Oscar Pistorius And The Temple Of Doom

Valentines Day 2013 will forever be remembered by Oscar Pistorius as the day he took the life of the woman he professed to love. Wittingly or unwittingly is a matter for the courts to decide, since his case has just begun. (If you hadn't heard, might I suggest you crawl back under your rock and await the next ice-age.)Now I'm not going to go into the details of what has already turned out to be a media circus and a real-life soapie all wrapped into one. What I'm more interested in is how the public reacted to the news of Oscar having admittedly shot and killed Reeva Steenkamp, across all the social media platforms.

If you follow my twitter feeds ( @kaloo5 ) you will know that I'm not one to shy away from speaking my mind and voicing my opinion. The point is not whether Oscar had shot and killed Reeva or not. He admitted to doing so. The question is not what his reasoning was. That's a matter the courts will apply their minds to when deciding his sentencing. The question we should be asking is "Is he guilty of killing an innocent person?"

Put another way, if it turned out that Oscar had indeed shot a burglar instead of Reeva on the other side of that door, would he still be in court facing a murder charge? Quite simply, the answer is YES.
I'm not going to give you a lesson in legality or the law, but taking a life is a serious charge and no matter the outcome, unless your life is in imminent danger, shooting to kill is not an option.
Now many of those defending his actions across social media platforms seem to completely ignore this fact. They assume that because he is a national sporting hero, the law that applies to us mere mortals should be different to that which applies to him.

Understand that I am not passing a judgement on his guilt or innocence. What I am passing judgement upon are those of us who defend to the bitter end anyone voicing an opinion other than 'Innocence', even though legally he is guilty of having killed someone! That cannot be denied and no amount of posturing and blind loyalty will remove that fact from the history books.

I expect that the Pro-Oscar brigade will attack me with vitriol I have become quite accustomed to, but I'd like to ask them where their passion for the law and unwavering belief that 'suspects are innocent until proven guilty' was when Jub Jub was on trial?
Remember how quickly social commentators went on the attack and declared him guilty before the facts came out? Ultimately he turned out to be guilty and was justly sentenced, but this was not until he had been tried and judged in the court of public opinion.

Did I voice my opinion when Jub Jub was arrested?
You bet your ass I did!
Did I declare him guilty in my opinion before the courts did?
You bet your ass I did!
But here's the thing.... I didn't voice my opinion along with the rest of the social commentators regarding Jub Jub only to choose the moral high-ground when it was Oscar facing the same law.
I didn't suddenly find a spine and a conscience and declare it wrong and immoral to discuss or have an opinion about Oscar. That's the problem I have right now with people saying "Let the law take it's course and don't voice your opinion!"
Where were you when Donovan Moodley was accused of abducting and killing Leigh Mathews?
Sitting quietly in a corner telling people to calm down and not pass judgement?
Or were you standing on the rooftops and shouting for all to hear that he should be hung or at the very least, jailed for life?
Be honest with yourself.
It makes no difference to me.
Did you want Jub Jub and Donovan to be sentenced to life before you knew the facts?Now ask yourself how you feel about Oscar before you know the facts?

As a vocal and opinionated social commentator, I call it as I see it.
But at least I'm consistent.
If I'm critical of Donovan, and I'm critical of Jub Jub, don't expect me to hold back the punches on Oscar.
If he's found innocent of murder, he will still be guilty of having killed Reeva.

This case is far from over, but I suspect the manner and reason for it dividing opinion along the usual social and racial lines will have overtones lasting much longer than the ultimate sentence.

Get That Chip Off Your Shoulder Already

I'm really not sure if this post was meant for anyone in particular, or if it's just a general rant. I haven't really decided yet.

What I do know is that there are far too many people walking around amongst us thinking that the world owes them something. Nothing annoys me more than watching some moron play the victim card because they believe that their lot in life has got nothing to do with the choices they have made, and has everything to do with the hurdles life placed before them.

Here's the honest truth, and it's the same truth I will teach my kids every day of their blessed lives.

• The world doesn't owe you a damn thing. Not sunshine, not water, not the sound of birds nor the wind blowing through the trees. Not a damn thing! If you want those things, get up off your ass and seek them!
• You are not a victim of circumstance! If you had a shitty upbringing, put on your big-girl panties and deal with it. You wake up every morning with a choice. Either you can be a bitter caustic cesspool of hate, or you can drag your sorry ass out of bed and start a new beginning... every single day... as hard as it sounds. Humanity doesn't care either way, because the world was here long before you started whining and it will be here long after you're silent.
• Everybody had some event in their past that they wish had never happened. Yes. Everybody. Some worse than others. That doesn't mean we get to have those events define us. You either dust yourself off and lift yourself up, or you go about life blaming every bad thing that's ever happened to you on why your life sucks. Those of us that chose option 1 have lifted ourselves up and dusted ourselves off, and quite frankly life doesn't suck as bad as we thought it would.
• Lastly, if watching everyone else have themselves a pretty damn fine time going about their lives depresses you, maybe you need to have yourself a nice big cup of STFU every morning to kick-start your day. Just maybe.

Right.
Now that I got that off my chest, how about some festive cheer?

2012 has been awesome, in more ways than one. The highs were spectacular, the lows were phenomenal. It was a year like no other, but the birth of my baby girl Zia undoubtedly ranks as the defining moment. There's something about holding your little girl in your hands that makes you realize that nothing else matters. The thought that her entire life is completely reliant on you suddenly makes you sit up and acknowledge the immense responsibility placed on you as a parent.
Looking into her eyes and knowing full well that this honor is not one passed on lightly.... that's the kind of precious moment one could never capture in a photo or a sentence. The enormity of the task ahead makes me want to be a better man, the kind Sabreen and Zia would go to school and brag about as being their dad.

We lost some remarkable people this year, both in the public arena and in my personal life.
I read a blog the other day that had a dedication to someone that had passed on. The deceased wasn't mentioned by name, but the post ended with "You know who you are."
I'd like to think that when the dearly departed leave us, they have better things to do on the other side than read our shitty blogs. If I knew I'd have to read blogs when I go upstairs someday, I may just be inspired to live forever!
To those that have lost loved ones, friends and family this year, may this bring us closer to those still around and may we realize that the phrase "Life is too short" is a harsh reality.

I have no idea what 2013 has in store for me.
I do know with absolute certainty that it will be a kick-ass year, whether it expects to be or not.

Here's wishing one and all an awesome 2013!

100 000 And Counting!

I always knew that I have much to say. I just never knew that some of it would interest others.
So when I started this blog, it was always meant to be a sounding board for my ranting and raving, and the occasional peek into my personal life.... but mostly it was just for the ranting and raving.

100 000 hits later and I truly am humbled. It's the clearest indication yet of just how mentally disturbed my friends, fans and followers actually are. I'm in great company!

To kick off today's piece, I thought we'd start with a bit of ranting and raving since that's really why most of you come around these parts anyways. That and the hope that I'll be giving away free iPhones or porn links.

Moving right along.

This is a pic of a stalwart in the fight for liberation of the people of South Africa from the clutches of the National Party back in the Apartheid era. As with most of this countries struggle hero's/ heroines, Tina Joemat started her political career in that intellectual incubator our generation know as the Azania Students Organization, back in 1985. This was the same organization that boasted Steve Biko and Ben Ngubane amongst it's members.
Next she joined the South African Democratic Teachers Union, in 1992. Again, an institution that housed, produced and polished some of our greatest, brightest and sharpest minds, many of whom helped shape and draft the South African Constitution; a document which is still hailed today as one of the most all-encompassing democratically representative constitutions in the world. That's no easy accomplishment for a new democracy as ours.
Two Chairmanship positions followed thereafter, one with the South African Communist Party of the Northern Cape, and the next with the ANC Finance Committee.

With such a sterling CV and impeccable liberation movement credentials, it was with no surprise that Tina Joemat took up a role within the ANC National Executive Committee, where she is currently still a member along with her official post as Minister of Agriculture, Forestry And Fisheries.

Not to be judgmental or anything, but she looks the business in this picture. As they say, there's a story in those eyes that speak of a struggle history, and a proud one at that.

Fast-forward about 15 years and with Tina Joemat now firmly entrenched in her ministerial position, we suddenly see an amazing metamorphosis of our once proud struggle hero and staunch communist into a reckless spender of public money that would make the most unashamed capitalist blush in his silk boxers.
Complete with fur coat and all the trappings of luxury, she is now under investigation for having spent over R150 000 unlawfully, in violation of the executive ethics code. I imagine fellow communists must be frantically looking for a side note in the Communist Handbook to explain how one of their brightest stars felt no remorse at swapping gumboots and union caps for Louis Vuitton and Prada.

I read an article earlier this year in which a member of the ANC NEC was questioned about the lifestyle of once highly regarded liberation movement and struggle hero's who have suddenly become multi-millionaires with a penchant for opulence and extreme reckless spending. His answer had me surprised but not completely shocked.
"We didn't join the ANC and liberate the country to remain poor."
Interesting.

I may have been a teenager when the battles were being fought between struggle hero's and the Apartheid government, but I'm pretty sure I recall the battle-cry and freedom songs of the day having one core ideology in common: a better life for the people. All people. All previously disadvantaged. All blacks. All poor.
Suddenly the goalpost has been moved and it's only a few people, a few disadvantaged, and a few blacks who are reaping the benefits of present day.

Next time this liberation movement comes around, and these things usually have a way of repeating themselves, I must remember to sing and march and protest for a better life for the poor and the destitute and the down-trodden, while keeping a beady eye on political ambitions and a position amongst the ruling elite.

I wish this post celebrating 100 000 hits was more upbeat and positive and fun, but in keeping with tradition I just had to rant.
I promise it's back to smut and porn and general sleaziness from tomorrow onward.

In the meantime, I truly would like to thank every single one of you for coming around these parts and pretending to read my crap.
I know most of you are just here for the pictures, in the hope that you'll see some nipple or vajayjay.
Tomorrow. I promise.

PS: To all my Indonesian friends who don't understand a word of English yet visit my blog daily, thank you for keeping my hit-count so high! I have no idea what you're saying in my message bar, but it's all fair since you have no idea what I'm saying in my blog posts :)
I love you anyways!

Full Circle

Every guy has a story about how some ex-girlfriends dad once threatened to beat him up or have him killed. If a guy doesn't have such a story, he either dated the girls who's dads were just glad their daughters had a 'friend' or worse still, he spent more time with the girls brothers!

I once dated a girl who's dad called me up and threatened to kill me and shoot me in the kneecaps!
True story.
I always wondered whether he was going to kill me first, and then shoot me in the kneecaps, or the other way around. He never did come across as the brightest of people, so it's highly possible he planned on maximizing my agony by killing me dead and then torturing me afterward.

Another girl I dated would sneak out of her parents home at midnight when I flashed my cars lights through her bedroom window (no pun intended there!), and I would have her back by 4am to sneak back into her home before her dad woke up for his morning prayers.
When we broke up, she immersed herself into religion and became a teacher.
I guess it's heartwarming to know that after me, some women find God...

Now you know you're off to a bad start when your hearts all a-flutter and butterflies abound over a girl you're smitten with, only to have her mom tell her "I'm warning you about those Indian boys. They're all about loud music and cars with tinted windows...."
She and I remained inseparable long after the car was gone and the music had stopped playing.

In retrospect, now that I'm the proud father of two beautiful daughters, I was exactly the kind of young punk full of arrogance and youthful bravado who's arse I'd kick if ever he came knocking on my door to see my girls. To a father, nothing could be more precious than his daughters. This goes without saying.
The mere thought of some smooth-talking player trying his charms on my girls would have me reaching for my gun. Having said that, I'm glad that I was THAT guy back in the day, because it makes it so much easier for me to spot the type.

Sabreen and I were watching a bridal show on TV the other day (Disclaimer: This never happened if any of my buddy's ask) and she asked me what I would tell her husband when I walked her up the aisle.
I said I'd wait until I got right up next to him, shake his hand, then kick him in the nuts.
She thought it was the funniest thing ever.
I didn't.

In the Indian community, there's a word called 'Ghar Jamaai'.
Loosely translated, it's when a groom moves in with his wife's family and for all intents and purposes, ends up working with his father-in-law and almost becomes an adopted son.
Growing up, we'd make fun of the men we knew were Ghar Jamaai. What man wants to lose his identity and independence and live with his in-laws?

As a father of two daughters, the answer finally came to me....

Free Advice Is Like Herpes

That's right.
I said Herpes.

Everybody who has it wants to pass it around. Like some kind of 'security in numbers' deal. I mean the advice. And the herpes too.

I'm not saying all free advice is bad advice. I'm just saying verify the source.

Like the fat greasy car guard at the gym who inspired this post.
He sees me walking out the gym after a rather strenuous and physical workout, waddles over to me like a fat blubbery seal in search of dead fish, and drops this thought-provoking gem :"You look exhausted. You mustn't over-exert yourself ne'...."
He looked like the kind of guy who's only threat of muscle injury would come from racing to the open buffet at Spur.
My car was parked about 50m from the entrance, so I upped my pace thinking I wasn't really in the mood of conversation with Hoover The Hungry Seal. He surprised me by keeping up the pace, possibly mistaking my body odour for rotting sardines. By the time I got to my car, he was out of breath, leaning his hairy sweaty lard-infested arm on my door and asking me to give him a minute.
I think he said minute.
He could have said help. I'm not sure.
I wasn't taking any chances with Hoover having a heart attack right next to my car. Lord knows he may have expected some mouth-to-mouth action to resuscitate his obviously overworked heart. For a split second the image of his heart in that massive neanderthal frame reminded me of a Mini-Cooper trying to tow the Titanic cross-country on holiday.

So I quickly shut my door, opened my window just enough to squeeze a R2 coin through as a tip in case he needed a deposit or down-payment for the ambulance, and left.

Now I'm going to have to park my car on another level, just in case he thinks he's found a friend in me and I'm going to throw him sardines every time he waddles in my direction.
Either that or get a new car. Maybe change gyms.
I don't know.
This is freaking me out.
Maybe I'll report him for harassment.... but he didn't really harass me. Dammit!
I'm sure if they look at the video footage of today, it will look like he was chasing me and I was trying to run away.

AAARRGGHH!!!!!!
I don't need this stress in my life!

That's it.
Tomorrow I'll just go to gym with a pack of frozen sardines in my bag.
Just in case.

Trusting Your Instinct

This post is inspired by an interesting piece I read on my dear friend Azra's blog, which can be found here.

Every so often, when confronted with decisions, we find ourselves torn between what our heads tell us to do and what our hearts tell us to do; and sometimes our instinct is the shining beacon of light helping us make that decision. Except, being the blundering bumbling fools that we are, we choose to ignore this 6th sense to our own peril.

My Gran always said that the nagging voice inside each of us, guiding us and telling us what to do when confronted with decisions, are in fact the Angels usually found perched on our shoulders.
If I look back on some of the decisions I've made in life, and scored those made after much pondering against those made by virtue of gut instinct, I have a sneaky suspicion that the perched Angels would win by a landslide.

Sometimes we stay when we should go.
Sometimes we go when we should stay.
Sometimes our instinct taps gently , and sometimes it screams out loudly.

We make hundreds of decisions every day, and as a forex trader I'm making them in split seconds.
We need to silence the noise and listen more intently to that inner voice within each of us. Maybe it won't help me find the path to financial success, but I'm pretty sure it will help me trust myself a little more, believe in myself a little more, and feel like I'm more in control of my destiny.

My revised Bucket List should read "Trust your instinct more often."
Everything after that will simply be an affirmation of my faith in the process.

The True Price Of Perfect Abs

I started gyming. Again.
I may have mentioned this before in a previous post, but since nobody who visits my blog remembers anything I write, let's pretend this is the first time you're hearing about it ;)
My target body is the one I had back in my college days. I've lost the original pics, but for all intents and purposes it was pretty close to the one above . That's my body, that's my story, and I'm sticking by both of them.

My first week into my gym routine and I realized that my OCD (as diagnosed by my best friend who moonlights as a clinical psychologist when she's not buying me exotic tea's and drinks or bestselling books) was going to be tested to it's limits.
I have a thing for cleanliness.
Nothing crazy or abnormal by any stretch of the imagination. I'm just finicky about certain things.

Like other people's sweat or bodily liquids. Especially if these are to be found on the handle-bars of the bicycle I'm about to use, or the seat of the rowing machine I was heading toward, or the bench I was about to sit on in the locker-room, or on the little button I need to press at the water cooler, or on any handle of any door I'm meant to open or close at the gym.
Like I said, nothing crazy or abnormal.
Everybody has a freak out when they see or come within 1 meter of someone else's perspiration. And if they don't, they bloody well should.

That's why I never fully understood the Steam Room at the gym.
I'm no scientist, but my Standard 6 understanding of basic precipitation tells me that the steam room is one huge recycling contraption that circulates other peoples sweat. You go in there with 4 strange fat guys, they each drip sweat like a burst geyser, the steam circulates that dripped sweat around until it latches onto you like a hungry leach, and you come out thinking "Wow! Look at how much I perspired in there! I feel awesome!"

Now I know most gyms have a strict policy about having a shower before using the swimming pool, and for good and obvious reason too. But let's be honest, who's policing this policy? I've seen a group of guys come out of the Sweat Exchange Room and jump straight into the pool like it was the most natural thing since carrying portable disinfectant wipes.
Your average gym swimming pool is approximately 200 000 litres.
On average most gyms chlorinate their pools once a week, at a weak concentrate so as not to affect the skin and eyes of gym goers.
I only know this because I made some inquiries, as I'm sure everyone who's ever signed a gym contract has done.
Based on these numbers, if herds of sweaty people are jumping into the pool every day, compounded by the Sweat Exchange Room dripaholics, and gyms are using the bare minimum in chlorine to disinfect their pools, it would mean that by my rough calculations, within 6 months all natural water has been replenished by OPS (other peoples sweat) and you're practically swimming around in a massive Perspiration Pool.
I'm pretty sure this thought has crossed your minds before.
Next time you think wearing swimming goggles helps keep germs out of your eyes, think again about opening your mouth in that pool!

Next week we discuss the ultimate germ warfare incubator. The kind of germ laboratory that would make Al-Qaeda proud.
Yes ladies and gents, the gym toilets and showers comes under the spotlight.
Watch this space...

Here's to 6pack abs :)