Archive for the 'Satire, Irony And Vitriol' Category

« Previous Entries
Next Entries »
06
Apr
10

Friends Wanted: Cape Town

By SlickTiger 13 Comments
Categories: Killer Posts and Satire, Irony And Vitriol
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

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

18
Feb
10

The Internet Is making me retarded

By SlickTiger 3 Comments
Categories: Killer Posts and Satire, Irony And Vitriol
Tags: , , , , , ,

When I think of the internet, I don’t think of a serious place. I don’t think of an information super-highway where top professionals can source any kind of information they want, network with colleagues and like-minded individuals and make informed business decisions, no.

When I think of the internet, I think of one big-ass playground full of kids running around with cake all over their faces.

 

 

I’ll tell you what’s happened. Thousands of years of human evolution have pushed us so far up the food chain that nothing, nothing can fuck with us, except us. Provided you live in a country that’s not wracked by war, famine, pestilence or death and you earn a steady income, chances are you’re so comfortable and bored with day to day life, whether you admit it or not, that you’ll do any fucking thing to escape the hum drum, and THAT’S what the internet has become, a giant escape hatch.

Grown men and women the world over are sending one another FAIL mails, lolcats, pyramid scheme spam (send this to 10 friends in the next 20 minutes and your penis will grow by 3 feet!), and lame joke emails that get sent to you by four different people, the last one being your own mother.

 

 

Don’t get me wrong though, I’m just as guilty as the next guy of indulging in the mindless garbage floating around on the interwebs. I enjoy a FAIL mail just as much as the next guy, but the question I often find myself asking is, What the fuck is happening to my mind?

Do you ever find yourself thinking that? All that junk we consume, all the media we are bombarded with on a daily basis, it all sits in our minds somewhere, and like a mustard seed you swallow into your lung by mistake, it’s growing in the damp and the dark and that can’t be good.

I meet these people with increasing frequency that have very clearly made it their life’s mission to completely discard the things that make them think or feel anything beyond a purely superficial level and I get ticked off when I meet people like that. We have no idea what we are capable of, it’s possibly the best part of being human. You think you know yourself and your boundaries, but you’ll find if you have the courage to step outside of your comfort zone and test those boundaries, they move.

Isn’t that the reason we exist? To grow and learn and gain as much experience as possible? Fuck, this life is a gift, you don’t know how fucking lucky you are to be living it, how fucking lucky we all are to be alive is this world of supreme chaos where in the same day, millions of people will meet and fall hopelessly in love while millions more will stand in mourning over the graves of their parents or even more heartbreaking than that, their kids.

I’m paraphrasing badly from one of my favourite movies of all time, Adaptation. You remember the bit where Kaufman goes to the script writing seminar held by Robert McKee? Well McKee ends up attacking Kaufman after Kaufman makes the statement that ‘nothing much happens’ in the world, it’s brilliant.

 

Nothing happens in the world? Are you out of your fucking mind? People are murdered every day. There’s genocide, war, corruption. Every fucking day, somewhere in the world, somebody sacrifices his life to save someone else. Every fucking day, someone, somewhere takes a conscious decision to destroy someone else. People find love, people lose it. For Christ’s sake, a child watches her mother beaten to death on the steps of a church. Someone goes hungry. Somebody else betrays his best friend for a woman. If you can’t find that stuff in life, then you, my friend, don’t know crap about life!

 

 

And I think this is exactly the problem this modern world of ours faces. We don’t know crap about life. We shut all that stuff out, we focus only on things that make us feel happy and make us feel good because ‘there’s enough shit in the world already’. Here’s a news flash – that ‘shit’ you refer to, that’s LIFE. Running away from the things that challenge us or scare us or force us to really feel something, isn’t LIVING, it’s just killing time and when it comes to killing time, the internet is KING.

I don’t have any answers, yet. All I got is words, fightin’ words and nothing to back them up with except my primal sincerity. Still though, I can’t shake this feeling that we’re being dumbed down, all of us, by the media we consume in nauseating quantities and worse than that, we’re enjoying it.

-ST

09
Feb
10

The SlickTiger Guide to Klapping Gym Boet!

By SlickTiger 125 Comments
Categories: Killer Posts, Satire, Irony And Vitriol and Tiger Guides
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

As an oke with lots of mates who are also okes I can tell you straight that it’s every oke’s dream to get MASSIVE AND RIPPED and bang two hot blondes AT THE SAME TIME!

Once an oke has achieved this goal, he is happy and can spend the rest of his life sitting on the couch, drinking beer, watching sports and TELLING OTHER PEOPLE WHAT TO DO.

He has earned this right, nobody can take this right away from him and with my help you can earn this right too, but first you gotta learn the proper way to KLAP GYM BOET! or you’ll always be a loser who can’t pull hot chicks and spends friday nights at home twitting with his loser friends on the interweb.

STEP ONE TO KLAPPING GYM BOET!

The first step to klapping gym boet is to buy a fucking TIGHT VEST. This will intimidate your opponents in the gym and make the hot chicks there stare at you and you will be able to lift 15% heavier weights from the confidence boost it will give you.

Confidence is everything. A wise man once told me if you don’t have confidence, fuck off, and he was right.

Ideally, you want your vest to show your biceps, triceps, delts, traps, lats, pecs, but NOT NIPPLES! That’s flippin’ gay.

 

 

STEP 2 TO KLAPPING GYM BOET!

Everyone knows that to klap it PROPERLY in the gym you need to be as tanned AS CAN BE! Having a GREAT TAN in the gym will not only make all your muscles look RIPPED, but it will also show all the chicks checking you out that, yes, you are an outdoors kind of guy and not some gay moffie who’s scared to lie in the sun for 13 hours wearing a thong.

I went onto the internet to show you just how ripped and amazing okes look with a little bit of a tan.

 

 

The charna in the above photo has NAILED not only a flippin’ AMAZING tan, but also a hot blonde belter who probably called her friend who was also a hot blonde belter right after this picture was taken so they could bang this guy. AT THE SAME TIME!

His arm is MASSIVE and covered in veins. Fuck, I can’t look at this picture anymore. FUCK! I’m jealous…

 

 

What can I say about this charna’s AWESOME tan that would do ANY JUSTICE to him or how AWESOME he is? Look at his even, brown / orange skin tone, flippin’ HARDCORE man! Look at the clear line between his pecs – proof that this charna likes to KLAP THE GYM! AND HARD!

Such a shame about the bladdy rough chick on his left though, but I’m sure with a bit of blonde hair dye, 70 hours in the sun, 6 months in the gym and lekker big fake tits, she’d look ok. Not flippin’ hot. But ok. He could do better.

 

 

Please go back up and just look at this photo one more time. Please just do that RIGHT NOW CAUSE THIS OKE’S TAN IS MAKING ME KAK MY PANTS HIS FLIPPIN TAN IS SO AWESOME!

Look how MASSIVE AND RIPPED he is! You don’t need to tell an oke like this how to KLAP GYM BOET, he wrote the BOOK! He’s also wearing a backwards cap and sunglasses IN THE GYM, so automatically plus 40% to his confidence which means he will be able to lift 75% heavier weights!

Now THAT’S what a kief tan can do for YOU!

STEP 3 TO KLAPPING GYM BOET!

Step three is a crucial one, this is SERIOUS now, so PAY ATTENTION, I”M ONLY GONNA SAY THIS ONCE.

In a gym situation you are nothing, NOTHING! without your charnas. You think you can get flippin RIPPED and MASSIVE and bang two hot blonde chicks at the same time if you train by yourself? Fuck boet, are you stupid?

The okes you train with are your CHARNAS! They are your BROTHERS! They will be there for you to tell you ‘Fuck boet, you look HUGE!’ and ‘I want 5 MORE! I FLIPPIN’ WANT FIVE MORE!’ and ‘Is that a new vest? Flip boet, it really brings out the colour of your eyes.’

Without your charnas you are NOTHING! You’ll have NO ONE to shout at and NO ONE will stare at you in the gym, shaking their heads because they can’t believe how MASSIVE AND RIPPED you and your charnas are!

Look at these charnas. They obviously gym together. Look at the blonde belter the one oke is gonna bang with her best friend who is also a blonde belter as soon as she gets back from having her boobs juiced up to the max.

Flippin’ awesome.

 

 

STEP 4 TO KLAPPING GYM BOET

As with most things in life, an important part of klapping gym boet is knowing when to stop. There is a time in every Gym Boy’s life when he looks at himself, RIPPED and MASSIVE in the mirror and thinks to himself ‘I can’t even wipe my own arse anymore. Have I gone too far?’

Well, I’m here to tell you the answer to that question is NO!

When is it time to stop getting MASSIVE? NEVER!

Lots of chicks will say that they ‘Don’t like a man who is too massive’, but they’re flippin’ lying cause they LOVE IT! They’re just scared of his muscles, and can we blame them? NO!

Take a look at this photo and tell me who’s going to win this ‘Who is the MASSIVEST?’ competition:

 

 

Let’s see. Is it going to be Mr ‘I look like Eddie Murphy in a red speedo’ there on the right? Or maybe Mr ‘I thought about injecting horse growth hormones but decided not to’ there in the middle?

NO! Fuck, are you stupid?! It’s going to be the FLIPPIN’ HUGE OKE on the right who’s so MASSIVE AND RIPPED his two blonde belter girlfriends have to brush his teeth for him and doctors say he won’t live past 35! KLAP IT BOET!

Do you think he’d ever be that MASSIVE AND RIPPED if he just GAVE UP?! Please man. Don’t be thick.

Here’s another example:

 

 

This oke is so massive he can just go around putting his hand on blonde belter’s boobs ALL THE TIME and they don’t even mind, in fact, they ENJOY IT because they know he could uppercut their HEADS OFF if they tried to stop him.

What a LEGEND! Any second her blonde belter friend’s going to arrive and you KNOW what’s going to happen then! Flippin’ AWESOME!

I think I’ve proved my point about step four, NEVER GIVING UP, but just to make sure, I’ll ask you one last question.

Do you think this man, this old man, could EVER! EVER! have gotten so MASSIVE AND RIPPED if he’d known when enough was enough?

 

 

STEP 5 TO KLAPPING GYM BOET!

The last and final step to klapping gym boet is the nutritional step, because unless you eat right and inject dangerous steroids daily, you’ll never get RIPPED CHARNA!

Eating right means eating PROTEIN ALL THE TIME, CONSTANTLY, WITHOUT EVEN STOPPING, because this way you’ll show your body that NO! You don’t need any flippin’ fat! You don’t need to store any nutrition, you’re shoving it in your face CONSTANTLY!

Injecting dangerous steroids daily means experiencing violent mood swings, possibly because of the steroids and also possibly because your cheloger is ONLY ONE INCH LONG!

But seriously boet! Come off it man! Who needs a normal-sized cheloger when you’ve got two blonde belters, one on each arm ready to BANG YOU BECAUSE YOU’RE SO MASSIVE AND RIPPED!?

Fuck man! Are you stupid?

Now go out there and KLAP SOME GYM BOET!

FLIPPIN’ SCHWEET!

-ST

28
Jan
10

The Parlotones Irritate The Living Shit Out Of Me

By SlickTiger 46 Comments
Categories: Killer Posts and Satire, Irony And Vitriol
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

There are very few SA bands that I actually like, in fact I could probably count them all on one hand and most of them don’t play anymore.

Anyone remember Squeal? Early Nude Girls (before Carstens became a jerk)? Boo? Sugardrive? I used to dig those bands, they had a great sound and put out a good couple of albums that were pretty decent.

 

 

I find the bands playing these days largely uninspiring with a few exceptions, one of which is Lark – Inge Beckman is the kind of girl you wouldn’t look twice at walking down a street (well, depending on what she was wearing) but on stage she’s all kinds of sexy.

Then there are SA’s favourite bands, the Prime Circles and the aKings and the Goldfishes of this world and whatever you do, DO NOT fuck with their fans. They are fiercely loyal and won’t hesitate to swear at you loudly for ‘not supporting South African music’ if you tell them that those bands are shit.

And lastly, there’s the Parlotones. If you don’t know who the Parlotones are, then I’m not quite sure what you’re doing reading this post. Crawl back under the rock you’ve been hiding under and stay there, because fuck man, the Parlotones are EVERYWHERE!

 

 

That song that plays in Outsurance adds? Parlotones. The free album that came with your Sony Ericsson W995? Parlotones. The band that played at the last big corporate function you attended? Parlotones. The band associated with Gigabyte laptops? Parlotones. The only SA band to launch its own wine? Parlotones. The band you hear playing in your worst nightmares? Miley Cyrus. But when she’s too busy working the pole, you bet your ass, it’s the Parlotones.

To be honest, I didn’t really give a flying fuck about any of that. You think it’s easy for SA bands to actually make a living out of gigging and selling albums? Think again buddy, it’s fucking difficult. At least 95% of SA bands have day jobs because the music industry in this country is miniscule in comparison to the rest of the world and the sad reality of being a musician in this country is that is doesn’t pay the bills.

So by all means, get in bed with a couple of sponsors, why the hell not? Cash in on your hard work, atta boy!

BUT there is a line. And the Parlotones crossed it when they got in bed with that giant behemoth of the fast food industry: KFC.

‘We driiiiiiiiiinnnnkkk, we driiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnkkkkkk, we driinnkk from the cupa LIE-YEE-IF!’

If I have to see that advert once more on TV I’m going to tear my fucking face off.

If you haven’t seen it, it’s part of this new series of adverts KFC has shot that all feature this nerdy, glasses-wearing girl who’s wetting herself because she’s on set for the filming of the Parlotones new video.

Amidst the hustle and bustle and action of everything going on around her gets all flustered and in one ad has a Parlotones SnackBox thrust at her and in another one, an ice cream. I don’t understand the logic behind either of these adverts, but I think the underlying message is ‘Eat some KFC and shut the fuck up.’

 

 

I found both adverts cringe-worthy, but the newest one, in which our nerdy heroine is pretending to jam Parlotones frontman Kahn Morbee’s guitar in a dressing room when he walks in on her, is definitely a new low for a band that I didn’t think could top their previous efforts at whoring themselves off to the highest bidder.

Are they on crack?! What band in its right mind would agree to have one of their songs (I presume it’s their song) butchered by a girl with the acting talent of limp celery?

What’s even worse is after Kahn walks in on her and asks for his guitar back, she bashfully stands up, edges towards him and then lunges at his face for a snog.

Aaaaarrrrrggghhhh! WWWWHHHHHHYYYYYYY?!

The saddest part of the whole thing though is that in researching this piece (yes, I actually do that sometimes, don’t look so shocked) I got a hold of both Radio Controlled Robot and A World Next Door To Yours (the Parlotones 2005 and 2007 albums) and I have to admit, grudgingly, that they’re OK. Not mind-blowing, not life-changing, but also not utterly crap.

 

 

I even took things a step further and found out how much it costs to hire the Parlotones for a corporate function and get this, the booking fee starts at R70k which, after you’ve divided it up between their agent, their manager, their technicians, logistical costs of moving their equipment etc, etc, etc probably only works out to be a couple of thousand, if that, for the band.

A couple of thousand to stand in front of a room of fat, balding men and bored, middle-aged women while you belt out songs about how colourful you are. That’s gotta start destroying your soul sooner or later.

Maybe what this piece should have been is an indictment against the South African music industry and how it forces bands who want to actually make it big in this country to turn themselves into big fat whores in order to do so, but the music industry in this country has always been like that. It’s not going to change, no matter how much we bitch and moan about it.

Local bands would do well to take a page out of Saron Gas / Seether’s book. They had the talent to make it internationally and so that’s exactly what they did. Sure, they’ve been called traitors for leaving SA and turning their backs on the country that made them, but seriously what the fuck else were they going to do?

Have their faces plastered all over KFC SnackBoxes? Fuck. That.

 

 

Making it big in Europe or the States should be the end goal for any local band because the sad fact of the matter is that the music industry here doesn’t have the money and resources to properly support and promote local talent unless you sell out in the most degrading way possible.

Never do this though. No amount of money in the world can replace your integrity as an artist and once that’s gone, it won’t be the cup of life you’ll be drinking from my friend, it will be the cup of crap you’ve irritated out of people.

1 Band 1 Cup, now featuring the Parlotones!

I rest my case.

-ST

21
Jan
10

The One Thing I Feel Is Missing From The Interweb

By SlickTiger 8 Comments
Categories: Killer Posts and Satire, Irony And Vitriol
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I’ve been using the interweb since the day it was first launched way back in 2007, and as such, I consider myself one of the leading experts on anything to do with the literally hundreds of things you can do on the interweb.

 

 

Don’t believe me? Fine. Here’s a list of all the things I’ve mastered on the interweb so far:

  • Gmail – remembering my password and login name, sending, receiving and forwarding electronic mails and spotting scam emails in a second, Fishers beware!
  • Facebook – becoming friends with people from as far afield as Cape Town, Bloemfontein and Durban in real time. Also, I’ve ‘friended’ three people from outside the continent, all of whom are influential businessmen from thriving countries such as Nigeria and Zimbabwe. These businessmen are trusting me with literally millions of dollars of money they’ve inherited now that I’ve given them all my banking details. Can you say CA-CHING!
  • Google – searching for online information on anything from stock markets to unit share prices to Federal Intelligence Agency files, you name it! Have also mastered boolean algorithms like TYPING SEARCHES IN ALL CAPS TO MAKE IT GO FASTER
  • Porn – watching any kind of porn I want, like robot sex machines, or midgets FOR FREE, ANYTIME I WANT! Um, except for at work… some guy used all our bandwidth in two days awhile back, right after I first started, and now certain sites are banned…
  • Twitter – getting thousands of followers by clicking a simple link. I’m definitely winning at Twitter, the aim of which is to get more followers than your friends so you can tell them what song you’re listening to, what you’re eating and what it was like the last time you went to the loo

Now that I have your respect and you can see the mad interweb skillz I have, I’ll tell you something that I always thought was missing from the interweb.

If you’re instant chatting with a friend or family member and are in a friendly mood, on the interweb you can send them a ‘^5!’ which isn’t some kind of strange maths equation (don’t worry, I also thought that), but actually a really ‘sick’ way of writing ‘high five!’.

 

 

Off the chain.

There is even a variation which I managed to decode in a mere matter of weeks which is ‘v5!’. No, this doesn’t mean Version 5! it actually means ‘low five!’, which people use to indicate that they want one ‘down-low’ instead of ‘up-high’.

What I believe is missing is the kind of ‘five’ you see in a lot of sporting games like rugby, soccer, cricket, hockey, ice hockey, football, American football, tennis, croquet, darts, badminton, judo, pole vaulting and shuttlecock when the one guy does scores a goal or shuttles his cock really well and his team mate gives him a jocular pat on the arse.

 

 

My buddy Stikey felt the same way and actually took things a step further and went ahead and invented the ‘*5!’ which is used to indicate a jocular pat on the arse.

So far I’ve tried it out on a number of my buddies with pretty damn hilarious consequences. Here’s some IM chats copy / pasted for your reading pleasure. In this one I was mid sentence when I did a complete 360 degree turn and launched into it:

me: sure, im down with that we’re organis- hey, what the fuck?!
  dude, it’s Elvis!
name withheld: where?!
me: (*5!)
  hahahah! too easy
name withheld: hahaha
  you threw me off guard there
  i even looked!
me: you have no idea what just happened, but you feel violated
name withheld: i feel let down that elvis hasnt showed up 🙁

Classic! Then there was this chat that happened yesterday:

me: have you been there with [name withheld]?
  be honest
name withheld: no. some married complication.
me: cool
  never cross that line
  shit gets ugly
name withheld: you been there?
me: nigga please!
name withheld: did his wife find out?
me: actually, her wife found out
  and joined in!
name withheld: ^5!
me: ^5!
  hahaha!
  hey, look it’s elvis!
  (*5!)
name withheld: *facepalm

See what I mean?! Flip, I really think I’m onto something here. Thing to do is start *5!-ing all your friends as soon as possible, and let’s spread the word of this awesome way to interact / practise borderline sexual harassment over the internet.

 

 

I really think this has legs guys, I really think this could be the thing that I will be remembered for in days, nay, weeks to come over the interweb. So let’s all band together and sprea-

Hey, what the fuck?! Is that Elvis scrounging around in that dustbin?

(*5!)

Heh heh heh.

It’s THAT easy 😉

-ST

14
Jan
10

Bar One Manhunt – Only Cool Because Of Phil

By SlickTiger 2 Comments
Categories: Killer Posts and Satire, Irony And Vitriol
Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Last week I walk into our lounge, fresh from helping Graumpot try jump start his car after it died while he was in Mozam, and who do I see on TV? My buddy Phil!

It was cool to see one of my buddies on TV instead of me for a change. I’m on TV all the time. I’ll sleep anywhere when I’m drunk 😉

Needless to say, from that point on I was glued to the set. I went to school and varsity with Phil, but hadn’t seen the guy probably since 2005, so I was rooting for him 100%. We used to row together back in highschool, and no by ‘rowing’ I don’t mean this:

 

 

I mean this:

 

 

It’s a physically demanding sport and as far as I could tell, Phil still does it, which is why he probably decided to enter the Bar One Manhunt.

From what I can tell, the idea behind the show is a whole bunch of guys get taken through one gruelling physical task after the next, and with each task, or series of tasks they go through more and more guys get eliminated until there is just one left.

And that one guy, after surviving countless hellish tasks, pushing his body to the limit, sweating blood and getting his ass kicked all over public TV, after going through all that shit, that one guy wins…

A Bar One?

Who fucking knows? Not me. It might have slipped my attention, but I’ve watched two shows so far and still have no idea what they’re actually competing for. That’s a pretty major fail if you ask me.

The other major fail is the fact that the show is hosted by Ursula Stapelfeldt, who scares the living crap out of me. Just have a look at this smile, it’s like staring directly into the sun.

 

 

Ursula. Likes. To speak. Like this. While making. Lame. Gestures. With. Her hands.

I mean, yeah, the contestants on the show are a bunch of meathead guys mostly, who’re probably way better at competing in triathlons than they are understanding complicated instructions, but c’mon, they’re not retarded, and nor are we.

Last week ended on this mind blowing cliff-hanger because the show chose to throw all the rules of reality TV out the window and instead of ending the episode by telling us who actually got eliminated, they chose instead to pump the dramatic music to a nauseating level as. They. Announced. That. The. First two people. To. Be. Eliminated. From. The Bar One. Manhunt.

Are…

[To Be Continued]

Ow! My balls!

 

 

Thanks guys, great climax right there. Go suck a fuck.

So I sat diligently in front of the telly last night for the second episode of the show, which began with two people getting eliminated – how random. There’s a reason why every reality show on TV follows the same format, don’t fuck with that. No one gives a damn if you eliminate people at the beginning of a TV show.

We haven’t built up any kind of relationship with those guys over the course of the episode, we don’t give a rat’s ass that they have to go home, hell, we can’t even remember who they were, a week has gone by! If something can hold my attention for longer than 5 minutes, call Guinness. But a week?

From there the episode started wandering all over the place like a drunk trying to find a McDonalds in a frog storm. The first challenge was to build a raft out of barrels, wooden planks and nylon rope. Both teams’ rafts fell to pieces the second they went through the first set of rapids, for which neither team were penalised in any way.

After that some quad biking ensued, followed by a spot of cycling, a fucktarded ‘mental’ challenge involving a number of poles that both teams solved in about 40 seconds and then a jog to the finish line the following morning where we all held our breath for the earth shattering news that. The people. Getting. Eliminated. From this week’s episode. Were…

No one!

Christ! My balls!

 

 

Non elimination round. Thank you very much for watching. That’s 30 minutes of your life you can NEVER GET BACK.

Phil rocked though. Forget the show itself, just watch it for Phil and if he gets eliminated, stop watching the show immediately or Ursula’s 1000000 Watt smile will make you blind.

Fact.

-ST

11
Jan
10

I have all the answers

By SlickTiger 2 Comments
Categories: Killer Posts and Satire, Irony And Vitriol
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Guys, I have some really great news that I’d like to share with you that I think is going to really brighten up this dreary Monday, are you ready for it? Awesome, here it comes.

I have all the answers. It happened to me completely by chance, much like being bitten by a radioactive spider or getting bombarded with gamma rays. There I was, sitting at the traffic light outside our complex, waiting for it to turn green when suddenly, out of nowhere, this heavenly light started shining down on me.

 

 

I turned toward the light, and standing right there was this guy handing out pamphlets. Now usually I wouldn’t accept pamphlets handed out at the traffic light by complete strangers, but like I said, there was something about this guy, some kind of invisible force that was radiating from his core that said to me, plain as day, ‘Taaaakkkkeeeee a pamphlet, taaaaaakkkkkeeeee oooooonnnnneeeeeee…’

So I took one. And now, I have all the answers.

If you don’t mind, I’d like to quote the opening paragraph of the pamphlet ad lib, because of its awesomeness:

Prof. Mosh, Hailed As The Herbalist Of The Year In 2005 And 2006 Consecutively. He is an Astrologers, Herbalist, Healer And Researcher. He is the Proud Winner Of The Eastern Africa Herbalist Control Council Award For Life-time Achievement In Astrology And Herbal Healing. He is the current leader of the grand ancestral shrine which has been in existence since 1820 as a source of the most powerful unseen forces. he has solved many mysterious issues by using the invisible powers. He’s regards by many as one of the greatest healer on the planet today.

I couldn’t believe my luck! ‘The greatest healer on the planet today’ practising right here, In Joburg! No. Fucking. Way.

But wait, it gets better. After that comes a list of no less than 19 different superpowers that this guy possesses. Nineteen! Not even Peter Petrelli has that many superpowers, what a legend!

 

 

Here are some of the ones that really stood out for me:

1. Read and tell all your problems before you even mention them to him
5. Remove the black spot in your hand that keeps taking your money away
6. Find out why you are not progressing in life and solution
9. Ensure excellent school grades even for children with mental disabilities
10. Bring you to see your enemies and make demands on them using a mirror
14. Heal women problems of barrenness, disturbing menstruation, Abnormally long pregnancies, etc.

How the hell is that?! This guy can do anything guys. I mean, he is the current leader of the grand ancestral shrine, there’s nothing that can stop this dude.

Personally I was blown away by number 5 because I always wandered what the hell that black spot in my hand was all about and now I know, it’s been stealing my money! Naughty black spot!

What’s even better is the paragraph that follows his list of superpowers. I hope you’re sitting down for this.

Prophet Mosh is known to bless, capture, heal, pray and Show your past, future and right friends from just a mirror He has the power to sit on a crocodile & lion skin While floating on water & communicating with the dead

Just read that part again carefully. That’s a whole other level of multitasking. Fuck, I’d pay R200 to see that – sitting on both a crocodile and lion skin while floating on water and communicating with the dead! Ka-Pow! There goes my mind.

 

 

Why had I never heard of this guy before? I mean shit, a guy this powerful could have taken over the entire world by now, what a badass!

And all he needs is R200 for a consultation, ‘your surname, date of birth & 1 candle’. A modest fee if I ever heard one.

This is powerful stuff right here guys and so, for a limited time only, I am opening up this site to you, my faithful readers to please (for a negligible admin fee) post your troubles and hardship in the comments section and I will communicate with Prophet Mosh himself, who will in turn communicate with the dead, and bada bing, bada bang, using the invisible powers, we will solve your problems and ensure everlasting happiness and pleasures.

I’m here for you guys. Me and my new buddy, Prophet Mosh, who has offices in ‘North Gate, Coca Cola Doom, Randburg, Malibongwe Drive & Melville Montgomery Park’ (so yeah, add ‘master of cloning himself’ to his list of superpowers) are gonna make your life flippin’ sweet!

Don’t delay! Post your troubles and worries now and by tomorrow, they will all be gone. This is not some ‘Crossing Over With John Edwards’ bullshit that you see on TV, this is the real deal!

I have all the answers guys, and soon you will too.

Easy as pie 😉

-ST

28
Dec
09

When you catch a Tiger by the tail, don’t fail…

By SlickTiger 5 Comments
Categories: Killer Posts and Satire, Irony And Vitriol
Tags: , , , , ,

There’s no way I would usually do this, but I’m bored and I feel like pulling the legs off insects for awhile.

 

 

So I wake up to this shitty, grey, cold ‘summer’ day, shuffle into the lounge, boil up some coffee, the landlord calls and says he’s coming over to do something or other in the bathroom, fine with me, I have no plans.

Then I open up my gmail and find that another douche has commented on my Killers Review (posted here and on the Moral Fibre site) and broken the previous douche’s record for ‘latest comment after nobody gives a fuck’ by, wait for it, 15 days!

In total this guy clocked in at 20 days after Vince posted my review, I think that deserves some kind of award in itself, but wait, it gets way, waaaayyy better.

This is the comment he posted:

Author: yousuf
Comment:
MAYBE you’re stupid or maybe you’re just a paper Victim.
at any rate.
i can’t sit here and not reply to your travesty of justice which you call a review so here’s my opinion on your opinion.
ok before anything else let me just like agree with you on one thing: south african radio stations are shite. they stick to Human and like a couple of other tracks. Lol alright anyway

it’s quite the generalisation to say that s.a. audiences suck. you’re alas mistaken in that regard. i was standing about 5 metres from dave keuning and the collection of people around me, ranging from some random oldish people to like 12 year old girls, Everrrrybody was rocking out and knew most of the songs. perhaps you were just amongst the ones who didnt know much about the killers but then again, you know what they say about birds of a feather. 🙂

it may be, as you so cutely declare, "a fucking rock concert" but that doesn’t mean you can just push people around to  get to a better spot. if you actually perhaps maybeeee just gave a damn about the killers you would have arrived earlier to get a good spot?

then you say that they played "two totally obscure" tracks. slicktiger. "BLING" is not obscure but then again you don’t know much about the killers it appears, unless im mistaken, of course. but that doesn’t happen often. the second of the supposedly obscure tracks was Shadowplay  – alright i guess this is somewhat off since it’s just a cover by the killers but anyway it’s a decent song, though far from the top of my list.

and actually they did leave out a few important tracks.. i.e. the rest of the murder trilogy and also glam indie rock n roll would’ve been good

THEY DID NOT BUTCHER ‘SMILE LIKE YOU MEAN IT’. the version they did was bloody brilliant with ray on violin..like better than the original. gosh.

and then just when i was hoping you were going to spare yourself the embarrassment of continuing, you went to that place. by ‘that place’, i mean. saying. that. brandon. makes. the killers. UR SO STUPID HONESTLY. HAVE YOU NOT HEARD OF "BLUSH RESPONSE"? let me enlighten you. it’s the band monsieur flowers was in pre- The Killers. and so judgin by what you said, one would think "blush response" sounds the same as "the killers". but guesssssssss  what sunshineeeee.. it doesntttttttt… hence. ur wrong. Lol

lol just an aside: "you  heard it hear first"..? haha dude the rumour of brandon’s solo career has been goin around for at least a year. so like. dont steal somebody else’s opinion n try to pass it off as ur own Lol

dude lol if s.a. audiences are so shite, why was it that brandon had to raise his voice to be heard over the shouting fans? and like. why did he refer to the audience as having "such beautiful voices". do you know what i think? i think your head was too far up your arse to notice much. that’s what i think.

oh oh. to end this, let me quote the song you say means a lot to you:
"Save some face.. you know you’ve only got one.."

GOODNIGHT. TRAVEL WELL.
:]

What a gem! I was so fucking excited getting this fucking comment I can’t tell you. All I could think reading it was fuck yeah! Them’s fightin’ words.

Let me start by saying yousuf, welcome to the site, hope you like it here, make yourself at home.

Oh, don’t mind the dog, he does that to everyone. BOGART! Down boy! Hahaha, he likes you. Just let him do his thing. Hahaha, good boy Bogart. You want a towel or something?

Anyway, I just wanted to sit down with you, and straighten things out cause I think you’re a swell guy and I think we should be pals.

But first let it just be said that despite whatever rumours you might have heard, I did not finger-bang your mom, or your sister that one time during a shift break they had behind the McDonalds in Alberton.

Those were lies, but I fully understand why you would react so dramatically to my review given that kind of history. I would have done exactly the same thing, maybe not in the same flowery language, but hey, that’s just because you’re still learning to read and that’s cool too.

 

 

The point I’m making here yousuf is not to take things too seriously, it’s a sure-fire way to end up alone, trawling the internet for outdated content to shit on in an effort to make yourself feel better about your shitty life.

Attacking someone anonymously over the internet is the most cowardly form of social engagement that exists, besides Facebook-stalking people to try and get a date or resigning from your job over email.

I bow to you, yousuf, and your extensive knowledge of The Killers and look forward to reading your review of the gig, but I’m not holding my breath yousuf, because you and I both know you don’t have the stones to be any kind of writer.

So how about this – you stick to sitting on your ass, jacking off and playing World Of Warcraft and mind your own fucking business and I’ll stick to the job of writing whatever the fuck I want, whenever the fuck I want.

Don’t let the door hit ya where the dog jizzed down your pant leg.

-ST

14
Dec
09

The New Miss SA might Be a Cyborg…

By SlickTiger 2 Comments
Categories: Satire, Irony And Vitriol
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

We were flipping randomly through TV channels last night when we came across the crucial last two minutes that were the Miss SA Pageant 2009. We missed the entire rest of the show, which was a pity – I would have loved to have heard this year’s winner, Nicole Flint being interviewed by the panel of judges because I have a sneaking suspicion that she’s a cyborg.

 

 

Wikipedia defines a cyborg as ‘is a cybernetic organism (i.e., an organism that has both artificial and natural systems).’ Many have argued that cyborgs are the next step in human evolution, as they represent a kind of perfect union between humans and machines, an occurrence that is referred to as ‘the singularity’ (Ray Kurzweil was one of the first dudes to define the term).

It’s actually scary how close we’ve come to designing realistic artificial intelligence. Right now, machines have two massive advantages over humans when it comes to ‘thinking’ – they have perfect recall (well, until their hard drives fail) and they can process computations at speeds way beyond human brains.

 

 

The only major problem machines have is that their ability to recognise patterns is severely limited in comparison to human brains. This extends into all facets of life – a human can observe a certain phenomenon occurring at a certain place and time and use all that information to predict that this incidence could occur again if similar variables come into play again.

For example, I could observe a car accident that has happened at the corner of William Nicol and Sandton Drive in the early hours of a rainy Saturday morning and the first thing that goes through my head is ‘Holy shit, I need to stay the hell away from this intersection in the early hours of the morning when it’s raining or I could end up like those guys.’

For me, this prediction was effortless, all I employed was a fairly basic degree of common sense based on a set of circumstances I observed and my ability to read the pattern of those circumstances. Machine intelligence would struggle to arrive at the same outcome I did in that situation.

Sure, a machine could tell me the exact speed the cars were travelling, the angle at which they collided, the trajectory of the collided cars, the force of the impact, but the machine would struggle to process ALL of the information of the accident and be able to instantly recognise the patterns inherent in the accident and understand their meaning.

This is why it is unlikely that machines will ever be able to understand or experience human emotions, and that was the first clue I picked up as to why the new Miss SA might be a cyborg.

 

 

The three finalists of the pagaent, Matapa Malla 24, from Johannesburg, Lisa van Zyl, 23 year old from Cape Town and Nicole Flint 21, from Pretoria sat on stage as they announced this year’s winner, each one of them smiling flawlessly, betraying no emotion whatsoever.

Fair enough, as a  beauty queen I’m sure you spend countless years learning not to show any kind of real emotion, but then the thing that really blew my mind was when they announced Flint as the winner, her smile remained completely fixed throughout.

Call me old school, but I preferred it when the winners covered their pretty little faces with their immaculately manicured hands and at least shed one or two little tears of sheer joy and nervous excitement. I mean seriously, it’s not a beauty pageant unless the winner has a bit of a cry, or am I way off the mark here?

 

 

Don’t get me wrong, I think ol’ Nicole Flint definitely deserved to win, I mean hell’s bells, she’s a good looking woman, but she was so damn controlled throughout it looked like she was wandering around in a walking Prozac-induced coma.

Don’t be surprised people, if amongst other news headlines about Castor Semenya being transgendered and Julius Malema being trans-specied, we read that Nicole Flint IS THE 6 MILLION RAND WOMAN!

Don’t say I didn’t warn you 😉

-ST

11
Dec
09

Top Billing is desensitising my gag reflex

By SlickTiger 17 Comments
Categories: Killer Posts and Satire, Irony And Vitriol
Tags: , , , , , ,

Every Thursday night for some reason Jenni-Fuh, J-Rab and I end up watching this lifestyle TV show on SABC 3 called Top Billing.

 

 

My South African readers all know this show, it’s been on TV for at least the last ten years, but for my international readers from so far afield as Helsinki, Katmandu and Brakpan (where they haven’t invented TV yet), lemme give you the low down.

Top Billing is a platform from which the rich upper classes of South Africa can stand and tell all the poor people in this country (who can’t afford satellite TV and are therefore forced to watch the show) how amazing their rich and famous lives are.

They feature everyone from South African musicians, to actors, to sports stars and visit places like wine estates and five star luxury game lodges. Then they attend weddings (I shit you not) that always look like they’re being hosted in the some kind of fairytale castle out of a Disney cartoon and interview ‘interesting’ art deco people who are making avante garde ‘creations’ out of weird shit like bees wax and processed angora goat hair.

 

 

It’s nauseating, and it’s not because everyone and everything that is featured on the show is literally saturated with money, it’s because everyone on that goddamn show is so fake.

I have a very highly developed bullshit detector (mostly to my own detriment) and I swear, the minute I hear the smarmy theme music for that fucking show the ol’ BS-detector starts going off like an air raid siren in my head.

Celebrities of South Africa and other successful people that end up on Top Billing, I hope you hear me loud and clear when I say this: Nobody thinks you’re cool except for nobodies. Stop being a buncha total douchebags and show us something real.

And then there’s Jeannie D, who I’m sure is a wonderful person in real life, but who makes me actually swear loudly and throw stuff at the TV nearly every time I see her.

 

 

She gushes happiness the way clogged up sewers gush floaters. It offends me. Why does she have to smile ALL THE TIME and talk like she’s on the verge of bursting into a peal of girlish laughter at any and EVERY given moment? Is that in her contract or something?

‘Ok, the Top Billing gig is yours.’

‘Yippee!’

‘But you have to constantly speak and act like you’ve taken 600mg of Lexapro every time we turn the cameras on you.’

‘That shouldn’t be a problem, I just have! Hahahahahahahah!’

And don’t even get me started on the godawful wankfest that is Top Travel. That’s basically an hour of Jeannie D and her co-presenter Janez Vermeiren swanning around the world and palling around playfully with one another while everyone out there in Sofa Land thinks exactly the same thing.

Yep, they’re totally fucking.

I used to dig Janez – he made his name as the DIY dude on Top Billing and he was badass. He could build anything and basically looks like he’s carved out of a slab of marble. That was the peak of his career, ladies loved him, men wanted to be his buddy so he could come around and build that outside braai area they’d always wanted, life for Janez was sweet.

 

 

Then Top Travel hit and every week we were forced to watch him try and match Jeannie D’s bubbly, faux optimism and the result was that I, for one, lost my broner for him completely.

Get out while you still can Janez. Come to the light. Start up ‘Top Cage Fighting’ where you go to dirty bars in the South and kick the living shit out of people.

THAT’S good television right there.

Lastly, before I go, I want it to be known that unlike my usual vitriolic posts where I just bitch and moan about stuff and don’t actually do anything to make it better, this time around I got me a game-plan.

At this stage I can’t say much except watch this space. Over the next few months I plan to start up on OWN lifestyle show with a little help from a buddy of mine I like to call THE MAEN.

It will be super low-budget and will basically make you piss yourself laughing with EVERY EPISODE, because the people of this world take themselves too damn seriously and it’s time we exploited that for the good of mankind and the betterment of humans as a species.

And yes, ladies and gentlemen, them’s fightin’ words 😉

Have a killer weekend, take 5 tabs of acid, find God.

-ST

« Previous Entries
Next Entries »