As we are heading into the round of 16 of the FIFA World Cup, I feel obliged to post something that resembles a Blatant article, considering the demise of this blog seems likely.

Thankfully I didn’t hold out too much hope for Bafana Bafana in any case. I did, however, find myself uttering a few profanities when France scored that effing goal and I knew for sure that our ship was sunk. That being said, my eggs always lay in two other baskets: USA and the Netherlands. And I am proud to say that both of my baskets are through to the round of 16, unlike France and Italy. Cough, cough.

Now, like most of my compatriots, I bought into the “I was there” hype and spent R140 on my category 4 ticket for the England vs. USA game. We left Pretoria with plenty of time to spare and followed our noses (or rather, my Garmin) to Rustenburg for the game. I was assured that the Park ‘n Ride facilities would be easy to find, but I must admit that we did manage to get lost a couple of times. So either we are idiots or the organisers didn’t do a very good job of signposting. I prefer to think it’s the latter. After a few wrong turns and a fair amount of traffic, we finally found ourselves at the R104 East Park ‘n Ride facility in Rustenburg. We walked a fair distance to the buses, which were practically empty, and we found ourselves singing “The Star-Spangled Banner” along with a large group of American supporters on our way to the stadium. Thankfully we came prepared. Large American flags: Check. Revolutionary war flags and banners: Check. USA-appropriate attire: Check. Multiple printouts of US national anthem: Check.

When we arrived at the stadium, which I must say is quite a distance from the parking lot, we faced our first real challenge: trying to sneak in our non-regulation banner. You see, FIFA’s website clearly states that a flag may not exceed 2m in length, and the poles may not exceed 1cm in diameter. Our problem was a 4m-long banner with 2cm-thick plastic poles. This turned out not to be a problem at all, as the official at the entrance took no notice. I then walked through the metal-detectors with my bag on my back (due to poor instructions from the aforementioned official). She looked at me, annoyed, and said “You were supposed to put your bag on the tab… oh never mind.” So, to cut a short story even shorter, my bag was never searched. Great security.

Once inside the stadium everything was pretty well organised and I can’t complain too much, except for the minor fact that the scoreboards and screens weren’t working. For the first game at the stadium. Did they not think that this was an important thing to get right? So we spent the game trying to identify players from our (cheap) category 4 seats, with an announcement of the time and score over the PA system every 20 minutes. How professional. But despite this rather large inconvenience, the game was thoroughly entertaining, especially considering we were directly behind Robert Green when he made his disastrous goalkeeping blunder.

After the game we were in high spirits, but we were not high on spirits, which is more than I can say for many of the other supporters. We walked past an Englishman who was urinating in the middle of the street, with his penis in one hand and a cigar in the other. One American man was so drunk that he had lost his friends and had no idea where his car was parked. Problem was, we were lost too, so we couldn’t have been much help. We came out of a different exit to where we had gone in, and the signposting was so poor that we walked for 2 kilometres in the wrong direction. We just assumed that “R104 Parking” meant that we would find our way to the R104 East Park ‘n Ride. We would have asked for directions had  there been a great presence of officials to direct us. We eventually found our way back and then took an eternity to find an empty bus. But finding a bus was only half the problem, as all the buses were headed towards the crowd, and were thus completely gridlocked. A genius must have been behind this planning. Thankfully our bus driver actually was a genius, and he did a quick U-turn and away we went. The match had ended at 10:30 and we made it back to the parking lot after midnight. It then took half an hour to exit the parking lot due to some poorly-trained FIFA-outsourced officials who seemed unable to direct the traffic in any way, shape or form.

Once we were finally on the road back to Pretoria, we made the fatal error of deciding to go to the McDonald’s in Rustenburg. We couldn’t resist the temptation of unhealthy food after a long day filled with more unhealthy food. Big mistake. I’ve never seen so many people crammed into one McDonald’s in my life. So we left, stomachs unsatisfied, and made it back into the city at 3am. Of course, that didn’t stop us from making a 3:30am McDonald’s run.

So, in a nutshell, this has been my experience of the World Cup so far, apart from a blur of Shakira lip-syncing and the Italian team members bawling like babies. And I have two things to say before the World Cup is over.  The first is, I hope that Rustenburg’s Royal Bafokeng Stadium is a little better organised for the USA vs. Ghana game that I’m going to tomorrow night. The second is, “USA!!! USA!!! USA!!!”

]]> http://www.blatant.co.za/2010/06/misc/my-world-cup-experience-so-far/feed/ 0 http://www.blatant.co.za/2010/04/misc/rapes-of-wrath/ http://www.blatant.co.za/2010/04/misc/rapes-of-wrath/#comments Fri, 23 Apr 2010 16:14:17 +0000 Lauren http://www.blatant.co.za/?p=683

This week I received an e-mail forward claiming that there is a “new kind of rape” out there. I barely ever torture my friends and loved ones with e-mail forwards unless they have literally caused me to laugh out loud (which happened the other day when I watched this video). When it comes to “serious” e-mail forwards (those regarding new types of hijackings, rapes and murders), I usually delete them without even opening them. But this particular one caught my eye, not because it sounded even remotely plausible, but because I was incredibly curious. I mean, be honest, wouldn’t you open something if it was called “NEW KIND OF RAPE (LADIES BE WARNED PLEASE)”?

So I opened it. And what I found inside was plainly absurd. I found myself questioning the mental state of the person who had sent it to me. I actually cringe to think that one of my acquaintances could believe such utter garbage.

So here it is, completely unedited, for your entertainment:

NEW KIND OF RAPE (LADIES BE WARNED)

This is a true story.

The woman left the office after working hours and saw a little child crying on the road. Feeling pity for the child, she went to ask what happened. The child said, ‘I am lost. Can you take me home please?’ Then the child gave her a slip of paper and tells the woman where the address is. The woman, being an average kind person who didn’t suspect anything took the child there. And there when they arrived at the child’s home, the kind hearted woman pressed the door bell and she was electrocuted as the bell was wired with high voltage, and fainted.

The next day when she woke up, she found herself in an empty house up in the hills, naked. Condoms were all thrown around with semen all over her and flowing from her body. There were at least about 20 condoms! She had not even seen her assailants. That’s why nowadays crimes are targeted on kind people like her.

Next time if the same situation occurs, never bring the child to the intended place. If the child insists, then bring the child to the police station. Lost children are best sent to police stations!!!!!!

Please send this to all your female friends/colleagues, and your friends with girlfriends and friends with wives. It is better to receive this a thousand times then being    a victim once

Keep safe Ladies!

Please pass this on to family members. It is better to be informed. It is sad that we cannot even help children now!

When I was finally able to contain my laughter, I thought about what I had just read. A doorbell that electrocutes people. Really? REALLY? In South Africa? I’m sorry, but our criminals are just not that smart. And the only reason that I can think of for a rapist to use a condom is to avoid leaving DNA at the crime scene. Why on earth would he then choose to leave condoms lying around, with “semen all over her and flowing from her body”? “Flowing from her body” WTF!? No, seriously, WTF? Was she raped by a horse?

I simply don’t understand why people go to such great lengths to construct these elaborate hoaxes. What purpose do they serve? Do the writers get a sense of satisfaction when they increase the level of paranoia and panic in a country already riddled with crime? Or do they like the idea that they might scare off a few do-gooders from taking home a lost child?

I don’t think that I will ever quite understand the absurdity of the human race. But I did forward the rape e-mail, because boy oh boy, it made me LOL.

Considering the rampant rise in cryptic status updates on Facebook,  I have created a little mascot called Eli the Cryptic Status Echidna.

You can either post a link to this blog post as a comment on their status update or you can copy the picture of Eli and edit the text above him and post it to their wall.

Love

Andrew

Yes, I know, not the most cryptic of titles, but nevertheless a true story. As a friend of mine bit into her fifth slice (alas!) of Roman’s pizza last night, she discovered this little critter nestled inside the doughy pizza base. A delicious, protein-rich topping for Bear Grylls perhaps, but outright disgusting for regular humans. We did what any sane people would do- declined the manager’s offer to make us another pizza and got a full refund. So things worked out pretty well considering I had already eaten most of mine. Anything for a free meal.

So I start a voluntary association (like a gang) and people with any credentials can sign up. The purpose of my association is to have unarmed watchmen stand sentry on street corners to enhance neighbourhood security. The watchmen pick any spot, and can come and go as they please. Their incentive to stay is that they will ask for tips from passing pedestrians (“I keep this here pavement safe, ma’am.”) and thereby maybe score some coinage.

How do the watchmen fare? Some will fight crime admirably, most will be a neutral presence, and some will exacerbate crime by performing criminal acts under their guise of legitimacy.

What does the world look like? There are people asking for money at most corners (like glorified beggars), some areas with a high watchmen-concentration are intolerable to walk through, and some areas will be safer.

Why the mixed results? Well, systems all have sticks and carrots, but not all stick-and-carrot sacks are created equal. My local watchman wants to earn the trust of those in my neighbourhood because he has regular, recognisable clientele. If he alienates anyone, the value of his real-estate goes down – permanently. But high-traffic sidewalks attract more watchmen, and they begin to compete for tips. One says “take this route”, the other says “my pavement’s best!” and yet another goes “you got here safely so I deserve a tip. What? No tip?! Then fuck off and die!” Point is: increased competition leads to increased solicitation. Since the watchmen are obviously on prime ground and pedestrians are frequent, they don’t need to establish or preserve relationships. You can’t avoid this particular pavement easily – or at least not without a cost, like going round the block or driving – and their next fish is already swimming down the cement way, so there’s also no incentive to remain polite towards an individual after they choose not to tip.

Considering I like my local watchman but my feelings about the rest range from mild annoyance to outright hatred, how might I improve the pedestrian sentry service? Tipping should definitely be an individual’s free choice; contrariwise, placing an obligation (moral or otherwise) on someone to pay for a service which they have not elected to receive will only skew delivery. Plus perhaps a few separate complaints should result in cops clearing the street. Or maybe the local government should step in and license a few select watchmen. Or, better yet, street-side property owners should be willing to receive complaints and warn particular watchmen to watch out, and if they persist then local authorities should jump to shoo them away.

So what’s the problem with this protection racket? You don’t choose to get into it, but you’re obliged to cough up; it’s ubiquitous, so you can’t escape it even though the streets should be free; and, when things get unpleasant, you have no recourse whatsoever to correct petty offences against you. …Now just pretend I’ve been talking about car guards.

I’m not quite sure how the topic came up, but a few days ago I had a discussion with my friends and I came to a startling realisation: the giant panda is the worst-designed animal on the planet. Now you might be shocked by this statement. How could I possibly conclude that this delightful, furry creature is anything but perfect? For crying out loud, it’s so darn irresistible that they even put it on the logo for the World Wildlife Fund! But for an animal to appear on the WWF logo, it also has to be endangered. So the logical question is, why is the giant panda the second most threatened species in the world? Why are there barely 1000 pandas living in the wild? Why should we put so much time and effort into saving the panda when it won’t even take a crack at saving itself? You may think that I’m being a little harsh, but I’ve got the facts to back me up.

The panda was actually designed to be a carnivore, but it was so pathetic at being a carnivore that it became a vegetarian. Any animal that chooses to be a vegetarian even though it is designed to eat meat is a disgrace to its species. This is not my opinion, it is science. And because the panda is not designed to be a vegetarian, it is unable to digest cellulose… one of the main ingredients in the panda’s favourite dish: bamboo. So the panda spends up to 16 hours a day eating, because it is only able to digest about 20% of what it eats. And what does it do during its eight hours of free time? Does it make passionate love to its panda-lover, thereby ensuring survival of the species? Does it live up to its adorable reputation by being adorable? Au contraire. It sleeps.

Now here’s my favourite newly-acquired panda fact: the panda excretes up to 40kg of waste a day. You heard me. Forty. That is almost as much as I weigh. Wouldn’t it just make the most wonderful pet? I’m thinking quite seriously about trading my dog in for one. Apparently there is even talk of using panda poo to make paper, due to the large quantity of undigested cellulose that it contains. Mmm…

When it comes to ensuring survival of the species, pandas aren’t really doing a bang-up job (excuse the pun). They breed once a year and the female is only fertile for 24-36 hours, which one might call a very small window of opportunity. If, by some miracle, the female conceives, litters of one to two cubs are born. Now you are probably thinking, “Have I ever seen a panda with two cubs?” The answer you are looking for is a resounding, “No.” You see, if (again, by some miracle) two cubs are actually born, the mother abandons the weaker cub and leaves it to die. Ah, nature. Isn’t she amazing?

Although death by abandonment is common, cubs are also susceptible to illness and other predators, besides their own mothers. Cubs are born blind and remain so for 45 days. Wow. Talk about adapted for survival. During this vulnerable time, mothers sometimes leave the den for three to four hours to feed (due to their poorly adapted digestive systems). Great. So imagine for a second a blind, hairless, rat-like, baby panda which weighs approximately 100g. Now imagine that panda alone in a clearing for four hours. Now imagine that you are a leopard…

You might be thinking that breeding pandas in captivity should eliminate some of the dangers that cubs face in the wild. The first problem with this statement is that it assumes that pandas know how to breed. Many males in captivity appear uninterested in mating or do not even seem to know how to do so. Apparently Ling-Ling and Hsing-Hsing, the first pair of pandas to live in the USA, tried to mate (without success) for nearly 10 years. When they finally got it right they had five cubs, none of which survived to adulthood.

My final panda-fact for the day: Female pandas may show signs of fake pregnancy, which is impossible to distinguish from real pregnancy because vets can seldom locate a foetus via ultrasound. Scientists call this pseudopregnancy, but I prefer to think that the females fake pregnancy deliberately because it is the closest they’re ever going to get to having a real baby.

The giant panda, multi-tasking.

This is probably old hat for the rest of you but it’s a big deal for me. Now, I’m opposed to urinals in general because – sure, they’re convenient and I’m not sure if I’d have the coordination for anything else after a few drinks – they stand in the way of Ally McBeal-style unisex bathrooms in which we could all sing Barry White. So ‘twas a majestic sight. There were three urinals, two with TVs tuned to Formula One and one with young, nubile, anorexic gymnastics girls. All I can say is: thank goodness I was alone. F1 gets me rock h–

Kidding. It was interesting to me though that the middle TV had the gymnastics channel. Every man knows that his urinal must be chosen to respectfully, but not ridiculously, maximise buffer zone. With three urinals it’s easy; if there’re two men, they will occupy the outer two urinals. Why then make the most appealing TV station above the urinal least likely to be used? Because it was unintentional? Or did management hate the idea of a “best” urinal, which would get all the traffic, and thus devised an etiquette cost for parking in front of the TV with the haute girls? Ever heard of micromanagement? Hmm? Scrumptious food for thought.

Technology Entertainment Design is about spreading ideas something something… They’ve got a bunch of videos. Videos of really great, knowledgeable speakers (most of the time) and they’re freely available. The “eXperience” is, as I understand it, about putting together a group of like-minded people to watch a few TED clips and share their thoughts on the subject. It’s not an official TED function though, just an associated event… I won’t bore you with the details since I don’t know them. Today’s was pretty well-organised, had Endearmints and I went away feeling quite inspired. This begs the question: why did I go away so soon then?

I was hungry; Jozua knew a charming little art gallery place where we could eat, but it was 10km away.

And the presenter embodied everything I hate about Richard Gere. Grey-haired and used-car salesmanish, I picture him hanging out at the local bowling alley hitting exclusively on married women. Whenever he referred to the Internet, he pronounced the capital “I” with a mysterious reverence, as if it was a place he’d heard of in lore but never actually visited. Wizards come from there, bearing Innovation and Social Networking. Worst for me was his repeating the sentiments of speakers semibatim: just too little to add value, just enough to get them wrong. No, no! Worst for me was the laugh. Have you ever met someone who opens their mouth too widely when they laugh? I can’t abide it. It seems practised, unnatural and accompanied by dead, soulless eyes. I can never shake the image that laughing is part of their “facilitation” training and they’re regurgitating the invisible sword of humour from their rocking bellies in an attempt to shock and amaze the audience.

It’s the best TEDx I’ve ever been to though. Under my polite and amiable exterior I can be quite a bastard.