Money for nothing, get your Chimps for free

I am in a filthy mood. Tried to sell some stuff on EBay, only to find the money has disappeared into cyber space and it is turning into a nightmare sorting it all out. I have sent EBay a strongly worded letter of complaint that either they, or I, have a link missing in our vital software.

Moving on. I have to tell you about Bubbles. Bubbles as you may know was the late Michael Jackson’s pet. For some strange reason he obviously disliked Michael changing his nappies because maybe he played Willie Wonker at the same time, and as a result bit him. M.J. was not amused and poor old Bubbles was sent away.

Now Bubbles had obviously got used to the rich lifestyle of his late and now departed owner, but being penniless and not being mentioned in the will, Bubbles had to find another way to make a healthy living. Luckily for him a great opportunity arrived when amazingly, thanks to some good friends who have fuck all else to do than believe in ridiculous Emails promising cash for nothing, he read this following Email –

READ IT, IT WAS ON CARTE  BLANCH 

  

I just opened this mail now... and quickly went into my bank account

I have received R300 000 in my account.

thanks Janette.

This was on the 9:00 o'clock news the other night and this works

THIS TOOK TWO PAGES OF THE TUESDAY USA TODAY - IT IS FOR REAL

PLEEEEEEASE READ!!!! it was on the news!

This thing is for real. Rest assured AOL and Intel will follow Through

with   their promises for fear of facing a multimillion-dollar class

action suit similar to the one filed by Pepsi-Cola against General Electric not too

long ago.

Dear Friends;

Please do not take this for a junk letter. Bill Gates is sharing his

fortune. If you ignore this, You will repent later.

Microsoft and AOL are now the largest Internet companies and in an

effort to make sure  that Internet Explorer remains the most widely used program,

Microsoft   and AOL are running an e-mail beta test.  When you forward this e-mail to friends, Microsoft can and will Track it (If you are a Microsoft Windows user)? For a two weeks time period.

For every person that you forward this e-mail to, Microsoft will pay you

$245.00 For every person that you sent it to that forwards it on,

Microsoft will pay you $243.00 and ! for every third person that receives it, You

will be paid $241.00. Within two weeks, Microsoft will contact you for your

address and then send you a check.

Regards

Charles S Bailey General Manager Field Operations

Well, well, thought Bubbles, surely this is a SCAM. Luckily many people thought also, but they gave it a shot and would you believe it, they hit the jack pot! Many of these amazing people who made fortunes by simply sending on daft Emails added their names to the ever growing list of dumb saps at the bottom of the original mail. Oddly, you may notice a large contingent of Afrikaners based in their homeland of the rainbow nation of South Africa, who rushed in to get a piece of cyber Witwatersrand.

As Bubbles originally originated paternally from Africa, he could understand the Boer's grunting gibberish and decided to give it go. Here are some extracts from the lucky people –

I thought this was a scam myself, But two weeks after receiving this

e-mail and forwarding it on. Microsoft contacted me for my address and

within days, I receive a check for $24, 800.00. You need to respond

before   the beta testing is over. If anyone can afford this, Bill gates

is the  man.

It's all marketing expense to him. Please forward this to as many people

as possible.

You are bound to get at least $10, 000.00. We're not

going to help them out with their e-mail beta test without getting a

little something for our time. My brother's girlfriend got in on this a

few    months ago. When I went to visit him for the Baylor /UT game. She showed me her

check.

It was for the sum of $4, 324.44 and was stamped 'Paid in full'

Like I said before, I know the law, and this is for real.

Intel and AOL are now discussing a merger which would make them the

largest Internet company and in an effort make sure that AOL remains the

mostwidely   used program, Intel and AOL are running an e-mail beta test.

When you forward this e-mail to friends, Intel can and will track it (if

you are a Microsoft Windows user) for a two week time period.

Try it; What have you got to lose !

For what Its worth die vrou werk saam met my suster (die bankrekening  afskrif).

When  you forward this e-mail to friends, I! Ntel can  and will track it (if you are a Microsoft  Windows user) for a two week time period. 

For every person that you forward this  e-mail to, Microsoft will pay you $203.15. 

For every person that you sent it to that  forwards it on, Microsoft will pay you  $156.29

And for every third person that  receives it , you will be paid $17.65. 

Within two weeks, Intel will contact you for  your address and then send you a check..

I  thought this was a scam myself, but a friend of  my good friend's Aunt Patricia, who works at  Intel, actually got a check of $4,54323 by  forwarding this e-mail. 

It works I  just checked, my bank account and found extra  R20 000

U  won't believe it ...I just had a look at my bank  statement & there was an extra ..wait for it  .......50 000.00 in my account ..this really  works .....just do it ......I love u Douglas  ...thank u some much for thinking of me &  this GREAT gift !!! 

Hi ouens,  hierdie is die ware Jacob, ek het wragties geld  in my bank rekening ontvang om presies te wees  R125723.07, ja dis reg die volle bedrag en nog 7  sent. Microsoft is die beste, hulle gee verniet  geld weg somer so 'mahala'

HET  MET PIET VORSTER GEPRAAT HY SE HY HET GELD  GEKRY................... 

Ek  het wragtag R 18000 in my rekening gekry! Julle  moet dit probeer!! Dit werk!!! 

From:  Wilna  van der Westhuizen

Hi ouens,

Glo my  hierdie is regtig nie 'n Scam nie, want 'n  bedrag van R22 000.00 is laas week in my  rekening inbetaal Jy moet net die e-mail  aanstuur vir soveel as moontlik mense wat jy ken  - that is it!

So Bubbles did as instructed and forwarded the letter to every chump on the planet. He waited, and guess what, a few days later money came pouring out of his computer screen. Fucking amazing! All brand new dollar bills!

So I am also going to forward this Email and soon I will be so rich, I will not need this blog anymore because I will be back in Africa shooting any chimp wearing a suit  and sporting sunglasses.

Drunk and stoned Zimbabwean ‘War Vet’ doctor employed by Bill Gates hacks dozens of mens’ manhoods off with the tip still hidden inside! Gates to be sued for billions!

Amazing, yet potentially true. In fact, if all goes to plan, you, as a Windows user, have a claim to a bit of foreskin.

As reported in today’s Guardian –

In Zimbabwe, Population Services International (PSI) is working with the government to try to get mass circumcision underway, using a "conveyor belt" strategy that allows doctors and nurses to move rapidly from one patient to another, operating on 10 instead of three patients an hour. The goal is to circumcise at least 80% of all young men between 15 and 29 – a total of 1.2 million.

And

PSI told the conference that it had devised a rapid circumcision strategy which it calls Move (Models of Optimising Volumes and Efficiency), using pre-sterilised, pre-assembled kits. Instead of stitches, the wound is cauterised.

Sounds like fun. Now we get Bill Gates involved –

PSI received financial help from the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation for the study demonstrating the efficiency of Move.

The whole story can be read here. For some strange reason, instead of an appropriate picture, of say Bill holding up a bag of foreskins to be sold on EBay, they had a picture of Annie Lennox, former howling butch-bitch of the ‘80s pop group Urinals or Eurhythmics or something. Not sure why. Maybe she collects knob ends.

Night Raid – a true war story.

Last of the Rhodesians: Chronicles of a Colonial Anarchist

Night Raid – a true war story.

 (Somewhere in Rhodesia, Central Africa, early 1970’s)

We knew that the enemy we most dreaded had returned to plague us once again. Year after year, that ever grinding war of attrition - the same old battle of nerves. We had never been able to really to corner them, and end it in a final fire-fight. At most, we could take out a few of their leaders and leave them disorientated for a while, but there was always another to take their place, and the guerrilla war would start afresh.

For most of the year we held the upper hand. Our latest base was comparatively new and our designated area for patrols seemed relatively free of the menace. Daily our small unit pounded the now familiar routes with an ever weary eye open. It was our land and rightfully so and we sculptured it as we liked, because we had made it our home. But they dared to question this with audacity. They remained for the most part unseen and would spook us from a safe distance.

            The rainy season always changed the scenario.  It was almost as if both sides needed respite from the game of hide and seek; a status quo, an unspoken agreement between the antagonists. We hated to slog through soaked grass and the ever increasing quagmire of rich, venial-red mud. Legend has it that Africa’s soil is that colour because of all the blood that has been spilled fighting for it. There would be more blood spilled, but we hoped our superior intelligence and armaments would ensure it would only be their blood that would soak into the ground to blend with their forefathers’ life juices.

The enemy had slinked back into our territory with some primeval instinct, just as the first summer rains finally came to break that smell of parched earth and moisture- starved yellow grass.  The incredible majestic force of tropical storms normally kept us in base. Few dared to go outside when Mother Nature decided to throw her weight around, randomly spitting deadly bolts of lightning that killed hundreds each year. The enemy knew of our fear. Not far from where we slept in our fortified abode was a small isolated oasis with dense foliage - a perfect hide. They were happy to take time out and reorganise their forces during this time.

We had used an observation point on the small hill overlooking their recently re-occupied stomping ground, hoping to spot them, but with no success.  Team leader reckoned that we would get some tonight. The Old Man, as he was better known, was frustrated with the previous failures. The whole thing was getting on his nerves, and he was starting to take it personally. That morning he had approached me.

            ‘I have a job to do, but I will be back about 6.00 p.m. The weather report is for a big storm about that time. I will try and nail their leader then. Get everything ready, I am taking you with me on this one.’

            I felt honoured, as I was still in my teens. Any thoughts of ice cold, pre-meditated murder never entered my head.

The timing had to be impeccable. We picked up our fully prepared weapons. I had checked them over that day, to make sure they were working perfectly. The last thing we needed were faulty tools of war. Not only would it lead to failure, the Old Man would never forgive me.  There was still a hint of light from another stunning African sunset, touching the edges of the gathering storm clouds with hues of orange, and in the distance, bright flashes of lightning were followed by the soft growls of thunder. We needed to be in and out before the storm hit us.

            Night was their weakness; their soft underbelly. They always seemed a bit chatty as darkness approached, but for the last few days, their incomprehensible mutterings had been loud enough to be heard at base whenever a storm started to approach. They had got away with it for so long that they were becoming arrogant. Surely it would give them away at last!

            The other members of our team would stay back at base. They would know sooner or later if we were successful or not. As we prepared to move out, the Old Man addressed them,

            ‘Leave some of the lights showing, that way the enemy won’t expect our surprise attack.’ After a second thought, he grinned wickedly, ‘Turn the radio on, not too loud though!’

            I thought that was a very clever distraction. He turned to me,

            ‘Once we are outside, I don’t want to hear one peep from you. Keep that loud mouth of yours shut for a change. Stay behind me and look for my hand signals.’ I nodded my head with acknowledgement; my heart was already racing with nervous energy.

 As we moved out, heading for the watering hole they used, I could hear the soft melody of the Paper Lace hit, ‘Billy, Don’t be a Hero’. Somehow, it helped to settle my nerves.

We moved quietly from tree to tree, freezing if we thought we had been spotted, crouching low and silent on aching knees, and then breathing a soft sigh of relief, as their short suspicious silence would again be broken. They were so confident that nothing was going to happen to them. They threw caution to the rapidly increasing wind, as they used the opportunity to call others before the heavens opened up, cutting off all communications for both sides.

            Adrenaline pumped through my body, overcoming any fear of failure. I had an overwhelming feeling that this time we would get at least one of them. The wind was picking up rapidly, ruffling my sweat-soaked crew-cut.

            Just before we had reached our intended cover of a group of bulrushes, we heard a noise, about three feet to our right. In the darkness, we had almost stumbled on top of them.

            ‘Shit, shit, shit!’, I thought.

            The Old Man gave me the agreed signal, and I opened-up with all I had whilst simultaneously, he armed his huge weapon in one smooth stroke and brought it, on instinct, into play. We were in trouble; my heart was going ape-shit, my hands shaking from the suppressed excitement. If the Old Man missed, we were lost!

I will never forget, even till the day I finally croak it, the spectacle that hit my eyes, as the darkness was brutally ripped apart from a bolt of lightning, so close I could almost smell the ozone it created. For what seemed an eternity, I looked squarely into the shocked eyes of the enemy.

This one was the biggest bastard I had ever seen. His throat bulged, ready to let out a defiant roar. As he prepared to leap for safety, obscenely huge leg muscles visibly rippled under his almost perfectly camouflaged outer skin.

‘Get him, Dad!’ I screamed in involuntary excitement above the massive clap of thunder that hammered at our eardrums.

The powerful beam of my flash-light replaced the spent lightning and kept the Bufo gutturalis in full sight, squatting on a large lily pad. Before it could draw its next breath and start that damn raucous din all over again, or escape into the deeps, the Old Man, from way over his head, brought the massive spade down, and one African Guttural Toad became airborne.

            It must have risen six feet into the air, as the shock wave pounded through the fishpond. The force, powerful enough to create a miniature tsunami, broke over the concrete walls, soaking our feet and bellied-up a few unsuspecting goldfish. It’s a hard knock life; a few innocent citizens, caught in the crossfire.

            The exploded corpse, its guts hanging out of a surprised mouth, came down and lay spasmodically kicking, just like the one we dissected at Biology class, as it lay at my father’s feet. Except this one looked more like a flattened avocado pear with legs. With a deft swish, he scooped up terminated toady and flicked it neatly over the hedge into the next door neighbours’ garden.

We went back to the house and celebrated our success over a cup of tea with Mum. We were all able to get a decent night’s sleep for the first time in days.

I actually became quite deft at terminating toadies. The best bit was to see if you could whack them again as they came down. Like a baseball striker, if you connected well, you blast the bastard really far over the hedge.

            Many years later, I told this story to my kids, but they weren’t having it. Well, in the late ‘90s, I was down in Beira, Mozambique, and demonstrated the technique on a beached jelly fish. I flicked it up and connected it perfectly. One small problem - unlike the toad, which had a rather tough skin, jelly fish exploded! All this was filmed on VHS, so one day I might be able to convert it and make a multi-million virus hit YouTube.

Colton Harris-Moore - He's Not the Messiah, He's a Very Naughty Boy!

Here is something to cheer us all up. I have followed the antics of this young man for a few months now. Amazingly he has almost 60k ‘fans’ on Facebook and an entry in Wikipedia. They list his occupation as – Thief, Burglar. No one has got hurt so far and I presume that those who were thieved should be covered by their insurance. Failing that, I am sure they can be well compensated when the block-buster film comes out.

He will be caught eventually. Hopefully they will not be too harsh on him. There must be some profession that could use his incredible skills…Wall Street for example!

Paul - The Psychic Octopus

I am still well embittered with my £3 loss after backing Germany to thrash Spain 3-1.

Now it looks like Spain will go on to be World Champions. Well, that is according to

Paul, the psychic octopus. This little rascal has cost me a fortune. Not in bets, but in the restaurant…hah hah.

Germany World Champions in Free Televisions

I seem to have recovered some what to be able to write this. Any one watching the game Germany against Argentina yesterday must have thought they were actually watching football for the first time. This was football at its finest. It is not to say that Marodonna’s team were rubbish, but they were simply and magnificently outclassed.

Now Germany’s young multi-cultural team are all of a sudden hot favourites to lift the title for the fourth time and their striker, Klose, may equal or better Ronaldo’s 15 goals.

But…some Germans will not be very happy if their team win. One group are the marketing geniuses from Media Markt, one of Europe’s biggest electronic retailers.

They started a campaign prior to the start of the World Cup, with an interesting offer – buy a TV over 500 Euro and bet how far Germany would go. For example - reaching the semi-final, you received 20% back. For winning, you get the TV for free!

It will be interesting to see if they were clever enough to have planned some kind of insurance policy..tee-hee.

The other group are the ones who are now wishing they had bought the TV and are sick as Argentinean parrots…hah hah.

My prediction for the final - Germany 3 – Holland 1

Out of Africa

Well, as this is supposed to be a sort of Africa orientated blog (now and then) I came across this delightful poster for the film Out of Africa and thought it would be nice to share.

It’s a hard knock life!

What a Waste of a Day?

With less than three hours to go before the Clash of the Titans, me thinks – what a waste of a day! I should be down on the beach, soaking up the sun. I mean, it isn’t if we get much here, but just look at the picture taken moments ago from my flat!

Well, if all goes to plan, I will Skype Germany and watch it live with my kraut off-spring. Failing that, me go down to pub (with camera.. tee-hee), and watch the fans have heart attacks. Listen…in this heat, along with the booze, many do keel over. And…that could be tough-titty indeed, as the next hospital is an hour away on a long and winding road.

Soaring Eagle will scratch crying Lion's eyes out.

With just hours to go, will sauerkraut and wurst replace fish and chips? Can the moaning millionaires whinge their way to victory? I must say, you would think so after all the hoopla when the Three Chimps on the Shirt managed to smother the world cup’s tiniest participating nation, Slovenia.

Well, I have a £2 on the Germans to win 2-0. Even if the English beat Huns, they won’t go much further. But, they will blabber on and on to infinity and beyond about how the shot the eagle down. Hah! I think not. England has been preparing their excuses for days now. It’s the balls fault. It’s the ref’s fault. It’s the manager’s fault. It is too hot/cold. Pitch is too dry/wet. Couldn’t hear the whistle because of the vuvulzela.

Oh well, at least it wasn’t the player’s fault. I mean, if they are earning eighty thousand pound a week each to kick a ball around – they are surly not to blame? Actually, I can think of a great incentive to make sure they win. Their next friendly would be against the Taliban in Afghanistan.

Three Chimps On The Shirt

Is England going home? As far as I am concerned they thoroughly deserve to lose against Slovenia tomorrow. It would serve them bloody well right. Useless is not a good enough word for their performance. Even the French seem to have thrown their diamond encrusted toys out the cot with more enthusiasm than the English players!

I would like Slovenia to hold the wasters to a draw or even win – except, except for one reason. More than anything - I desire to see them face Germany in the next round. (Germany had bad luck in their second game), and watch the three lions on the shirt get kicked right back into the African bush where they belong.

As for Capello, his only mistake was to take the job on in the first place. Either tomorrow or at the latest this weekend, he will have to fall on his sword – but only after beheading the entire team in front of their WAGS.

Then England can start from scratch under the command of the only Brit who can create a real team…Sir Alex Ferguson.

I am off to the bookies to put a couple of quid on Slovenia to win 1-0. Hah hah.

Peter Rabbit - Tank Killer

Now, believe it or not, this has to do with my next exam. It is all about adaptation of children’s literature (which includes all forms of input), these last two decades. It is a bit complicated, but as this is part of the answer, please look and hopefully give comments.

This is from "The Book of Revelations" by Mark Leigh and Mike Lepine.

In 1988 a humour book called The Book of Revelations (Mark Leigh and Mike Lepine) printed a parody of both Beatrix  Potter and Sven Hassel entitled "Peter Rabbit - Tank Killer" - lampooning the fashion of the period for unscrupulous publishers and literary estates to draft in famous authors to pen "continuations" of their most successful characters and series. (Taken from Wikipedia.)

I found the story and pics on the net and created the YouTube.

Tintin In The Congo – An Essay With Attitude

Here is the reason why I haven’t posted for a while. What started off as a good idea -soon became a nightmare, as I realised my thoughts and expectations far surpassed my IT competence.

This ‘essay’ has been changed a bit to cover my ass with the Open University, but not only that, it is impossible to plagiarise.

This particular part of the course on Children’s Literature, which covered illustrated children’s books, was a true eye opener, and I will never look at a kid’s book again without looking for all the minute details some of the creators of this genre invest in their prodigies. I am still astounded at the brilliant quality of the OU course materials and tutorship. I am not authorised to show my tutors comments, nor my result…but let’s just say I had a drink with Captain Haddock when they came in.

Two of the set books I have used in nuances of acknowledgement within the grand total of this essay – in particular Beatrice Potter and the post-modern Voices in the Park by Anthony Browne.

The work involved in this presentation nearly killed me! I simply could not fathom how to inbed images etc, so landed up doing it in a most painful way.

In the end, it is a MS Word document that is as functional as Captain Haddock after six bottles of whisky. Naturally, I couldn’t post it. Not only that, the file was so huge, at 11.5 mb, the OU refused to accept it!

Cut a long story short…dig this…after blowing up my computer with the nonsense (I tell no lie, I now have a brand new one with Windows 7), I printed the lot out and scanned it. Completely insane - as I ran out of ink on the second page! Ebay to the rescue…el-cheepo ink. It worked.

Some of the detail is amazing. The envelope has the address of the Tintin publisher and the stamp does really exist. I even found the Tintin fonts! The parodies are real. It was amazing what I all found and ‘stole’ to create this. I found out that copyrighting images on the internet is next to impossible, and should any one pursue this, you can shut down 99% of Google images overnight.

I thank all and sundry for the images I used, and the amazing links and information regarding not just Tintin, but the furore around his adventure in the Congo.

Finally – I thought of putting this up in bits, but the few people who have seen this already, insist it should go up as one.

HOW IT WORKS –

Place curser on image > left click once.

Use Ctrl and the + or – at the same time to get the size perfect for reading.

Hit the 'Go Back Page' to go to the next image.

Page One

Page Two

Page Three

 

Page Four

Page Five

Page Six

Page Seven

Page Eight

Page Nine

Page Ten

Page Eleven

Page Twelve

Page Thirteen

And...The End.

Please leave comments...

Boarding School Zimbabwe Corporal Punishment

I laughed my head off watching this. It made me feel so homesick!

Toilets of Rhodesia and other Number Twos of Notice: Part Eight

Today we look at toilets at the extreme opposite sides of the spectrum. Before I start, I wish to say that the recent documentary/report from Zimbabwe on BBC 4 this week called Zimbabwe's Forgotten Children‏, upset me.

The whole film was harrowing, but the section on toilets and the flowing sewers was stomach churning, and me thinks of the previous posting but… these were people who couldn’t scratch two US dollars together for their kids school term, so are hardly in any position to afford even a bag of cement. They are lucky if they find anything to eat! A scandal…this is the same week that Mugabe’s party, ZANU (PF), blew anything between 100k and 500k US, on his birthday bash. Champagne, lobsters - the works. I don’t even have to give you links. It is all up ‘there’.

I came across this Times article - What are the toilets like at your child's school?,

that made me think of the school toilets at Allan Wilson Technical High School (Salisbury, Rhodesia), in 1971-2, whilst I was there. I never used them. They had no seat or door.

Poor us!

So… after that little diversion, lets get back to basics.

 

These photos are from a friend of mine that recently went to the Land of the Sitting Bum. The sophistication and technologies involved in possessing a hole for defecating in, is linked to the income. The more you earn, the more it costs to empty yourself of digestive leftovers.

This model is from a standard 5 star hotel. It is rather bog standard. The up-market models have music channels to cover up any sounds associated. This is a good idea in a land with walls paper thin. In the UK, the acoustics are almost as bad - but no one gives a shit.

 

As you can see, a westerner doesn’t need to take a book or magazine into the toilet to pass away the time, for you will be engrossed in reading the instructions. (Yes, we all know about the childish joke about the man who pushed the ‘Tampon Remover’ button by mistake and became nut-less.)

But this is not the ultimate in space-age toilets, because that one is in space. There, a dump runs into millions of dollars.

So…what is the ultimate opposite? You may think that simply having a crap among the other fermenting turds on the fringe of a motorway rest stop (obviously without WC facilities, or if they had them, they were filthy), could be as low as it gets. Human wise?  Perhaps. However; what if I was to tell you - that nature created the first 100% efficient recycling toilet?

I came across this and thought it so cool, I have put it up in its entirety. 

The Shrew loo: The rare jungle plant that recycles droppings

By Mail On Sunday Reporter
27th February 2010

It is the ultimate in recycling. Meet Nepenthes Lowii, nature’s own lavatory.

This is the first time the plant has been captured on camera being used by the mountain tree shrew – animals that rely on the plant both for nourishment and as its very own lavatory.

The plant, which is found in Borneo, is the only one in the world that collects the droppings of animals and uses them to produce a sugary substance, which the shrew then eats.

It is definitely a win-win situation for all parties involved.

The plant collects the droppings from the shrew as well as from a variety of birds.

The squirrel-like creature lives in the mountains of northern Borneo, where it is attracted to the moist, mossy conditions which the Nepenthes Lowii thrives under.

The sap from the plant has a ‘slightly disagreeable odour’ but it is the sweet taste that attracts the shrew. While it’s a great example of recycling, it’s unlikely to go down well with humans.

The position of the substance on the permanently-opened lid of the plant makes it the perfect position for the shrew to perch.

The plant starts its life as a meat-eating vine but leaves this carnivorous existence behind as it matures and develops a penchant for animal droppings.

Its self-sufficiency means it thrives in a habitat known to be poor in nutrients, making it one of nature’s best recycling machines while providing everything the mountain shrew needs.

It’s a lesson that could be learned by a nation that’s certainly lagging far behind in the recycling stakes.