Mad- donner and the missing children

I watched Ben Affleck’s directorial debut the other evening. His film called Gone Baby Gone features a great cast including Ben’s brother Casey (his Boston accent is very cool, makes me want to be an American, oh and so does Obama (brackets within brackets – Obama for ANC president?) oh and Liv Tyler) Ed Harris and Morgan Freeman.

The film basically tells the story of a child kidnapping in a working class neighbourhood of Dorchester, Boston.

It got me thinking about all the kidnapping of little children…

I thought to myself, if I was a policeman covering the case of a missing child I would start by knocking on Madonna’s door, hold up a picture to her face and say: Sorry to bother you er Madge, but have you seen this child?

Why does the world go bonkers when Like a Prayer wants to adopt a child? Are we all secretly worried about that child’s welfare? The gyrating, child molesting (see ex boyfriends, I mean Jesus), Karbala worshipping granny. I can just see Papa don’t preach skipping and dancing and hip flexing her way down a beaten little village path in Malawi, in a little leather leotard and fish net stockings, a flute in her vein ridden fingers with all the village children in tow.

Next on my list of suspects would be the Somali pirates, and third, the sock monster

I wanted to vomit when I read that the loco residents of the Portuguese resort where Madeline McCann was kidnapped verbally abused the parents of the missing British girl.
Gerry McCann was jeered by the resort’s residents, when he arrived there with a television crew to film a documentary about Madeleine’s disappearance. McCann was forced to apologise for the negative effect the case has had on the resort.
“Oh, I am so terribly sorry that the kidnapping of my daughter has ruined the reputation of your little resort.”

Ok I am somewhat perplexed as to why the McCann’s would want to punish themselves by continually revisiting the site of their greatest loss for the sake of a documentary. Yes constant exposure will keep Maddy in the eye of the public, but perhaps it’s time to take a different tac.

Joke of the day:

Madonna arrived in Malawi this week prepared to adopt a 4-year-old girl from the country. Thus kicking off this year's Madonna - Angelina Jolie Fantasy Draft.

The dark and incontinent…er continent

A declaration of war on the state by taxi drivers, and more alarmingly, threats to undermine the 2010 soccer World Cup, has caught the eye of the international media.

The most recent protest in down town Johannesburg saw aggrieved taxi drivers blocking roads, bringing the City to a standstill with unnerving ease. It was click of the fingers stuff and muscle flexing that would have made Guv'nor Arnie proud.

Taxi operators are opposed to the City's impending public transport system. I am not entirely against their grievances and they have a point or two.

But here is the part I don’t understand…

Drivers vented their anger by looting shops, stoning vehicles, and forcing innocent commuters off buses. A bus driver was also shot in the hand, cars parked in the city were destroyed and general mayhem consumed Egoli for the day.

And while it follows similar demonstrations in Port Elizabeth and Cape Town, on this occasion the words ‘World Cup’ had our international media friends reaching for the yellow card.

The taxi industry claims to serve more than 60% of South Africa's commuters. It has been the backbone of the transport system since the early days of apartheid and deserves respect.
However, its powers have seemingly escalated to a point of invincibility, which in essence, is due to Government’s unwillingness to curb what is an unregulated transport sector. Does that make them a quango?

Government is now faced with a challenge of providing a safe, efficient public transit system, incorporating the taxi sector….Good luck Jacob and your ANC comrades…where does this mess sit on your list of priorities I wonder, rubbing my chin with thumbs and index finger. Does it sit in the same bracket as the state of our roads perhaps? Behind public services? Ahead of the education issue?

Failure to do so could derail the World Cup in 2010. And that isn’t me jumping on my White Range Rover with 60 inch rims, a tinted window, and a kick ass stereo and being all over the top about it. Any organisation that can take control of a city like Johannesburg in a matter of hours demands huge respect and I for one would not take their threats with a pinch of salt.

“If they don’t address this, we will bring the entire country to a halt for a week or two,” Joe Mophuting, a spokesman for the United Taxi Association Forum said to the Times. Eish indeed, fuggin double eish and a bloody hellfire for this quagmire (sorry I like that word) Government finds itself in.

As South Africans we tend to let violence wash over us on a daily basis. Eg: “I was just hijacked and I had a gun pointed at me, but can you hurry this report up please Mr police officer, because I want to get home and watch the cricket…South Africa are beating the Ausies.

Its part of our everyday environment, and if violence hasn’t touched you, a friend or a member of your family, you consider yourself to be having a pretty good day. And why not we live in Africa.

Unfortunately, most of the rest of the world, a few other African countries aside, everyday should be considered violence free day. It’s the way they live, yes how bloody dare they go around with that pontificating attitude.

So on the other side of the World Cup organising fence we have soccer body FIFA, who has indicated that it will adopt a zero tolerance policy to ensure the safe running of the first World Cup to be held on African soil. Chin chin, salute and all that for they are jolly good felllas that Sep and his European cronies.

The world simply doesn’t think like South Africans when it comes to violence. Why only last week India was deprived of its high profile Indian Premier League cricket tournament, following a spate of violent attacks on the sub continent. The tournament ironically will be held in South Africa later this month.

With World Cup kick off 434 days away, Government has it all to play for, and at this late stage of the game, it would do well to prevent any own goals…yes yes I know.

Right that’s me off my soap box…for I dare not tear this country apart, maybe only some of the people that live in it, and the list is getting longer. I wonder if I should start putting them into categories, files like I have on my laptop, maybe I should begin classification by political party.

I don’t want to pause for too long to think about such unhappy things, it would only be like breaking on the N3 in front of a car with blue lights riding up your tail…it would cause no end of kak.

There is flip side to this beautiful country which gives balance to my thoughts. I really don’t like to moan you see.… My sister lives on a ranch, a sanctuary for animals, and a retreat for broken souls. At this magic place, animals that usually feed the higher end of the food chain prosper. It’s a retreat for zebra, eight species of buck, oh and my favourite, a family of four giraffe. There are more than 130 different bird species including Fish Eagles who when testing its vocals down in the valley makes my all warm inside and gives me goose flesh.

My Africa is a bit like a favourite old T- shirt, you know the one, you run in it, wear it round the house, it has holes in funny places, exposing a nipple or your underarm hair. It’s stretched, the collar is torn, but it fits, its so familiar and so comfy and you will be damned if you would ever part with it.

Africa can be dark, but it’s in the light that it really flourishes. Here is to a really successful World Cup then.

While this toy toying goes on, I harbour dreams to be a pirate…to sail the seven seas…well not quite I was thinking more just the Gulf of Aden, and share my loot with my new Somali friends.

Buts that for another day….

An apt joke for the day:

A priest and a taxi driver both died and went to heaven. St. Peter was at the Pearly gates waiting for them. 'Come with me', said St. Peter to the taxi driver. The taxi driver did as he was told and followed St. Peter to a mansion. It had anything you could imagine from a bowling alley to an Olympic size pool. 'Wow, thank you', said the taxi driver. Next, St. Peter led the priest to a rugged old shack with a bunk bed and a little old television set. 'Wait, I think you are a little mixed up', said the priest. 'Shouldn't I be the one who gets the mansion? After all I was a priest, went to church every day, and preached God's word.' 'Yes, that's true. But during your sermons people slept. When the taxi driver drove, everyone prayed.'

BatFink

So there I was on a stormy night, bright flashes of lightening illuminating my otherwise dark room, tossing and turning in a restless sleep.
Something inside me stirred. I felt as though I was not alone in this dark dwelling, well besides Steffi (named after the lovely Steffi Graf..no less), my old canine companion. Without pause, I got up and reached for the light to confirm my suspicions.
Flying in a pattern as if it had been tied to the central light fitting, was a bat. It was moving in a circles in my very square shaped room. A bloody bat of all Gods creatures, in my room on a dark stormy night? The omens did not look good. My gut churned as scenes of the little vermin sucking the blood from livestock, sharp pointed teeth stained with blood flashed across my eyes. Red eyes, Dracula, hell even Satan made a brief appearance, and why not. This was not a night to be fucked with, to be very sure. How many people in the history of the world had been visited in their room by a bat, a creature of the night? Not many I would wager.

My next and very poignant question was..get the little sucker out? A sinner, I certainly am, but a murderer? never. Without too much thought, hatched a plan to throw a towel over it which would not be too difficult considering its very repetitive flight routine, around and around and around…see?

Just as I had suspected, my cunning bore fruit and the little black winged rat was soon free. Perhaps I am being unkind for it was actually quite harmless and in a devilish kind of way, quite cute. That is not to say that I was not still under the illusion that this uninvited guest had brought with it, a very bad kind of luck, shit luck if you like.

I awoke to a bright new day determined to read up my fate, this new hex that had been brought upon me. I am no shaman, I believe not in the tokoloshe, nor have I ever seen a voodoo ritual in action, besides, of course, in the Witches of Eastwick and in one of those James Bond films. The most I have done is play glassy glassy, which didn't work, oh and I tried Yoga once, but I don't think that fits in the same category.

To my humbling astonishment, following a trip to Google… I realised that the little fella had in fact brought me more than the promise of a visit to tombstone lane, Dracula close and Satan Circle…

Transition, Rebirth:
The bat totem can trigger change or transformation. Its visit can be a warning that change will soon occur and not to be afraid. Sometimes the bat is a symbol for facing ones fears.

A Bat totem appearing in your life is a call for the end of a way of life and the beginning of another. You must face your greatest fears and get rid of the part of your life that no longer is needed.This transition is very frightening for many: “better the devil you know…”But you will not grow spiritually until the old parts are gone.

Face the darkness before you and you will find the light in rebirth.

Like shoo wow and all that. The reading was quite deep. Having read the final sentence over again, I felt, well I felt a little like, well Batman, actually… go figure.

Joke of the day…

Batman and Robin are camping in the desert, set up their tent and are asleep. Some hours later, Batman wakes his faithful friend. “Robin, look up at the sky and tell me what you see.”
Robin replies, ” I see millions of stars.”
“What does that tell you?” asks Batman.
Robin ponders for a minute.
“Astronomically speaking, it tells me that there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets. Astrologically, it tells me that Saturn is in Leo. Chronologically, it appears to be approximately a quarter past three. Theologically, it’s evident the Lord is all-powerful and we are small and insignificant. Meteorologically, it seems we will have a beautiful day tomorrow. What does it tell you, Batman?”
“Robin, you idiot, someone has stolen our tent.”

The Messiah

So apparently one needs to have 'fashionable' in vogue words in order to get ones blogging site up the search rankings quicker than a double six and that really long ladder on number 28 on the Snakes and Ladders board game that takes you to within a fraction of 100 and the winning post.

So what are these popular words in our vernacular today? Suicide bombers, Jacob Zuma, Paris Hilton, Barack Obama, Jenna Jameson, and Michael Phelps?

How quickly words like John McCain, Saddam Hussein (well he is dead) George Bush and David Beckham…ok maybe not the last two, but I wish they would just both go away, become so last year…

And before that? BC, but only just, words like Jesus Christ, and the Messiah, Judas, Jerusalem, crucified, the Three Wise Men, an olive tree, some white turtle doves and perhaps even leather sandals would have been quite popular.

So here's to a quick few climbs up the ranking ladder on my first go and a few bead movings on the old abacus.

Oh, I would also like to start a trend of having a little joke at the end of each post…(er he told himself)…

I was depressed last night so I called Lifeline. Can you Adam and Eve it, my call went through to a freaking’ call centre in Pakistan. I mentioned that I was feeling suicidal and they went all ballistic and asked me if I could fly a plane.
Its all in the delivery, don't you see? drum role please!