http://davidw20.blogspot.com
It has been quite a few months since I blogged anything...probably because I kept reminder notes on my phone about what I was going to write about. Well that has all come crashing to an end...I had to DOWNGRADE my phone yesterday and I ended up losing all my notes. However irritating that might be, it has forced me to login and put my thoughts directly into a blog instead of just writing reminders...which after a couple of months don't make any sense anyway!
A lot has changed in my life this year. The best thing to happen was when I was within spitting distance of some of the greatest footballers in the world! The worst thing to happen was my lack of courage to actually spit at them! Capello, you are a donkey!
Wow, what a World Cup! It was such a great vibe in the streets and for once it seemed that the whole South African nation was as one, hoping and praying that Bafana Bafana didn't get their arses kicked to smithereens! And now, we are in the midst of the warned about post World Cup Hangover. We have every charlie and his uncle striking in the streets, hospitals letting dead people roam about the morgues and babies giving their mothers C-sections because they are tired of hanging around doing nothing. I agree that everyone should get paid more...how else am I going to justify my request for a huge salary increase in the new year??
I'm still not smoking. It has become easier and easier though I do think about it on a daily basis. The time I spend dwelling on it does however become less and less. It now gives me more time to think of the important things in life...like golf, the perfect crime and what I am going to have for breakfast the next day. I have put on 10kg. I now weigh twice as much as I did when I was 10 years old.
I'm still going to gym. I am still afraid of some of the women in the weight lifting section. I still haven't plucked up the courage to go down there. Even with these foibles I feel that I am finally getting the hang of this whole gym thing though. At least now when I walk (note: not crawl) out of there I am not coughing up my pancreas or kidney. The staff at the gym are also getting brave enough to say good morning to me...if they tried it in the past they would have been showered with a mixture of phlegm and blood and pieces of my intestinal tract.
I have changed jobs. I am no longer working for the gray suited accountants. I have stepped off the corporate ladder straight into the shark infested world of lawyers. It is rather refreshing working with 300 people who all think they are God. One day I will have to sit them done and explain that I, in fact, am the one and only. In the meantime I will enjoy their frivolous displays of plumage and shiny teeth. The work environment is strangely familiar, yet totally different. I do however think that lawyers are worse actors than accountants. When you piss off an accountant he checks his calculator, works out the cost of losing his mind, rants and raves to someone unrelated to the issue, skinners to 10 people and then kindly asks you to find a solution to his problems. If you piss off a lawyer he will puff out his chest, grit his gnashers and in a bellowing whisper inform you that you have pissed him off. You can then move him to the side and proceed to find a solution to his problems. It's all good.
I need a new phone. I have the iPhone 3G....don't laugh, I know it is an antique. If anyone out there knows of a way of getting an unlocked Apple iPhone 4G quickly, please let me know (no contract wanted or needed).
Oh, bad news... Mr Blain is ahead of me in our annual golf challenge. It will be a uncomfortable hour in hell before I gave up though.
03 September 2010
15 March 2010
The psychological pain of gym.
On the 4th of January 2010 I broke a promise to all.
Should you delve into the archives of my earlier posts, http://davidw20.blogspot.com/, you may find where I wrote the words that should I ever start smoking again, I would NEVER quit again. Well, I have. Sorry.
Anyway, thanks to Nicorette Micro-Tabs, a bit of will power and the almighty desire never to have to purchase another packet of cigarettes again, I have lasted just over 2 months.
I have also started going to the local Virgin Active Gym....
This has been the equivalent of substituting one bad habit that can kill you for one that that will keep you alive just so it can inflict an even worse punishment than death. Every morning I sacrifice myself to the Gods of Pain just so that I could regain some of the reported 7 minutes of life I have lost for every cigarette I have ever placed to my lips.
I have replaced smoking with the smell of 37 years of unwashed sweat, the tastes of unwanted salts that have been excreted from my pores, the sounds of the groans of the dying, wounded leper within me as I have my limbs torn from my sockets, the sights of bulging muscles belonging to all but myself and the touch of cold metal as it invariably clangs to the ground in protest to my inept attempt to lift it from its resting place. I repeat this process on a daily basis with my thoughts being converted from "I can do this..." to " Kill me, and please do it now...".
I think the gym is probably one of the most hostile environments put on this earth and I don't believe that anyone has ever left one without being mentally scarred for life. Following is my experience over the last 6 weeks.
Day 1: I arrived with all the trepidation in the world. I was (am) a skinny 70Kg runt that couldn't run around the block without regurgitating my lungs and spleen half way through. Here I was walking into a world belonging to those of the species that could only be labeled "Out of my League". The women probably had bigger testicles than myself while the men probably had smaller ones due to the steroids they had had with their Coco-Pops earlier that morning. This sub-strata of humans could run till they reached earth's end, they could lift mountains, they could push planets and pull universes. All the while, their chiseled looks could chop out a a cheap Durban curio faster than a Zimbabwean can escape from a Home Affairs official.
I was met by a young lady who had the words "Personal Trainer" etched into every muscle on her body. She was going to get me started...
With the deftest of movements she separated the chaff from the wheat. I found myself in the cardiovascular section. I was surrounded by the heaving and wheezing of the fat, the scrawny, the invalid, the obscure, the first-timers. This was obviously where I belonged.
I ran for 5 minutes, I rowed for 5 minutes, I cycled for 5 minutes and I did push-ups and sit-ups for 5 minutes. I spent the equivalent time with my head between my knees dry heaving and wishing that my 20 years of smoking would suddenly reward me with a quick and painless death. Surely, this is not what I signed up for?
I was ready to pack it in and throw away a year’s subscription when suddenly I looked across to the "Adonis Section". This is where only those with the perfect physique gather. In this section, their bodies do not void huge globules of sweat. There is no huffing and puffing. There are no screams from the injured and mortally wounded. There are no pungent smells. These are the chosen ones. These are the inter-breeding brethren of Arnold Schwarzenegger and Bo Derek. These are the "weight lifters".
They stand in their cordoned off area daring the weak to enter. They occasionally pick up littered weights and move them around their arena. The men stare at us and flex their chest muscles so as to ensure that we are in no doubt as to who rules this world. The women flex their chest muscles and send the vast majority of the male weaklings into cardio-arrest. They listen to a mix of music composed by Beethoven and Stock Aitken Waterman. We are subjected to the the piped vomit of bands such as Dying Fetus, Napalm Death and Boy George.
I have entered this arena twice. Once with my personal trainer...I left, after 3 minutes, with the contents of my stomach stuck firmly in the back of my throat. The second time was to use that machine that rips your calf muscles from your legs, slaps you in the face and then snaps your spine in 4 places... the standing calf machine. The machine in the losers section was out-of-order. Probably due to the burst thyroid that was found underneath it. I was determined to enter their territory to use their machine. It took all my courage to enter and all my will power not to look at anyone. I was on the machine long enough to snap my Achilles tendons, which happened faster than David Beckham can find a spare bed in a Finnish hospital. I crawled out, once again ensuring that I did not look at anyone. I returned to the mutts corner. I had conquered mans greatest fear.
That was two weeks ago. As yet, I haven't summoned up the courage to go back into their imperishable Ararat. They keep staring. One day, I'll go back there...maybe.
Should you delve into the archives of my earlier posts, http://davidw20.blogspot.com/, you may find where I wrote the words that should I ever start smoking again, I would NEVER quit again. Well, I have. Sorry.
Anyway, thanks to Nicorette Micro-Tabs, a bit of will power and the almighty desire never to have to purchase another packet of cigarettes again, I have lasted just over 2 months.
I have also started going to the local Virgin Active Gym....
This has been the equivalent of substituting one bad habit that can kill you for one that that will keep you alive just so it can inflict an even worse punishment than death. Every morning I sacrifice myself to the Gods of Pain just so that I could regain some of the reported 7 minutes of life I have lost for every cigarette I have ever placed to my lips.
I have replaced smoking with the smell of 37 years of unwashed sweat, the tastes of unwanted salts that have been excreted from my pores, the sounds of the groans of the dying, wounded leper within me as I have my limbs torn from my sockets, the sights of bulging muscles belonging to all but myself and the touch of cold metal as it invariably clangs to the ground in protest to my inept attempt to lift it from its resting place. I repeat this process on a daily basis with my thoughts being converted from "I can do this..." to " Kill me, and please do it now...".
I think the gym is probably one of the most hostile environments put on this earth and I don't believe that anyone has ever left one without being mentally scarred for life. Following is my experience over the last 6 weeks.
Day 1: I arrived with all the trepidation in the world. I was (am) a skinny 70Kg runt that couldn't run around the block without regurgitating my lungs and spleen half way through. Here I was walking into a world belonging to those of the species that could only be labeled "Out of my League". The women probably had bigger testicles than myself while the men probably had smaller ones due to the steroids they had had with their Coco-Pops earlier that morning. This sub-strata of humans could run till they reached earth's end, they could lift mountains, they could push planets and pull universes. All the while, their chiseled looks could chop out a a cheap Durban curio faster than a Zimbabwean can escape from a Home Affairs official.
I was met by a young lady who had the words "Personal Trainer" etched into every muscle on her body. She was going to get me started...
With the deftest of movements she separated the chaff from the wheat. I found myself in the cardiovascular section. I was surrounded by the heaving and wheezing of the fat, the scrawny, the invalid, the obscure, the first-timers. This was obviously where I belonged.
I ran for 5 minutes, I rowed for 5 minutes, I cycled for 5 minutes and I did push-ups and sit-ups for 5 minutes. I spent the equivalent time with my head between my knees dry heaving and wishing that my 20 years of smoking would suddenly reward me with a quick and painless death. Surely, this is not what I signed up for?
I was ready to pack it in and throw away a year’s subscription when suddenly I looked across to the "Adonis Section". This is where only those with the perfect physique gather. In this section, their bodies do not void huge globules of sweat. There is no huffing and puffing. There are no screams from the injured and mortally wounded. There are no pungent smells. These are the chosen ones. These are the inter-breeding brethren of Arnold Schwarzenegger and Bo Derek. These are the "weight lifters".
They stand in their cordoned off area daring the weak to enter. They occasionally pick up littered weights and move them around their arena. The men stare at us and flex their chest muscles so as to ensure that we are in no doubt as to who rules this world. The women flex their chest muscles and send the vast majority of the male weaklings into cardio-arrest. They listen to a mix of music composed by Beethoven and Stock Aitken Waterman. We are subjected to the the piped vomit of bands such as Dying Fetus, Napalm Death and Boy George.
I have entered this arena twice. Once with my personal trainer...I left, after 3 minutes, with the contents of my stomach stuck firmly in the back of my throat. The second time was to use that machine that rips your calf muscles from your legs, slaps you in the face and then snaps your spine in 4 places... the standing calf machine. The machine in the losers section was out-of-order. Probably due to the burst thyroid that was found underneath it. I was determined to enter their territory to use their machine. It took all my courage to enter and all my will power not to look at anyone. I was on the machine long enough to snap my Achilles tendons, which happened faster than David Beckham can find a spare bed in a Finnish hospital. I crawled out, once again ensuring that I did not look at anyone. I returned to the mutts corner. I had conquered mans greatest fear.
That was two weeks ago. As yet, I haven't summoned up the courage to go back into their imperishable Ararat. They keep staring. One day, I'll go back there...maybe.
24 October 2009
32 Down, 44 Million to go
I was listening to Radio 702 a couple of days ago and in one of their news reports they stated that 32 innocent people have been shot and killed by the South African Police during the course of this year.
I suppose on the one hand this number seems pretty high but they neglected to state the number of "not-so-innocent" people shot and killed. Should you put these numbers next to each other I am sure we will all sit back and say that the collateral damage was not bad at all.
About a year ago I read "Freakonomics" (ISBN 0-06-089637-X). One of the parts I found fascinating was the that it would seem that the the abortion rates in the USA during the 1960's contributed to the decrease in crime in the States during the 1990's. The theory behind it is that those "down and out" people who would rather pimp their sisters and sell their mothers for science experiments had the opportunity to abort their babies for the first time. In so doing they reduced the amount of children that, in all reality, wouldn't have a chance of making something of themselves when they grew up. What it amounts to is they were killing criminals before they were born. Job well done!
This brings us back to good 'ol sunny South Africa. 32 Innocents dead.
If we take a couple of statistics (http://www.statssa.gov.za/) we can determine that 23.6% of these people were unemployed and basically say that of these 32 then approximately 7.5 of them would have been living on the bread line in South Africa...and ultimately been living on the edge of the national criminal faction.
Taking that the largest age-group in SA is 15-19 and that it is likely that they will have the international average of 2.4 children then we could probably deduce that the South African Police have inadvertently killed 18 potential criminals which would have roamed our neighbourhoods in 20 years time. Potentially they could have also been thick enough to reproduce and then we would have an extra 43.2 in 40 years time and so we would go on. (The maths here probably needs some work but I am sure it is a reasonable estimate).
So... here is an official congratulations to the South African Police to reducing future crime in our country! Well done!
Now, how about actively encouraging abortions within our lower income groups?
http://www.davidw20.blogspot.com/
I suppose on the one hand this number seems pretty high but they neglected to state the number of "not-so-innocent" people shot and killed. Should you put these numbers next to each other I am sure we will all sit back and say that the collateral damage was not bad at all.
About a year ago I read "Freakonomics" (ISBN 0-06-089637-X). One of the parts I found fascinating was the that it would seem that the the abortion rates in the USA during the 1960's contributed to the decrease in crime in the States during the 1990's. The theory behind it is that those "down and out" people who would rather pimp their sisters and sell their mothers for science experiments had the opportunity to abort their babies for the first time. In so doing they reduced the amount of children that, in all reality, wouldn't have a chance of making something of themselves when they grew up. What it amounts to is they were killing criminals before they were born. Job well done!
This brings us back to good 'ol sunny South Africa. 32 Innocents dead.
If we take a couple of statistics (http://www.statssa.gov.za/) we can determine that 23.6% of these people were unemployed and basically say that of these 32 then approximately 7.5 of them would have been living on the bread line in South Africa...and ultimately been living on the edge of the national criminal faction.
Taking that the largest age-group in SA is 15-19 and that it is likely that they will have the international average of 2.4 children then we could probably deduce that the South African Police have inadvertently killed 18 potential criminals which would have roamed our neighbourhoods in 20 years time. Potentially they could have also been thick enough to reproduce and then we would have an extra 43.2 in 40 years time and so we would go on. (The maths here probably needs some work but I am sure it is a reasonable estimate).
So... here is an official congratulations to the South African Police to reducing future crime in our country! Well done!
Now, how about actively encouraging abortions within our lower income groups?
http://www.davidw20.blogspot.com/
09 October 2009
This and that...
Wow, it has been a long time since I have written any garbage in here...for those that care, I'm sorry. Been bogged down banging my head against the grindstone lately.
I went to my 20 year school reunion a couple of weeks ago. What an experience! All the hairy people are now bald, the bald people are now hairy, the fat ones thin and the thin ones fat. Highlight of the evening was being told that I look 3 inches taller than I used to. I still have blisters from those darn platform shoes I was wearing!
It was actually quite nice seeing some of the folk after all these years. To be honest it is not the sort of environment where you can really talk and catch up - it is more like speed dating with people you have already rejected. I suppose the attraction is to see whose @rse you are looking at on the ladder of life and who is the poor sucker that is looking at yours. Sort of gives you a warm fuzzy feeling when you look down and there are quite a few sad folk down there. On the flip side, when you look up you can see that life is not all it's cracked up to be - excuse the pun.
Anyway, I suppose over the next 10 years or so there will be some movement on the ladder and the view might change, for better or worse.
Other than that, my eldest turned 10 a couple of weeks ago. I can't believe he has survived that long! I would have thought that by now he would at least be in some orphanage or something similar. Obviously child services are really useless or maybe - and this is a big maybe - we aren't such bad parents. Happy birthday Matthew ... now get off your backside and go and steal me a beer or two from the local bottle store!
With that I will leave you.
I went to my 20 year school reunion a couple of weeks ago. What an experience! All the hairy people are now bald, the bald people are now hairy, the fat ones thin and the thin ones fat. Highlight of the evening was being told that I look 3 inches taller than I used to. I still have blisters from those darn platform shoes I was wearing!
It was actually quite nice seeing some of the folk after all these years. To be honest it is not the sort of environment where you can really talk and catch up - it is more like speed dating with people you have already rejected. I suppose the attraction is to see whose @rse you are looking at on the ladder of life and who is the poor sucker that is looking at yours. Sort of gives you a warm fuzzy feeling when you look down and there are quite a few sad folk down there. On the flip side, when you look up you can see that life is not all it's cracked up to be - excuse the pun.
Anyway, I suppose over the next 10 years or so there will be some movement on the ladder and the view might change, for better or worse.
Other than that, my eldest turned 10 a couple of weeks ago. I can't believe he has survived that long! I would have thought that by now he would at least be in some orphanage or something similar. Obviously child services are really useless or maybe - and this is a big maybe - we aren't such bad parents. Happy birthday Matthew ... now get off your backside and go and steal me a beer or two from the local bottle store!
With that I will leave you.
15 June 2009
This and that...
Have you ever woken up, heard a couple of words being uttered from someone and instantly wanted to rip their heads from their shoulders? Have a few innocuous words instantly put you in such a foul mood that you could happily hock your golf clubs and hire an assassin with the proceeds?
It happened to me this morning and the culprit was my 6 year old son. He instantly hit the button this morning. You know the one, it is that little raw nerve that tingles with the thought of having tin foil on your fillings, it is the one that quivers with the anticipation of someone scratching their fingernails down a blackboard, it is the one that gets all juiced up when someone at work acts like a moron and you get the blame, it is the one that gets stimulated just before people go postal and genocide is foremost in their minds...I'm sure you get the point.
His first words this morning...."I wish I could play on your phone".
There was no "Good morning", no "Hello Daddy", no "Hey old fart, what's for breakfast?" .... just a whining "I wish I could play on your phone". He could have said a million other things like "Hey Dad, I just got someone pregnant" or "Oops, I just killed my brother with a knitting needle" or even a "Oh shit, I have just invented a new type of atomic bomb and we only have 1 minute to live". Nope....just a little wish to play on my phone at 7am in the frigging morning! f%$^!!
I know I am the cause of the problem but do I need to be punished every single day of my life?
Let's start at the beginning....
I have a PlayStation 2, a PlayStation 3 and an iPhone. (Gadget freak/idiot). Generally my 9 year old plays upstairs with the PS3 and the 6 year old downstairs on the PS2. This arrangement worked quite well for a week (about 18 months ago). My 6 year old would generally get lonely downstairs so he stopped playing downstairs and has migrated upstairs to either join his brother and play or would get hold of the iPhone and start playing games on that.
I now have 2 boys that are addicted to any device with a screen on it! The whining goes on every weekend....I wanna play this, can I play that, where's your phone, why is he playing longer than I did, I don't like that game, why do you keep beating me up blah blah blah.
They are truly addicted to playing games. I have had it up to my eyeballs in the whining, fighting etc and the last thing I need to hear first thing in the morning is "I wish I could play on your phone"!!
Any ideas out there on how to ween them off games or alternatively does anyone know where I can bury their bodies where the local water tables will not be polluted?
It happened to me this morning and the culprit was my 6 year old son. He instantly hit the button this morning. You know the one, it is that little raw nerve that tingles with the thought of having tin foil on your fillings, it is the one that quivers with the anticipation of someone scratching their fingernails down a blackboard, it is the one that gets all juiced up when someone at work acts like a moron and you get the blame, it is the one that gets stimulated just before people go postal and genocide is foremost in their minds...I'm sure you get the point.
His first words this morning...."I wish I could play on your phone".
There was no "Good morning", no "Hello Daddy", no "Hey old fart, what's for breakfast?" .... just a whining "I wish I could play on your phone". He could have said a million other things like "Hey Dad, I just got someone pregnant" or "Oops, I just killed my brother with a knitting needle" or even a "Oh shit, I have just invented a new type of atomic bomb and we only have 1 minute to live". Nope....just a little wish to play on my phone at 7am in the frigging morning! f%$^!!
I know I am the cause of the problem but do I need to be punished every single day of my life?
Let's start at the beginning....
I have a PlayStation 2, a PlayStation 3 and an iPhone. (Gadget freak/idiot). Generally my 9 year old plays upstairs with the PS3 and the 6 year old downstairs on the PS2. This arrangement worked quite well for a week (about 18 months ago). My 6 year old would generally get lonely downstairs so he stopped playing downstairs and has migrated upstairs to either join his brother and play or would get hold of the iPhone and start playing games on that.
I now have 2 boys that are addicted to any device with a screen on it! The whining goes on every weekend....I wanna play this, can I play that, where's your phone, why is he playing longer than I did, I don't like that game, why do you keep beating me up blah blah blah.
They are truly addicted to playing games. I have had it up to my eyeballs in the whining, fighting etc and the last thing I need to hear first thing in the morning is "I wish I could play on your phone"!!
Any ideas out there on how to ween them off games or alternatively does anyone know where I can bury their bodies where the local water tables will not be polluted?
18 May 2009
Air-shows and cold weather
Eish...it has been a while since I wrote anything. Afraid I have been too busy doing NOTHING in particular. You know how it goes, you set aside time, make preparations and then suddenly NOTHING happens. Well NOTHING happened a couple of weeks ago and has continued since then. I think there was a moment a few days ago that SOMETHING was going to happen but before I could actually see it reaching maturity NOTHING happened again. So...this is a just an update on a bit of NOTHINGness.
We went to the Rand Airport Air-Show yesterday. With the promise of seeing some amazing aerobatics and hearing the sound of jet engines roaring overhead.... we were instead inundated with queues. First of all on the N3 at the Rand Airport off-ramp. It looked like a plane crash...bits of metal for miles and the odd body part extruding from the occasional window informing the person behind to "stop blowing your fooking hooter"! Thankfully, with the aid of GB's garmin we managed to find an alternate route and went around the "long" way....probably saved us at least an hour.
When we arrived we stood in a queue for close to an hour - I wish the garmin would find us an alternate entrance but no such luck. The sods ran out of tickets as they weren't expecting so many people. Helllloooooo, this is Jo'burg on a cold Sunday morning....where do you expect everyone to be???
Once in we saw the Boeing 737 doing its things. Amazing! How the bugger did the things he did with the thing I would not know. Afraid I did not get any pics though...
We then decided to get something to eat. This took the best part of anther hour ... I think some twit was busy milking the cow so they can produce the cheese for our hamburgers. All in all a rather disappointing experience. The least they could have done was provide a plane crash to a) heat everyone up and b) keep my boys entertained!
Anyway, if all else fails and we have a really cold winter I shall just bask in the warm glow of the knowledge that Manchester United have once again won the premiership.
We went to the Rand Airport Air-Show yesterday. With the promise of seeing some amazing aerobatics and hearing the sound of jet engines roaring overhead.... we were instead inundated with queues. First of all on the N3 at the Rand Airport off-ramp. It looked like a plane crash...bits of metal for miles and the odd body part extruding from the occasional window informing the person behind to "stop blowing your fooking hooter"! Thankfully, with the aid of GB's garmin we managed to find an alternate route and went around the "long" way....probably saved us at least an hour.
When we arrived we stood in a queue for close to an hour - I wish the garmin would find us an alternate entrance but no such luck. The sods ran out of tickets as they weren't expecting so many people. Helllloooooo, this is Jo'burg on a cold Sunday morning....where do you expect everyone to be???
Once in we saw the Boeing 737 doing its things. Amazing! How the bugger did the things he did with the thing I would not know. Afraid I did not get any pics though...
We then decided to get something to eat. This took the best part of anther hour ... I think some twit was busy milking the cow so they can produce the cheese for our hamburgers. All in all a rather disappointing experience. The least they could have done was provide a plane crash to a) heat everyone up and b) keep my boys entertained!
Anyway, if all else fails and we have a really cold winter I shall just bask in the warm glow of the knowledge that Manchester United have once again won the premiership.
26 April 2009
Gyrocopter trip.....
Yesterday I went with a friend on a trip in his gyrocopter. May I recommend this to anyone out there ...
Following are some arb pics of the areas we flew over. These include parts of Olivedale, Radiokop, Florida and Roodepoort Country Club (Ruimsig) . There is also a pic of my old high school, Florida Park High School.
Following are some arb pics of the areas we flew over. These include parts of Olivedale, Radiokop, Florida and Roodepoort Country Club (Ruimsig) . There is also a pic of my old high school, Florida Park High School.
Below is the video of us taking off. The balding head in front of me belongs to MC!
21 April 2009
British helmet shock
I was watching Sky News this morning and was shocked to hear the story of a British Soldier who escaped death when he was shot at close range and the bullet passed through his helmet and missed his head by 2 millimeters. (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/onthefrontline/5185889/British-soldier-escapes-death-when-Taliban-bullet-passes-through-helmet.html
This story has to pose a couple of questions, first of which is what the hell are these helmets made out of? Paper made from the pulp from the pretzel that almost choked that idoit Bush? In the good old days we would send our boys to war wearing a piss-pot and a bible in their tunics. (They probably prayed everyday that no-one would actually take a pee in their helmets). These days we spend billions on Kevlar and such like and then hear about bullets passing through BOTH sides of the helmet.
Second question: How bad is the training given to the Taliban? Apparently the soldier was shot at "from close range". Obviously the Taliban have some secret Kryptonite encasing on their bullets which can penetrate the latest materials used in the manufacturing of helmets so why not aim at the big body instead of the head? You are almost guaranteed to penetrate the outer body armour and there is a better than even chance of penetrating the skin. What happens after it hits the pie, gravy and beer soaked mushy peas is any one's guess.
I would encourage the Taliban to take the above advice to heart but it would seem they have identified the weakest part of the British armour and will continue aiming for the head. All they need to learn now is that the majority of the people fighting this war are already brain dead.
This story has to pose a couple of questions, first of which is what the hell are these helmets made out of? Paper made from the pulp from the pretzel that almost choked that idoit Bush? In the good old days we would send our boys to war wearing a piss-pot and a bible in their tunics. (They probably prayed everyday that no-one would actually take a pee in their helmets). These days we spend billions on Kevlar and such like and then hear about bullets passing through BOTH sides of the helmet.
Second question: How bad is the training given to the Taliban? Apparently the soldier was shot at "from close range". Obviously the Taliban have some secret Kryptonite encasing on their bullets which can penetrate the latest materials used in the manufacturing of helmets so why not aim at the big body instead of the head? You are almost guaranteed to penetrate the outer body armour and there is a better than even chance of penetrating the skin. What happens after it hits the pie, gravy and beer soaked mushy peas is any one's guess.
I would encourage the Taliban to take the above advice to heart but it would seem they have identified the weakest part of the British armour and will continue aiming for the head. All they need to learn now is that the majority of the people fighting this war are already brain dead.
16 April 2009
The Death of Johannesburg
Following are a few pics of downtown Johannesburg that I received earlier today. Seems like our esteemed government is fulfilling everyone's hopes and dreams......
13 April 2009
i-Invisible...new Apple product
Weird thing happened to me yesterday... I disappeared! I understand that half of you would have hoped that I wouldn't re-appear but here I am ....
I was on my way to Builders Warehouse in my loaner vehicle, which hasn't a radio in it. I put on my earphones and started listening to some music on my iPhone. Usually when I arrive anywhere I take off the earphones as I don't particularly feel like looking like a chop with wires hanging from my head. This time however I left them in, cranked the volume to the max walked through the front door and .... disappeared!
It was quite a strange feeling. There I was listening to The Pretenders, looking like your average teenager and no-one seemed able to see me. Everyone had that standard "why the hell should I be doing any DIY stuff on a long weekend" look on their faces. Not one person looked at me. I think they all felt too embarressed for me. There I was on the verge of breaking out into a toneless rendition of Pink Floyd's "Learning to Fly" and no-one could share the moments of nirvana that I was experiencing. I almost started a game of "Guitar Hero" using a couple of welding rods and various paint cans.
May I recommend it to everyone out there. No need to worry what others think. Just choose some decent music (preferably with words you know - or else you will sound like a tosser when you accidentaly break out in song and you are mumbling more garbage than a stadium full of South African supporters during the national anthem). Play it loud and don't give a shit. Maybe we can have a few more happy shoppers in future.
Happy Easter all.
I was on my way to Builders Warehouse in my loaner vehicle, which hasn't a radio in it. I put on my earphones and started listening to some music on my iPhone. Usually when I arrive anywhere I take off the earphones as I don't particularly feel like looking like a chop with wires hanging from my head. This time however I left them in, cranked the volume to the max walked through the front door and .... disappeared!
It was quite a strange feeling. There I was listening to The Pretenders, looking like your average teenager and no-one seemed able to see me. Everyone had that standard "why the hell should I be doing any DIY stuff on a long weekend" look on their faces. Not one person looked at me. I think they all felt too embarressed for me. There I was on the verge of breaking out into a toneless rendition of Pink Floyd's "Learning to Fly" and no-one could share the moments of nirvana that I was experiencing. I almost started a game of "Guitar Hero" using a couple of welding rods and various paint cans.
May I recommend it to everyone out there. No need to worry what others think. Just choose some decent music (preferably with words you know - or else you will sound like a tosser when you accidentaly break out in song and you are mumbling more garbage than a stadium full of South African supporters during the national anthem). Play it loud and don't give a shit. Maybe we can have a few more happy shoppers in future.
Happy Easter all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)