Sarcy's Back

Ahunting we will go

I don’t have any pictures, everyone was too busy to think of taking a picture – so use your imagination. Just let go like I do.

First of all, I lived in a small town on the east coast and occasionally we amused ourselves by target shooting with my old BB gun that couldn’t dent an instant pudding, so our hunting experience all accumulated amounted to zilch, nothing, nada, niks.. Many of our friends lived on farms and were bothered by pesky jackals.

This one day, Stub and Stretch and I all accepted the invitation of one of our friends Buzz to come out to his farm and hunt jackals.

We spent a dusty afternoon driving around the farm in an old dilapidated bakkie, hanging out the windows and looking for prey. But to no avail.

Finally, a jackal ran across the road about 400 yards in front of us and went out of sight. Stretch jumped out of the truck and went over the hill and shot at him even though he was way beyond accurate range. To everyone’s surprise the jackal dropped dead, or so Stretch thought. He swaggered up to the jackal and nudged it with his toe to check for life. Nothing. He grabbed the jackal by the tail, and slung it over his shoulder so that its body was hanging down his back and it head flopping near the top of his legs – you get the picture.

About half-way up the hill, the jackal, who wasn’t dead after all, but only unconsciousness, woke up and found his current position entirely unsatisfactory for his likes. He decided the best way to get out of the predicament was to take a large bite out of Stretch’s ass.

He was dancing around screaming, @#$%^&*&^%$#@ Get it Off! Get it Off! @#$%^

Spud, seeing the jackal latched to his ass and inner leg, ran at full speed toward him and yelled, “Spread your legs.” So he did and Spud kicked the jackal in the head in an attempt to dislodge it.

”Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaash!!!” screamed Stretch!!!……It didn’t work! …. The jackal growled, showed his teeth, and chomped down harder.

Stretch was yelling, sort of @#$% Sh*t@#$%“Shoot it off” “Shoot the freakin thing  Off – Here’s my gun!”  while in between screeches, he launched himself skyward like a basketball player with his bumfluff on fire.

Okay, well remember, he has a jackal attached to his ass, so he’s not really stable – the head was perilously close to his gazoobies and explosions or bullets close to that region could have disastrous side effects on his future love life if you get my drift.

Spud got the gun and told him to spread his legs. Well – they were spread – (he had a jackal’s head between them), but he told him to spread them wider. This was difficult as he was still holding the jackal out from his body with his arm stretched up in the air, but he tried anyway.

To make Spud’s aim accurate while Stretch was dancing around with a jackal draped over him and attached tightly to his ass, he had to get very close. Then he shot.

Because of the proximity – that jackal lost its head – literally. Luckily – Stretch didn’t lose anything! Only a bit of dignity and about ten gallons of blood …. No biggy!

We get him home and Buzz’s mother douses the bite and his most sensitive parts with antiseptic which causes him to scream and dance all the more.

Finally we managed to get him comfortable in the car and to a doctor for anti everything shots which made him scream all the more.

What a woos.

Other dogs really don’t know what to make of me.

I’m a bit of a cynic, and in the dog world, that is a rare thing indeed. We are supposed to be fawning, energetic, and devoted.

I just don’t share the general world view that humans are gods on earth. People don’t operate in a logical manner. Always rushing around, covering themselves in fake smells, and trying to buddy up to cats. 

But, their dumbness has its benefits. All I have to do is look up with my big brown eyes, cock my head, raise one ear, and whimper… then the world is mine.

Humans are ridiculous, they want me to be a guard dog and when that smelly truck is in the neighborhood picking up the refuse, or people dressed like thugs walk down my street and I bark, I get told to shut up. Then, just let me dare to poop on the patio when its raining, the yelling and threats are unbelievable. Can you believe the stupidity of these people? They wouldn’t go and take a dump in the pouring rain, and they know how frizzy and smelly I get when wet. Lift my leg, smell my co-pet’s backside or hump a visitor’s leg and the threats of castration and eviction flow loosely.

But I’ve got these bozos figured, I just make like I’m cowering while they shout, then I whine, give them a lick and wag my tail once or twice and I’ve got them apologizing to me. Bunch of sops!

Yawn! I suppose I had better go and show that horrible fur ball of a cat, who has been grinning at me throughout the whole tirade, who actually runs this show.

Cape Town asked South Africa’s Olympic committee if it would consider a possible bid from the city to host the 2020 Olympics after missing the original deadline.

The nation’s Olympic body, SASCOC, said Cape Town missed the July 31 date to declare interest in bidding and announced Durban as the country’s only candidate earlier this month.

But officials in Cape Town, which mounted a failed bid for the 2004 Olympics, said they were not made aware of any deadline in a disagreement that threatens to undermine South Africa’s attempt to bring the Summer Games to Africa for the first time.

One cannot be serious about hosting the 2020 Olympics in Cape Town! Imagine the headlines in the Press:

Djou Ma se games

Ethiopian pole vaulter still missing after strong South Easter blows him away

Gangsters protest against refusal to participate in shooting event

Athlete mugged while carrying Olympic torch

Vagrant tries to enter discus event with hubcap

Burning taxi and tyres on Signal Hill to be Olympic flame

Caterers strike at Olympic village

Gold medals lost in security scam

Olympic trains delayed due to cable theft

Rain stops cricket for 11 days

Important Olympic documents lost in S.A. post

30% petrol price increase upsets Olympic budget

2000 Prisoners given amnesty and released for Olympic goodwill

Squatters occupy Olympic village

Starting gun kills sprinter

Olympic bus delayed on N2 after hitting cow, driver up on DUI charge

Shaik appointed trustee of Olympic fund

Gymnast crushed in taxi carrying 23 athletes and 5 weight lifters

Bus disappears into pothole on way to games. Pilot rescue hole to be drilled

Prostitutes double prices to make up for SWC shortfall

Canoeist swallowed by Great White in False Bay

Long jumper falls off Table Mountain on practice jump

French team member drowns in Jacuzzi filled with red wine

10 Tests to Pass Before You Have Kids

I stole this off my daughters blog and she doesn’t know who the author is either, but it’s too clever not to share it.

1. Time and Money Test:

Practise for this test may involve the use of a pet.

   Pick up the newspaper, read the first line of an interesting article.

   Put it down and shout at your pet for picking up a toy that has suddenly converted into a weapon.

   Sit down and pick up the newspaper, find your place and just as you find it, put it down.

   Go and get the pet away from the plug points/beating their sibling/pulling over precious items etc

   Try and bring the pet back with you to where you were sitting and attempt to read the article with pet on your lap – this is ideal if your pet is a labrador.

   Decide that watching the news on TV is easier and that actually who needs to know what is happening in the world anyway.

2. Discipline Test:

Before you finally go ahead and have children, find a couple who already are parents and berate them about their…

   Methods of discipline.

   Lack of patience.

   Appallingly low tolerance levels.

   Allowing their children to run wild.

Suggest ways in which they might improve their child’s breast feeding, sleep habits, toilet training, table manners, and overall behavior.

Enjoy it because it will be the last time in your life you will have all the answers.

3. Nighttime Test:

   Get home from work and immediately begin walking around the living room from 5PM to 10PM carrying a wet bag weighing approximately 5-10 kilograms, with a radio turned to static (or some other obnoxious sound) playing loudly. (Eat cold food with one hand for dinner)

   At 10PM, put the bag gently down, set the alarm for midnight, and go to sleep.

   Get up at 12 and walk around the living room again, with the bag, until 1AM.

   Set the alarm for 3AM.

   As you can’t get back to sleep, get up at 2AM and make a drink and watch an infomercial.

   Go to bed at 2:45AM.

   Get up at 3AM when the alarm goes off.

   Sing songs quietly in the dark until 4AM.

   Get up. Make breakfast. Get ready for the day (start your day and be productive)

   Repeat steps 1-9 each night. Keep this up for 3-5 years. Try and look cheerful and together.

4. Mess Test:

   Smear peanut butter onto the sofa and jam onto the curtains.

   Hide a piece of raw chicken behind the stereo and leave it there all summer.

   Stick your fingers in the flower bed.

   Then rub them on the clean walls.

   Take your favourite book, photo album, etc. Wreck it.

   Spill milk on your new pillows. Cover the stains with crayons.

   If this feels like home – you’re sorted!

5. Dress Test:

   Buy a live octopus and a small bag made out of loose mesh.

   Attempt to put the octopus into the bag so that none of the arms hang out. Time allowed for this – all morning.

6. Vehicle Test:

   Go to the Vehicle Dealer. Walk slowly passed the Mini Coupers or Audi’s and gently caress them as you walk passed. Until your mid-life crisis you can forget about owning one of these.

   Buy a mini-van. Ensure you park it in a dusty spot – or for added effect – under a tree full of birds who just ate prunes. Smear little hand prints into the dust.

   Buy a chocolate ice cream cone and put it in the glove compartment. Leave it there.

   Get a coin. Stick it in the CD player.

   Take a family size package of chocolate cookies. Mash them into the back seat. Sprinkle leaves and mud all over the floor, then smash them with your foot.

   Run a garden rake along both sides of the car.

7. Shopping Test:

   Go to the local grocery store.

   Take with you the closest thing you can find to a pre-school child. (A full-grown goat is an excellent choice).

   If you intend to have more than one child, then definitely take more than one goat.

   Buy your week’s groceries without letting the goats out of your sight. Pay for everything the goat eats or destroys.

8. Feeding Test:

   Hollow out a melon.

   Make a small hole in the side.

   Suspend it from the ceiling and swing it from side to side.

   Now get a bowl of soggy Cheerios and attempt to spoon them into the swaying melon by pretending to be an airplane.

   Continue until half the Cheerios are gone.

   Tip half of what is left into your lap. The other half, just throw up in the air.

   You are now ready to feed a nine-month-old baby.

9. Entertainment Test:

   Learn the names of every character from Sesame Street , Barney, Disney, the Teletubbies, and Winnie the Pooh.

   Watch nothing else on TV but CBeebies, the Disney channel or Robin Hood for at least five years.

10. Social Life Test

   Make a recording of Fran Drescher saying ‘mommy’ repeatedly. (Important: no more than a four second delay between each ‘mommy’; occasional crescendo to the level of a supersonic jet is required).

   Play this tape while talking to an adult of your choice.

   Have someone else continually tug on your skirt hem, shirt- sleeve, or elbow.

   You are now ready to have a conversation with an adult while there is a child in the room.

Latest news from the blog bosses.

http://letterdash.com/letterdash/letterdash-go-travel-migration

It seems that LD will finally be moved. Read the post from the blog ed.

The move across is usually painless but it’s what awaits on the other side that could give some people reason to stop blogging. I just hope that the blog constructors have taken note of the shortcomings and corrected them. I have a dormant blog on blogs 24.com and sport 24.com as well as this one here on Letterdash. I will assess the situation once this has been done and decide which ones to close.

See you on the other side

Move to the new blogs24 platform is/was a disaster

I hate having to say “I told you so”

If you are an active Letterdash blogger or anyone that hasn’t moved yet! It’s a waste of time and space. So far it has been a major flop! Let alone the cost to get it up and running and the irritation in waiting and inconvenience of moving.

No action is taken on queries, help requests or any form of feedback from an editor or anybody else, are nonexistent, Emails have gone unanswered since the move a month or more ago.

NB>>>> Serious bloggers need to assess this platform first! The time taken to set up headers backgrounds and widgets is going to be a waste of your precious time.

Unless the editor ( If one exists) comes to the party, I predict that this blogging platform is going to die very soon, as it’s already beginning the death rattles, as I write this post. I opened and then closed blogs on blogs, food, health, women and sport and they are all equally useless but women and food editors do try to assist where they can. There is no community that is the same as others and spam is rife even though there are widgets available to block the crap they won’t allow access to them.

I have seen this happen before to iBlog, mWeb and most recently to Letterdash/myNews24 and Sport24 and to be honest this new platform is a few steps backwards from LD.

There are only about FIVE active bloggers out of the 600 + that were moved across. There is no blog editor and all the work in transferring the blogs to wordpress has been a waste of time.

In my opinion it would be more beneficial for active serious bloggers to open full wordpress blogs where you have full control over your own blog, no spam adverts or comments if you block them, and plenty of SA bloggers already there. If the attraction is to earn money from your blog you would need to look at blogspot and google adsense. WordPress.com does not allow adverts but the pay platform, wordpress.org, does.

There have been no notifications since June and the future looks bleak.

The blog editors and the powers that be should ask their bloggers what their requirements are and fashion a blog platform around these suggestions but it seems that they are going to allow the whole blog platform to choke itself to death.

It has been one of the saddest things for me to see how a strong vibrant community slowly dies a slow death. It is an absolute shame that this has been allowed to happen.

Through intense scientific research (meaning I saw an article in the newspaper that was located next to the sports section, while sitting in the doctor’s waiting room) I have discovered information that is likely to make women feel superior to men. (As if they didn’t already) There may be a multitude of reasons which they can forward for them to feel that way, but this is scientific fact.

It turns out that in the first ten weeks of foetal development all brains are female. Difficult to understand how they don’t drown while they try to speak while still immersed in fluids, I know, but still a fact. Then, in boys, a huge surge of testosterone hits the brain, killing cells in the communication center and growing them in the sex and aggression center. This explains why men don’t like to talk about their feelings unless those feelings are penis related and also why we leave the toilet seat up when we go to the bathroom as it allows us to be more aggressive in our return trips as we no longer have to bow to the throne to lift the seat.

Because of the testosterone, the male foetus typically lags three or four or ten weeks behind the female neurologically at birth and according to what I’ve heard many females say, the gap widens from there. I will research that, the next time I’m at the doctor’s surgery, but we can accept that with huge reservation for now.

On the plus side for us men though, the testosterone poisoning/changing does come in handy later, because it helps some coordination neurons develop better, which allows us to catch footballs, rugbyballs, and cricketballs more easily. This is vital to society because if not for those skills, there would be no sports on television and then there would be no place for the beer companies to show their commercials and without the beer companies there would be anarchy with women totally dominating society. (as if they don’t already… just saying)

Testosterone is the thing that makes men and women different. Women with their greater communication skills like to talk about intimacy, and men, because they have more testosterone, like to be intimate (to be clear here, the male definition of intimacy is having sex. Not talking about it….. having it!)

Women, when the car breaks down, will say they think they heard the thingy rattling before it broke and phone the nearest man or repair shop before sitting in the car to await assistance, while they text message all and sundry about why it’s the lazy husband/boyfriends fault for not keeping the car in running order.

Men due to their greater testosterone levels, will open the bonnet of the car and nod knowingly, pretend to fix it, walk around the car kicking the tyres before they surreptitiously take the car to a professional to get it fixed. Usually, having to pay more to have the doodat, that they broke, fixed.

And lastly, when a woman passes gas it will be a great source of embarrassment, but to a man, again, thanks to testosterone, it will turn such an event into uncontrollable laughter and entertainment.(testosterone ensures that we find these gross things funny)

Nature, in its infinite wisdom, develops the female brain very precisely with less variation in how girl’s brains develop, which is why women universally think the jeans they are wearing makes their ass look fat. On the other hand the male brain has many more variables which is why sometimes you get Einstein and sometimes Johnny the couch potato.

I can almost hear two of these foetal brain cells having a conversation prior to the testosterone attack that turns them male:

First female brain cell: Lets go to lunch and have a nice talk about our feelings.

Second Female brain cell: That sounds great but I’m not really hungry I just had a testosterone snack.

First cell: Oh, what’s that like?

Second cell: Well I heard it was good for when you’re feeling bloated and PMS, so I thought what harm could it do.

First cell: I heard it makes you stupid though.

Second cell: Really, I never heard….WHOA! I think it just kicked in, talk about a buzz. I’m all tingly in funny places.

First cell: Oh my goodness, what’s happening?

Second cell: I don’t know, but you suddenly look frikken hot to me. How about we skip lunch and go to my place and see what we can cook up there? If you get my drift?

And there you have it ladies, we were just like you until the testosterone hit us. So it’s not really our fault at all.

A question many men have had down through the ages, after they have had a wife or girlfriend for a while is, “Is it possible for me to be right?” The answer is going to be revealed now: Yes, it is possible for you to be right as long as you are not within hearing range of your spouse.

Of course, that doesn’t account for her hearing what you said later on and “correcting” you, so at that point all bets are off. Momentary rightness is better than none at all.

Here is an example of what I’m talking about. The husband is forced to go shopping with his wife. She asks him a question:

Woman: Which dress do you like best, the green one or the red one?

Man: (Tries to shake his head to wake himself up)…uh, I guess the green one is pretty nice.

Woman: (Without even looking at them again to ponder) I think I’m going to go with the red one.

————————-

This is how this scene would go if she was looking at the same dresses with a girlfriend:

Woman: I can’t decide which color I liked best.

Friend: Oh, I definitely like the green one.

Woman: You know, I think you’re right. You are always so smart about these things.

This is what causes men to want to congregate at bars with their male friends. There men are always right no matter how wrong (and stupid) they really are. Here is an example:

Man: I think all words should start with the letter “B.”

(Everyone gets quiet and stares at him blankly.)

Man: Drinks are on me!

Everyone else: (Cheering) Yeah, the letter “B.” Great idea, man, you’re a genius!

Unfortunately, for me, I don’t drink and I’ve always worked at home so I don’t really get out alone with male friends very often. Consequently, I am rarely ever right. (Big Sigh)…maybe I should take up drinking.

The thing that makes it strange though is when a man first meets a woman and they start going out, for a very brief period of time, everything the man says is correct. Sadly, this rightness lasts only a very short time. Apparently, the woman goes into the relationship hopeful that this man will be the exception and then she finally catches on that there are no exceptions. She could rehabilitate his ability to be right but to do that she would have to ship him off to an island inhabited only by men. Ultimately, she knows that the closest her man will get to being right is that if he is right-handed.

It has been said that there are no absolute wrongs or absolute rights in this universe. The closest measurable thing to an absolute wrong would be when a man is having an argument with his spouse.

It would seem then that women think that men are only good for one thing and being right is definitely not it. Well, if that one thing was what I wanted it to be I could live with that. Too bad it’s taking out the trash.

In a recent conversation that I had with my wife I tried to find out whether I should call myself a blogger, writer or an author. I didn’t like blogger because it sounded as if I wrote all of my material while sitting on the blog and didn’t have enough attraction or sophistication for my liking.

“Fine, call yourself a writer then” she said. “Everybody will be able to see that you’re a writer and read your work”.

“But writer looks so small,” I pointed out. “I want the big companies and magazines to scramble to buy my work.”

“OK, why don’t you put both?” she offered.

“Ja, that should be impressive. A writer that sits on the blog and writes articles. Now that should attract business like a moth to a light. Why don’t I just stab myself in the foot”

Shoot!

What?

Shoot yourself in the foot.

What for, don’t be ridiculous!

I think I’ll put author. It sounds much more impressive.

You can’t put author if you haven’t written a book.

I have written a book.

That’s not a book. It hasn’t been published yet/if it gets published????

You’re not being much help, you know.

Says who?

Says me!

Oh yeah!

Yeah!

Pfffffftttttt!

In the end, I put “author”, figuring I would get most writing jobs over the Internet, but when I speak live I would have to hand out cards to lots of people. An author’s autograph would make those people giddy as strawberry Jelly on the Blue train. Those same people would search nervously for a graceful retreat from the company of a mere writer.

What is it about being an author? You can author an article or a report or just about anything. And you can be the author of just about anything (including “your own misfortunes”). But you can’t be “an author – period” unless you’ve published a book.

Big warning: writing a book does not count. I have a friend who wrote a book. That makes him a writer, not an author. When he publishes it, only THEN will he be a real author and only THEN will he be entitled to learn the authors’ secret handshake. Don’t try sneaking into the clubhouse on the scant pretext that you wrote a book. Anybody can write a book. Even a writer. You have to publish the book to get through these gates of glory.

But if my friend does publish, and he does become an author, and he does learn the secret hand shake, then he’ll be ready to cross that threshold of pride when a reader he’s never met before tells him, “I just couldn’t put your book down.”

Well, not quite. In fact, his book is about humorous anecdotes from many years in his particular profession. Hmm. That wouldn’t qualify him as an author, even if he publishes. It would put him in that blurry purgatory between “writer” “and” “author” in the company of so many silver medal winners who almost made it and whose names we almost remember.

Why? Because he doesn’t qualify for that crucial qualifying praise, “I just couldn’t put your book down.” That comment is reserved for novels, “serious” non-fiction like biographies and history, and how-to books on topics that require wads of glue. Other lowly books just don’t count.

But what if a lowly book could attract an “I just couldn’t put your book down?” Would that make the writer an author, or would the author remain just a writer?

Aldi is a discount supermarket chain that operates across Europe and operates out of Germany.

Yep, you can get everything at ALDI !

The Aldi Doctor…

One day, in line at the company cafeteria, Joe says to Mike, “My elbow
hurts like hell. I guess I’d better see a doctor.”

“Listen, you don’t have to spend that kind of money,” Mike replies.

“There’s a diagnostic computer down at Aldi’s. Just give it a urine
sample and the computer will tell you what’s wrong and what to do about it.  It takes ten seconds and costs ten dollars. A lot cheaper than a doctor.”

So, Joe deposits a urine sample in a small jar and takes it to Aldi’s.

He deposits ten dollars and the computer lights up and asks for the
urine sample. He pours the sample into the slot and waits.

Ten seconds later, the computer ejects a printout:

“You have tennis elbow. Soak your arm in warm water and avoid heavy
activity. It will improve in two weeks. Thank you for shopping at
Aldi’s.”

That evening, while thinking how amazing this new technology was, Joe
began wondering if the computer could be fooled.

He mixed some tap water, a stool sample from his dog, urine samples from his wife and daughter, and a sperm sample from himself for good measure.

Joe hurries back to Aldi’s, eager to check the results. He deposits ten
dollars, pours in his concoction, and awaits the results.

The computer prints the following:

1. Your tap water is too hard. Get a water softener. (Aisle 9) 2. Your
dog has ringworm. Bathe him with anti-fungal shampoo. (Aisle 7) 3. Your daughter has a cocaine habit. Get her into rehab.
4. Your wife is pregnant. Twins. They aren’t yours. Get a lawyer.
5. If you don’t stop playing with yourself, your elbow will never get
better.

Thank you for shopping at Aldi.