ANALYSIS

BLOGGERS OF MZANSI, UNITE!

This past weekend I thought, what the hack, nobody has pulled my leg this April Fool's Day but it will be nice if I can give love to the four most important bloggers whose material keep me sitting infront of this computer trying to be intelligent. Hey, I read lots, so whoever was chosen was on merit. To other Kasiekulture visitors with own blogs, expose them eKasie and I'll gladly review them in due course.

Fellow Mpumalanga blogger Afrosliqdiva noted my blog as one with the longest entries (thursday, march 22 - Ran out of Topics). I found that inspiring given that I'm a sucker for her blog, Oh really now! and can only urge all my beloved visitors with a sense of humour and wit to often pop in at the Diva's haunt for some err...not so serious tongue in cheek pep talk or foamy stuff from a green bottle (courtey of Heineken and SAB - may their beef be laid down in peace). I protest against the folks who think her entries are long and concur with her that if they are lazy how did they pass the seven subjects at matric? Or did they buy their senior certificates the same way we do Learner's and Driver's Licenses now in anticipation of June? I've met people who said that the Diva reminds them of Lerato (ouch, all the Leratos) Mogoatlhe from City Press/Pulse. I immediately reprimanded them to rephrase and confess how Lerato (oops, I did it again) reminds them of the Diva. Okay, that's my confession, I read blogs, especially local ones cuz they write about stuff I know. I'm not refering to Kwaki's Dr Phil (emon, Misogyny & Phillip Inc) advises that encouraged the Diva to finally show her face but you know, just that tongue in cheek talk about why he needs to get an endorsement contract (and lots of T-shirts and caps) from SAB-Miller for all the poison he guzzles much to the detriment of Heineken and the types of women we have to sift through on our way to the aisle (I personally ain't going there even though I'll appreciate being a Rent-A-Bestman candidate). One of my player-friends commented of the Diva, "she's beautiful, but not the type I'll go out with. I don't want to remain wondering who's boning my woman in my absense". Wow, how paranoid, start a paranoid blog mate.

Some of my kasiepeople should go to Bethal and bury their heads in the fifteen or so bucket toilets still left (that's if you can believe what the department of local government is saying in BOLD printed press releases) in the province for expressing their shock that Kwaki actually killed Cupid. I mean we've already buried the pauper-bastard at Msogwaba Trust Cemetery without fanfare but some people just bumped into the confession and wonder how the bloke died a pauper forgetting that love is 'supposed' to be free. It has never ceased to amaze me how people love beef. Last week I made an entry about the editor of Ymagazine and I put him in the same category as Kwaki and suddenly my kasiefolks wanted to know why would a virile man (who my womenfriends have compared to a reincarnation of Makaveli the Don could) find pleasure in stabbing helpless Mr Matchmaker on the back like Brutus. I told them Kwaki figured backstabbing is nice (for lack of a lethal word) because you slaughter the bloke while they are still smiling, which is the final portrait they'll take to hell. My Kasiefolks sort of clicked the little hyperlink and went through to LIFE and then wrote back to me and said, "that's the man who deserve a tongue-lashing and not poor Kabomo". Sorry Kabomo joe, it was not deliberate (even to use 'deliberate' instead of 'intentional').

Well, why should I tongue-lash a brother who killed the only son-of-a-bitch who makes it difficult for us menfolk to get unabridged love? See, when we bump into those BEE millions we rush and buy big 4x4s and German sedans. For what? To hide our small sizes. The real big guys drive Porsches. The women whose men are small love big cars as well, ask the dope-fiend Sigmund Freud who had to wait until he was eighty years old and impotent to fly in a plane.

My point; sure Diva joe, I make long entries because I'm short in other departments. I often visit Kwaki's blog cuz I think someday he'll advise us about how a 13-load hammer dependent 9mm Pietro Beretta can do the job of a semi-automatic recoil based AK47, both the penetration depth and the duration. People with short concentration spans usually make long entries and those who are pretty long in areas just like to keep it sweet and short. Have you heard this one; I guess I picked it, either from yodemo or some equal looney at a Standerton bin with an IQ of minus 24 (George Bush's IQ). They say the guys who love prolonged sexual foreplay (Tantric - helping you to climax without sex) are scared of the actual act. The only long tools they posess are their tongues and fingers and they love to stick them in some dodgy areas. "These guys can lick a chick for hours on end as if she has been marinated and when they finally jump into the pond they cum out quick, complaining of either the water is too hot or cold. And they are sorted right there, they have detoxed the steam". Sorry, I'm drifting from the issue.

Hey, if you really want to know how fucked up some people can be, visit my very loyal confidante, Karabo who is patched somewhere in Jozi. I've been trying to hook her a plot at Rorke's Drift but the salespeople faint before finishing counting the number of zeros that should accompany the eight infront of the R (Rand) Now, Karabo knows about the fucked up dudes who live on booty calls and think that flipping a bird helps them to immediately look like oil paintings by Vincent van Gogh. Actually I want to pose a challenge to the two intelligent women I've ever shared ideas with. Diva and Karabo should indulge me and write a 500-word piece for kasiekulture. Here's your topic women; 'Men are not going to be Ivys anymore, so how did the Ivy-era handbag make a comeback?'. Let's not beat about the bush; barely a few years ago women were not carrying handbags when we went out with them. This handbag fad might be a recurring fashion statement, but given that when chicks carried plastic (before Prada, Chanel and Louis Vuitton) handbags, dressed in acrylic two piece suits, beret and stilettos us guys were into Habit (self-belt) pants, Viyella and Viscose shirts plus greasy Jerry-curls. We got rid of the Jerry-curls for brush and chiskop, botsotso for cargo-pants and Omega sandals for Chuck Taylors. But girls are back with the handbags; what's up ladies?

Finally, the last blogger on my roster is that crazy St Lucas tha Ribelatti (H.eye.V-AIDS) whose two blogs yodemo and lekgema are never short of controversy. Let me initiate you into the mind of this journalist/writer/emcee/poet/blogger/commentator/blah-blah-blah. I'm actually half of his wholeness because he contributes stuff to kasiekulture, write news for Media24, busts rhymes and jots poetry which in Hebrew should be classified kosher while I only do half of that excluding posting to yodemo. I told Kwaki to stay away from physical contact cuz that's the only way to avoid MadCowDisease or is it MadGeneDisease (MGD, sounds like the name of a SUV)

I feel like Santa Claus (please Kwaki man, don't slaughter this m&*?^%$£"!r as well)

Here's what I'm going to do for kasiefolks;

TELL YOUR FAMILY AND FRIEND TO VISIT YODEMO AND LEAVE A COMMENT ABOUT IT ON KASIEKULTURE PLUS THEIR EMAIL ADDRESS AND EVERYONE OF THEM WILL RECEIVE H.EYE.V-AIDS' rap SONG 'HA KE TSENA' ON EMAIL, WHICH THEY'LL BE ENCOURAGED TO SHARE WITH FRIENDS ON MP3 (Happy Winter Christmas from your Brother Christmas cuz I'm too young to be your Father)

Now this was not that long an entry. Oops, for the Green Bottle Brigade, how are you guys coping while Heineken is still adding its most important ingredient 'TIME'? (otherwise aka Donkeypiss) Guess it's lawsuit time.