I found this funny story on www.4x4community.co.za, told by forum member Botsboy:
Sorry, this isn’t a typical trip report, but rather a recounting of a recent experience I had in the *CKGR which I thought I’d share with my fellow forumites.
Feeling all intrepid and bush wise I set off on a 4 night completely solo trip around the *Central Kalahari Game Reserve. I had a great time, there had been a lot of rain so game and predators were prolific. I’d seen cheetah, lion and had a leopard around my camp for two nights (Sunday Pan 03). This alone was pretty interesting as he was the most vocal leopard I’ve ever known. All night and into the mornings this leopard was continually coughing and sawing around camp. Judging from the sound he kept on doing circuits around the site and was probably no more than 50 – 100m away at any given time. Also special was that I was completely alone, the nearest occupied campsite being 20km away. When I asked about this behaviour with a couple of guides when I got home, they told me the likely reason for this behaviour was that he was annoyed by me being in his territory! Whoops. Oh and I say “He” because the tracks through and around camp were very, very large.
Fast forward to my last day... after packing up early to avoid being caught by a storm I left camp around 6am and drove down to Deception Valley proper where my plan was to stop and make tea and a sandwich before leaving the reserve. Driving down I saw lots of lion tracks but little else, a brief circuit of the pan showed up nothing, and after having had such good game viewing previously I wasn't particularly searching for anything. I pulled into an unoccupied campsite (Kgori 2), leapt out of the car, stretched, had a pee, completely un stressed about anything. Then I strolled round to the back of the bakkie (truck), opened the tailgate and started pulling out gas bottles, tuck boxes etc and busied myself making tea and a sandwich.
At some point something made me look up and coming towards the front of the bakkie was a full grown male Kalahari lion. Okay, he saw me, I saw him, I just stayed calm. He stopped and sat down a few metres from the driver’s door. No worries I thought knowing that if he caused trouble, I’d simply slip round to the left of the car and jump in the passenger side. So, having sorted out my retreat and with one eye on Mr Lion I carried on making my tea. At this time I heard a vehicle approach from behind me and turned slightly to see it was a game viewing vehicle from one of the lodges. Paying them little attention I carried on with my task when all of a sudden a piercing high pitched (male) German scream of “Lion, Ze Lion ist HERE!!!” broke the silence. Figuring “ze German” had just spotted “my lion” I carried on spreading my bread, checking my tea (cool collected bush savvy AFRIKA MAN that I am), only to be disturbed by an even HIGHER pitched screech from self same German man. “Ze lion ZE LION, watch out ZE LION!!!” which I found vaguely annoying until.... I suddenly realised that Mr German was not pointing at “my lion”. He was in fact pointing at another Mr Lion who was casually approaching me from the passenger side of my car...it was at this point that perhaps a little bit of pooh came out...
So stuck between a Lion on the right and an approaching lion on the left, blocking my retreat, I no longer felt like Mr cool, calm collected bush savvy AFRIKA MAN. However I somehow remained cool calm and collected, spreading my sandwich (for about the 100th time) knowing that - no matter how tempting it seemed right then - running and screaming like a little girl was not the solution to this particular problem. Fortunately for me at the very last moment the lion on the left turned and ambled past the front of the vehicle, brushing it hard enough to make it sway, joined his companion and off the two went, leaving behind a somewhat rattled camper, an astonished German, and a heavily buttered sandwich.
Moral of the story? Never let your guard down in the bush, listen to German tourists (might battle with this one), keep calm and most importantly, feel privileged to be able to have these experiences. Oh yes and always carry your camera with you, I’d left mine on the front seat hence no pics. Now if only I could trace the German, he must have some interesting ones...!
What to do when neither flight nor fight is an option... This reminds me of the story of Terry the Lion which I will tell in a next post.
Take care.
Thursday 27 March 2014
Friday 21 March 2014
Remebering the great Ayrton Senna
Born on this day in 1960 in Sao Paulo, the World received arguably the greatest and most famous racing driver of all time. Most F1 drivers list him as the best in their view and he is still held in the highest esteem 20 years after his untimely death. Though racing was his life, there was much more to this master than just that.
Image courtesy of Wikipedia
Ayrton Senna
21 March 1960 - 1 May 1994
To be able to deliver the results he did means that a driver has to possess great mental capacity added to a number of great physical attributes. Most in professional sports have this, but some remain a cut above the rest. We see this in many sports today, with one athlete who stands above the others. Think of Tiger Woods, Carl Fogarty and Mick Doohan. Few people are aware of his lack of motor coordination as a child, making his accomplishments all the more legendary. He showed good athletic ability and possessed a good understanding of mechanics, as his ability to change motor gears without the use of a clutch showed.
His involvement in motor racing started at age 4, when he was introduced to karting by his father who built him his first kart. He progressed to open-wheeled cars and progressed through the various formulas on his way to F1. He made his F1 debut in front of his home crowd in Rio. Senna was known for his tremendous car control, especially on a wet track. He seemed fearless as he attacked corners and took risks others wouldn't. He knew the limits of the car and he was well aware of his own, but he never backed off, relying instead on instinct than consciousness. It was as though the car had become an extension of himself. He mastered his art in the same way a warrior would master his, making the weapon an extended limb rather than a tool in the hand. Watch the video below to see his control and reflexes:
His involvement in motor racing started at age 4, when he was introduced to karting by his father who built him his first kart. He progressed to open-wheeled cars and progressed through the various formulas on his way to F1. He made his F1 debut in front of his home crowd in Rio. Senna was known for his tremendous car control, especially on a wet track. He seemed fearless as he attacked corners and took risks others wouldn't. He knew the limits of the car and he was well aware of his own, but he never backed off, relying instead on instinct than consciousness. It was as though the car had become an extension of himself. He mastered his art in the same way a warrior would master his, making the weapon an extended limb rather than a tool in the hand. Watch the video below to see his control and reflexes:
Racing, of course is what Senna was most famous for, but he became a Brazilian national hero for more reasons than that. Poverty is as great in Brazil as it is anywhere else in the World, and children often suffer the most. Brazil has a large number of homeless children living on the streets. Senna had great compassion in general, on and off the track, none more so than for the masses of poverty stricken children. In 1994 he discussed helping the many children in his home country with his sister. He was in Europe at the time and they were to make work of it upon his return. His sister started the Senna foundation in his honour, as he never returned home. He died in Imola on 1 May in a horrific crash, a day after Roland Ratzenberger passed away in the same manner. As he passed the F1 baton to Michael Schumacher, so he passed the baton of compassion to his sister and as a result around two million children today benefit from his dream.
1 million people attended his funeral. His coffin bearers were some of the Motorsport Greats. His name is carried on by the many companies who promote it, including Honda, Ducati, TAG Heuer and Hublot, but it is in the hearts and minds of the millions of fans that Ayrton Senna da Silva will live on.
He would have turned 54 today.
Thursday 20 March 2014
The Army days, Part 2 - Preparing for the future
In my last post I wrote about the first year of voluntary Military service after conscription into the South African Armed Forces had ended. These were changing times as Nelson Mandela and other political prisoners were released, Apartheid had ended and the country was gearing up for its first democratic elections. The war in Angola had ended and all Military personnel called back. The war was over, but the threats were still real as the political situation was volatile at that time. We had to adapt to new methods as the threat moved from the fighter in the jungle to the 'destabilizer' in the crowd.
This was the purpose of the counter-insurgency training we received, named COIN Urban.
We were taught the principle of minimum force, allowing people the freedom to express their views and feelings in protest while keeping them and others safe from those who wished to bring chaos and violence, hidden in the crowds. It was not specialized training, but merely the very basics of crowd control and dispersion in case of incidents. We relied more on a show of force than anything else, presenting a united front of likeminded soldiers in complete control of the situation. We used the R4 rifle again, but the amount of ammunition was severely limited as to not let any situation get out of control and turn into something regrettable, like the Marikana incident proved. Our marksmanship had to be near perfect and we practiced hitting moving targets on the rifle range. We were presented with a number of unmarked moving targets, and these were never to receive any hits. There would then appear a marked target and it would be moved amongst the others. The target was then identified by the instructor in charge and we would fire away as per his command. The targets were then inspected for wounds and the necessary corrective training implemented (Running, crawling, puking).
We had to be perfect. The elections were to be held in April of '94 and there was no time for playing around. They were about to release us to our duty and we could not afford to be lacking in any areas.
Teargas is heavily relied on in governing the behavior of the masses and so we were trained in the use of them. This was much less fun then the work done on the range.
The first time we encountered teargas was when our instructors told us that we had to know what the effects of the gas had on the human body. This meant one thing and one thing only, we had to be gassed! And so we were. The trick with a filtered gas mask is to make sure it fits tight and then, and most importantly, to stay calm. Air is sucked into the mask through its filtration device and cleared of pollutants so that one can breathe. But wearing them is quite a hassle as they do make breathing more of an effort, as our PT sessions showed. Basically, if you don't suck hard enough you can't breathe, if you suck too hard you suck all that nasty gas right into the mask and can not breathe.
The first time was hectic. We were made to sit down together and subsequently pelted with gas grenades. It was total chaos. Guys were running in all directions, trying to get the masks off their faces. It burnt like fire! We had to sit down again for another run, as we obviously and miserably failed the first. This time I stayed calm. I closed my eyes, tried to discard the sounds of chaos all around me and just sat there breathing easy. It got so calm, in fact, that at one stage I heard Sgt. Pedro yelling at me from a distance: "Bouwer, are you going to join us at some stage!?" I looked up and saw that the squad had formed up, ready to move out. I had gotten so quiet and relaxed I didn't even realize we were done. I aced it!
Further training focused on vehicle movement. The Buffel armoured personnel carrier was used for rapid debussing and movement. This was a tricky fellow, as it was not meant for this type of application, but was still very useful due to its height. This made getting in and out somewhat difficult with a rifle and a mask, but it was a necessary skill to master.
This was the purpose of the counter-insurgency training we received, named COIN Urban.
We were taught the principle of minimum force, allowing people the freedom to express their views and feelings in protest while keeping them and others safe from those who wished to bring chaos and violence, hidden in the crowds. It was not specialized training, but merely the very basics of crowd control and dispersion in case of incidents. We relied more on a show of force than anything else, presenting a united front of likeminded soldiers in complete control of the situation. We used the R4 rifle again, but the amount of ammunition was severely limited as to not let any situation get out of control and turn into something regrettable, like the Marikana incident proved. Our marksmanship had to be near perfect and we practiced hitting moving targets on the rifle range. We were presented with a number of unmarked moving targets, and these were never to receive any hits. There would then appear a marked target and it would be moved amongst the others. The target was then identified by the instructor in charge and we would fire away as per his command. The targets were then inspected for wounds and the necessary corrective training implemented (Running, crawling, puking).
We had to be perfect. The elections were to be held in April of '94 and there was no time for playing around. They were about to release us to our duty and we could not afford to be lacking in any areas.
Teargas is heavily relied on in governing the behavior of the masses and so we were trained in the use of them. This was much less fun then the work done on the range.
The first time we encountered teargas was when our instructors told us that we had to know what the effects of the gas had on the human body. This meant one thing and one thing only, we had to be gassed! And so we were. The trick with a filtered gas mask is to make sure it fits tight and then, and most importantly, to stay calm. Air is sucked into the mask through its filtration device and cleared of pollutants so that one can breathe. But wearing them is quite a hassle as they do make breathing more of an effort, as our PT sessions showed. Basically, if you don't suck hard enough you can't breathe, if you suck too hard you suck all that nasty gas right into the mask and can not breathe.
The first time was hectic. We were made to sit down together and subsequently pelted with gas grenades. It was total chaos. Guys were running in all directions, trying to get the masks off their faces. It burnt like fire! We had to sit down again for another run, as we obviously and miserably failed the first. This time I stayed calm. I closed my eyes, tried to discard the sounds of chaos all around me and just sat there breathing easy. It got so calm, in fact, that at one stage I heard Sgt. Pedro yelling at me from a distance: "Bouwer, are you going to join us at some stage!?" I looked up and saw that the squad had formed up, ready to move out. I had gotten so quiet and relaxed I didn't even realize we were done. I aced it!
Further training focused on vehicle movement. The Buffel armoured personnel carrier was used for rapid debussing and movement. This was a tricky fellow, as it was not meant for this type of application, but was still very useful due to its height. This made getting in and out somewhat difficult with a rifle and a mask, but it was a necessary skill to master.
Buffel APC (Image courtesy of Wikipedia)
Our training complete, we were deemed ready for the election process. We would be posted into several rural communities ensuring trouble-free elections, and after that we would be called into service again during the inauguration of the new President. More about that in Part 3.
Take care...
Tuesday 18 March 2014
The Army days, Part 1 - Basics
I was driving home after work and passed through Military Headquarters in Pretoria when I saw the truck and gun carriage used with Nelson Mandela's funeral. I drove through the area of my old Unit and enjoyed reminiscing the old Army days. I thought back to my days as a young 'Private' in the SADF.
I grew up during a very hostile time in South Africa. A war was being fought and the threat of terrorism saw our schools at times surrounded by police officers and soldiers watching over us. Some of our teachers were called up to active duty during this time.
During the South African Border War, conscription was introduced whereby all white young men had to enlist for military service. Once you turned 16 years of age you received your first Identity Document and were assigned to a Military Unit. I can not for the life of me remember which unit I was assigned to, but in 1993 conscription was done away with. That was my last year of school and all my class mates were stoked at not having to enlist. I on the other hand envisioned myself as a professional soldier, so I applied for acceptance into the Armed Forces and received my 'call-up' to the Personnel Services School close to home. Personnell Services is responsible for the administration and financial oversight of the SA Army. This is where Arnold Vosloo acted in his first movie, Boetie gaan Border toe. (Little Brother goes to Border - according to Wikipedia's translation) That is my claim to fame, that I slept in the same barracks as Arnold Vosloo did.
Call-up orders were to gather at the Voortrekkerhoogte City Hall where all recruits were dispatched to their training units. This was February of 1994, 20 years ago. We were rounded up by a 6'7 monster of a man with the voice of a volcanic eruption and we soon realized that the road ahead was going to be an unpleasant one. He marched us across the road to our barracks where we were issued with kit and bedding and told to get settled in. We were excited as ours were the first intake of men of black, white and brown orientation. We quickly made friends and settled in nicely, though we found it extremely difficult later on to fit in with each other's cultures and traditions. Those were the early days of Democracy in South Africa, so we had to feel it out.
The first order of business was to be taught the Military disciplines of marching, parade-ground drills, guard duty as well as lectures on warfare, riflery and combat maneuvers. We were taught the different basic infantry weapons like the R4 assault rifle, Light Machine Gun (FN MAG) and the Multiple Grenade Launcher. These were still classroom activities up to this point. Physical training and discipline were areas of focus, which meant that we had regular inspections of our living quarters and our kit. Inspections mostly took place at 05:00, an hour before breakfast, giving our instructors a good 60 minutes to start the day with a thorough PT session. Then there were the surprise inspections that could come at any time, but were mostly conducted between 21:00 and 04:00. These were always failed and ended up in what is known in Military terms as 'corrective training', also known in civilian circles as 'severe punishment'. This was when irritable instructors got to take out their frustrations on us and it always followed the same pattern... running, crawling, puking. There were also the dreaded shower parades where our levels of hygiene could be monitored. For these we had to stand to attention, towel draped over the left shoulder and shower bag in the left hand, wearing nothing but the standard issue Army undies. Unfortunately our bathrooms were adjacent to the perimeter fence that was across the main road and in full public view.
Our next training phase was a method known as COIN Urban. As the war had ended and the focus moved to internal stability, the requirement of the Army changed and we had to be skilled likewise. This was right before the Democratic Elections of '94, when everything in South Africa changed. More about this in Part 2.
Greetings.
I grew up during a very hostile time in South Africa. A war was being fought and the threat of terrorism saw our schools at times surrounded by police officers and soldiers watching over us. Some of our teachers were called up to active duty during this time.
During the South African Border War, conscription was introduced whereby all white young men had to enlist for military service. Once you turned 16 years of age you received your first Identity Document and were assigned to a Military Unit. I can not for the life of me remember which unit I was assigned to, but in 1993 conscription was done away with. That was my last year of school and all my class mates were stoked at not having to enlist. I on the other hand envisioned myself as a professional soldier, so I applied for acceptance into the Armed Forces and received my 'call-up' to the Personnel Services School close to home. Personnell Services is responsible for the administration and financial oversight of the SA Army. This is where Arnold Vosloo acted in his first movie, Boetie gaan Border toe. (Little Brother goes to Border - according to Wikipedia's translation) That is my claim to fame, that I slept in the same barracks as Arnold Vosloo did.
Call-up orders were to gather at the Voortrekkerhoogte City Hall where all recruits were dispatched to their training units. This was February of 1994, 20 years ago. We were rounded up by a 6'7 monster of a man with the voice of a volcanic eruption and we soon realized that the road ahead was going to be an unpleasant one. He marched us across the road to our barracks where we were issued with kit and bedding and told to get settled in. We were excited as ours were the first intake of men of black, white and brown orientation. We quickly made friends and settled in nicely, though we found it extremely difficult later on to fit in with each other's cultures and traditions. Those were the early days of Democracy in South Africa, so we had to feel it out.
The first order of business was to be taught the Military disciplines of marching, parade-ground drills, guard duty as well as lectures on warfare, riflery and combat maneuvers. We were taught the different basic infantry weapons like the R4 assault rifle, Light Machine Gun (FN MAG) and the Multiple Grenade Launcher. These were still classroom activities up to this point. Physical training and discipline were areas of focus, which meant that we had regular inspections of our living quarters and our kit. Inspections mostly took place at 05:00, an hour before breakfast, giving our instructors a good 60 minutes to start the day with a thorough PT session. Then there were the surprise inspections that could come at any time, but were mostly conducted between 21:00 and 04:00. These were always failed and ended up in what is known in Military terms as 'corrective training', also known in civilian circles as 'severe punishment'. This was when irritable instructors got to take out their frustrations on us and it always followed the same pattern... running, crawling, puking. There were also the dreaded shower parades where our levels of hygiene could be monitored. For these we had to stand to attention, towel draped over the left shoulder and shower bag in the left hand, wearing nothing but the standard issue Army undies. Unfortunately our bathrooms were adjacent to the perimeter fence that was across the main road and in full public view.
Our next training phase was a method known as COIN Urban. As the war had ended and the focus moved to internal stability, the requirement of the Army changed and we had to be skilled likewise. This was right before the Democratic Elections of '94, when everything in South Africa changed. More about this in Part 2.
Greetings.
Destroy the mind, destroy the body, but you can not destroy the heart!
I just read on Facebook of a neglected dog in Taiwan, so neglected and diseased that they could not even establish his breed.
He was taken in and nursed back to health. To everybody's amazement, he was not a Mastiff as first thought, but a very sweet and beautiful Rottweiler. His new owner named him Tiny and after he had made a full recovery he was entered into a dog show and won. The transformation is simply unbelievable.
You can read the full story here. This displays an incredible will to live and makes for a true heart warming story. We need more of these.
He was taken in and nursed back to health. To everybody's amazement, he was not a Mastiff as first thought, but a very sweet and beautiful Rottweiler. His new owner named him Tiny and after he had made a full recovery he was entered into a dog show and won. The transformation is simply unbelievable.
You can read the full story here. This displays an incredible will to live and makes for a true heart warming story. We need more of these.
Monday 3 March 2014
A tribute to comedian Mitch Hedberg
Last week would have seen the Birthday of Mitch Hedberg, one of the best comedians I have ever seen. It is accustomary to remember a person on the day he or she passed away, but I will do things somewhat differently. I will commemorate some of my most favourite people on the day they were given to us, rather then the day they left us. That being said, here is my tribute to Mitchell Lee Hedberg.
He would have been 46 on 24 February this year, but he sadly passed away in 2005 at age 37 of a drug overdose.
I have grown quite fond of him in recent times, the Kurt Cobain look-alike with the blue shades and timid personality. Shy and reserved by nature, he would often hide behind the microphone or have his hair cover his face in front of an audience. At times his eyes darted across the room in an attempt to not make eye contact with the crowd, but he always delivered the goods. He made it ok to be shy and still be successful, even if that meant standing in front of thousands and be laughed at. His personality is what drew people to like him. He sometimes laughed at himself and that made people love him more. He had somewhat of a cult following, seeing that he was not arrogant in any way but still managed to produce some of the most provocative and thought provoking ideas in comedy.
He delivered his comedy in mostly one-liners, much like Stephen Wright does. He noticed certain things that most others see and do in everyday life, but don't take notice of. He certainly had a very fine eye for the usually unusual.
~The depressing thing about tennis is that no matter how good I get, I will never be as good as a wall.
An escalator can never break. It can only become stairs.
I wanted to buy a candle holder but the store didn't have one, so I got a cake.
People tell me how hard it is to stop smoking. It's as hard as it is to start flossing.
I was standing by a casino door when the security guard came to me and said: "you've gotta move, you're blocking the fire exit", as though if their was a fire I wasn't going to run. If you're flammable and have legs, you are never blocking a fire exit.
When someone hands me a flyer, it's like they're saying: "here, you throw this away".~
Sometimes he said things that made sense in such a way that they made sense even more... or even less, depending on how quick you could think on your feet.
~I used to do drugs. I still do, but I used to, too.
I haven't slept for ten days, because that would be too long.
I got an ant farm. Those fellows didn't grow sh*t.
I was going to get my teeth whitened, but then I said: "f*ck that, I'll get a tan instead".
One time this guy handed me a picture of him and he said: "here's a picture of me when I was younger." Every picture is of you when you were younger.
Alcoholism is a disease, but it's the only disease you can get yelled at for having.~
His stage presence was very laid back and his manner of speech slow and drawn out. He sounded like someone who had had a couple of drinks, which I suppose is why people liked him so much. It was like every other Friday night at the club, sitting around, chatting to your friends over a cold beer. He had a certain familiarity about him, like the guy next door. People could identify with him.
There aren't too many comedians with his style around, Stephen Wright being the only other one that comes to mind, and there aren't that many with his presence and personality. He will be remembered for a long time to come by the many who adored him.
Here are a few more of his quirky sayings:
~I want to rob a bank with a BB gun. "Give me all your money, or I will give you a dimple. I will be rich, you will be cute. We both win."
~I saw a wino eating grapes, I said: "Dude, you've got to wait."
~I wanna hang a map of the world on my wall, then I'm gonna put pins in all the places I have travelled to. But first I have to travel to the top two corners of the map, or else it will fall down.
~You should never tell someone they have a nice dimple. Maybe they were shot in the face with a BB gun.
~I can't wear a regular T-shirt because it hurts. I especially can not wear a turtle-neck. Wearing a turtle-neck is like being strangled by a really weak guy... all day. If you were wearing a turtle-neck and a back pack, it's like a weak midget trying to bring you down.
~I know a lot about cars. I can look at a car's head lights and tell you exactly which way it's coming.
~Rice is great if you're hungry and want 2000 of something.
~I don't have a girlfriend, but I know a girl who'd get really mad if she heard me say that.
~My belt holds my pants up, but my belt loops hold my belt up. So who's the real hero down there?
~ I wrote a script and I gave it to a guy who reads scripts. He said he really liked it, but he thought I should rewrtie it. I said: "f*ck that, I'll just make a copy".
Image courtesy of Wikipedia
Mitch Hedberg
24 February 1968 - 29 March 2005
24 February 1968 - 29 March 2005
He would have been 46 on 24 February this year, but he sadly passed away in 2005 at age 37 of a drug overdose.
I have grown quite fond of him in recent times, the Kurt Cobain look-alike with the blue shades and timid personality. Shy and reserved by nature, he would often hide behind the microphone or have his hair cover his face in front of an audience. At times his eyes darted across the room in an attempt to not make eye contact with the crowd, but he always delivered the goods. He made it ok to be shy and still be successful, even if that meant standing in front of thousands and be laughed at. His personality is what drew people to like him. He sometimes laughed at himself and that made people love him more. He had somewhat of a cult following, seeing that he was not arrogant in any way but still managed to produce some of the most provocative and thought provoking ideas in comedy.
He delivered his comedy in mostly one-liners, much like Stephen Wright does. He noticed certain things that most others see and do in everyday life, but don't take notice of. He certainly had a very fine eye for the usually unusual.
~The depressing thing about tennis is that no matter how good I get, I will never be as good as a wall.
An escalator can never break. It can only become stairs.
I wanted to buy a candle holder but the store didn't have one, so I got a cake.
People tell me how hard it is to stop smoking. It's as hard as it is to start flossing.
I was standing by a casino door when the security guard came to me and said: "you've gotta move, you're blocking the fire exit", as though if their was a fire I wasn't going to run. If you're flammable and have legs, you are never blocking a fire exit.
When someone hands me a flyer, it's like they're saying: "here, you throw this away".~
Sometimes he said things that made sense in such a way that they made sense even more... or even less, depending on how quick you could think on your feet.
~I used to do drugs. I still do, but I used to, too.
I haven't slept for ten days, because that would be too long.
I got an ant farm. Those fellows didn't grow sh*t.
I was going to get my teeth whitened, but then I said: "f*ck that, I'll get a tan instead".
One time this guy handed me a picture of him and he said: "here's a picture of me when I was younger." Every picture is of you when you were younger.
Alcoholism is a disease, but it's the only disease you can get yelled at for having.~
His stage presence was very laid back and his manner of speech slow and drawn out. He sounded like someone who had had a couple of drinks, which I suppose is why people liked him so much. It was like every other Friday night at the club, sitting around, chatting to your friends over a cold beer. He had a certain familiarity about him, like the guy next door. People could identify with him.
There aren't too many comedians with his style around, Stephen Wright being the only other one that comes to mind, and there aren't that many with his presence and personality. He will be remembered for a long time to come by the many who adored him.
Here are a few more of his quirky sayings:
~I want to rob a bank with a BB gun. "Give me all your money, or I will give you a dimple. I will be rich, you will be cute. We both win."
~I saw a wino eating grapes, I said: "Dude, you've got to wait."
~I wanna hang a map of the world on my wall, then I'm gonna put pins in all the places I have travelled to. But first I have to travel to the top two corners of the map, or else it will fall down.
~You should never tell someone they have a nice dimple. Maybe they were shot in the face with a BB gun.
~I can't wear a regular T-shirt because it hurts. I especially can not wear a turtle-neck. Wearing a turtle-neck is like being strangled by a really weak guy... all day. If you were wearing a turtle-neck and a back pack, it's like a weak midget trying to bring you down.
~I know a lot about cars. I can look at a car's head lights and tell you exactly which way it's coming.
~Rice is great if you're hungry and want 2000 of something.
~I don't have a girlfriend, but I know a girl who'd get really mad if she heard me say that.
~My belt holds my pants up, but my belt loops hold my belt up. So who's the real hero down there?
~ I wrote a script and I gave it to a guy who reads scripts. He said he really liked it, but he thought I should rewrtie it. I said: "f*ck that, I'll just make a copy".
This will blow your hair back
We all love our music, but every one-in-a-while something spectacular comes along. I have added the videos for easier viewing.
Ever heard of Croatian duo 2 Cellos? They are making classical downright cool! Watch their version of Smells like teen spirit.
And then there was this audition on The Voice by Sarah Simmons, One of us. Unfortunately this video was removed by NBC.
One of my all-time favourites. Metallica performing 'One' with the San Francisco Symphony in 1999.
Wow, and that's all she wrote.
Ever heard of Croatian duo 2 Cellos? They are making classical downright cool! Watch their version of Smells like teen spirit.
And then there was this audition on The Voice by Sarah Simmons, One of us. Unfortunately this video was removed by NBC.
One of my all-time favourites. Metallica performing 'One' with the San Francisco Symphony in 1999.
Wow, and that's all she wrote.
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