I have a Girlfriend called Jay

Weird Wonders

Started work as usual today. Usually work always starts before being finished. I have never met anyone who finishes a job before they have started.

When I was dreaming of a career – I decided that with my 5 o’ levels I could start at the top. My first job in the construction industry did start at the top. I was given a shovel and told to dig a hole.

Meanwhile – back in the weird and wonderful world of TGK…

With the blessing of the heavens weeping all over poor little me, I found the perfect excuse to skive off. So, I tootle back home after picking up some graze and beer and after parking up as parking down only happens in sink holes. Or – you can go down and park up in an underground car park.

I open the letter box. Inside is a strange note from DHL. Sorry we missed you etc – collect your parcel tomorrow at your local post office.

Blank. Totally blank (my mind). I have no recollection I ordered anything. Panic attack, maybe Jay’s ex has traced my address and sent a bomb! Or maybe Mugabe has sent an assassin?

Well puzzled, I struggled up the staircase with 50 bottles of beer bending my back. To relieve the weight – at each floor I drank ten. By the time I reached the third floor I could barely find my front door even though it was right in front of me. Now I panicked – did I have enough beers to last the night or should I fall down the steps and go and buy some more?

Luckily common sense prevailed and after falling off the toilet and having a little kip on the cool tiled floor, I turned the PC on.

AND there it was! It seems I HAD ordered something – cost a bloody fortune. 15 Euros. Three tins of BRUT deo, all Jays faults. She just luuurves her brute smelling of BRUT (less the 33).

However – there was something else. A weird notice that I have received three pounds from a very dodgy Russian name living in Cypress. It turns out that my sadly ignored blogspot still has a donation site for beers for me! Nice huh.

Finally – before I go on the lash and chase skirt -

I bought a new can of roll baccy today. It has all sorts off nasty pictures of dead and dying people due to smoking the stuff. This can said it could cause a heart attack. Bloody right – nearly had one trying to get the lid off!

LM Radio – Confusion due to Repetition of Adverts and Advice

‘Dad, I am going to climb this tree.’

‘Be careful son, you have difficulty climbing into bed.’

‘I will be fine Dad …aahhhh. My leg hurts.’

‘Don’t worry son, I know just the people to call for help.

Dring- dring, dring-dring, dring-dring (continue for half an hour)

‘TimberCity - Natasha Smartmetical on the apparatus. How can I help you?’

‘I think my son has broken his leg. The tibia and fibula are twisted at the patella sideways and a splintered part of the femur is sticking out his thigh pointing skywards.’

‘Not to worry sir – here at TimberCity we have all the tools you need.  We stock a huge range of chains saws to remove the damaged limb and a fine selection of staple guns to seal the opening left behind.’

‘Sounds great, but it is his right leg, not his left behind.’

‘Right you are sir. Do you know how to get to us?’

‘Yes, straight down Che Guevara Ave, through the police control and turn left into Robert Mugabe dead end.’

‘Correct sir. Remember, if at the control, the officers attempt to ask for a bribe – do not pay. You must report them. Real police officers are easily identified by designer Porsche sunglasses and gold Rolex watches.’

‘Thanks for the advice – I will be there soon. Can you replace the limb?’

‘But of course, sir. We make made to measure peglegs. A wide selection of woods. Ebony, willow, beach – which covers blacks, whites  and colored people. If your son is a lighty, we do a special in balsa wood to.’

‘Fantastic. I will measure his leg before I drive over.’

‘Not a problem – and remember, Tinkie says “Don’t drink and drive”.’

Happy Valentines Day

A Happy Valentines Day to you all.

For those in a long heterosexual relationship, married or in cohesion, remember ladies  – buy the man a new fishing rod, shotgun and a crate of beer.

For those single ladies looking for love – Pvt me on FB.

For LGTBers – I have no advice – but I am sure you will have a lovely time tonight. And why not?

BUT –

I can not go away without a sketch – based on what is coming over the news channels right at this moment. Laugh? I nearly shat in my pants. It goes like this –

In loony land, Kim Yong Yo Yo Bum Pongs, leader of North Korea, decides at the last moment to sort of, make amends that he never met his elder half-brother, Kim Kong Ping Ponging Bum.

Knowing that Kim Kong Ping Ponging Bum, just happened to be arriving in Koala Lumpit,  Kim Yong Yo Yo Bum Pongs sends two female cherubs to shoot love darts into his half-brother.

It was to suppose to be a sign of brotherly love. The potion was perhaps a little too strong, for -

 Kim Kong Ping Ponging Bum is, according to Reuters - rigor mortis.

Howszat?

A Comment –

Scroll on by or write something? Or just pass on Cut and Pastes that fit into your mind set.

You have 15 seconds to decide.

I watched, today, a very interesting program about the ‘Echo Effect’.

It was about how the internet and in particular, social media, has separated the world.

There were some mind boggling facts and charts. But I summarize using  FB - RWW as a classic example.

The division has been emphasized by algorithms that calculate what you, as a person, are now mathematically classified.

The machine knows who your friends are, what you have in common and target you and your chinas with news and postings that have a common interest.

Regardless of the rest of the population who may actually digress from your opinions.

Democracy , as we hope it is, was based on the very simple recipe -
‘We agree to disagree.’

THAT – is the founding centre of democracy – because it leads to COMPROMISE, without wars.

As Godwin and Hancock so correctly pointed out in the brilliant academic book, ‘Rhodesians Never Die’, the only thing that held the frail tangible web of fabric of White Rhodesians – was a mutual hatred of terrorism.

We, the white minority along with 80% of volunteer black combatants - lost.

Think what you like. This posting is not interested in the whys, what’s, and fuck-ups – but about modern attitudes of ‘Rhodesians’ in the cyber world.

It is – a car crash. I know and have experienced the whole internet sensation for two decades. It all started with the ‘Bush Telegraph’.

Rhodies with money enough to pay many thousands for a 133k PC with windows and ISDN, flocked to the common eating ground. One person emerged as leader.

In a space of two years, via this medium, affairs were struck up, marriages destroyed and eventually great leader was murdered on his door step. C'est la vie.

But when Facebook arrived along with cheap PCs, and cheap internet connection – the world changed for the Rhodesian Diaspora. And how...

So – with perhaps less than a population of 200.000 and loads dropping dead everyday – the so called community, seems to have fuck all else to do than prove the ‘Echo Theory’.

Gather in huddles of selected groups who agree on anarchic and blinkered vision of the past and future.

From one Rhodesian site to another – like the head of Medusas - a monster, a Gorgon, generally described as a winged human female with a hideous face and living venomous snakes in place – is that what ‘Rhodesians’ - have accomplished?

Always the same. Boring, un-original, no contributions but cut and pastes of – shit. I exclude brave members who post their art – well done.


And then – for no apparent reason – hatred. Incredible pouring of comments against someone they do not have a clue about. So extreme – in Germany, you would find yourself arrested.

Why do you – yes, you – do that?

Do you get a thrill because some equally mentally retard ‘likes’ your stupid posting? Have you ever thought that – if you forward enough - you will actually get your original (not), posting back again.

A perfect cycle of repetition - created by clever people who get their kicks by watching the peasants paying for the internet to actually become brain dead.

I rest my case. It is up to you – The Last of the Rhodesians, to work it out.

I have no problems with my mental health issues – I understand them.
AND - this is an academic comment. Not aimed at anyone. And I love you all. I think - therefore I am.

Rhodesians and china

What I love about Rhodesians –

How Rhodesians interrupt the word - China.

2017 - China as we know it now, are a seriously overpopulated country that makes TVs and Smart phones, shoes, and just about any consumer product that buzzes, flashes and contributes nothing to the well being of the human race. To achieve this, they plunder the natural resources of the African continent.

1977 – China is we knew it, is a large country full off demons with slitty eyes, hell bent on raping Africa and teach innocent ignorant black people that white people are bad, should be murdered, and if you get rid of them, they can vote democratically (once), someone who will take some serious back handers and hand over their natural resources so they can make things that buzzes, flashes and contributes nothing to the well being of the human race.

China – 1978 and backwards beyond the time when people understood why we called each other china - is in modern talk of ‘M8’.

However – this could be a form of friendliness, as in - ‘he ain’t heavy, he is my china’. OR -
‘You getting heavy with me - CHINA? ’ – which can be followed with physical violence.

China – The bone.

One of the strangest things that the majority of Rhodesians simply could not understand.

I have many examples – but let me take you back to 1975 – I am chasing a honey as I want her to be my babe.

Then comes the torture – you have to meet her parents. Afternoon tea, in the garden, under a tree, whilst Sixpence serves up. The usual Rhodesian Ridgebacks cruising around in hope of catching a thieving picannin or two -

You are slicked down Rhodie macho style. Nut crusher khaki shorts, long bright blue socks, the right one with a turtle shell plastic comb (Made in Italy in those days), just peeping out the top – and your pudding bowl haircut has enough Brylcreem to make the dog’s fleas leave their local resort and take up skiing on your head.

You are panic stricken – this is all too much getting the stamp of approval – hopefully not on your rather crushed nuts. Then it happens –

The ‘Madam’ swirls in, offering her hand. You jerkily jerk up and as a jerk, manage to tip the entire table of ‘tea’ onto the ground. (This is based on a true story.)

Panic stricken the adrenalin affects your hearing – it seems the ‘Madam’ said -
‘Good Lord, your bone has broken my teapot, china.’

I admit I had a bone for her daughter, but since when was she my china?

Actually – as I became a writer decades later – I recalled this incident and looked up ‘Bone and China’.
The truth is horrible.

Bone china is a type of soft-paste porcelain that is composed of bone ash, feldspathic material, and kaolin. It has been defined as ware with a translucent body containing a minimum of 30% of phosphate derived from animal bone and calculated calcium phosphate.

My chinas – stick to a bottle of beer – Made in Germany.