Friday Ramble 16/12/2005

Welcome to the season finale of the Ramble; the final edition before its sabbatical – who knows, it will probably be the last ever if I know anything about myself. The existence of a Season 2 depends on YOUR VOTE, so get commenting to let me know if I’m just wasting my time here or if there are in fact certain parties who read and are amused. There are only so many Knappy jokes anyway – well only one really, and that is the man himself. Only kidding man, shot for taking it like the legend that you are. Budgetary constraints might also be an issue, seeing how I will no longer have a job. Any donations to the Keep Jamo on the Couch Writing Crap Fund would be greatly appreciated.

And onwards towards the end…

I meant to include this in last weeks ramble but was too useless…

The boyos having a good time makes me smile.

The first time I encountered Eddie Izzard was in 1999. It was the night before SA Champs Regatta and we were doing the whole crew bonding thing the night before the big race so we went to see a movie together

[1]

. When deciding about what movie to see, I suggested ‘Velvet Goldmine’ because I had heard it was about music and I thought it sounded interesting. Ya…well…anyway… Anyone who has actually seen Velvet Goldmine will know that while it is about music, it’s about the glam rock era, and dudes banging other dudes features pretty prominently in the plot; not so much putting from the rough as putting from the damn parking lot. So the next day I had to race with 8 other chaps who had serious reservations about sitting in front of me…
Anyway, I subsequently discovered that Eddie Izzard, although he was involved in that rather…uncomfortable movie, he is actually one exceptionally funny comedian.

Some little samples that made me smile:

When I was a kid in school, this careers advisor came to see us and said, "Look,
I advise you to get a career, what can I say?" And he took me aside and he said,
"What d'ya wanna do, kid? What is your dream?" I said, "I wanna be an astronaut!
And go into outer space and discover things that no-one's ever discovered
before!" He said, "Look, you're British, so scale it down a bit." "Alright, then
I wanna work in a shoestore! And discover shoes that no-one's ever discovered!
Right at the back of the shop on the left..." He said, "Look, you're British, so
scale it down a bit!" "Alright, then I wanna work in a sewer. And discover
sewage that no-one's ever discovered before! And pile it on my head, then come
to the surface and sell myself to a modern art gallery!" He said, "What the fuck
have you been smoking, kid? You certainly haven't been smoking in a Californian
bar, that's for sure." [to audience] Because you can't! Yes... No Smoking in
bars, and soon No Talking and No Drinking!

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I did an original sin. I poked a badger with a spoon." "Say five Hail Mary's and six Hello Dolly's!"

Yes, I like my coffee hot and strong... Like I like my women: Hot and strong, with a spoon in them"

It was in fact the almighty Rum who reintroduced me to Mr. Izzard and for that I thank him. The gent himself was up for the beginning of last weekend and it was truly fantastic to see him again – even if it did mean I had to take him to the airport at 8:30 on Saturday morning after having crawled in at 6:00. He even brought me the complete works of the comic Preacher – one of the most brutal and poignant comics of our time. Dig that guy…

He understands Gay Chicken…

I met Reg’s sister on Friday and I have to admit that I was not beneath staring longingly at her mind. Sorry dude - but I guess since you come from rural Zim, just the fact that the guy checking out your sister isn’t related to you makes you quite happy. Come to think of it, maybe if I get maimed and wake up naked next to you more often, eventually your sister will be there too. Too much? Sorry man, that was uncalled for.

I was put off watching Team America by Smythers and Knaps telling me that they thought it was crap. I finally got round to watching it this weekend and I really enjoyed the extended poke at American culture. I have come to the realization that I’m not as amused by physical comedy as I am by satire and/or clever dialogue. For instance, Smythers told me that the only redeeming feature of the movie was the puppet sex scene. While I cannot tell a lie – I did find this amusing – I found the bit where Matt Damon can only say ‘Matt Damon’ far more amusing. The killer for me though was the extended metaphor of how everyone in the world is a dick or an asshole or a pussy

[2]. And the dicks fuck the pussies; but they can also fuck the assholes because the assholes shit everywhere. But the dicks need the assholes and the pussies because they need to fuck. Oh, and pussies are only 3 centimetres away from being assholes. Is that not the most eloquent argument for how it takes all types to make the world go round you have ever heard?

I’m not convinced about the state of the world, but unlike some of my learned hippie friends who in their ideological fashion who get out there and do something about it[3], I am content to find enjoyment through the indignance of good social satire, from the comfort of my easy-chair; a political anarchist at heart, who just couldn’t be arsed to move the popcorn off his chest and put some shoes on. So I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m a closet member of eTV’s news team.

Speaking of good social satire - I have heard a lot about a comedian called Bill Hicks over the years, but to be honest I had never heard any of his work; so I got out my trusty Wikipedia[4]

and looked up some of his quotes.

You gotta bear with me, I'm very tired, very tired of traveling, and very tired
of doing comedy, and very tired of staring out at your vacant faces looking back
at me, wanting me to fill your empty lives with humor you couldn't possibly
think of yourselves. Good evening.

A lot of Christians wear crosses around their necks. You think when Jesus comes back, he ever wants to see a fucking cross? Kind of like going up to Jackie Onassis with a rifle pendant on, you know.

And I knew Bill Clinton became one of the boys when he bombed Iraq. Remember that? It was just a little news story for two days, isn't that interesting? He launched 22 cruise missiles against Baghdad in retaliation for the alleged assassination attempt against George Bush which failed. We killed six innocent people, launching twenty two, I think three million dollars-a-piece missiles on Baghdad, killing six innocent people. Umm...I think that's a little bit overdoing it if you ask me. You know what we should have done? We should have embarrassed the Iraqians. You know what I mean? Here's how we could do it: WE should have assassinated Bush, and said "That's how you do it Towelhead, don't fuck with us!" And see, if Bush had been the one who would have died there would have been NO loss of innocent life.

I have never seen two people on pot get in a fight because it is fucking IMPOSSIBLE. "Hey, buddy!" "Hey, what?" "Ummmmmmm...." End of argument.

They lie about marijuana. Tell you pot-smoking makes you unmotivated. Lie! When you're high, you can do everything you normally do, just as well. You just realize that it's not worth the fucking effort. There is a difference.

This is it, folks. This is the idea which has kept me virtually unknown for the past 16 years. I have watched my crowds dwindle. I am going nowhere, and nowhere quick, but, those of you who have children, I am sorry to tell you this, but they are not special. Wait! I know some of you are going "what, what?" Let me just clarify: I know YOU think they're special ... ha ha ha! I'm aware of that. I'm just here to tell you, that they're NOT! Ha ha ha ha! Sorry. Did you know that every time a guy comes he
comes two-hundred million sperm? One out of TWO-HUNDRED MILLION – that load, we're only talking about one load – connected: gee, what are the fucking odds?
Do you know what that means? I've wiped nations off've my chest with a grey gymsock. ENTIRE CIVILISATIONS HAVE FLAKED AND CRUSTED IN THE HAIR AROUND MY NAVEL! [...] I've tossed universes in my underpants while napping. Boom! A Milkyway shoots into my jockeyshorts: "Unngh ... what's for fucking breakfast?!"

"But, you know, it's hard to have a relationship in this business man, it's gonna take a very special woman...or...a bunch of average ones. Anyway, I was reading an article in the paper about Ted Bundy (the mass murderer) being on trial in Florida...in the article it said "the courtroom was filled with women waiting to give him, flowers, love letters, and WEDDING FUCKING PROPOSALS...and I'm afraid to say that the first thing that entered my head was "And I'm not getting laid". What am I doing wrong? I read another article, a woman is suing the state of Wisconsin, here's why- She married a fella. He's on death row, why is he on death row? He killed 8 women...he has aids, and she's suing the state, for rights of congical visits. and I'm afraid to say that the first thing that came to my head was "And I'm not getting laid" OK, what exactly are you ladies looking for in a man here. They must been heavy on the old sense of humour that you always talk about in your little women’s polls."Ted Bundy that old whip, he's hilarious, some of the things Ted would do, he kills me, I overlooked the whole mass murder things cause he kept me in stitches" It's just depressing, Michael Bolton, Garth Brooks, achey breaky fucking dick this guy is, Ted Bundy getting Wedding proposals, you know, we're fucked up here. I tell you, Satan's gonna have no trouble taking over here cause all the women are gonna say "What a
cute Butt" He's Satan "You don't know him like I do" He's the Prince of Darkness
"I can change him" And I bet that's true man, I wouldn't give Satan a snowballs
chance in Hell against a woman’s Ego. He’d rule the earth for a day then we’d see him outside mowing the lawn. "Hey aren't you Satan?" Shut Up "Oooh, Mr Prince of Darkness, you forgot the edge back there" SHUT UP. You'll see him at the supermarket buying "Tampons, Isle 3...Aren't you Satan?" SHUT UP "YOU'RE
PUSSYWHIPPED" No, I'm Satan GRRR "You're not Prince of Darkness, you're
Pussywhipped of Darkness"

Has anyone ever noticed that the only reason the Ramble is mildly humorous is because it’s basically a collection of funny things that other people have said? And Knappy jokes, obviously.

I never cease to be amazed at how lost and side-tracked I can get wading through Wikipedia. Seriously, given enough time and a memory more functional than a goldfish’s, I would know everything. A little earlier, I started out reading about existentialism and about an hour later I ended up downloading the ‘All Your Base Are Belong to Us’ Quicktime movie. Look it up if you have no idea what I’m talking about; I barely do.

Coming soon to a theatre near you: Boksburg, The Movie: Curse of the Weak Chin.

Speaking of love: why is it that there are several hundred euphemisms and synonyms for the word ‘sex’ while the only one I can think of for ‘love’ is ‘anal’?

And speaking of anal: what is it backwards? I think we now know why Clark Kent is so besotted.

Swearing is something I have been trying to come to terms with in my writing for quite some time. To me there are essentially two conflicting viewpoints. Firstly, by deliberately not swearing and using words that are a little archaic, like ‘pillock’; deliberately useless, like ‘flip’; or generally overboard, like ‘my shattered nerves’, you can create emphasis because it’s noticeable. Conversely, sometimes swearing, used correctly can be just as powerful and really funny; calling the chairman at the Adamson fines meetings ‘Your Royal Fucking Cunt-Flap’ never ceased to bring a smirk to my face

[5]. Moderation then? Probably. Sunday saw me bludgeoning my way around a golf course so forgive me if I’m a little profane today.

Just about every article in men’s magazines regarding how to bed the opposite sex I have ever read seems to have another little piece of advice that conflicts with another piece of advice dispensed elsewhere (often in the same damn magazine).
Pg 4: What women really want is a sensitive man (that would be no swearing then).
Pg 23: What women really want is a bad boy (that would be a mouth as dirty as Linsay ‘The Whore’ Lowhore’s then).
Pg 60: What women really want isn’t size, it’s technique (I finished Gran Turismo on the hardest setting?).
Pg 34: What women really want is a sensitive man (that will be no sex for me for the rest of eternity then).
Pg 69: What women really want is a man they can call tripod (that would be a trip down to the old plastic surgeon won’t be a problem then

[6]).
Bearing in mind I’m all man when it comes to multitasking ability, it’s no wonder that I often just ending up standing in front of girls letting the saliva quietly roll down my chin[7].

When I was in Standard 5 we had to write a short story and I, for reasons of controversy and realism, decided to use a great deal of swearing in the dialogue in mine (it was about an all boys school, and let’s face it – there is no realistic dialogue in that setting unless every second word is uncouth). So I duly ended up in the headmasters office but, true little rebel that I was I refused to compromise my artistic integrity. I was threatened with a beating, failing and possibly sodomy (my memory isn’t so good) but I refused to capitulate. Then the bastards phoned Mom and it took her all of about thirty seconds of a cold silent stare to persuade me that perhaps my artistic integrity was for sale after all.

You know what, I got bored of Bush bashing a long time ago because it’s just too easy. I also get the impression that the media gives him a bum deal. I mean no one voted into power by the people of such a powerful nation could be so consistently stupid. Right? If it weren’t so serious, it would be really funny. Then I stumbled upon a quote from him this week (at news24.com):

“I see a lot of the news. Every morning I look at the newspaper,” he told NBC. “I can tell you what the headlines are.”

Shit Georgie! The leader of the most powerful nation on earth reads the newspapers every morning! Fuck me! You and every second middle class man on Earth. And to think I was worried that you are an ignorant little cunt.

Some gang-leader just got fried in California. Protesters seemed genuinely surprised that Governor Schwarzenegger didn’t grant him a last minute reprieve. Um, people - this guy was Conan the Barbarian AND The Terminator AND the Kindergarten Cop! What did you expect? Mercy?!
Anyway, the human condition never ceases to amaze me: this guy was convicted of killing six people or something, and outside the prison there were literally hundreds of people standing vigil, begging for his life. Then on the other hand, the US is pissed off because some banned groups have been found to be assisting with the relief effort in Pakistan. Yip, that’s the way to garner support Georgie-boy.

The Scots are looking good to be up there contending for the Curling World Cup. Oh yeah, nation of champions.

Hobbo, what happens when you insist on taking copious numbers of self-portraits on my camera? They end up on the web knobviously…





The attempt to revive the Indecent Obsession classic was unfortunately a failure. If our nation’s people choose Madonna then I guess we can but capitulate to the whims of the ignorant masses. I think choosing a time when the varsities had all packed up was a mistake; no one enjoys being random as much as a student. Next year I think we should have another bash at it.

Right, I’m off to the annual office Christmas party to go make small talk with people who couldn’t say anything that interests me if they talked into my ear until my death (which if they did, would be sooner rather than later). I can’t even bring myself to talk to the former model who works in accounts because she has all the verbal skills of a piece of lead piping. Well…maybe she has other verbal skills but let’s face it, finding out about such things in the office bathrooms with a co-worker is hardly my forte. I have so little time for these people that I don’t even have the energy to get hammered and give them the pleasure of witnessing me make a spectacle of myself; and I do that for complete strangers. Why do I even bother going then? Because for all my talk, I’m still basically concerned for my professional[8] reputation. There is something to be said for being a rude cunt; social norms sometimes suck.

Before I give you some of my bests from 2005 (hastily compiled so it’s probably wrong).
Best Album – Parlatones – RadioControlledRobot.
Best Movie – Sin City.
Best Time Alone-Time – 31 September.
Best Friend - still pending, depending on whether or not Knappy hooks me up with his sister on New Year’s.
Best Book – Neal Stevenson – The Confusion.
Best Night Out – The one where they claim I was found in the gutter.
Best Concert – Violent Femmes.
Best Rugby Game – SA vs. NZ; the one we lost.
Best Football Game – AC Milan vs. Liverpool; UEFA Champions League Final.
Best Moment of Self-Realisation – I’m neither as fat nor hairy as Knappy.
Best Moment – when Smythers finally got his act together.
Best Image That Will Remain with Me As Long As I Live – Timothy Andrew Kluyts vomiting piecemeal into a draught glass.
Best Knappy Joke – The one where I ‘photoshopped’ him to see what he would look like if he lost 30kgs and he looked like Ron Weasley. “Potter! Touch Granger…”

The big, red, manly man himself ruminates a little…

They say a year contains 365 days. They lie.
2005 - A reflection of the year gone bye

I always judge a year by whether I found myself crying more often than not. I am pleased to inform all you gentle folk, that I can count on one hand the number of times I found myself in a foetal postion calling out for my mother. This means that life treated me well, and I was generally smiling the whole time. This, methinks, is because my friends assisted me in pulling myself out of the swamps and clamps of work, to allow me to stretch my imagination and beer belly, and essentially ensured that I had a ripper of a year. So, I thank you.

This year was very different, but at the same time nothing changed at all. Wierd, I know. But what I like to call "Little Rhodes in the Big City" has been full of the same old fun, but just in a new environment. Brighter lights, more cars, prettier girls, more idiots - but the beer tastes the same. Which is a good thing. Because I like my beer. But I have ventured of the beaten path. What I am trying to say is that life is full of unexpected surprises, and I had a few very nice ones this year. I did not expect to be having the same fun as I have had in the past. But I did. So, I thank you again.

Work was at times a sledge. It has however been an interesting experience thus far, and I wish for more of the same please. There are three really memorable days that I have had at work this year. I will not go into the finer details, but let us just say that they involved a blood-shot-eyed Knaps with smelly breathe and snot encrusted nasal passages going to work to earn his keep. A few reflux convulsions were also experienced on the aforementioned days. There were only the 3 days, which isn't bad considering the amount of lectures I went to like that. Once again, I thank you, I thank those that made these moments at work possible. Names shall not be mentioned, but you damn well know who you are. Love you guys.

And so we find ourselves at a time of giving and laughter, of joy and gayness, of beer and meat. I trust that you all have a wonderful break and whatever you do, don't eat the tongue at Christmas. Cows lick other cows anuses. Yip, you guessed it, I thank you.

I know it’s cheesy, but this was our Adamson (my res) fines meeting speech before the WW2 series came out and popularised it for our generation. When properly spoken this monologue still sends chills down my spine (I always picture it being spoken by Sean Connery in a kilt, but maybe that’s just because I’m a pervert):

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers.

For he to-day that sheds his blood with me

Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,

This day shall gentle his condition;

And gentlemen in England now a-bed

Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,

And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks

That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day. (Shakespeare; Henry V)

Have a great holiday party people. Hopefully your lives are filled with this…

I look forward to whittling away 2006 with you.

Maybe it will be the year I lose my virginity and develop a sense of humour.

Sith Agus Slainte Bha (Peace and Good Health to You – it doesn’t sound quite so corny in Gaelic).


The Christmas...um...spirit?

Here endeth this year’s lessons according to Jamo.

Please feel free to shed a tear.

[1] Which, when I think back, was quite retarded because basically if you want to stand a good chance of getting Tuberculosis either swap spit with a Hillbrow prossie or spend 3 hours in your average cinema.
[2] This isn’t the actual dialogue, just the gist of it as I remember it.
[3] Well, talk vehemently about it with lots of gesticulation, at the very least.
[4] I wonder how soon it will be before ‘Wikipedia’ doesn’t produce a spell-error in Word.
[5] I am of the opinion though that writing ‘f*@$’ is just fucking sad. If you wish to swear, then do; hiding behind some stupid symbols does not detract from the fact that the word you chose to use in that position in your sentence is ‘fuck’; you are being no more polite, just juvenile. The only time it is acceptable is in emails to avoid the annoyance of having to deal with return emails from irate network administrators at certain unnamed accounting firms.
[6] Thanks to the Salami from Splattermail for this ingenious method of carrying a joke.
[7] Someone should make a movie about what women really want; starring some sort of macho actor who comes to terms with his feminine side during the course of the movie. Hollywood?! I hope you are taking notes.
[8] That makes my job sound far more dignified than ‘tea-ladies underling’, doesn’t it?