Organised Slime

Fame and fortune and the price we have to pay for it.

If you are a female, famous and add to the qualifications above average graced with beauty, you have suddenly become the target of the paparazzi. These are the lowlifes of society that have no regard for anyone and would sell their mothers for a used cigarette butt, they waffle about in their cesspool little worlds of septic stench and taint all they come into contact with.

The sad truth is that if these festering boils of humanity had no market for their cowardly invasions of peoples privacy, they would become instinct and would hopefully cease to be and die a painful cold disease infected death.
So are they entirely to blame? No.
The publications that flaunt their wares like prostitutes invading your dining room during Sunday family lunch are as guilty for providing a livelihood for our blood sucking spineless leeches, they in turn are fed by the millions of readers who buy their filth and crave for any semi-disclosed glimpes of a breast or bottom.

We, the general public have created a monster so vile and evil that it will stop at nothing to obtain information be it true or not. They will trample on and destroy lives and families, sell their souls and trade anything for filth they can blackmail to the highest bidder.

The solution? I dont think we have one.
We live in a world were electronic data is processed and distributed quicker than the Kardashians can outswear an entire trrop of marines on leave after 2 years combat.

Once the damage is done, it has very little chance of being removed from the minds of those who believe it as gospel truth.

Nite all

Willie Nelson Rocks

I like Willie Nelson.

I am sure more than half of you have clicked to the next blog by now, but hang on. If I had said I like Kim Kardashian or one of her 20 sisters then fair enough.

What makes Willie Nelson stand out for me? His hair? NO! His music? Well some of it is ok. His acting? Um I think Chock Norris acting in a musical might do a better job. Then what is it.

He is a survivor. Born in 1933 and fighting the establishment and standing up for what he believed in has not made him a favourite with the authorities. He has ever always fought for what he believes in. In 1993 due to mismanagement of his accountants he was bankrupt and lost all he had. He started from scratch at the age of 60, me starting from scratch at the age of 43 seems like childsplay in comparison. He paid back his debts and his friends bought some of his assets and rented them back to him at a nominal rate. I too have friends that have lent me almost all that I have in my flat, I do own my own underwear and pride myself that these are replaced once they wear through in the gravity regions causing a free falling scenario I am very uncomfortable with.

He has been married 4 times and has 7 kids, he has been arrested numerous time for the possession of marijuana but I suppose we are all allowed our faults, this is what makes us human after all.
He has fought for and campaigned for many years for causes such as Farm Aid, Bio-diesel, Anti-war and animal and horse welfare.
In comparison, I advocate free speech (not hate speech) free beer (My Free the Froth Campaign is in its early stages) and encourage the "Hug Someone Daily" slogan. I have been married once and have 2 kids and  have only been arrested once but not charged.

Willie Nelson is a free spirit operating within a system made to protect the middle classes from any threat to their little world they have cocooned themselves in, he fights and sings for what he believes in and has more hair on his head than I have on my entire body.
He reminds us that we need to do more than just our so-called 9-5 duty, I need to leave my comfort zone and embrace my neighbours warts and all, irrespective of their religious, social and musical choices.
Yes opera hurts but not as much as Oprah.

If they dont like beer, have a fruit juice with them.

Nite All

Rocking with Depression

I know what it feels like to be tired, moody, angry, irritable and as miserable as a Liverpool supporter, I have lived with a desire not to get out of bed in the morning and not even the allure of an exceptional cuppachino able to rouse limbs that feel hundreds of years old.

Its called depression and is basically a condition that takes the rock and roll from the soul and replaces it with Michael Bolton ballads, a fate worse than eating extra spicy curry when you have aching hemorrhoids i am told.
My name is Ted and I am on medication for depression.

When I am on the meds, I cope perfectly well and am able to cope with most of life's curveballs, without them I am unable to process and understand and rationally deal with them at all, I am an angry teenager who cannot comprehend  the need for logic as it defies my irrational tantrum. I was convinced by my therapist, doctor and friends that these were needed and the difference has been life-altering. My biggest stumbling block was "me" and seeing it as a character flaw, I was too proud initially to admit that I was not able to cope on my own, I mean just look at Batman and how happy he is! I have tried to wean myself more than once and quickly realised that they were a part of life as much as my distorted sense of humour is.

So all was going well until I discovered that I will be in Lesotho a week longer than anticipated and will be running out of my "happy I want to cuddle the world" pills. I have had to move to alternate days and with the reduction emerged my old enemy, laughing and attempting to drag me down to the cesspool from where he emerged. The battle has once more commenced.

For me to do my Mick Jagger moves with the raspiness of Bob Dylan impression, I need the little pearl of stability that comes in a white capsule and henceforth I can Rock the Depression oooooooo yeah. For now my moves are very unlike Jagger and resemble a sloth without a Garmin.

Also have the odd headache to contend with, but the light shines and the tunnel draws to a close.

Nite All

Homemade Lemonade

R6.00 for 2 lemons.

Has the world gone mad. When married I had 2 lemon trees and a lime tree in my back yard and I could never find people to take them because there were so many. According to the cost and the other ingredients required, I have decided to calculate the cost of your average glass of homemade lemonade if Sipho and Kobus were operating their BEE eLemonade Crush Stand.

The standard ratio to a simple lemonade recipe is once of water, lemon juice and sugar per serving, dissolve the sugar in some water heated on the stove and once dissolved add the balance of the ingredients and simmer.
Let it cool overnight and add fresh mint if required and serve over crushed ice.

This basic recipe is foolproof, the result is awesome and the addition of your own alcoholic derivative priceless.

The cost per glass of lemonade purchased from Sipho and Kobus will be in the region R20 per glass (just under $3). for them to make R100 each a day profit they would have to sell in the region of 40 units.
If I had to explain this to my daughters they would look me squarely in the eye and ask if I was ok. Did I really expect them to sit on a sidewalk/pavement and risk getting mugged or worse sunburnt and what would happen if their BlackBerry batteries died? Times have changed and simple is not what it used to be.

PS. I think I may make some lemonade for old times sake.


Nite All

Hair Attack

I noticed that with maturity comes unwanted traits that I never seemed to be aware of in people before. I have aches in parts of my body caused by sport when I still thought of myself as invincible, for example if I am on the floor it requires a set of moves that would make a Chinese wrestler proud just to get back on my feet.

Another side effect or mutation is the emergence of Lone Ranger hairs.
They work alone, spring up when you least expect them and will ride against the natural direction of the other hairs. They also prefer areas where they can expose themselves to world with pride, ears, eyebrows and nostrils to name three. I was not going to be intimidated by one such hair on my eyebrow and decided to attack it with a set of tweezers, I should add that my Simon or Nicole are normally the ones that remove these outcasts of society for me.
So the battle commenced.
I lost.
I was slaughtered and for my efforts I now sported a bald spot which is not in fashion and could not be covered up. I believe the final tally was as follows, "Mad Grey Hair's removed nil and normal eyebrow hairs removed twenty".

For my last tattoo on my back, the area had to be shaved before the tattoo commenced, I have come to accept that it is a battle that I am beginning to lose. However, every now and then I arise like a phoenix and attack and pluck and shave till I am once more granted access to state acceptable to 10 years ago.

Nite All

My Friend Monday

We all have a "special" friend, someone we have known for years, love like a brother or sister and yet are a little wary of taking them into public.

They are as loyal as an old dog and you know that if you called them at 3 in the morning to help you dispose of a body, they would. Of course you will receive a lecture next to none and a tirade of abuse as well (unless the body is that of your ex), but they would do it.

This is the same relationship I have with Mondays.

I love Monday like an old friend, we have been together as long as I can remember and have shared good and not so good memories. Monday is the puppy that licks your face at 5 in the morning wanting to play, its is also the dog poo you step in in the middle of the night.
Its the girl you loved who broke your heart and the one you will love forever but will never date.
Friday is the pop music of the week while Monday is more of the loud grunge rock you aren't quite in the mood for, its the wrong place at the wrong time.

The misfortune of being born Monday is that it has a responsibility to get you up, kick your bottom out into the street and force you to work to begin a new week. It is the bad parent who has to enforce the discipline even though it would rather play and laugh.
So, perhaps we should embrace Monday and love it a little more, thank it for always being around and knowing that no matter what, Monday will always be on our mind.

Nite All

December Beckons

I started writing this blog under a heading entitled "Lovers" and then I basically ran out of words of the positive nature.
Why?
Well I contemplated that as we approached Christmas, it was the time that more suicides are committed than any other time of the year, so I have decided to entitle it "Surviving Christmas".

My first 2 Christmas's after my divorce were absolute hell and I longed for the day to end and for folk to leave me alone, I could see through their smiles as their eyes told me that they felt sorry for me. It was a time where was it not for my beautiful Simon and Nicole, I would have fled and just kept running.
However, friends embraced us, they welcomed us into their homes and they acted normally and didnt make a fuss over us, they allowed us to hide, blend into the shadows and withdraw when it became too much.
My 3rd Christmas was much better and I was able to interact and my girls and I smiled and joined in, we had found our niche and our reduction from 4 to 3 was now stronger than ever, bless you Brian, Dee, Zane and Trav.

Financially the past three years have been all about survival and in most cases we were not even able to give gifts, this for me was a humbling experience as I battled to receive and not return the favour. On reflection it was a time where I truly learnt more in that period of my life about grace, love, compassion and God working through people as they blessed us with gifts, love and even food.Our first Christmas together was 2 weeks after the divorce and I was so broke that homeless folk slept better than I, I had no home a Fiat Uno with all my worldly possessions in it and we were housesitting a friend of a friends home. A friend took me off to Pick and Pay and bought us groceries for the holidays so that I wouldn't have to worry about feeding my girls. I will never forget that.

So this year, my wish for you and me is the same, find some friends, family or loved ones. If you have none of these then make an extra plate or two of food and drop them off with folk who would appreciate them, any old age home will have forgotten folk who will welcome sharing a cup of tea with you.

I plan to visit my folks, my Dad with advanced Parkinsons no longer remembers me and it pains me to see him in this state, but the memories are so alive and filled with love that it will be great to see him. My Mom is the rock that has and still does keep us as a family together and I have so much love and respect for her.

Dont leave it till the last minute, start your planning now and make it a Christmas to remember.


Nite All

Black and White

So it seems that dogs see life in black and white and I was thinking that this may indeed be a wonderful way to see life for a while, please don't assume that I am not a fan of the spectrum of colours that bless me when I  stub my toe or cut myself shaving, but I often do not appreciate them with a lego block wedged in my heel.

The absence of colour assists me to focus on the object at hand, it enhances the subject and fades the additional extras into a background haze that rests like an exhausted puppy. A beautiful portrait, a wedding or a funeral can be expressed in a manner that colour cannot match. (It has been brought to my attention that the only difference between a Brakpan wedding and a Brakpan funeral is one less drunk).

Would this work in all situations? No, nature, food and boy bands need to be encased in the full spectrum of colours.
Why boy bands?
Well to capture them in black and white would somehow somehow elevate them above the dressed, patted and painted synchronised musical monkeys they deserve, colour shows them as they truly are and entitles them their lollipop candyfloss moment of recognition.


When I am in the process of photoshopping the colour out of a picture or bleaching it, I am always amazed at the transformation and personality that the photo takes on, it transcends itself from a mere collection of millions of coloured pixels to a story begging to be shared.

Colour somehow envokes the feeling of motion and movement whereas black and white seems to stop and capture that precise moment and freeze it forever sealing it in a timeless capsule. Thats what does it for me, I have that moment forever locked in a frame and encased in glass.

Click click

Nite All

Rock & Roll Grub

It s fun, its sensual and its as sinful as wearing a loincloth made of bacon to a temple ceremony and you weren't even on the guest list.
Its like meeting your new dates parents and hitting on her Mom, its the orgasmic response to the first bite of a meal so good you want to cry.

Rock and roll depicts a theology and lifestyle that is more than the image of wild orgies and drugs, no my friends it is so much more than that. It's just a step to the left, and a jump to the right, its rock and roll dreams come true, its a crazy little thing to call love. Dreams than can come true, a smile and slow dance so intense that if you were to kiss, a crowbar would be required to pry you apart, yes my rocking friend its all about passion and living for that moment.

Rock and roll food is the same, its the juicy cheese burger complete with a slice of tomato and lettuce on a soft seeded roll, a beef patty the thickness of your thumb and hot crispy fries. As you bite into it, hot juices run down your chin and drip onto your plate, the taste of grilled beef and melted cheese awaken a stirring in you and you close your eyes and just relish the moment. It is a meal that awakens memories and if shared with a loved one you cant help but flirt with them as you lick your fingers between bites. You stroke the juices on your plate with a chip and the crunch as you bite into it sounds like ice cracking, slightly salty, hot and tainted with pleasure. Its a ballad of love found, lost and never forgotten. Its a kiss in an alley, its sneaking under their t-shirt and their sharp intake of breath as you make contact with their skin.

The smell, the taste, the experience is what makes it the ultimate rock and roll meal. Its about falling in love all over again or getting over a crashed relationship. Accompany it with great music and you can face another day or tackle the impossible.

Nite All

Bullies

We all have a thorn in our side, a bug who we would like to squash and strutt away into the sunset sipping on a canned beverage.

Some of life's problems can be resolved by turning the other cheek, being the bigger person or smiling in the face of adversity, others however . . . . .
In the early days of divorce there are so many raw emotions and confused thoughts that you wear your emotions on your sleeve. Snapping, outbursts and overwhelming emotions with a tendency to take all comments personally don't help the situation.

It has now been close to three years that I have been divorced and friends, family and a very patient therapist have turned me into a human being, well not according all that is. What has changed is that I have learnt to express my self, so instead of saying "That was not the most intelligent decision of your life" I might be tempted to utter "OMW did we have to flush all our braincells away this morning? Could we not have saved 3 to keep us ahead of Neanderthal man? Really"
Being honest has helped me to stop myself from having my third stroke, so far so good.

Back to the thorny little bullies, in this case a limp wristed pencil pushing spoilt human who has no people skills and the tact of a sailor in a brothel, someone who has no management experience and uses their lack of skills to bully those below them by means of pulling "rank". Such a spineless silver spoon fed protected enema of a human specimen only understands one form of response, attack.

So I lost it, not proud of my actions, but in this case justified as it required this method of interaction to send back the slithering sloth to the hole from where it crawled.

Bullies only understand a show of force, it requires this for them to leave you be and search for an easier prey who will bow down to their little power plays.

Inner peace, meditation and calm, maybe tomorrow.

Nite All

Spring Fever

Spring

Its when trees blossom and people seem to emerge from the sewers of winter wearing smiles and exposing white bleached skin to all and sundry.

Smiles replace grimaces and layers of clothing are replaced by tight t-shirts, amazing on the ladies but not so enduring on fully bodied middle aged men like myself. Picnics and walking and for some cycling become the order of the day as the winter kilos are frowned upon and the search for the perfect beach body commences.

I went for an half an hour brisk walk yesterday midst the locals who giggled and called me names I am sure refer to my rock and roll walking nature, red face and gasps of air. Some followed for a short while like vultures expecting me to drop and die so that they could pick me off like a corpse. I came back to my room and collapsed on my bed and dreamt of beer, cold frothy and oh so smooth, my bottled water tasted as exciting as Liverpool's Premier League survival. The need for bottled water is not due to my extravagant  lifestyle, no it has to do with the chemical smell and white sizzling nature of the local water on tap. I prefer my body to rust the old fashioned way, by means of lager and pilsner.

I am always reminded of the following quote when I begin outdoor exercising, " I don't trust joggers! It's just coincidental that they are the ones that find all the dead bodies"

Avoid bushes, watches and jewellery that lurk within your reach, you will discover that they are attached to a body and that leads to valuable time away from friends and pubs giving police statements. It also keeps you from exercising if you ever venture outdoors again. Perhaps this will explain the surge in the sale of treadmills in cities.

So besides the dead bodies and hayfever, you have picnics, beach parties and braais with friends. Embrace Spring and feast on the t-shirts fellas.

Nite