One should always open the floor with The Stupidomitor to assess the intelligence before you. This normally gives a good indication of the material that might crack a grin or two. Sadly the bulk of humanity squats round about the bell’s tongue. That dreaded multitude between the ding and the dong that reckons life is a song. Normally they are smoker wise and exhaust fume foolish- speaking of which … Some zonked-out beach bums reckon pot is funny. A joint is not funny. Unknowingly smoking one lined with coke and tik and washing it down with a couple of beers- now that’s f*ckin’ hilarious! Ask the staff at Helen Joseph’s psychiatric ward. First I had to smuggle in my belt. When I finally woke up my shoes had no laces. They asked the wife to keep my cell because I use it like a nuclear weapon. Have you ever tried squeezing a zit, a tiny yellow little bugger right next to your nose, in a place with one mirror, only to be told off by an old hag in nursing attire for using the lounge area as a bathroom? I ultimately had to bribe my way out of this prime healthcare facility by acting “normal”.
Seriously. You shouldn’t have faith in humans. They can’t even put poetry back on the map much less change the world for the better. But of course they all reed! Traffic signs and such … even though the sh*t registers nowhere. I also read on occasion. Harber’s Diepsloot had me devastated over the plight of our bullfrogs in the Midrand area. (Die bende beterweters sal dinge ook glorieus vergeet.) And when will the poachers finish off these bloody rhinos already? This daily dosage of carcasses is starting to spoil the view from my tower! But reading money is my favourite … Ah, the inherent symbolism behind shocking yellow tekkies and orange Hummers could keep you busy for aeons.
Nowadays I’m so peaceful I can’t even get going at the yield sign. Cycling seems to be the new religion. These health conscious peddlers litter the roads on Sunday. You must have seen them smoking it up the hill behind some f*cked up diesel guzzling truck. Being slightly superstitious myself I rather prefer witchcraft as a death sentence. But don’t worry, I always wear my safety boots when frequenting cemeteries. And I love to tell people their fortune from a mug of Milo. I accidentally invoked Lucifer once. I had to tell the poor sod to piss off, can’t handle a backseat braaier. Besides, God can only have one left hand man and having a great sense of humour himself He chose a gentile foreskin and all. Imagine that. Speaking of our Father, what did He say after creating everyone? My head hurts. Ek moes ander dag aan Hom rapporteer oor ons vordering hier onder toe vertel ek Hom ons het onderskeidings in honger, versadig en oorversadig. Solank niemand al hulle skaduwees verloor het nie was sy antwoord. Oh and before I forget, when you yourself rock up at heaven, whatever you do, do not make any excuses. You’ll end up in the line for the disabled, somewhere between Oscar Pistorius and Stephen Hawking.
My initial instructions were to fill this place so I took a dip in Harties to lure as many flies as possible. Death’s perfume never fails. Very much like that invisible wall of piss you have to walk through on your way to the aforementioned hospital’s emergency entrance. Dearly beloved debtor, this is your collector on the megaphone, please exit the premises with all the moneys owed or I will enter the same with my Ratel.
Kommentaar
Adriaan... dit lees half so aan my kant ook... hapiness is a devoted and determined effort to realize eternal destiny is wholly compatible with a light-hearted and joyous life and with a successful and honorable career on earth... en hou liefs by 'n papsak want spirituele intelligensie se slegte smaak hou nooit op nie...