Archive for the 'Killer Posts' Category



22
Mar
11

Rebecca Black Is Everything That Is Wrong With The World

Men don’t rule the world. We haven’t for awhile now. Sometime during the 80s we began to relinquish control to women as they marched into high-powered, high-paying executive jobs with their colossal perms and shoulder pads that would make even Lord Zoltron shit his pants in mortal fear.

 

 

However, fast forward thirty years and another species has taken over completely, a species that controls the purse strings of most families whether they realise it or not. Teenage girls.

Teenage girls have taken over the world. And the result of this take over is a flood of media about superficial, surface-level bullshit that means nothing in the greater scheme, but is an incredibly efficient way to move a whole lot of consumer products that no one really needs.

And so we get to the subject of today’s post, Rebecca Black, whose new single “It’s Friday” is very possibly the worst fucking song and music video I’ve ever seen in my life.

I refuse to post the video here because it’s hard enough to get the fucking song out of my head as it is, but mosey on over to Mr Nashes site http://www.bangersandnash.com/hey-fool/its-friday/ to watch the most cringe worthy performance you’re ever likely to see for as long as you live.

I hate this song and music video for a number of reasons:

1. She can’t fucking sing
2. She can’t fucking dance either
3. This song has been stuck in my head for THREE DAYS NOW, AAARARRARARARARARRAAGGHGHGHGH!
4. She has put no effort into the lyrics whatsoever, as the graph below perfectly illustrates:

 

 

5. Did I mention how catchy this trite pile of turd is?! AARARRGARGAHRAGRHGARH!

And apparently I’m not the only person that feels this way. Check out this awesome parody of this mind-numbingly crap song.

 

 

Thank you internet. I can always rely on you to fight back against the vacuous garbage the mainstream media spews out there.

And with that, I’d better get the fuck back to my day job because it’s Tuesday. Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday. And tomorrow is Wednesday and after that is –

Oh GODDAMNIT!

-ST

15
Mar
11

Okes Who Like To KLAP IT #1

There’s nothing flippin’ more lekker than getting together with a bunch of okes who are MASSIVE AND RIPPED and MOERING other okes stukkend! When a oke can do this with his chommies he feels a POWERFUL sense of comrahderie because he’s one of the MANNE and no other oke can mess with him!

On Saturday I watched the tightest group of chommies I’ve seen in flippin’ AGES run up and down a field and MOER the flippin’ SHIT out of these other okes who weren’t that tight and probably could have used another 4 sessions a week in the gym, KLAPPING IT, instead of sitting around on their arses being flippin’ USELESS.

 

 

The group of chommies I’m talking about here call themselves WOLFPACK RFC and jislaaik, these guys are a buncha TUFF OUS! Saturday was their first rukby game against some moffie team who I forgot the name of and charnas, all I can say is the moffie ous lost something like 40 – 11 and it was embarrassing how kak they were.

 

 

But the thing that showed me that these okes were TIGHT, as TIGHT as okes can be was after the game they had a lekker huddle and howled like real life WOLFS and then KLAPPED PUSHUPS BOET! Lekker FAST AND HARD right there on the field!

Then after the pushups the okes jumped into an INFLATIBLE POOL and had a lekker jol together hugging each other and showing their flippin MASSIVE AND RIPPED muscles to the belters that were running around, unable to control themselves cause the okes were MONSTERS!

 

 

After that many, many cold beers were klapped and tales told of the EPIC game that was WOLFPACK RFC’s first ever rukby match and all I can say okes is well flippin’ done guys, at this rate you will KILL pretty much any team that is flippin’ dumb enough to think they can TOUCH YOU.

Keep on klapping!

-ST

10
Mar
11

The Simple Things

Today we stop everything we’re doing and take a minute to reflect on the inherent joy in the simple things.

We went to the beach a few weekends back and I took the following picture of a tree:

 

 

This picture perfectly sums up what I’m talking about. The tiny wooden bridge, the thick green grass, the white sand, you can almost feel it between your toes, these simple things are important. They have a way of lifting your spirits when life gets shitty – losing sight of these simple pleasures is a one way ticket to misery and brother, you don’t want to take that ride.

Children understand this without having to be told. They can spend hours picking up and scrutinising shells on a beach or getting totally lost in the simple act of making mud pies but as we get older bigger, badder things come our way and it’s easy to get lost in the fight.

Take pleasure in a simple act today. Run a bath, eat some ice cream, go for a swim, listen to Frank Sinatra, go for a walk, climb a tree. We give a lot of time away without realising that it’s really all we have and it’s running out fast. So take some back today, it’s good for the soul.

In other news J-Rab has a job interview today at a vet that would be perfect for her. She’s nervous for the interview, we’ve got a lot riding on this so guys, spare a thought for her today, cross fingers, cross toes, send good vibes and maybe that simple act will change our lives Winking smile

Here’s hopin’.

-ST

01
Mar
11

A Post For Salome

I always felt bad because when Stikey and I, at the tender age of about 15, decided to run away from home, we passed Salome in the street and lied to her about where we were going.

She could see that something was up. Two adolescent shit-kickers dragging a colossal tog bag up the road randomly in the middle of the afternoon. Not normal.

She asked us where we were going and I told her I was spending the night at Stikey’s place and not to worry about us and yes, our parents knew about it.

Then we high-tailed it up the street, jumped in a black taxi and drove to a Formula One hotel where we spent the night getting as wasted as humanly possible and freaking out completely that our parents were going to disown us.

We were asshole kids and we did a lot of asshole things, but lying to Salome like that, it never sat well with me.

I don’t remember if I ever apologised to her for that. To this day I still don’t know if my parents asked her if she’d seen me that afternoon and what she said.

I’m not sure it matters anymore. Salome died yesterday afternoon.

Let it be known, for as long as this junkyard site stands, that Salome was a  good person, that she went to church every Sunday and said her prayers, that she was a gentle soul and that she deserved to live longer and see her grandkids grow up big and strong.

Salome was young, younger than my mom is now when she died, too young.

She used to give the softest hugs.

I think that’s what I’ll remember about her the most. She gave the softest hugs and she had a great laugh that could always make you laugh.

And holy shit, she make the best goddamn chicken mayonnaise rolls you’ve ever tasted in your life! I swear to God, her chicken mayonnaise rolls were so good, I’d save them for the end of my school day and eat them on the rowing bus going back home with this big dumb smile on my face.

I’m older now and I understand that life is cruel, but why the fuck did it have to be so cruel to her? What the fuck did she ever do to deserve losing her daughter who died right next to Salome on the bed in the tiny room that Salome used to live in, what did she ever do to deserve that?

I remember one night she spoke to me about it, she came to me for answers, she wanted to know how the God she loved could do that, but what could I tell her? What the fuck do you say to  someone who’s been through that?

I hugged her because there was nothing I could say. I just hugged her for the longest time, until she’d stopped crying and I told her things would be ok, they would get better.

She used to give the softest hugs Salome, and if there is a God, she’s giving her daughter one of those hugs right now and they’re together in a world that’s much, much better than this one.

 

 

-ST

24
Feb
11

Immortality

Who wants to die? What a load of crap! One day you’re you, walking around, hanging out with your buddies, doing whatever it is you do to kill time and the next BAM! You’re worm-food and that crazy, unique, fucking cool person that was you is just gone.

Of course, religion steps in at this point and tells us that there’s some amazing imaginary place that we go to (or some dreadful, torturous, fire-and-brimstone hell-hole where you spend eternity on the worst acid trip EVER) and that’s fine. If that’s what you want to believe, by all means believe it – I would too if I could, but hinging all my hopes on something that may or may not exist after this life is already over seems a little futile.

 

 

This is now. I got bills to pay goddamnit, I got a life to live! Heaven, hell, God, Satan those are just words to me. I try to do good and live well and not screw people around – those things are more important to me than what may or may not happen after I die.

I stumbled on this site the other day that takes things to the extreme and poses the question, what would happen if ALL of us died? If there was some cataclysmic event that wiped us all off the face of this planet for good and what I read was pretty amazing.

 

  • After 2 days without pumping, New York’s subways would impassably flood
  • After 7 the emergency fuel supply to the diesel generators that circulate cooling water to nuclear reactors would run out
  • After 1 year a BILLION annually doomed birds would live when radio and communication tower warning lights ceased blinking and high tension wires grew cold. Animals will begin to return to the sites of nuclear reactors which would all have melted down or burned. Human head and body live will have grown extinct
  • After 3 years buildings will start to collapse as their innards expand and contract. With no heated shelter, cockroaches in temperate cities would die after one or two winters
  • After 20 years the Panama Canal would have closed, reuniting the Americas. Common garden vegetables will have reverted to unpalatable strains
  • After 100 years populations of small predators (weasels, raccoons, foxes, etc.) will diminish due to competition from a human legacy: immensely successful feral housecats (kitteh!)
  • After 300 years, New York’s bridges would fall. Dams worldwide will have silted, overflowed and collapsed. Cities built in river deltas will have washed away completely
  • After 500 years, forests would stand in the place of most suburbs. Amid the trees aluminium dishwasher parts and stainless steel cookware would lie, their plastic handles splitting, but still solid
  • After thousands of years, the only human structures still intact would be underground
  • After 35 000 years all the lead deposited during the smokestack era will have finally been cleansed from the soil
  • After 100 000 years, CO2 levels will have returned to pre-human levels (could take longer)
  • After 250 000 years the levels of plutonium in plutonium bombs would be lost to the Earth’s natural background radiation
  • After hundreds of thousands of years microbes will have evolved to biodegrade plastic
  • After 7 200 000 years vestiges of Mount Rushmore will still be intact, barring asteroids or violent earthquakes. Toxic manmade substances such as PCB will still be intact, though mostly buried
  • After 10 200 000 years, bronze sculptures will still be recognisable!
  • After 3 billion years, life, albeit in forms we can’t even imagine, would still thrive on earth
  • After 4.5 billion years the half-million tons of depleted Uranium-238 in the US alone would have reached its half life. Earth would begin to warm as the sun expands. Microbial life forms resembling the first life forms on earth would out-last everything
  • After 5+ billion years the Earth would burn as the dying sun swells to envelope the inner planets

 

There is one final point at the end of the timeline, one that has had a profound effect on me ever since I read it because it proves that immortality in a certain form, is possible.

Right at the end, it simply says:

 

  • Forever: Our radio and television broadcasts, fragmented as they may be, will still be travelling outward.

 

Humans will never fade into complete obscurity. There will always be some trace of us, some proof that this beautiful and fucked up race existed, it’s already out there, reverberating through the ether like a dog without a bone, an actor all alone…

 

 

And THAT’S why, more than anything else, I need to get famous Winking smile

What the hell would space be without your Tiger pal bouncing around up there like a piece of loose shrapnel, freaking out the aliens?

Hold my hand, we’re going to Vegas.

-ST

11
Feb
11

What If Kurt Cobain Was Still Alive?

I was a good kid until I was 11 years old. I did what I was told and didn’t give my parents too much shit, I worked hard at school, played sports (badly), climbed trees and kept myself out of trouble.

But even from an early age, there was something else about me, the hint of something darker. I loved reading and burned through a lot of books as a kid which meant I quickly got bored of the standard Enid Blighton / Roald Dahl fair.

When that happened I went straight for the jugular and started reading Stephen King and Dean R Koontz and a whole host of other very, very twisted literature that children probably shouldn’t go anywhere near and those words took root in my brain and sprouted a thick, dense jungle of thoughts and ideas that is expanding exponentially as I get older.

 

 

I grew up an only child and as is the case with all only children, I spent a lot of time hanging out with grown ups. My life in many ways was an endless procession of well-mannered dinner affairs with my parents and their friends where I was told to sit up straight, finish my food and behave, which I did.

Fast forward to Christmas in 1994 – my parents and I are staying at a place called Highlands Run, a trout farm near Dullstroom, it’s about 6 in the morning and I’m tearing through my Christmas presents like only an 11 year old kid can.

A friend at school had said to me that his older brother was listening to this band and it was the best album of all time which piqued my curiosity and prompted me to ask my mom for the album for Christmas.

At the time I was big into really, really crap music like 2Unlimited, Midi, Maxi and Efti, Haddaway, 12 Inches Of Snow, that kind of shit, so you can only imagine what happened when I opened my Christmas present, put the cassette tape into my walkman, put my headphones on and pressed play.

“Smells Like Teen Spirit” tore like machine-gun fire through my mind and I loved every second of it. Here was this guy screaming his fucking head off, banging out these loud, angry three and four chord riffs that hooked me instantly and to this day, have not let go.

 

 

Everything changed after that day. The flood gates were opened and in poured an ocean of noise which quickly became the soundtrack to many a wasted night and day spent getting fucked up with my friends when I was way too young to have any idea what I was doing to myself.

Anyway, the point of all this is Kurt Cobain changed a lot of people’s lives the way he changed mine. He was the sole reason my entire generation started playing guitar and dressing like they’d stolen their clothes from a Salvation Army donation bin (they probably had).

I’ve heard so many people over the years say he was murdered by Courtney Love and spent countless hours arguing with those people because I refuse to believe that. The man was a mess! The drugs, the fame, the overwhelming commercial success of his music, the legions of screaming fans, he couldn’t handle it, it made him miserable as sin because he’d all of a sudden become the poster-boy for an entire generation, some kind of over-inflated grunge hero and he hated the pressure and the pretence of it all.

 

 

He’d lost his will to play and with it, his will to live. The same way he exploded onto the scene, he exploded off it, and I know it’s not really the popular opinion, but I think eating a shotgun is a seriously badass way of offing yourself because it sends a very clear message that what you did sure as hell wasn’t a cry for help.

A lot of people have speculated what it would be like if he hadn’t painted the ceiling with his brains, some saying he would have eventually come right and possibly gone on to write material that would be even better than his previous stuff and become an even more influential force in rock music, but I’m sceptical.

This piece that Chuck Klosterman wrote for Spin Magazine is probably the best prediction of what would have happened if Kurt Cobain were still alive http://www.spin.com/articles/what-if-kurt-cobain-didnt-die.

 

 

It’s a pretty hilarious read because in Chuck’s version of events, Cobain fizzles into obscurity and despite his half-hearted efforts, never quite manages to top the successes of his early career.

The universe has this funny way of working out sometimes. Can you imagine a 44 year-old Kurt Cobain? Some doddering, irrelevant middle-aged junkie, stinking up awards ceremonies and becoming the butt of the Justin Bieber-era entertainment industry’s jokes?

To be quite frank, I’m glad Cobain isn’t around to see what became of the industry because it’s the fucking Mickey Mouse club out there!

There are things in this life that are worse than death and Cobain still being alive to see how ridiculously over-commercial, overly-sexed and painfully shallow mainstream music has become over the last twenty years would definitely be one of them.

-ST

22
Apr
10

The Truth Behind ‘No Woman, No Cry’

I’ve got a weird obsession when it comes to collecting music trivia that can be matched only my my good buddies Guitar Jon and Mr. D, who could tell you what colour underwear Keith Richards wore when he played Woodstock ‘69.

But one of my favourite pieces of music trivia is about the Bob Marley song ‘No woman, no cry’ and was told to be by my good buddy Stikey on yet another nameless drunken night spent in a nameless drunken bar.

I love this piece of trivia for two reasons, one because basically EVERYONE knows ‘No woman, no cry’ and two because basically everyone who’s heard it has never given a moment’s thought as to what it means.

I mean, it’s not rocket science, right? He’s singing about how if you don’t have a woman, you won’t cry, ie. cut the bitch loose, problem solved.

Sounds a little cynical for a man who dedicated his life to spreading the message of peace, love, understanding and respect to our fellow man, no?

Damn fucking right it does!

As it turns out, the original version of the song was sung slightly differently than the live version which made it famous. In the original, Marley was singing, ‘No woman, nuh cry’ which becomes hugely significant because the word ‘nuh’ is Jamaican for don’t.

He’s not saying ‘No ho = no heartbreak’ he’s singing a song to his wife Rita, telling her not to cry for him when he leaves.

 

 

Originally I’d heard that he recorded the song during the self-imposed two year exile he took from Jamaica after the politically-motivated assassination attempt on his life, but the dates don’t add up right.

All I can surmise is that the song was recorded during a time in his life when he was travelling abroad to record overseas.

He was on a mission that man and even though I’m not a huge reggae fan, I respect Bob Marley because he was a true prophet and a man who changed this world for the better and who’s music will exist for as long as we do.

He was a great man. He died at 36, and his last words to his son Ziggy were, ‘Money can’t buy life.”

Money can’t buy life.

-ST

20
Apr
10

The SlickTiger Guide To Raising Baby Humans

Recently I’ve noticed that a lot of people around me, friends, family work colleagues, etc. are breeding at an alarming rate. I attribute this to the general decline in quality TV programming and the decision-impairing properties of hard liquor.

Add to that potent mix the proliferation of lewd sexual material in the mainstream media and the decline in morality suffered as a result of that, and conditions for breeding baby humans start to look very favourable indeed.

 

 

And so I decided to write a step-by-step guide on raising, feeding and caring for baby humans. In this way I hope to help people who are either currently raising baby humans, or still growing them inside their wombs, waiting for the miracle that occurs as the foetus descends into the pelvic cavity and its head and shoulders pass through the bony ring of the pelvis, much like a bowling ball through a balloon knot.

 

Step one: Environment

The first thing you’re going to want to secure before you bring your baby human home is a suitable environment.

As a rule of thumb, a 48 to 53cm baby human should be kept in a 55 gallon tank. This will allow the baby human enough room to run around and exercise and yet not have to run too far to catch its dinner.

As the baby human grows, so should its enclosure. I would recommend no smaller than a 70 gallon tank once the baby human has grown to 70-80cms and a 180 gallon tank once it has grown to 100-150cms.

 

 

Most baby human shops should stock a varied selection of bedding for your baby human, but I would strongly recommend taking my advice when it comes to the following items:

 

  • Baby human bark / bedding: This is definitely not a good idea. Crickets and other smaller insects that are high in nutrition for your baby human can hide under the bark, resulting in your baby human not getting its full meal. Another major reason is that the baby human could ingest a piece of the bark, which could result in uncomfortable stool.
  • Sandpit sand: I have found this to be both an affordable and practical form of bedding for baby humans. Simply ‘scoop’ the baby human’s fecal matter off the sand and replace as necessary.
  • Newspaper / Paper: This is a great idea if you are concerned about ease of cleaning and cost. It’s not the ‘prettiest’ set up for your baby human’s enclosure, but it works well.
  • Straw: Another great material to line your baby human’s tank with. The straw retains heat well and can easily be arranged into a comfortable ‘nest’ for your baby human.

 

Step two: Diet

Feeding your baby human will require you to handle all manner of food stuffs including raw vegetation, insects, and small mice.

Baby humans are omnivores, meaning they will eat veggies and small animals. Insects, however, should definitely be a daily staple of your baby human’s diet should you want it to grow up strong and healthy, with a robust exoskeleton.

 

 

I would highly recommend feeding your baby human a combination of the following:

 

  • Bugs: The size of the insects you feed your baby human is extremely important. All food that is offered should be smaller in width than your baby human’s beak. Larger food items could get easily lodged in the baby human’s digestive tract, causing uncomfortable stool.
  • Veggies: There is a huge selection of ‘leafy’ greens which are high in calcium to feed your baby human, such as kale, argula, collard & mustard greens, parsley, dandelion greens and flowers. If you take your baby human outside or allow it to run around the house (though I wouldn’t recommend it) do be sure to check that no leafy vegetation in or around the house is poisonous. Baby humans have a voracious appetite and will eat anything mildly enticing, this also applies to any drapery you might own, wooden furniture or shoes.
  • Live baby mice: Live baby mice are an excellent source of protein for growing baby humans, but please note the mice must be fed live. Dead baby mice will not move around enough to attract the baby human’s attention as its eyes are only capable of detecting movement and they only see in the colours purple, green, red and black.
  • Water: Baby humans should be sprayed twice daily on their heads, which stimulates the natural way they would drink water in the wild, namely by lapping up the drops of dew they would find on plants in the morning.

 

Step 3: Alarming behaviour to watch for

First time human baby owners often overlook subtle behavioural disorders that occur due to their ignorance on the subject.

 

 

When raising a baby human, be sure to be vigilant of the following behavioural disorders:

 

  • ‘Hood’ display: When determining hierarchy in the home, the baby human will often ‘blow out’ its hood by extending a bone-like structure covering the surrounding flap of skin. This can also be used as a defensive gesture when the baby human is startled. Calm the baby human down with a few small mice and a selection of ‘gutloaded’ crickets. Be sure that the crickets are not fed poisonous greens though, as this may result in uncomfortable stool
  • Head Bobbing: This is a dominance display. The baby human seems to be saying, ‘You wanna piece of me? Eh? Puto?’ Do not be alarmed by this behaviour, but do arm yourself with a sharp stick just in case.
  • Arm Waving: This is a submissive gesture in recognition to the dominant male, which should always be the father until the baby human has reached full maturity and shed its carapace for the last time.

 

By following these three simple steps you should experience many years of enjoyment with your baby human after which time it is highly advised to rerelease them into the wild where they can follow successful careers as lawyers, accountants, life insurance salesmen or PR consultants.

-ST

06
Apr
10

Friends Wanted: Cape Town

A month ago, my chick and me moved to Cape Town coz of a job she got offered, even though a lot of my mates back in Joeys warned us not to.

‘All they ever do down there,’ my mates warned, ‘is smoke dagga and not much else. Also, the people are clicky and won’t be your friend unless you’re rich.’

Of course, I thought my mates were just pulling my leg and having a good lag at their chommie making the big move down to the Cape, but as it turns out, they were right about one thing.

Flip, okes down here smoke a lot of dagga.

 

 

And also, I dunno if it’s coz they get parries or something, but my mates were also right about another thing, it’s flippin’ clicky down here and nobody wants to talk to you.

I’ve introduced myself with a big friendly smile and a firm handshake to every oke I’ve met down here, and not one of them has wanted to be my friend.

Now, because we have no one to chill with, my girlfriend and I drink TWICE as much brandy and coke as we used to and often she carries on about how we have no friends now and I have to klap her to get her to just bladdy shuddup.

And so, I’d like to use this website as a way of making some new mates down here in The Cape, some real okes who I can be chommies with and who have girlfriends that can help mine in the kitchen when we braai.

To attract the right kind of mates, I’ve made a list of me and my girlfriend’s hobbies, which includes:

  • Braais
  • Fighting
  • Gym
  • Watching the game at the pub
  • Drinking
  • Fighting
  • H2O (the doof doof party, not the stuff in bottles)
  • Jetskis
  • Fighting

So if there are any okes and chicks in The Cape who enjoy similar hobbies and wanna be mates with me and my girlfriend, please leave your details in the comments section below.

Also, if you could please be rich and good-looking, that will help us a lot, cause we’re rich and good-looking too. Here’s a picture of us as proof:

 

 

I look forward to hearing back from you ous soon!

Your-soon-to-be-chommie-from-Joeys

-ST

05
Apr
10

The Nervousness Of Being White

You can play it down as much as you like, but there’s a kind of nervousness associated with being a white person in this country that goes through palpable peaks and troughs depending on the current social or political climate.

 

 

Generally though, I think we’ve learned to just let it be. There’s very little we can actually do to effect political change in this country except stand on the sidelines and shout the odds at no one, and so we go on with our lives and try to make the best of them because it’s easier to live in the moment than it is to live in fear of a future that may or may not come.

‘This country is going to the dogs’ is a sentence I’ve heard more times than I’d care to admit, and yet somehow this country hasn’t gone to the dogs.

The doomsayers have gotten egg on their faces more than once and it is for this reason that I generally steer away from South African politics and try to remain as positive as possible about the future of our beautiful country.

And yet, I couldn’t help but feel a fresh swell of anxiety when my aunt told me yesterday morning that Eugene Terreblanche had been murdered by his farm workers on the outskirts of Ventersdorp on Saturday evening.

 

 

The official story is that two of his labourers killed Terreblanche over a wage dispute and that his murder was not politically motivated, but try telling that to the right wing extremists that followed Terreblanche their whole lives and I’d wager you’ll be met with more than a healthy dose of skepticism.

The major problem here is that Terreblanche’s murder follows close on the heels of the charges laid against Julius Malema for leading students at the University of Johannesburg in singing the words, “Shoot the boere [farmers], they are rapists.”

At the time Malema sang those words, I admit I thought very little of them. To me, it was just another ploy on his part to get a few more front page headlines, something which he’s proven alarmingly good at.

But now that Terreblanche is dead, hacked to death by his farm workers, a very powerful message has been sent across South Africa, whether it was intended or not, and the repercussions of that message are what’s making me nervous.

More than anything, I hope this doesn’t escalate. We forget that there are still people that would give their lives for the AWB. They may have been under the woodwork for a long time, but they are still there, armed to the teeth and waiting for an excuse, any excuse, to fight for what they believe in.

 

 

It’s a tense situation though because if they don’t fight back in some way, what’s to stop Malema from spreading more hate speech and inciting another incident like this one?

I wish it hadn’t come to this. Sure, Terreblanche was a wretched bigot and was the cause of a lot of racial atrocities and tension in this country, but until now the most overriding public image most of ol’ ET was of him falling off his horse during a parade in Pretoria.

It was a seminal moment in his life because in it he was reduced from the feared and respected leader of one of the most extreme organisations this country has ever seen to a doddering old fart who couldn’t ride a horse if his life depended on it.

And that’s how he should have died, in his sleep, alone on his farm in the middle of nowhere and largely forgotten by the country he sought to control.

Instead, his violent death has instantly elevated him to the status of a martyr for a group of people who are the very worst examples of the old and bigoted mindset that caused this country untold damage in the past.

I strongly believe that South Africa has a rich abundance of intelligent and benevolent people who want nothing more than the very best for this country and everyone living in it, regardless of their colour or creed.

It is them, and not the Malemas of this world, who should be leading us, but they aren’t and who knows if they ever will.

At that same rally where Malema sang “shoot the boerre”, he also told students that Mandela had convinced blacks to forgive, but they should never forget what was done to them.

 

 

How sad it is to have the legacy of the greatest political figure this country has ever seen eroded by a careless individual whose words encourage everything Mandela has fought his whole life to prevent.

I don’t have all the answers, I wish I did, but I know one thing for sure, for as long as Malema is allowed to get away with inciting violent and hateful behaviour, we’re playing a political game of Russian roulette with a fully loaded gun.

And the first casualty just fell.

-ST