SUPER TIGER

He might be better than superman to be frank. I don’t think superman could play golf half as well as Tiger, or sleep with as many women. Mega Tiger, then?



It has recently come to my undivided attention that Mr. Woods has slept with over 120 women (during a five year period). Whether you love or loathe the man, that’s some impressive affair. You’d think the average cheating Joe Soap would be happy with sleeping with one or two women, walk away and be happy with their conquest. Even the serial sex addict would probably delve into the teens and call it a day. But no, not Tiger. He’s super. He does everything with the intention of achieving the best of his supernatural ability. No half mast. So kudos to you dear Tiger, you’ve played out of your socks once again. Literally.

The most impressive part about little Tiger’s charade, is the fact that he was able to conceal his shady behavior for five years. During this period we have got to know Tiger as the gentleman of the game. The peoples champion. A true legend of golf. He was always friendly to the media, and the only ‘pics’ the celebrity-starved paparazzi were able to snap of him, were the wrinkled expressions induced by happiness, after winning tournament after tournament at will, or the agonising look of disappointment when he lost. No one doubted him. He was a family man through and through, had two kids, and lived his life out of the public eye. So what sparked Tiger’s healthy appetite for unavailable women? Beats me. I mean, let’s be real here, he married a Swedish supermodel. That probably would’ve been good enough for superman to settle down, and keep his hands well and truly out the cookie jar. But then again so would being the World’s number one golfer for a million years in a row.

Tiger would still have been plugging away behind his unsuspecting gorgeous wife’s back, had he not gone and crashed his car in a frantic dash to escape his ballistic significant others rage. Idiot. To this day that is definitely Tigers biggest regret. That god dam tree, why’d it have to be there? If Tiger hadn’t crashed, he could’ve settled things with the wife - probably whilst inducing many body and head shots with his prized driver golf club - got divorced, moved on and had a normal life. Right? Think again, he’s Super Tiger remember. Nothing is normal in the wild and wacky world of Tiger Woods.

Amidst all his debauchery I still find myself reveling in his conquests. I feel slightly like a male chauvinistic pig, as I’m not a big fan of Tiger in general; it just astounds me as to how a man of his stature was able to parade around bonking everything in sight. Does he only see walking vaginas? Possibly? He has admitted to being a sex addict. Which are lies of course, he’s a supersex addict. Imagine the dangers of a supersex addict like Tiger roaming the streets? It’s no wonder he’s lapped up everything from his next door neighbour – which was the one girl that cost him his marriage - to the ladies plying their trade in the porn industry.

Apparently Tiger wasn’t certain of the kind of reception he would receive on his return to professional golf last month. He competed in the Masters and apparently didn’t know what to expect from the eagerly anticipating audience. What he didn’t realise though, was how he had immortalized himself over the past five years. By snooping and sneaking, pretty much banging everything in his path and retaining the title of the World’s No.1 Golfer, he became super. Everyone loves superman, right? Well guess what, Tiger's better than him, you do the math.
With that in hindsight, it should’ve come as no surprise when he received a warm, fuzzy-feeling-in-your-stomach kind of applause during the entire Masters.

So, after a stint in sex addiction jail (wonder how that worked out?), a lengthy yet monotonous apology to the world, a looming divorce, and a return to the golfing world, where does this leave Tiger Woods?

Here’s a thought. Mothers lock up your daughters, daughters lock up your mothers. Super Tiger is on the prowl. He’s single, and not losing Wood (s) any time soon.

Adult Lego?

Hell yes, this is exactly the kind of ad I’ve been scouring the depths of the world for. It’s so awesome; it should probably be traded for oil by some wealthy Middle Eastern Sheik, or some such drastic action. It’s every teenager’s naughty little secret. ‘Let’s buy some Adult Lego this weekend and recreate that Emmanuel episode we saw last night.’ I mean, going over to a mate’s house would never be the same again. One small problem though, it’s not real.

That’s right friends; it’s a fake, a hoax, a sham, a meaningless charade. To express my disappointment would be like Usain Bolt having a serious car crash, and instead of coming out the alive with cuts on his feet, emerging a short, slow white guy. Lego have basically ripped my recreated teenage years away from me and buried them deep, deep under ground – bastards.

Okay, let’s pretend Lego did not mind–fuck us into believing that we could create our very own naked lady mantle piece, and that Adult Lego really existed for every mans (and women’s) pleasure and enjoyment. This would be great. Think about it, you could come home after work, put down your coat and briefcase, and grab a snack and a coolie, before high fiving Lego Angelina Jolie on your way to the couch. You could ask her opinion on issues that need resolving, like poverty and world peace. Children wouldn’t be a concern, and you could take her silence on every topic as an instant acknowledgement that you are correct.
Coming home to the ‘wife’ would never be the same again. Really? Not so sure about that. Maybe to a monk, or Tom Cruise.

You see, although receiving a fully stripped woman, lying in bed prepped and ready in the doggy–style position, is something that makes me want to jump on couches, she’s not real. For the ready and able sexual being it poses more of a problem than a solution. This idea belongs in Adult World along with the product. Probably at the back somewhere. Customers should have to sign a written document declaring insanity, or to having no friends. Shame.

On the upside by running this fake campaign Lego have indeed generated some chit – chat. The self – loathing and desperation must have been deep though, because this crass attempt to get adult tongues wagging is nothing short of a loony trip. A campaign gone wrong.

Don’t touch me on my Lego.

California turns Happy Meals smile upside down

The obesity epidemic sweeping California, as well as the rest of America, has forced the Lawmakers in California to flex their muscles.



Soon children all over the US are going to be greeted with a sad surprise in their Happy Meals. Officials in California claim that the free toys/gifts accompanied in the Happy Meal are luring children into eating foods with high sugar, sodium and fat. Really? Not in my day. Usually if you decide to purchase a Happy Meal as a six – year – old, it would require your parents consent. Can you say bad parenting? Seems like another case of the Government acting like mommy and daddy. As far as I can remember, as a child if you’re successful in your attempt to strong arm ‘the parents’ into forking out for a Happy Meal, you’re doing it for the toys – definitely not for the food. Raw deal for ‘the parents’ then, having to deal with an entirely ear shattering fog - horn like scream of a six – year – old on a mission, and left with the haunting meal when the tirade is over.

That meal will more than likely end up in the trash, or in the rear end of mommy or daddy.

The ‘suits’ in Government are claiming that banning toys from the Happy Meal will, ‘break the link between unhealthy food and prizes.’ Okay that’s all good and fine, try telling that to Burger King and KFC. On that matter try telling that to everyone else in the fast food chain. Will they give two shits? No. They might give two burgers though.

It’s a business, plain and simple. McDonalds do advertise their Happy Meals, along with the toys/gifts inside. But all things considered they aren’t the voice inside your head.

Childhood obesity in the US has tripled in the last thirty years. Two – thirds of Americans – roughly 190 million people - are now said to be medically overweight. Scary. That’s some example the US in setting for their children. So what’s the problem? Is the American lifestyle too lazy and this in turn is affecting their children? Maybe fast – food is too easily accessible? Push up the price and drop the weight. That could be a credible solution.
Kids growing up in today’s generation need toys. They need to have fun. Removing toys from children won’t stop them from accessing fast – food, it will make them miserable. So well done California, now your kids are fat and depressed.

Two – thirds of America desperately needs to get active, exercise some self control and monitor their child’s weight. Simple as that. The Government shouldn’t have to step in as foster parents, because if the figures add up correctly, then two – thirds of the Government are ‘officially’ overweight.

When was the last time you thought about McDonalds?

KNOXVILLE BAR - ‘Another larney posi to have a dop.’

Cape Towns’ nightlife can sometimes become quite dull. We tend to end up entertaining ourselves exactly where we were the previous week, and that’s okay- we always have a vibe.
Every now and then, though, somewhere different wouldn’t be such a bad idea. There’s a lot of action out there, so why not play a little?



Knoxville Bar is a vibe, make no mistake. It's vivacious, and harbours some of Cape Town’s finest range of cougars. Sadly though, it’s not the largest place in the world. If I were to estimate, I’d say round about the same size as a large shoe closet for Posh Spice. If you’re expecting anything besides a bar you’ll also be sadly mistaken. It’s so small that even when you’re not at the bar buying your next beverage, you're in the line anyway. The music and general vibe is upbeat and funky, it’s well furnished and there are lots of good looking people to hang out with. Maybe I’m being stereotypical, but nevertheless, this is still a place that could grow on me.

The fantastic thing about Knoxville Bar is that you are actually able to hold a reasonable conversation. Not a conversation that involves one person screaming “What is your name?”, and the other replying “That’s awesome!” but a real conversation, with actual words. This in turn opens up a few pleasant avenues for Knoxville Bar, as many different events can be held there, as opposed to other ‘louder’ clubs. Bachelors’ parties, birthday celebrations, speeches, business meetings, just to name a few, and they even have a ‘lekker’ flat screen TV. to watch your favourite sports games.

What I am trying to get at here is basically if you can enjoy yourself whilst rubbing shoulders with almost everyone else in the place (usually the likes of Percy Montgomery), and are prepared to wait at least ten minutes in the line to reach the bar, then go bonkers. If not, go outside and have a breath of fresh air. And not just any air, your own air. Relish it, as this will be the last non- recycled breath of air you’ll be enjoying for the rest of the night.

At Knoxville Bar you basically get everything that you would from the likes of Forries or Peddlers, with an added bonus of the party atmosphere (even if it’s so thick you can taste it, like sweat). Let’s be honest for a second though, put yourself in any place where the music, people and drinks are ‘friendly’ and you're bound to have a good time.

LOOK I'M A TOURIST

The official tourist T- shirts being produced in the U.K. for the World Cup.



Sick..

Rooi-els- A small town with a big vibe

When one first hears the name Rooi-els, one tends to be a little reserved in judgment. At least I was. I mean, where the hell is this place? It’s not Bettys Bay or Hermanus- Its Rooi-els.
That being said I had the privilege of a ‘Rooi-els experience’ during the Easter weekend and shit, was I right, it’s nothing like Hermanus or Bettys- it’s better.

The first thing you notice upon your arrival to the relatively unknown holiday destination, is the Pub. This little ‘drinking hole’ is the part of town where all the exciting activities transpire. It was jam-packed the entire weekend. Next you will notice the copious amounts of luscious looking bush and shrub along the gravel road. These bushes might look spongy, but trust me, there are many underlying dangers. Next to catch the eye are the beautiful houses. They are all stunning, old architecture- classics. Moving along through this colourful town and you’ll find the ocean, accompanied by a golden – white beach (sounds good, doesn’t it?).

Okay, it’s no use driving all the way down to Rooi-els for the weekend if you aren’t going to take advantage of all the benefits that the gorgeous ‘dorpie’ has to offer (mentioned above). So get yourself some alcoholic beverages, some good music and get psyched. After that, take a trip to the pub and buy yourself the much vaunted ‘Painters Pallet’. This drink is not for the faint at heart and if you even think you’re not up to it, don’t kid yourself, get out of there- Speedy Gonzalez style! Following your trip to the pub, the walk home should involve, wait for it…bush- jumping! This is where you can experience the true beauty of Rooi-els. So in the words of the great Muhammad Ali “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.” You see, you’ll soon find out that those juicy looking bushes aren’t actually that soft, so make sure the alcohol and adrenalin levels are pumping before attempting this.

You now have two choices: either go home and call it a night- a sensible choice- or push on to the beach. Personally, I chose the beach option, but that’s just me. With that choice behind you, get moving to the beach. If you have portable music, make sure it’s blaring (mostly to annoy the neighbours) to create a vibe for everyone involved. Once you reach the beach, be brave and swim- or don’t. Either way, just enjoy yourself. Take a load off.

A couple of surprises that you may encounter in this beautiful town include the likes of an extrememly vibrant (when drunk), in- love German lass. It's very rare to spend time with this one as she doesn't speak much- if at all. So interact as much as possible, and remember to have several bottles of Vodka handy for fear of boredom. Always keep a look out for a brunette, narcotics- induced woman, she is scarce but once you find her, she will never want to leave your side. She may even try sneak a cosy night indoors- as opposed to the comfort of a bush.

Personally, the inner beauty about Rooi-els are the lessons learnt. Having good times with good friends is one of the most valuable experiences in life. Rooi-els has a special way of galvanising that experience, and creates memories for life.

E.T. hacked to death

Last Saturday night, Eugene Terreblanche (known as E.T.), the leader of the Afrikaner Weerstandsbeweging (AWB) was murdered on his farm in Ventersdorp. The alleged motive for the attack was a pay dispute between him and his workers- two African 'gentlemen', aged 28 and 15 years, who hacked and bludgeoned him to death, using your average 'gardening tools', a knobkerrie and a panga.

Now I’m not the biggest political devotee (because it bores me) but when the leader of South Africa's most notorious white supremacist movement is murdered by two young blacks, I found myself turning my attention toward the news more often than usual. Of course this just happened to occur at a time when his logical racial opponent, the equally loud- mouthed ANC Youth League president, Julius Malema, is running around roaring songs to the tune of “Kill the boer”. Now this does make for an interesting topic to converse about around the dinner table.

So the police are calling for calm and emphasising that the killing was over pay, and not at all politically motivated. Well that’s great; I really don’t think the AWB give a rat’s ass though. In fact they definitely don’t. They finally have something, some piece of leverage that they can use against their nemesis. They have something huge. A sacrifice, if you will.

While we may never know the truth, one thing’s for sure, the murderers (who at the time of writing confessed the murder to the police) are pretty much exactly what Julius Malema is shooting for. Let’s be real, they have definitely heard the “Kill the boer” song. And if I’m not mistaken, Eugene Terreblanche always described himself as a “boer”. That’s more than enough fuel for the AWB to spark something unseemly.

Honestly though, who phones the police when you’ve just killed someone on a farm and no- one has seen you do it? Maybe someone who believed it was right? Perhaps someone looking for acknowledgement for their ‘accomplishment’? I mean, hacking a body up into tiny pieces. What the fuck? Something is definitely up here. For one, there seems like there is a lot of anger being expressed. If you had a dispute about pay and felt like you needed to kill because of it, surely you would kill and get done with it? Unless, possibly, you’re trying to make a statement? Trying to be a hero?

Controversial doesn’t even begin to describe the impending disaster going down here. If Malema gets snuffed out, are all fingers going to be pointed at the AWB? Surely- although I wouldn’t be that quick to pounce, as I’m sure there are many others out there baying for blood.