” So I turn it louder. Max. And then she jumps up for me to catch her. And hold her. Hang on baby, here we go!

You start off with a few slow swings. Her legs clamped around my middle. I take her hands and she falls back. Her long hair almost hitting the ground. And I wiggle her arms for her whole little body to shake. I swing her up and grab her by her middle. And flip her up in the air. Her head almost touching the roof. Her eyes jumps open wide with a mixture of exhilaration and happiness. I can hear her laugh and giggling throughout the song. I swing her around my body – over my shoulder and around my back. Her feet never touching the floor. It’s wild. And it gets wilder. She stretches out like Superman while I hold her up in the air and move her forward and backwards. And spin her a bit more. And then the song hits a high note and beat. And I swing her head back. Holding her head with one hand and her back with the other. And I start spinning. Around and around. Keeping up with the beat. And going faster and faster as that piece builds up and builds up. And then… BANG! “Love is in the air!” Full swing. I see nothing but her face laughing. Her mouth open with the happiness of just dancing. Her eyes wide open with pleasure. Her arms swinging outstretched. Complete trust that her dad will hold her tight enough no matter how fast we go. Her complete love for her crazy dad dancing his silly dance on a Sunday afternoon.

And when it is over? “Again dad! Again!” Love Is In The Air. On a Sunday afternoon.

But this song is also different. The words are true. The beat belies the words. The words…

Love is in the air
Everywhere I look around
Love is in the air
Every sight and every sound
And I don’t know if I’m being foolish
Don’t know if I’m being wise
But it’s something that I must believe in
And it’s there when I look in your eyesLove is in the air.

Love is in the air
In the whisper of the tree
Love is in the air
In the thunder of the sea
And I don’t know if I’m just dreaming
Don’t know if I feel safe
But it’s something that I must believe in
And it’s there when you call out my name

Love is in the air
Love is in the air

Love is in the air
In the rising of the sun
Love is in the air
When the day is nearly done
And I don’t know if you are an illusion
Don’t know if I see truth
But you are something that I must believe in
And you are there when I reach out for you

Love is in the air
Everywhere I look around
Love is in the air
Every sight and every sound
And I don’t know if I’m being foolish
Don’t know if I’m being wise
But it’s something that I must believe in
And it’s there when I look in your eyes

Love is in the air
Love is in the air

Love is in the air
Love is in the air

Sometimes with music. Always with love. Sometimes on a Sunday. Always every day. Love is in the air. In my home.

Love Is In The Air

Love Is In The Air



Mama Africa died. The voice of the people. The song of the people. She is no more. But her music lives on. And with it… Her love for Africa and its people.

This is from one of her first songs that the world got to see. Hum… She was hot! Mama Africa singing Pata Pata.

The one song every bloody Souf Efrikan whitie knows… (And she is still hot!) Miriam Makeba singing The Click Song. (With a bit of an intro into Xhosa and politics – sorry, I had to use a new link so the politics got lost. Someone removed the original from YouTube!)

And this one has a bit of a long intro but it hits you hard when she starts singing. Man… Did I mention that she is hot! Sinead O’Connor of Africa singing Amampondo.

But in the end Mama Africa was about so much more than her music. Miriam Makeba made music. Mama Africa spoke for her people. A glimpse of what she had to say to the UN back in 1963. Being Mama Africa…

Her citizenship was revoked shortly after this. She couldn’t go back to her country. To her people. But she always fought on. Always for justice. Always for her people. The people of Africa. And her people from South Africa. From fighting for justice when she married (and later separated from) Trinidadian civil rights activist and Black Panthers leader Stokely Carmichael to receiving the UN Dag Hammerskjöld Peace Prize. She always fought for justice. Always.

But she saw her country united at last. She came back in 1990. To her home. To her people. And this song was made for her to sing. (The intro is played by Hugh Masekela. Another legend and another ex-husband of Mama Africa.)

Mama Africa never forgot about the fight for justice. Never. She didn’t die at home. She died in Castel Volturno in Italy, in the evening of 9 November 2008, of a heart attack, shortly after taking part in a concert organized to support writer Roberto Saviano in his stand against the Camorra, a mafia-like organisation. Camorra finances itself through drug trafficking, extortion, protection and racketeering. It is the oldest organized criminal organization in Italy. Mama Africa… Mama World… Mama Ubuntu… No matter where you were, she was with you in your fight for justice, freedom, liberty and equality for all.

She died just after singing Pata Pata. She died on stage.

In the words of Mama Africa, “I will sing until the last day of my life.”

So she is gone. But live on. Always.

Viva Mama Africa! Viva! Long Live Miriam Makeba! Long Live!


It’s been a crazy, crazy week. Work has been busier than what I have experienced for a very long time. And the next few weeks will remain crazy. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel… A little spot called December. Just a flicker, but I hope it is a light and not a train. Not a train smash please.

So I haven’t been my blogging self over the last few days. I haven’t come over to visit much. Sorry about that. I miss reading what you all have to say. I’ll try to catch up over the weekend. And I still have another Souf Efrikan story to tell… About a certain dude family I know…

But in this crazy week… One thing stood out. When I go home. My wife. My lovely, beautiful wife. I just love going home. (And hate leaving home.) I might be tired at night when I go home but feel like running the closer I get to home. And then lying in bed next to her. Drifting off to sleep. Peace.

So this week I am dedicating my Friday Funk to my wife. A few songs that has stuck with us since we started dating. This is for you my baby. Let me start with our first song. And the song that is still our song. And the version we love.

This song was and is our first song. I used to sing (mime) it to her. We used to just turn it up whenever it came on. And then just lie there and listen and laugh. Babe, I can still see clearly now…

Sorry baby, I couldn’t get the video. But then, we never watched the video really… Just the song and the words.

Remember this one? When you played me the song, read me a poem and gave me flowers? It was that moment that we knew we were going to get married one day. And we did. It’s all coming back to me now…

Sorry – again I couldn’t get the video and the only version I could get was the long one. But that was what we listened to…

I could never watch this video without wanting to cry. And I could never watch this video without thinking of you. The hairstyle. That’s the hairstyle you had when we met! And the jaw line. Except you are so much hotter and better looking! Yes, because nothing compares to you…

Remember how we always miss home when we listen to this? I’ve taken you to a few places in our life already. I couldn’t do it if it wasn’t for you. I wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t for you. But we are the scatterlings of Africa…

The last one. This song… I listen to it almost every single day. Because this is how I want to be for you. It’s the pumped up version, but that who I want to be. A hero…

I know… It’s soppy. But it’s ours. And I love you.

Okay! I wanted to do this on Friday, but something happened. No idea what. Buuuuut anyway! This might be even better to get your week started the right way. Some fun videos (and a joke) I picked up this week thanks to Rolling Stone magazine and a music video or two. Hope this gets you ready for a funky week. Have fun. Have a ball. Laugh and smile. And just piss everyone else off with your stupid jokes and laughs.

But let’s start off with a joke first… From Gilbert Gottfried – his favorite joke ever. (Also the most underrated comedian out there today… and yesterday.)

Do bears shit in the woods?

A bear and a rabbit are taking a shit in the woods. The bear turns to the rabbit and goes, “Do you have some trouble with shit sticking to your fur?” The rabbit says, “No.” So the bear wipes his ass with the rabbit.

Now for some video fun…

It’s all in the eyes

Watch the eyes.. Watch it closely…

Bill O’Reilly Remix

Hehe! Now for some “music”… Not really! But Bill “I’m-A-Rightwinger” O’Reilly of Fox losing his cool completely. And some genius made a remix of it. Aah! Be careful what you say online… Let’s dance! But not to his political tune. (Warning – F*ck said often by Bill.)

The horror of Mary Poppins

Did you think Mary Poppins was a nice family film? Think again… It’s a horror… The horror…

McCain “owned”

Oh man, this one is just way to good not to put it up here. It’s not political really. But McCain just got “owned” by Obama singing “I’m never going to give you up” by Rick Astley. The hours this guy must have spend on putting this piece together…

Braai Rules 101

The best (and funniest) braai video I have ever seen. For those non-Souf Efrikans… Watch and learn. And laugh. True Souf Efrikans will notice a few things… Read after watching the video…

This was NOT shot in Souf Efrika! No way! A few clues…

1. The guys are all drinking different types of beers. Won’t happen. It’s Castle or nothing.

2. The houses in the background. We don’t build up like that. We build out. We have space.

3. The rugby ball is not a Springbok rugby ball. Huh?

4. Chipolates. Who the hell braais chipolates? I don’t even know how to spell that, never mind braai it!

5. Notice no one is eating biltong? And there is a guy with a t-shirt and baseball cap. And not one floppy boer hat in site. Unlikely boet. Very unlikely.

Scatterlings of Africa

Now for some music! For those Souf Efrikans somewhere outside the borders of Africa. The Scatterling of Africa… (Saffer – don’t cry boet!) Turn it up and let Africa take you away! This is one song that gets to each and every one of us outside our little place called Efrika…

Love is in the air…

Okay, last one. The last song. But it’s one you should know by now. Get out of your seat… Get ready to dance… Turn it up… And start moving… Love is in the air!

Hope you had fun. Enjoy your week. See you on the other side… Speak to you soon.

You read those lists? The things you should do before you die. For those who love adventure… Go climb Everest and drop a nose on the way down. Go to space with a big wallet and not spaced out on a big joint. Trekking through the jungle on the back of an elephant… And you have to clean up afterwards. Dive with sharks and get to know the meaning of shark bait. Oh, the adventure of it all. But that’s not for me. No thanks.

I don’t mind the adventure. Just too much of a hassle. Not funny enough. Except when things go horribly wrong. And less funny when it happens to me.

Or maybe you want to go for the romantic version. You know. Ride a gondola in Venice. And pinch your nose because of the stench of dirty stale water. See the Mona Lisa at the Louvre. And wonder what the hype is of this small little painting and whether she is hiding her bad teeth or a retainer. Witness a solar eclipse and realize your all new eco-friendly car relies on solar energy to start. Go smell the roses in Indonesia and get stung and chased by killer bees.

Nah. Not fun. No thank you. Not for me. Sounds interesting, but it’s just not for me. I like to do edgy stuff. Things I can share with others. I don’t have a long list. I’ve done many of the things I wanted to do. But I have a few left on my list. You’ll see a trend. I give you my Top 5 things I have to do before I die.

5. There’s a party going on right here:

We don’t eat out often. We like home cooking too much. So it is always a special occasion when our little family of four go to eat out. I always look at the other people in the restaurant thinking, “Why aren’t they smiling more or talking to each other?” People tend to sit there and eat. It doesn’t seem to me like they are really enjoying it. Where’s the party? What I really want to do is get up and start dancing in the aisles singing Celebrationby Kool & The Gang. Grab people by the hand and get them to follow me in my dance through the restaurant. Get everyone to join in. Old and young. Singing, “There’s a party going on right here… let’s all celebrate and have a good time…” Wouldn’t that be cool? Unfortunately I can’t sing and life isn’t a music video. But I still want to do it!

4. Dancing in the street:

This one is a bit similar to number 5. It involves dancing and singing. But in the streets. I commute each day to work and back. I listen to my iPod and off I go. And most people look so sad and miserable going to work and even going home. Tired and not having fun. I wish they could hear my iPod song. And cheer up a bit. So what I really want to do it start singing my old favorite – Love is in the air. Tell them that love is everywhere they look around. And get them to join in the fun. Start running and singing through the streets like a bad 80’s music video. Okay, so they can’t hear the music. But they can believe in it right?

3. Sing-a-long:

Another song. Another setting. I’m at a conference speaking. It’s the last session. Everyone just wants to go home. And I want to end it in a bang. What better than A little less conversation? I can pull off all my dance moves right there on the stage. Even try an Elvis shake of the leg. And pointing to the crowd. The splits might hurt, but it might just be worth a shot. I can get them to join me on stage and do a sing-a-long. Wouldn’t that be cool? Everyone having fun and going home with a smile. I think that might just give them something to actually remember. I don’t think I’ll be invited back to come and speak again though… But it will send another strong message. Less talking, more doing.

2. Pull my finger:  

No more singing. I can’t sing in any case. This one is pretty straight forward. I want to be at one of these high powered meetings I sometimes attend. Somewhere with a CEO or ex-President (or future President) or big wig from the UN or G8 or something. It’s photo-op time. We all stand there in our best suits. Getting ready to smile for the cameras. Looking all serious because of course we don’t have a real life. I lean in to the guy next to me and say in a whisper as if sharing a deep moment with him, “Pull my finger”. I just wonder what he would do. Will he laugh loud enough for others to turn around or would he be too serious and turn away from me? Will he pull it? And if he does, what should I do? And do I need to learn this little phrase in different languages to “pull” it off?

1. A little tap dance move:

I’ve been burning to do this one for ages. This one and the restaurant one. I have gotten so close to doing it before. But then stopped before I do it. Maybe one day just before I retire. It’s a big client meeting or a small high level meeting somewhere – maybe the WTO. The group is sitting around a table and deeply involved in solving some or other “complex” issue. Negotiating this way and that way. Frowns everywhere. Serious people doing serious stuff. And I jump up and do a little tap dancing number right there and then. Maybe even jump on the table for everyone to see it. But I’ll be okay with just a short little Fred Astaire or Gregory Hines move next to my chair with my tongue sticking out as I concentrate on my feet tapping. All I need is 5 seconds. I can live with that. Just a quick one. A little tap dancing number and I’ll sit down as if nothing happened, “Now, where were we?” That I really would like to do. And I know that I will. Sometime. Somewhere. Somehow.

You see the trend? It’s about people. And how they react to different things. I do things just to see how people will react. Sometimes I get punished for what I do…

One of my favorite things is to dance in the car. Suffering wife will be driving and I’ll be making all my dancing moves in the passenger seat. You might think being stuck in a seat will limited my movement. No way! I move baby! My head and arms are free. So I can do the wave-to-your-friends-and-to-the-heavens-while-swinging-your-head-from-side-to-side-looking-slightly-down-and-bobbing move. The let’s-make-as-if-we-are-washing-windows-while-biting-the-bottom-lip. And my personal favorite, the arm-extended-pointing-to-a-person-in-the-crowd. Oh, that’s just a few – I have so many moves. And it doesn’t take much to get me going. Or to get me into trouble.

We were driving back from taking the girls to the park on Sunday. And Pink came on the radio singing her new song. I can’t even remember what it sounded like. But it had some disco-type beat. Enough to trigger a “smooth” dance routine. And enough for me to start singing songs dedicated to those driving in the car or cars next to us. But actually, it started before that already.

I love waving at people. Especially people I don’t know. It gives them something to think about. I always imagine them in their cars. Bored and grumpy. And all of a sudden they see a guy waving at them from the car coming from the opposite direction. But in a flash the guy is gone. And they think, “Who was that?” It’ll keep them busy for a few minutes. I generally time it perfectly for them to wave back on instinct and then do the “wondering” as they carry on in the opposite direction. I love it. Hell, my oldest daughter and me sit on the front porch and do it at the cars driving past our house! No clue who the heck they are. But I bet you they’ll remember us for a few minutes while they try to figure out who those two idiots were. Haha! Some even wave back when they drive past us our house on another day. Spread some love baby.

But the suffering wife isn’t always that impressed. She just laughs and shakes her head. And say the word I hear so often, “You!” It generally goes with the shake of the head. And the more she shakes her head and laughs the more I’ll do it. The girls love it. I start the dance moves up front and they do theirs at the back. And the three of us wave at cars as they drive past. Fun in the car.

But on Sunday the suffering wife pulled one on us. We were dancing and waving at cars and she stopped the car. She has promised to do this so often. This time she did it. She kicked us out the car and told us to walk home! It wasn’t that far to walk but still. Actually, she kicked me out the car and the girls decided to join me! So we walked home.

This is what I’ll remember though. My wife decided to take another drive around the block to make as if she is “driving away”. I laughed and so did my oldest daughter. We were in a silly mood already and the wife was joining in. But the little one? She cried. Scared that mom just drove away. Scared that she won’t come back. Shame. We made it into more fun by hiding away (very unsuccessfully) behind the bushes from my wife. She started laughing again. Nervously.

But all I wanted to say to her was, “Don’t worry girl. Mom’s not going anywhere. Because the thing we do is love each other”. I don’t have to do anything before I die. Because I am already doing it.

Can you feel it?

Can you feel it?

What ya lookin' at?
What ya lookin’ at?

You’ve heard me say it before – hear me roar. I’m a Lion! No. Not really. I’m a Zebra. White with some black stripes. Or is it black with some white stripes? It doesn’t matter. I am South African. I’m a bit of both. That’s the great thing about being from South Africa. You stand a damn good chance of having a bit of everybody in your family tree. I am damn proud of it. A bit of everybody. 100% pure South African. A little bit of everything. A buffet of blood running through my veins.

Now, like I said, it shouldn’t be a bad thing. And it isn’t. It works most of the time. For most of us. But sometimes it doesn’t work out so well. It doesn’t always work out all that well for me. My problem is that I got the short stick on both sides. The bits that’s bad is really bad. And the good bits are missing. Well, mostly. 

The problem is that sometimes I am way too white. So white it’s scary. In way too many ways. And not in any good way. Look at the music I listen to. Bruce-Bloody-Springsteen. Cold-Flippin-Play. Pearl-Damn-Jam. David-Hum-Grey. I mean really. Couldn’t I get some blood with a bit of beat in it? I even listen to Toto’s Africa when I miss home too much. Really. It’s so sad. Just plain sad.

Wait. The Toto song reminds me of that Castle Lager ad of the South Africans watching sport on the roof of a New York apartment. Drinking Castle Lager. That’s why I listen to Toto. Castle Lager. Hmm… Charles! Somewhat dry, somewhat bitter, never sweet.

Anyway… I am getting off topic.

I am so bloody white I was born with two left feet. I can’t dance to save my life. Really can’t. It’s not a pretty sight. I have seen grown men cry when watching me dance. And not for any good reasons. The pain it causes will leave an everlasting mark etched into your brain. You will wake up screaming in the middle of the night sweating and shouting, “Just don’t dance please! Just not that please!” I make Freddy Krueger look like the ideal prom date for any close dancing. Let’s just leave it at me not being a great dancer shall we? The white blood is strong when it comes to dancing. Too damn strong.

And to complete my whiteness? Singing. You don’t want to hear me sing. Really. It’s been banned under the Geneva Convention. I can peel lead paint off walls with one rendition of Roxanne. Or, as my lovely wife always says, when I go busking people pay me to shut the hell up! I think I might not be gifted with a strong voice.

But I can live with this part of my whiteness. I can bob my head up and down instead of dancing. Or in my case, look like someone who is really disagreeing with the person standing next to him. You know – with all that head shaking. Because I can’t even keep a head beat. And with an iPod on my side? I can listen to my music and no one will know that it’s some skinny white dude singing. Well. With the singing? No problem. I just follow my loving wife’s advice and shut the hell up. Or sing softly to myself while taking a shower. With the extractor fan on – full blast. Yes. I can hide the whiteness most of the time. At least the scary bits.

But now I am being hit with my bad black blood.

I got away with it in South Africa. I played soccer like a maniac and ate my putu with pride. I got away with it most of the time. Except for my dislike of the beach. Hated the sand sticking to my body. And the awful salty water. The sun baking while you are lying on a towel doing nothing. Nothing! And if God wanted me to swim he would have given me gills and webbed feet. The Big Four S’s of bad taste. Swimming, sand, sun and salt water. Don’t like it. It’s bad. And it makes me look even worse when standing on the beach squinting and spitting out sand.

But I got away for it for most of the time. Until I got to the US. It caught up with me. My bad black blood. Another “S”…


It looks nice. When it is mixed with a strawberry or two to make a daiquiri. Oh, wait. That’s way too white.

Snow. Nice to look at. Even nice to shovel. Almost. But when it comes to those sports. Man. Man, man, man. It’s not made for these legs and this blood. Talk about a frog in a blender. Just arms and legs everywhere. And a trail of blood following. That’s us Africans. Can’t do snow. Won’t do snow. It just ain’t on man. It’s meant to be a mix and not a sport.

And let us run out in the veldt. No problem. We can run for days. Or at least a minute or two. But snow. How the hell do you even walk in snow? With all those layers of clothes on? I look like the Abominable Snowman on steroids stuck in quicksand. The more I move my legs, the less I move forward. And I slowly sink away into the snow. Never to be seen again. Until summer when they find the lone body of an African with a permanent frown on his face. Bloody snow.

Yes. I am a Zebra. A little white and a little black. A little scary and a little bad. Just a shame I got the pieces all mixed up. But hey, that’s South Africa for you. That’s South Africans for you. We always get the pieces mixed up.

So why am I telling all of this now? In the middle of summer? Because I know that it is waiting for me. It’s coming – the snow. I can sit here and drink my daiquiri. But the crushed ice is a reminder that my days are numbered. The snow waits for no man. And no Zebra. It’s coming and I am scared. And there is no place to hide. My true colors will show in the snow. And it’s gonna be bad baby.

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Back from Bucks County. And back with some views on the news. It’s been a weak of news. Backward news. Let’s have a look, shall we?

1. Can’t take my eyes off of you

Poor old man McCain. He just can’t get any attention. It seems as if people, and especially the media, thinks he might be a bit boring. Big yawn. Big surprise. The most exiting thing that happens to him is when the comb-over flaps in the wind or when he puts in his teeth in the morning. Anyway… So McShame decided to show the world, or at least his closet closest friends, how unfair this all is to a senior citizen like himself. And decided to show it in a way that is a bit more hip. You know. To get with this “internets” thingy. Made up a nice clip (two actually) and posted it on YouTube. Showing to the world how unfair the media can be. Nice one. You really showed your age with this one. Or maybe not. My 4-year old won’t even do this. It is way below her standards. She is too grown up for it I guess. But then, she isn’t a Republican politician either. But then he pulled it off the site again! No, it wasn’t the early signs of ADD. Or flip-flopping. I was hoping it was his promise to “fight a good clean fight that will stay on the moral high ground”. Nope, that wasn’t it. He is already playing with the pigs. Remember the Bush man-love hug? Anyway… He pulled it because it was way to popular. And maybe illegal. Yep, the only way he could get any attention was by showing pictures and videos of Obama. Go figure. And then? He had to pull it because one of the songs they used, Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You, might have a licencing issue… Yep, the more popular the clip the more they have to pay. A bit like oil prices I guess. And now McPain realizes he will have to pay up if he wants to be watched – or at least watch Obama being watched. Hah! Dig a hole for yourself Mac. Come on. Pick the nearest forest and start digging. Or offshore. You might just find enough oil to pay for using that song. Hope it is legal. The song. And the digging. He is going to be really pissed when he hears the European Commission just extended copyright for songs to 95 years. Even he can’t outlive that.

The Obama camps denied reports that they are currently looking at posting two clips of McCain on their YouTube channel. One showing him crying in the rain to “Wish You Were Here” (Pink Floyd) and another of him throwing a hissy fit to “She Thinks His Name Was John” (Reba McEntire).

I love you so much Big Fella

I love you so much Big Fella

2. McCain knows no shame – dissing the troops

I think that McCain is becoming desperate. Really desperate. He is now willing to shred the last pieces of decency he had. I don’t know if he is losing his mind or whether he lost it months ago already. But the last inch of respect he had is being lost at a rapid pace. Why? Because he is starting to disrespect the troops. It’s fine to throw cheap shots at Obama. That’s politics the Republican way. Cheap. Shots. But playing with the troops is another thing. Using them and abusing them for cheap shots is just… hum… you know… not on. Obama decided not to visit a military hospital in Germany because the Pentagon thought that it might be inappropriate as it might be seen as playing politics. Fair call. So Obama did the right thing. Pull out of the visit. This showed his respect for the troops. Not willing to let them be pulled into politics. Good on you Obama. And then McShame decided to open his stupid mouth again. Calling Obama out for not visiting the troops. He hinted that Obama isn’t showing enough respect for the injured troops. WTF? Are you for real? You want to show some respect for the troops? Shut your mouth when it comes to the military and get the troops out of this stupid war of yours. The troops should be supported. Not your stupid mindless war. You were in the military. But not anymore. It doesn’t give you a free pass when it comes to the lives of Americans. Troops or not. Show some respect.

Oh, and while we are on the war thing. That new ad of yours where you climb into Obama for not being in Iraq often enough. Here is a wake-up call for you. You don’t need to be in Iraq to know that war was the wrong decision. Maybe even illegal. A bad decision based on bad intel. The War on Error. And not one single person who supported that decision to invade is saying they are sorry. No, they are trying to say that it is “working”. Working! Bah! Maybe our definitions of working differ slightly. Working like a bloody band aid on a broken back yes. It was wrong to go into war with Iraq and that doesn’t change no matter how many times you visit.

And Afghanistan? Go read up a bit more. Not only are we losing the War on Terror there, but also the War on Drugs. The poppy’s are blooming. We are losing the war over there because the military is stretched to the extreme. Hope it doesn’t snap. So what do you do? Move the pieces around. Troops out of Iraq and into Afghanistan. There is an old South African saying, “Slim vang sy baas.” The bright one catches his master. It means that eventually all you decision will backfire if they are wrong. And you just keep on sticking to those wrong ones baby. So, ¡Ya basta! Stop your whining and start showing some respect for those troops who are fighting your stupid war. Don’t play with them just to try and become President. It’s not on. So get off.

3. Please Mr President, just shut up

Look, it takes a damn lot to make President Bush look sharp and full of wisdom, but President Mbeki isn’t going to give up trying. At least President Bush is doing little to make things worse during the last few days of his reign. No wait. The war is still on, the economy is tanking, he wants to drill for oil no matter what or where, and he is still playing chicken with Iran, North Korea and whoever else said no to the dinner date. Okay… He can do way more damage, but so can Mbeki. Here is a man I used to support and defend. And then he lost me at… hello? Anybody there? First he made a joke of science with his Aids policies. Then he danced on the graves of human rights and logic with his “quiet diplomacy” approach to Mad Uncle Robert Mugabe over there in Zim. Both of these decisions took a special kind of leadership. Special needs more like it. It refined decision-making. Redefined stupidity in leadership. But just when you thought it can’t get any worse… He goes on to say that Sudanese President Omar al-Bashir should not be prosecuted for war crimes. WTF? (Second one for today.) Come again? The reason? Because it will mess up the peace process. You know, you can’t talk peace with a guy who is in court at the same time. Now hang on in there El Presidente Mbeki. That logic doesn’t work. Say someone breaks into my house and steals everything. Now you are arguing that we can’t charge the guy because it might hinder his rehabilitation. No, no! No, baby, no. You don’t negotiate with someone while they are bus murdering and killing the innocent. You charge them and let justice takes its course. Please President Mbeki. Show some backbone. Stop making President Bush look good. I really don’t need that right now.

4. Not Mama’s Apple Pie

So you are just sitting there having a nice piece of apple pie. As American as can be. Spoiling yourself. At Maccie D’s. And you take a deep bite. You can feel the apple pie squirm against your braces. And then… Wait! I don’t wear braces! What the hell is this piece of metal doing in my apple pie? Screw them. Metal screw in the apple pie. That’s what happened to this poor woman. But that’s not the news. Bad food at McDonald’s? What’s new. No – the real news is further down the article…

“Her nephew had also eaten an apple pie, but there were no foreign objects in his dessert.”

Haha! Come on! You ate an apple pie at Maccie D’s. Of course there were foreign objects in your dessert. It just wasn’t metal.

While we are on the fast food topic. I see The Governator Schwarzenegger banned trans fats in restaurants. Good. Right? One thing has always bugged me about banning trans fats at fast food joints. Do you really think of any health issues when you go buy a donut from Dunkin’ Donuts? Do you stop for a minute and think, “I wonder how many calories in this Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese?” I don’t. I know it is bad. I think everyone knows that eating crap food is bad for you. This trans fat debate is a bit too nanny state to me. Too English. Not American. Eat crap and die.

5. Stop Press! Money to Democrats!

Those slightly crazy right wingers at NewsBusters and American Thinker really got their backs up this week. Because they just “proved” that the media is biased. You see, the media is giving more money to Democrats than to Republicans. And about 235 journalists gave money to the Democrats compared to 20 to Republicans. And who said the media is stupid? It isn’t a lot of money. About $225,000 compared to $16,000. But still. Why are they doing it? NewsBusters and the stupidity gang argues that the media is biased. But even Fox gave to the Democrats and not to the Republicans. So that can’t be right. I mean NewsBusters and American Drinker Thinker adore and pray at the feet of Fox. So what’s the reason then? I have an alternative theory. The media is giving money to the Democrats because they are sick and tired of getting screwed for nothing by Bush and the Repugnants Republicans. They are arguing that if they are going to get screwed they might just pay for the more entertaining lot. And better looking as well. I mean really. You don’t know where those Republicans have been before. Apart from airport toilets that is. Also, you pay for something that is worthwhile. Will you pay to watch a re-run of Gigli or the Adventures of Pluto Nash? You know what the Republicans are all about. Been there and done that. No reason to pay for it and see it again. It was aweful the last time around and you know it won’t be better the next time either. Not when you have the real blockbuster coming right up – the Democrats are the movie for next summer. You don’t know if it will be any good, but you know it will be a damn lot better than the bad show of last years and yesterday. No it isn’t the media being biased. It’s the media deciding that it is better to pay for hope than get screwed for nothing by dope.


See ya’ll later.

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