Archive for the 'entertainment' Category


your boss has probably stalked you…

Here is a worrying fact, if you haven’t heard it already… Potential employers and recruiters will do background checks on you when considering hiring you. Sure most people expect there is some rooting around to check if you’ve ever committed a serious crime or not, but these days this background check includes your social media accounts.

These nosey potential employers go snooping through your facebook account and troll your tweets, foursquare and whatever people do on there, boring ass pinterest boards, your god damn tumblr with all your favourite boob photos, every little corner of the internet that you call your own. They then use what they find to discern what kind of person you are. They’ll even go through your contact list to see who you’re “friends” with… Some companies hire people based on their industry contacts. What high school level thinking bullshit is this? As if, who you know instead of what you know, is more important to the success of their business. Turth is, who you may know might be the only value you add to their company… Because you’re shit at your job.

Now if you’re anything like me, facebook and twitter are essentially where I put any and all disgusting thought, comment, action and image of myself. Mostly for my amusement and a little bit for the amusement of my friends and the few strangers that happen across it (And of course the few of my stalkers!).

My online “personality” is not meant to be a reflection of me as I am in the work environment. I would be arrested in most cases if I behaved as I do online. There isn’t much difference when I’m with my friends, of course, but they expect this kind of behaviour when I’m with them. Work on the other hand, I push “Pissing Blood” deep, deep down. I repress any impulse I have to start telling my superiors how much I want to fuck them, film it and then post online… I leave out sections of my weekend that include the part where I was naked, under an inappropriately aged teenage girl with sand up both our ass cracks. I sure as hell, keep my friends’ behaviour a dirty little secret. My boss doesn’t want to hear, how Fuego put his cock in my mo-hawk when I passed out that one time… Jesus.

So what exactly will my potential employers learn from being sneaky little rat-faced cunts, rifling through my online accounts? Nothing of use I assure you. Except maybe that I’ve written a lot of offensive stuff, and that sometimes I have disgusting urges to poor my heart out. I also used to party a lot. I have a few ex’s roaming around that don’t particularly like me. Is any of this that uncommon or relevant? The fact that I helped an agency win an account last month isn’t actually mentioned or that I dedicate more time than I should, trying to teach college kids – even though they don’t take me or the subjects seriously. No… none of what I say, do or post is actually an indicator of the kind of employee I am. So get your fucking nose out of my social media! Look at my website and LinkedIn account, and be satisfied that I’m giving you all the info that you need, motherfucker.

If you’re one of those people who might worry about what people looking at photos of you think – in your slut-gear on holiday drinking out of a stripper’s boot – then you should fiddle with your privacy settings and get one of those social accounts meant purely for your professional “image”… Which frankly is a bit shit and everyone knows is a complete web of lies. Truth is, social media is edited, de-contextualized snippets of your life. You present what you want, how you want. People looking in are never going to get the full picture. Our lives are far from as glamorous as we make out, and the shit parts are far worse than we would openly admit too. Employers should know that. Then they are the kind of idiots that think looking at facebook, they’ll find something even remotely true beyond what someone had for breakfast and if their pet cat died… No one said you have to be particularly smart to be in charge though, just good at sucking dick to get up the ladder. Fuck it though. What do I know… I’m no one’s boss. So if you’re unemployed and can’t seem to land a job no matter how many under-the-table hand jobs you dish out, maybe you need to check what exactly it is you’re putting out there.


Not News24

My pet hate, for quite a while now, has been News24. It’s a sort of news website that I visit, in my attempt to stay abreast of what the fuck is going on in the world. They are not the only site I visit, and I usually scan news channels too. I use so many sources mostly because, I like to, and because News24 is inept at its designed purpose, since most of the time your attention will be dragged towards some article under which a heated argument is taking place. First mistake on their part is that they allow people, just regular idiots like you or I, to comment on the news, with pretty much impunity. Secondly, they allow any old fuckwit with an internet connection to post opinion pieces on their site. This is not only fucking retarded, but frankly insane.

literally breaking the news. I doubt they were ever first though.

I can hear some of you shouting, “But wait, you do exactly that, you being the arrogant fuck that you are, posting your opinions all over the fucking internet!” I do, yes. Happily I might add. The difference is I don’t post my illogical ramblings about things I don’t understand on sites that are meant to give readers cold hard unbiased facts about what the devil in green pants is going on in our country and the world.

Why would you want to hear or read someone’s comments about the news? The so-called, man on the street’s perspective. It’s like listening to a fat old shirtless man standing by his fence talking to his equally fat old shirtless neighbour, spouting their views of current affairs. No! The very idea of it seems ridiculous, because they don’t know a thing about current affairs that I don’t! What they know is exactly what you’ve read fed back through their biased opinion. Can anyone really be surprised then when racists, extremists, the religious and all manner of social rejects join in?

the spear of the nation, Brett Murray,

this is what happens when the man on the street speaks… pointless!

I’m not going to blanket every commenter as being a fat old bias man, some of them may very well have a rather balanced rational comment to share. Some might even be woman. (My obligatory sexist comment for this post) Really though, those few people who know enough to make those comments are lost in the deluge of brainless opinion shouters.

The news had it right back in the day when the news was delivered via a newspaper, radio or television programme that offered no way for the public to broadcast their feedback. You got the facts, full stop. If it was discussed, it was done so with family, friends, co-workers, and occasionally strangers in the line for the bus. If something said was stupid or ignorant it only affected those unfortunate enough to be present at the time.

Now, these same people you avoided in the bus line and sat as far away from as possible have a platform to let the stupid fall out and be read by millions. There are no benefits to this. This person is not shedding light on a matter. They’re clouding it with their own bullshit. The only thing that comes of it is it gives your growing disgust with humanity credence. At least it does in my case.

Then we come to the blog posts…

I have this blog and I write for other blogs and sites. The people who search out the blogs I write for are looking to read the sort of stuff I write. (or if search terms are to be believed, “grannies to fuck”) My point being is, that what I write is not news or even entertaining to everybody, and I know this so I am not about to go on to a news site trying to get people read what I write!

half of my readership

the other half of my readership… and yes, they read my blog half naked wearing socks…

So, why the fuck, am I coming across blog posts on a news website? Is this news? Does this deal with the cold hard unbiased facts of current affairs? Is this person an expert in a field that I may somehow benefit from, from reading what they have to say? Will I understand anything about what’s happening more? Is there insight, intelligence, anything of value in this drivel that I am reading?

The short answer is, no! These people are writing, often with no style or any degree of skill, what they think. What they think, is utterly pointless to me. If you feel what you have to say is that important, start your own blog and dispense your brain farts to your heart’s content. I mean it. I am encouraging you to do it.

If you’re good at telling people what you think, after a while, you will get told as much by the number of readers you have. Eventually if you actually are good and it’s not just the person you fuck, the people who must really love you and your pets reading your blog. People will recognize your greatness and ask you to write more, and so your words will gain an even greater audience.

Your audience will have been earned, by perseverance, hours and hours of writing and a smidge of talent. You were either thought-provoking, relevant or entertaining. You were something. You weren’t just being a complete arrogant drooling pion who piggyback on the popularity and credibility of a “news website” to dispense your twaddle. I call you arrogant because you believed you had something floating around your soft head that everyone should read. You don’t. So don’t. Stop.

There we have it… Does this rant have a purpose? No… Not really. I had some time on my hands and decided to write this instead of work or wank. Just maybe you found it thought-provoking or relevant or entertaining. Perhaps a sliver of all three, I hope.


Introducing: Vandals Took The Handle

Holy fuck! People are stupid! I have yet again been solicited to contribute my ramblings to another site. Brilliant for me, not so much for the folks who hate the idea of a scum bag like me passing himself off as a writer. Decline of civilisation, here we come!

As to be expected I am rather fussy about who I lend my endless well of words to. The ones I am less proud of will never be promoted by myself in any capacity. I keep them as secret as possible. Like my various STD’s and the Tales of Fail that would serve as evidence against me in a court of law. Vandals Took The Handle however, is not one of those.  VTTH is as entertainment site, focusing on just about everything people do to enjoy a little escape from their horrible mundane existences.

The site only went live on Tuesday or something, and so far the response is looking good. The content so far has been top tier. Personal favourites so far;

the first half of an interview with the one and only Henry Rollins: link

And an open letter to cinemas about a film I’ve been interested in since I heard about it a while ago, Cabin In The Woods: link

I also put in my own piece, interviewing Durban’s most popular melodic punk band, Low Profile ahead of their new album launch this month: link 

See it’s all topical and shit… So follow the links, and check out where you can read yet more of my ramblings, opinions and hate speech plus some other people who actually know what they’re talking about too.


tales of fail: things grandmother’s eyes have seen

Yup, that time again… There isn’t really any way to ease in to these. Perhaps you should just reside yourself to the fact that you’re about to kill a small, innocent part of your soul and you’re going to laugh through its last pitiful death throes without even noticing until it is too late.

I have had numerous platonic relationships with members of the opposite sex. I take it as a good sign that I am not completely dysfunctional when it comes to relationships with woman, which is not a feat to be scoffed at looking at my track record. This is one of them…

A fateful night that started in the kitchen of my soon to be fuck buddy’s parents place, in the company of her grandmother visiting for the weekend while her parents were away… It was pleasant and jovial start and we assured the sweet old dear numerous times that we were no more than two people who simply enjoyed each others company. This of course was true at the time. I don’t lie, and I certainly don’t lie to other people’s grandmothers. It’s part of my charm that manages to struggle to the surface on occasion, and this just so happened to be one of those occasions. Granny thought me a lovely lad, a bit of an odd dress sense, but perfectly lovely.

The plan for the evening was that I would be shown around my mate’s neck of the woods. I mean her neighbourhood, not her other “neck of the woods”. That part was entirely unplanned and I think surprised everyone. We headed out into the night with granny’s blessing to go be young. Which to us meant go get retarded drunk. The alcohol and conversation flowed that night. Every possible facet of life and what it all meant was discussed as we bar hopped around her little town. I probably discovered something profound and meaningful in all that talk, but it was obliterated by the amount of tequila I poured down my throat. I believe the count was up to 15 tequila shots, when we eventually crash landed back at her place both shit faced and ready to suck face. This incidentally, planted the seed for a strategy I would employ for years involving getting blind drunk, talking incessantly, and then pulling out my penis. If you ever plan on using this method I can vouch that it has about a 100% chance of your penis being played with, but only about a 30% chance that it won’t be by you. Some are thoroughly charmed by your straightforwardness and some are inclined to strike out and scream for help. C’est la vie.

pop art, comic book, woman slapping man, pervet getting smacked

happens more than I like to admit

We were just in middle of passionate love-making… To the casual observer it looked like two drunk people making a good go of fucking on the couch. When the inevitable happened, a lesson that I never really learnt in the years preceding or since that night, that when I have had that much liquor, my dick won’t cooperate with anyone. My dear friend and current object of lust was trying her damnedest to get a rise out of the offending appendage when unbeknownst to us, our skin on skin slapping must have alerted her grandmother to something not quite right happening in the house. She knew the sound even if she couldn’t quite place from where and when. She sat up right, hopped out of bed with the agility of a much younger woman, wrapped herself in her old lady night-gown and made her way through the dark house like a fucking ninja to investigate the origin of the strange but familiar sounds. What she found was two pale naked bodies lit only by moonlight engaged in what can only be described as a blow job. She stood for a moment, shocked, unable to believe the scene in front of her. I, being the only one able to look around the room was equally stunned and speechless. It seemed like an eternity that our gazes locked, watching horror creep over each other’s faces. Both our cheeks going crimson, hers from anger, mine from being sucked off, until there was nothing to be done but to break the silence. There wasn’t exactly silence if I’m completely honest. I’m certain there was a slurp or two in those few milliseconds.

grandma, gun

visions of my future

Granny broke her granddaughters concentration and the silence by shouting, “So this is what just friends do?!”. She didn’t wait for an answer, thankfully. She blurted something about getting dressed and going to bed while making a hasty retreat down the corridor back to her room. Our dear friend, mortified at being caught with cock in mouth, covered her face and understandably took a minute to curl up and die a little inside. While she did that I located my scattered clothes and pulled them on ready to make my exit. I was a gentleman though and waited when she went to check that Granny hadn’t died of a heart attack. I fought my initial instincts then to get the fuck out the house and run before Gran came back with a weapon of some sort. When our, now dressed, mate returned she insisted on account of my drunk state that I still spend the night, albeit, on the couch, fully clothed and far away from her. After some whispered debate, I finally relented when I realised that the situation was far more embarrassing for grandmother and granddaughter than it was for me. I was also assured nothing violent would happen to me while I slept so I reluctantly agreed. We made coffee and sat on the aforementioned couch, and laughed at how the night had ended. To me, a rather good indication that we were to stay good mates.

That morning, I awoke with a pounding head, tongue like sand and cock that felt thoroughly used. I was greeted by the sounds of Granny and one of her friends having Sunday tea while I was passed out, just feet away. I pretended to be asleep for as long as possible but eventually I had to relieve my bladder. I can’t say I’ve ever had such an awkward morning before or since. Then I haven’t been caught completely naked with a future generation’s head in my lap since then either. Strangely, Granny agreed not to tell anyone about what the three of us had shared that night and it seemed like it ended there. That is until a few years later, when our mate’s mother, who I managed to make multiple good impressions on and was on great terms with, hinted that she had been clued in on what had happened on her lounge suit all those years ago. In my shock and embarrassment, I’m afraid I probably didn’t offer up a very good apology at the time… So, Mrs “Mate’s Mom”, if you ever read this, I really am sorry I got my balls out and all over your living room… and I’m sorry you just read the details of what happened that night now.


Columbus drew the Short Straw when he lost his ARV’s.

This review was actually meant for DIY, but thanks to my brain functionality and energy levels being ravaged by that crippling ailment called a job, I failed to get this in on time. Being that I’m not completely unhappy with it though, I’ll put it up here so it at least gets some reads, even if it is less than it should have been. Apologies to the bands, DIY and you poor fucks that actually wanted to read what I thought of the night…

On arriving at unit11 on Friday, I was worried about having agreed to this assignment… The members of Anti-Retro Vinyl’s were blocking the entrance like a bunch of bouncers.  Where I couldn’t help but notice their ridiculously fucking awesome dress sense. Leather jackets were clearly invented by the coolest motherfuckers to grace the planet. I challenge anyone to disagree. It’s like a glorious upper body covering of pure “Fuck You!” My appreciation for wearing animal skin was short-lived, because arriving at a gig where the only people present are the bands and their friends brought me back to the task set before me. I always arrive slightly late to gigs at least that way there are a few eager drinkers to act as buffers between me and the bands. I think the least interaction between myself and the musicians, is for the best. If I have anything negative to say, at least it won’t come out while I’m drunk and obnoxious and within punching distance. Musicians are so sensitive… So what if I hate your music? Fans aren’t swayed by reviews. They mostly entertain the people who already think you suck.

baby, ugly, cry, musicians, rockstars

this is what i picture when musicians throw a haffy

I hadn’t heard two of the bands, being that they’re from out-of-town and this was their first visit. I also hadn’t bothered to find out who was on when, so I was relieved when the first band did their introduction. I was watching Columbus. I enjoyed the kids who named their band after an Italian explorer who missed his target, and to cover it up renamed a people and spread his filthy religion along with the flu. I couldn’t fault the band’s performance, but the sound guy failed to do his job, because when the guitars were clearly meant to kick in, they stayed well in the back. Despite the sound issues the band managed to deliver a set that deserved a way bigger crowd. To me they were reminiscent of some drugged up 90’s Brit rock with unnecessary guitar breaks. A lot about them kind of said they’re a young band, they still walk awfully close to that line where, when crossed, could make them just another band trying to sound like the radio, and they didn’t seem totally convinced about what they sounded like themselves. I imagine they’d go well as an accompaniment to City Bowl Mizers, vocally they seemed very similar, but more angsty.

Columbus at unit11

Next was another band I didn’t recognise, so I safely assumed that it was Short Straw. If I had to say which SA band had impressed me the most that night, and maybe even this year, I’d have to say it was these guys. Sure they’re doing what a lot of other bands are doing, that indie, folksy, sounds like the Mormons with burning STD’s thing, but they also happen to be a class addition to those bands and manage to throw a bit of an African flavour at it. I dug them so much I got the album and I suggest you do the same… A band that write and perform a song about Keanu Reeves and a song about how you can go fuck yourself, is fucking cool despite not wearing leather. It’s all very well taking yourselves seriously, but it doesn’t mean you can’t entertain your audience with a couple of nonsense songs now and then. They only played 3 shows in 3 days this time round, but if you care to remember, definitely go check them out next time they’re in town.

Short Straw, Unit11, Durban, Johannesburg, South Africa, Live, Music

Short Straw at unit11

Last but not least, The Anti-Retro Vinyls. Clearly the coolest looking band performing on the night. I have to admit that they didn’t really fit the bill. To me at least, The ARV’s are more of a drunk party band that attract nubile young girls and drunks wanting to molest nubile young girls, not hairy dudes in low V-neck shirts who go home alone after the band plays. Basically they are not part of the indie folk scourge that has taken over popular music these days. Looking, part Ramones part The Damned; they deliver a faster-paced, catchy, melodic sing-a-long pop rock, and despite missing their guitarist and front man Greg taking over the six string duties for the night, that’s exactly what they belted from the stage. Admittedly I wanted to start going Oh-oh-oh-oh-ooh with the band, but have far too much dignity. For them to end off the night just didn’t gel. At some gigs, mashing a couple unrelated genres and sounds together can turn out as a pretty well-rounded evening of music. In this case… it wasn’t. The ARV’s set didn’t go down as well as what it should have, and how could it have after watching a band like Short Straw who received a crowd warmed up by Columbus. Despite this gig though, The ARV’s are part of that new wave of Durban bands that could end up being an institution.

anti-retro vinyls, unit11, durban, south africa, live, music

anti retro vinyls at unit11

Not a bad night of music at the soon-to-be dearly departed, Unit11. All the bands were great in their own rights and all of them deserved more attention than they got on the night. All the douche bags that were at the Wave House that night, you deserve every ounce of disappointment for supporting a DJ that can’t use a proper word for a moniker, playing at a mall that manages fuck up every gig they ever host, when a great live music venue was hosting great bands. When will you people learn?

Go check out the bands on facebook.

All photos courtesy (in case you’re too stupid to read)


everybody loves a trainwreck… especially me.

Dear Jesulbub,

I would like to give thanks to you for putting morons on this wet rock called Earth and then letting them loose. Their antics, although infuriating and sometimes scary, at times, offer me great amusement when I need it most. Like just the other day, when I was in the middle of a particularly stressful week, you let one of your many morons skip merrily on to the interwebs and it clicked it’s way on to twitter, where this particular child of yours, managed to fuck up a major international brand’s image for South Africa in the space of one afternoon… I sat in my office and followed the carnage with great interest, and I am thankful for all the laughs as I watched it spiral out of control ending with a big bloody nuclear fallout of an explosion, that was the public’s backlash at stupidity.

Your’s Forever Grateful,

P. Blood

I know I can say some pretty sexist and misogynistic shit on this blog. I am aware of it but I do it anyway. I try to make up for it usually by including some form of apology or admission that I am being a dick… It might not be enough, but then I don’t particularly care if you’re offended. This is a personal blog about nothing, just because I happen to have followers and readers doesn’t make me responsible for anything. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. There are plenty of other yawn worthy blogs to entertain your small minds out there. Even after saying that, there is some stuff I won’t write here or anywhere else for that matter… Like the dumb shit some ass hole, sitting in Durex’s offices somewhere in South Africa, started tweeting. Whoever let this mouth breather near a computer and explained to him (it was definitely a dude. No woman would have made those jokes) how to use twitter, clearly didn’t go as far as explaining what he was doing and the impact it would have if he managed to piss people off. Oh man… Did he piss people off. I have been trying for over a year to get that kind of hatred aimed at me. Clearly, I’ve been doing it wrong. All I need to do is remove my brain, let a 100 chimps shit all over it, stick it back in my head, and let the monkey crap spill out…

Gladly shit on your brain, old chap. But, whatever for?

I like all  social media we have available to us these days. It’s benefits out-weight the negatives by far, but like I explained to some new small-town friends and family, it is still a relatively new technology that we haven’t fully learnt to deal with yet. Our society is still catching up in a way. It is very apparent that not everyone is up to using social media properly, and with the appropriate level of restraint. I have faith though, that one day it will be no more complicated or unfathomable to even the dullest of light bulbs as using a telephone. If anything,  DurexSA’s twitter tragedy, will hopefully be a lesson to others, that letting any old wannabe keyboard jockey that talks a lot, manage your brand’s social media, is not a good idea, because it potentially leads to…

DurexSA gives it a whole new meaning, don't they?


introducing: posts from the toilet

So I finally gave into Mega-Darth-Tron insisting I catch up to the rest of the internet nerds and get a phone that let’s me waste more of my life online. What was the very first thing I did? Take hilarious photos of animals… I’m all kinds of ashamed with myself today. Anyway here’s the photo. Let’s call this the first mobile post and just hope they get better.

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