Al Prodgers Comedy
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BLOG: Summer Holiday
It’s very very close now. The prospect of the summer holiday has me salivating like a Boerboel about to knock over a small, fat kid for his ice cream cone. My fractionally owned piece of holiday heaven is just a short trip away. Unfortunately it’s down the satanic alimentary canal that is the N3 highway. There’ll probably be a few unpleasant incidents on the road when testosterone and a GP number plate demand a duel, but soon I’ll be able to forget the traffic and Zzzz… Waking only when the pristine bushveld reverberates with the sound of fellow Joburgers on quad bikes. In the outdoors I can watch troupes of baboons congregating to watch lower life forms watching “National Geographic” in locked, air conditioned caravans. Nearby there’ll be a beach where penguins lucky enough to have survived nitwit sailors unable to miss Africa with a ship, will negotiate Coco-Pine sunscreen slicks or be bonked on the head by runaway noodly pool toys. For me, December the 16th is the starters pistol that signals the holiday season has begun. Renamed the Day of Reconciliation, it’s a day rooted in our violent past, originally commemorating the flames and smoke of the battle of Blood River. Sigh. If only our forefathers on both sides had inhaled deeply while the Kwazulu-Natal bush was burning, we might have been an altogether more laid-back country. But enough history. Before we go, it’s time to buy stuff. Santa doesn’t really bring gifts anymore, he sits in the mall, sweating under his asbestos fibre beard. A stop at his chair can be educational for your children when they see the guy in the red fur drop like a rock from heat exhaustion. Nothing like billions of disappointed, screaming kids to finally concentrate some attention on the problems of global warming. The sound of carols fills what passes for the air in shopping malls. I like traditional Christmas songs, but I could do without the modern background “music” that’s supposed to goad me into spending more. Can we agree that Metallica’s greatest hits chanted by Gregorian monks doesn’t fill me with yuletide cheer? Okey dokey? Buying presents is sort of mandatory, because the festive season is all about the spirit of giving, and if your colleagues have no imagination, the giving of spirits. Do we have to celebrate the time of peace by handing out the gift of karate- water? The idiot, macho, drunk-driving attitude of “I’m too pretzeled to blow into the bag, so I’ll breathe into my tank” is luckily going out of fashion. If you think your timeshare resort is hellish, try a holding cell. Nowadays every alcohol company wants us to drink responsibly anyway. Somebody must have borrowed the idea from the casinos that advise us to gamble with our heads and not our hearts. I’ve tried both but they insisted I use money. I’m starting to ramble. I’m hallucinating about peaceful days in the sun, daydreaming about the new car I’m going to buy to replace the one that’s probably being stolen in the parking lot while we picnic.  A fantastic festive season to you all!
29th October 2011
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BLOG: Summer Holiday
It’s very very close now. The prospect of the summer holiday has me salivating like a Boerboel about to knock over a small, fat kid for his ice cream cone. My fractionally owned piece of holiday heaven is just a short trip away. Unfortunately it’s down the satanic alimentary canal that is the N3 highway. There’ll probably be a few unpleasant incidents on the road when testosterone and a GP number plate demand a duel, but soon I’ll be able to forget the traffic and Zzzz… Waking only when the pristine bushveld reverberates with the sound of fellow Joburgers on quad bikes. In the outdoors I can watch troupes of baboons congregating to watch lower life forms watching “National Geographic” in locked, air conditioned caravans. Nearby there’ll be a beach where penguins lucky enough to have survived nitwit sailors unable to miss Africa with a ship, will negotiate Coco-Pine sunscreen slicks or be bonked on the head by runaway noodly pool toys. For me, December the 16th is the starters pistol that signals the holiday season has begun. Renamed the Day of Reconciliation, it’s a day rooted in our violent past, originally commemorating the flames and smoke of the battle of Blood River. Sigh. If only our forefathers on both sides had inhaled deeply while the Kwazulu-Natal bush was burning, we might have been an altogether more laid-back country. But enough history. Before we go, it’s time to buy stuff. Santa doesn’t really bring gifts anymore, he sits in the mall, sweating under his asbestos fibre beard. A stop at his chair can be educational for your children when they see the guy in the red fur drop like a rock from heat exhaustion. Nothing like billions of disappointed, screaming kids to finally concentrate some attention on the problems of global warming. The sound of carols fills what passes for the air in shopping malls. I like traditional Christmas songs, but I could do without the modern background “music” that’s supposed to goad me into spending more. Can we agree that Metallica’s greatest hits chanted by Gregorian monks doesn’t fill me with yuletide cheer? Okey dokey? Buying presents is sort of mandatory, because the festive season is all about the spirit of giving, and if your colleagues have no imagination, the giving of spirits. Do we have to celebrate the time of peace by handing out the gift of karate-water? The idiot, macho, drunk-driving attitude of “I’m too pretzeled to blow into the bag, so I’ll breathe into my tank” is luckily going out of fashion. If you think your timeshare resort is hellish, try a holding cell. Nowadays every alcohol company wants us to drink responsibly anyway. Somebody must have borrowed the idea from the casinos that advise us to gamble with our heads and not our hearts. I’ve tried both but they insisted I use money. I’m starting to ramble. I’m hallucinating about peaceful days in the sun, daydreaming about the new car I’m going to buy to replace the one that’s probably being stolen in the parking lot while we picnic.  A fantastic festive season to you all!
29th October 2011