Recording, reminiscing and occasional bokdrols of wisdom.
Random, un-chronological memories.
bokdrols – like pearls, but handle with care
I just got this:
You registered on WordPress.com 10 years ago.
Thanks for flying with us. Keep up the good blogging.
Mom n Tom choose a cake for his party: A great big rocket with a number SEVEN emblazoned in smarties on its side, a star-shaped base and gleaming red aluminium foil cone and fins. They choose the mixing bowl, run the Kenwood, prepare the star-shaped pan and – at last – pop the first part into the pre-heated oven.
It’s a hot, muggy day and Aitch plops down into a chair in the breakfast nook and smiles at Tom.
Mom! he says, I couldn’t have done that without you!
It gets worse. Later on he thinks of something and goes up to Aitch.
Mom, what treat can I get for helping you? he asks.
Hmmm, says Aitch. Who’s cake is this?
So what do I get for helping YOU?
A hearty handshake, says the incorrigible one, without missing a beat.
A well-known tactic of the name-remembering incompetent is to use one ‘name’ for everyone when you can’t remember their names. In the sixties Uncle Jack Kemp used to call everyone ‘Cock’. ‘Hello Cock!’ he’d say and you could see his mind racing: Just WHO is this again? I mean, I know him but what’s his name again?! ‘How’re you Cock?’ In the eighties Peppy Peeperkorn, a delightful nurse friend at Addington Hospital when I was sentenced to live there by the army used to call everyone ‘Chicken Legs’! ‘Hey, Chicken Legs! What you doin’?’
So I made the mistake of asking Tom after one of his home school lessons: ‘What did old Green Cheese teach you today?’ He cracked up and has called his tutor Green Cheese ever since, my protests and explanation and Hey, you don’t DO that! falling on delighted deaf ears.
This morning I overheard him as he walked in to start his lesson “Hey! That’s my chair! It’s made for my arse, not an old Green Cheese arse!’
He should get a klap on his ear from his older, bigger, cleverer, more capable, more focused third year economics student tutor, but instead – as so often with Tom – he gets away with it.
Four generations and friends met at Mom’s house to celebrate her 90th today.
It was an all-day affair that included morning tea and lunch. Even when I got there after two there was cake and cheese and biscuits and olives and chips n dips, coffee and tea. Then champagne and sherry. Mom had to forego her nap!
In the sepia photo, Mom n Dad, three kids, a grandkid and two great-grandkids.
You’ve heard all those “Rich People’s Problems” jokes?
Today (this was in 2016) I heard a big “Indian People’s Problem”.
Went to Italtile to fetch yet another farking expensive something or other. This time tile mosaic for Tom’s shower floor. R990 just to cut it – tile price excluded.
So my saleslady says “How’s Tommy?” – she’s been planning “Tommy’s Bathroom” and “Jessie’s Bathroom” the last weeks, so she’s an old hand.
I say (mistake – should have stuck to the tried-and-tested “fine thanks”):
“He’s battling at school. It’s exam time, and he’s not interested in studying”.
“I KNOW!!” she exclaims “My 13yr old son is THE SAME! He came back from these exams with two B’s! He dropped his “all A’s” just because he won’t learn. I TOLE him: “You won’t get anywhere if you don’t shine up!”
I’m a diplomat. One who would give his left leg for two B’s. I jis nodded.
The Morons lived right next door to us! The Natal headquarters of the insidious infiltration of our lovely corner of Africa called KwaZulu by that cult cheekily calling themselves “Latter Day Saints” – saints! – lived next door to us in Windsor Avenue! Them who believe Christ appeared in America about one thousand eight hundred years after his death and resurrection, appearing with his father God in a little dorp called Palmyra in upstate New York to a dodgy character called Joe Smith junior to restore ‘the true faith’.
Right! Lucky Joe!
Joe Smith junior went on to ‘find out’ that the Garden of Eden was actually located in North America. How much time and effort had been wasted searching for it in the Middle East! Also that the New Jerusalem would be built in Missouri. Both places of course, conveniently located near to where old dodgy Joe happened to be.
I would see their minibus depart in the mornings, and in Montclair I’d see their gangly young yank boy-men – always only boy-men, women are a lower rank – walking around in black trousers, white shirts and black tie with a black name tag with ELDER on it, busily proselytising, mainly among the young people of Umlazi. Did these ‘elders’ ever tell their prey the church was seriously anti black people, I wonder, I doubt. They would tell them, I’m sure, of Smith’s ‘First Vision’, in which God the Father and God the Son appeared to him in 1820 when he was about 14 years old.
This ‘vision’ is regarded by some Mormons as the most important event in human history. Excuse me if I snort at that. Later they changed that to “after the birth, ministry, and resurrection of Jesus Christ”. Modest Joe himself thought the First Vision the most important though: “I have more to boast of than ever any man had. I am the only man that has ever been able to keep a whole church together since the days of Adam…Neither Paul, John, nor Jesus ever did it. I boast that no man ever did such a work as I. The followers of Jesus ran away from Him; but the Latter-day Saints never ran away from me yet.” That’s bashful Holy Joe speaking, mightier than Jesus and modelled on Muhammad.
Mormons will tell you they are no longer anti black people. They changed cos they had to. They will tell you they regard Jesus now to be a higher authority than Joe. They changed cos they had to. They will tell you they no longer practice polygamy. They changed cos they had to. They still however, don’t condemn Holy Joe’s thirty-plus wives, some only fourteen years old, some taken from other men. In fact, the Mormon position on women has changed little since the early 1800’s, when the official view was that ‘woman’s primary place is in the home, where she is to rear children and abide by the righteous counsel of her husband’ (McConkie 844). This attitude, coupled with the doctrine of polygamy and the absolute power claimed by the men of the church, created a legacy of profound sexism which modern Mormonism has been unable to escape.
Did they tell the people of Umlazi of the holy magic underpants, I wonder? Of the multiple wives? How you can only get to heaven through Joseph Smith? Hopefully a lot of their target audience at this point say bullDUST and keep their money and their independence in their pockets! That ANYONE converts to mormonism in this day of easy access to knowledge is astounding. And sad.
See Christopher Hitchens exposé of the weird and sinister beliefs of Mormons.
See the New York Times story on the conversations Mormon leaders have when they think no-one – including Jesus, presumably – is listening; and their story on how the Mormons threaten their members if they go online and question things the church does or says.
Personally I’d love it if the Mormons got the hell out of Africa and went back to Palmyra.
Here’s what’s gonna happen when they ring the bell at the pearly gates:
Don’t get me started on the Jehovahs!
And – worst? The Scientologists!
The South African National Space Agency has put out a call for South Africans to name its latest satellite.
Currently called ZACube-2, it is expected to be launched later this year, but first it needs a new name.
Designed and built mainly by postgraduate students at the Cape Peninsula University of Technology’s French South African Institute of Technology, ZACube-2 is a nanosatellite, comprised of three 10cm cubes. It is scheduled for orbit about 600km above the surface of the Earth.
South Africa’s first cubesat, ZACube-1 was launched in 2013 and named TshepisoSat. Tshepiso means promise.
I recommend umshini wami. Or rather umshini wethu. ‘Our machine’
“Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving”
“Work to ride – and ride to work”
“Four wheels move the body.
Two wheels move the soul”
“If you don’t ride in the rain, you don’t ride”
“Don’t ride faster than your guardian angel can fly”
(Quotes written on a blackboard at Aitch’s “Angels Mountain Biking Club” coffee shop)
Here’s their guardian angel – who could ride MUCH faster than all of them . . He led their trail rides and looked after them. I never met him but she told me his name. And she’d kick me for not remembering it!