Remember: 12/05/2008

Iron Man.

That says it all.

He’s a man. And like, made of IRON.

The movie previewed here in SA this last weekend and lived up to everything I thought it would be and more!

I have a very simple system when it comes to reviewing movies.

They either fall into:

1) WATCH IT!!

2) Stay away if you value your masculinity.

3) Wait for it to come on M-Net. Its not worth the R30, but you do get to see boobs.

Iron Man scores a solid WATCH IT!!

Robert Downey Jr has proven that he can put the nose candy down long enough to portray a loveable prick (… or maybe just be himself in front of the camera for a while?).

You’ll never believe that that is REALLY Jeff Bridges on screen.

Sadly there are no boobs in this movie. Not even on Gwyeth Paltrow.

The CGI is seamless. If this movie was made any earlier it would have looked ridiculous.

All I can say is: thank God that there are kids like us who grew up watching the same tv shows that are now in positions of power in Hollywood.

Transformers; now Iron Man and hopefully Robotech!

Its funny how in the movies (i.e. America) you can make a suit of flying robotic armor in your garage, use it, and actually come out of the experience just that much cooler.

Tony Stark is Iron Man

You’d never be able to make said suit of flying robotic armor in your garage here in South Africa.

Superman was powerless against Kryptonite in Metropolis.

Iron Man would be just as powerless against Scrap Metal thieves here in SA.

Anton Sterk is Yster Man

Hey you.

Yes, you.

You look like the kind of person who has…special tastes.

You know what I mean.

A discerning person who has highly….individualized….needs…. No! Hey! Don’t walk away!!

No need to be shy.

We’re all friends here, right?

No, I’m not a cop.

I think I’ve got something you’ll really appreciate. Something REALLY HOT to show you.

Wanna see IT?

Think you can handle IT?

Ok… here we go…

Did that get your motor running??

No?

Well, don’t feel bad. Lots of people feel the same way.

Shame, she looks kind of cold actually.

First of all, she’s none other than Miley Cyrus. That last name sound familiar?

It should, because here’s here papa:

Mullets: The White Man’s Dredds

C’mon. Stop pretending that you don’t know who the dude is. I’ll bet that in the 90’s YOU called up Bob Mabena’s “Pick a Tune” on a Friday night just to request the “Achy Breaky Heart” video. 10 Bucks says you still have that song somewhere on an Audio Casette in a brown cardboard school suitcase in your cupboard.

But back to the action.

Miley Cyrus stars as Miley Stuart, a fictional character, who has an alter ego, a fictional pop star, called Hanna Montana. Hanna Montana is a Disney franchise that is quite big for North American girls aged between 6 and 14.

Lots and lots of Disney soldier-fanatics are up in arms about this photo that appeared in Vanity Fair magazine (The one of the GIRL, not Dad Billy. Focus.)

I struggled to understand WHY some people’d take such offense at what I think is a very well executed photo.

I mean, on first glance, this is a tasteful picture of a rather wind-blown young girl who probably spent some time running around in the rain and is now trying to get warm under a blanket.

However, prudish nay-sayers are wailing that she looks like a kiddy-hooker who’s just woken up after a hard night’s work (hur-hur).

WHAT. UTTER. BULLSHIT.

What fucking planet are you living on?

Was there even HALF as much uproar when this photo came out?

Hermione and her “Goblet of Fire (water)”

If I asked you who was more well known globally: Hermione from the Harry Potter franchise or Hanna Montana, who would you choose?

My money would be on the dronklap here. Yet you don’t see hundreds of little girls downing Coronas just to “be like Hermione”.

The argument of people against the Vanity Fair photo is that it’ll lure young girls into early promiscuity because they’ll be emulating a poor role model.

Ok. If you’re so worried about poor role models, why not protest at nightclub owners throwing hundreds of thousands of Dollars for Paris Hilton to visit their clubs to increase foot traffic? Shouldn’t you be concerned that she’s teaching your little girls that “Whoring Pays?“

And while you’re at it, why not boycott Fergie’s Albums? She’s perpetuating that all too familiar train of thought that “Its ok to aggressively sexually tease guys with your body…but not actually SLEEP with them”. Don’t believe me? Google the lyrics to those songs of hers that your kids sing along to on their Ipods on their way to school in the morning.

Beware, friends. We are heading into a dangerous age of unwarranted censorship and draconian political correctness.

This whole thing worries me because Miley Cyrus actually APOLOGISED for taking the photo. Apologising for taking an artistic photo that was supervised by her parents who were there all the time? Thats like apologising for going to take a dump because the methane generated will widen the Hole in the Ozone!

Think about it. Could you make a movie like Mel Brooks’ Blazing Saddles today without some weedy little activist jumping up and down in protest?

I’d like to physically beat the people who have the gall to confuse a tasteful, non-nude photo of a young girl who stands on the threshold of adulthood… with kiddy porn.

I say this because these are the same people who are fucking up my country because they’re too stupid to tell the difference between corporal punishment and outright abuse.

Before you start gathering in small circles muttering “creative bankruptcy” and hailing my inevitable downfall, let me re-assure you that I’ve not run out of ideas just yet.

Today’s post revolves around teaching you to see the hardcoreness in something which, on first appearance, seems frivolous and silly.

For those of us stuck on the Dial-up Information Super Dirt Road, I’ll provide a brief description of this awesome video.

This is a clip from the movie Kondaveeti Donga featuring Tollywood (movies shot in the Telegu language, second to Bollywood in terms of popularity in India) and star Chiru in a song-dance routine similiar to Michael Jackson’s Thriller music video.

Indian movies get a lot of flak from the unwashed masses. When we go to a Ster Kinekor to watch Daniel Craig screw his way across the world chasing bad guys its all a rather personal affair. We sit in quiet darkness and frown upon inconsiderate people fresh off the farm every time they exclaim “Nee! Dit kannie waar wees nie!” (No, it cannot be true).

The Indian movie experience for the man on the street is far, far removed from what you or I am used to.

For a start, people show up at the movie theatre ALREADY knowing the lyrics to the songs in the movie. You are EXPECTED to stand up and boogie along with the 20 women on the screen who are in high heels performing a fast pace dance that would probably break the ankles of most western women. Its like a being able to jive along to the performers in a musical at the Opera house.

So what makes this video awesome? Firstly, the dude is fat. Ok, so he’s a little more ROBUST than the average Indian male sex symbol (Yup, the movie makes it CLEAR that he’s a sex symbol in his country).

But the dude can boogie.

Watch and practice Kung fu for 12 years and you pick up a thing or two about what it takes to be able to move like our man in red rubber. He is superbly co-ordinated. Especially later on in the video where he does a set of twirls headed in the same direction. He manages to move STRAIGHT forward and maintain a constant spin. That takes some mad skills homes.

Lets not forget the totally synthetic uniform he’s wearing. And it skintight. Not to mention the Mello-Yello contact lenses and Candy Fangs.

The love interest lady in the background spends much of her time scared out of her wits. So scared that she joins in on the Zombie dance without further hesitation.

Oh, and some guy edited the lyrics so it would read as if he were singing gibberish English (as opposed to him singing in Telegu). That made it even more awesome.

Aah, quite the comedy meal. And just because I’m a nice guy, here’s an after dinner mint for you.

It’s self explanatory.

Resolutions? We don’t need no Stinkin’ RESOLUTIONS!!

Resolutions in my mind equate to something that is started with the best of intentions, but that just never takes off.  Like resolving to stop spraying mace into the faces of street children who come up to your open car window.

Did you hear that? I think an angel just died.

If I can’t practice a “resolution” right now, then I’m not going through with it.
Face it, if a resolution is something that has a huge time lag before you can implement it, then its almost guaranteed to fail.

Like resolving to “start that diet next week Monday.”

Or to go to the gym starting “tomorrow”.

One of my goals was to start learning how to play the guitar. So far for the last month, I practice for an hour every night, 5-6 days a week. Sure its LATE at night in a suckproofed area of my house, but at least I’m putting that hour in. The same goes for all my other interests.

So if you had to decide on a theme for every year you lived, I’d name this one “Consistency” and “more fun”. Ok, so its two names. Hey, if Courtney Cox can name her kid “Coco Riley” Arquette, then my year can have two damn names!

I’m still going to aim for the moon. But I’m going to take it one step at a time. And most importantly, TAKE that step every damn day! And have some fun along the way.

Best wishes to all of you for 2008!

Humans love to dance. Whether its to celebrate a shotgun marriage; or to merrily send a tied-up-Obutu over the lip of an active volcano to prevent “Bad Mugumbo”, you can be assured that dance will factor in somewhere.

Dance is SOCIAL.

Its terrible to be the only one at a party and not know how to ‘break it down’.

These poor fellows think that “Y.M.C.A.” is a kak hand of Scrabble

Well, not to worry. Remember that the name of this blog is LESSONS from the world’s most beautiful Chinese man. Not SPECULATIONS from the world’s most beautiful Chinese man.

Never fear when, Greig is here.

Let my Main Man Leroy take you through a few moves:

Pretty soon, you’ll be oozing Cool.

These two ARE a couple. A couple of Baaaaad-Aaaassssses.

I know for a fact that the handsome fellow on the right has gone on to win numerous Dance-Dance Revolution tournaments. He is known only as :“El Bailarín” (The Dancer).

All thanks to me. The guy on the left is INDEED the same guy from the first photo.

Hey, dance will do that to you.

Here’s a Before and After of what dance did for me:

Greig Timkoe: Sexy like a squirrel in heat

Want to be hot like Mike, the unidentified white guy and Me?

Learn to DANCE!

I know it sounds contradictory. But there’s something awfully primal and satisfying about using 21’st century technology to shoot at another human.

Thats why I love Paintball so much. Actually I suppose thats why most men like sports, because of the lack of ambiguity. The whistle blows and there’s one winner and one loser. Simple. Like Knight Rider. You KNEW who was good and who was bad.

Unlike Lost or Battlestar Galactica where good guys can suddenly turn bad overnight.

Because of our global political climate, thats why series like these are popular today, but unlikely to be remembered by future generations.

Not like Star Wars.

Who was the baddie? Its the huge dude in black leather who sounds like he’s got a scuba fetish.

Who was the goodie? Its the kid in the white poncho.

Simple. Just like Paintball.

Some people love Paintball SO much that they cross “the Line”.

“The Line” is present in most sport/leisure activities. Usually they comprise of people who LIVE for their passions. If you’re an avid hiker, they’re usually serious men in their mid to late 30’s who wear their compasses around their necks and dress in really short shorts and long socks. They also usually have a flask of tea strapped to their waists. They believe in the purity of “Orienteering” and sneer at other people out for a weekend stroll.

If you’re into downloading Mames (you know, the computer game emulator that lets you play favorite old arcade classics from your home PC), you’ll cross “The Line” by wanting to join the Mame development team. The people you’ll meet there are all anal retentive, socially inept programmers who would rather change a tiny (but significant) bit of code that fucks the entire game up (rendering it unplayable). All in the name of “Historical Accuracy”.

The slide into paintball madness begins very innocently.

A couple of friends invite you along to play a game. You LOVE it. And in a magical-once-in-a-lifetime moment while lying on your back (wracked by pain) you get an Epiphany.

Its the kind of epiphany that people like lil’ Mikey Jordan got the first time he picked up a basketball; or klein Ryk Neethlingkie got when he fell into the swembad the first time; or when ol Hingis first reached for the nose candy, you realise that THIS IS FOR YOU.

So you rush out and buy the coolest gear you can find. Stuff like a sweet adonised metallic blue marker, complete with a 20 inch Whisper barrel. And a bright, bright outfit that is recockulous in its expensitude. You become the man.

YOU ARE PAINTBALL.

And after your miraculous transformation, you stand in front of the mirror and bask in your glory:

Unpopular Jakkie could only play with the other guys if he wore the “special” shirt

Then you play again and realize that its far better to be heard and not seen. You might look cool in front of the ladies, but peacocks stand OUT in the bush.So, sadly, you trade in your shiny blue gun and your bright Giga-Knight outfit and look for something more suitable.

Like a black gun this time.

And Camo. LOTS of Camo.

Suddenly a strange and exciting new world opens up for you, resplendent with shiny new words like “ACU”; “Digi-Camo”; “Olive drab” and “Woodlands”. Not to mention “Flecktarn” or “Soldier 2000″. You catch yourself walking through Edgars evaluating all the different camo patterns; and beating up kids in Hang Ten because they wouldn’t let go of the last pair of “Digital camo” 3 quarter pants. You go to another Hang Ten store on the same day before the last store can ban you from ALL the outlets to buy another pair of the same “Digital camo” 3 quarter pants, you know, just as a spare.

Then you take both pairs to a seamstress and get her to make 1 pair of full long pants and 1 set of rather large hotpants for your girlfriend/wife. Disturbingly enough you are never more turned on then when she wears them.

And then its battle harnesses and hydro-packs. Combat boots and elbow protectors. Shamaga scarves and Assault harnesses, until finally you look like THIS….

Gert Van Rensberg. Suid Afrika se Rambo.

You play, this time you kick ass. And you love it…

You meet up with like minded individuals and form a team.

You start to read up on military hand signals.

You choose an individual team member nickname, like “Striker” or “Boombox“.

You get a team patch made.

You join a league.

And then you cross “The Line“…

Somehow its not as much fun as you remember it to be. You become obsessed about winning. You find yourself lost in endless accounts of the Tet Offensive during the Vietnam War trying to find new tactics to get an edge. You start referring to your non-paintballing friends as “Civilians”. You never see them anymore because they “Don’t understand”. Because they “were never there”.

Your wife/girlfriend leaves you after you force her to make you a ghillie suit by hand.

Your paintball buddies think you’re taking this WAAY to seriously and stop inviting you to games. But that fine you don’t need them. Then one day you start swearing at a marshal after losing an appeal because some dumb 10 year old kid shot you in the ass when you weren’t looking. You show your displeasure by headbutting the 10 year old kid.

This gets you banned from all the fields in town, but by this time you become “disillusioned” by the sport. You lament the fact that the people you play with “Just aren’t on your level” and that theres “No discipline anymore in society”.

You end your days a miserable old cunt, complaining to anyone who would hear you out and muttering to yourself when there is none.

Well, you still spend MOST of your time in the bush…

Then you decide to take up Rugby…

Why do programs like Baywatch, or Knight Rider, the A-Team for that matter go on to find wider appeal world wide. These programs break the bonds of social and cultural convention to speak to those base emotions common to all humanity. Emotions such as: Lust; Violence; Social Justice; Sex and Thrills. But not with too much complexity, mind you. Murdock from the A-Team was merely “insane”. They never really explored the tradegy of his mental illness.

“So why this sudden bout of uncalled for tenderness, Greig?” I hear you ask. “Do you have a new sweetie? Are you going soft on us?” The answers to those questions are “No” and “No”. I merely put these thoughts before you because I realised that there is a HUGE gap in the local series market, a chance to make some decent money.

Ever tuned into any locally produced series? You soon flip channels faster than an epileptic fry-cook who’s spent 30 years behind the grill.

Why is that? Well, probably because misguided liberals are handing out the cash in a vague attempt to try to “intellectualise” and “understand” what happened to all of us in the past.

Look: Shit happened. But intellectuals often forget the mental resilience of the people who inhabit this continent. People here are TOUGH mentally. They have to be. They don’t crumble after being raped, robbed, stabbed, beaten or all 4 at once.

They simply can’t AFFORD to.

Nowhere is there a better example of forgive-and-forget than the people who I employ in my food business. These are people who are old enough to have a genuine claim to the title of “Victim of Apartheid”. Nothing disgusts me more than a 14 year old loin rat who takes part in a mass riot, wantonly destroying things claiming to be a “freedom fighter” or a “victim of apartheid”. You disgrace all those who have come before you.

The people who work for me acknowledge that a great wrong was done to them. They can recall times so tough that they make even ME blanch. But they also realise that that time has passed and that no amount of grieving can undo all the tradegy that has befallen them in the past. They realise that the only way to move now, is forward. To build a better tomorrow for themselves.

That being said, I noticed that many of the tv programs that captivated me as a child revolved around “Good guys bringing Bad guys to justice” type shows. America during the 80’s struggled with rising crime rates and the populace turned to stories that brought hope, of one day finding people who could bring evildoers to justice.

South Africa is in exactly the same frame of mind now. Why not use concepts from epic 80’s shows and re-interpret them for our modern context?

Lets make shows that will captivate and resonate with a public that is fed-up over crime. Here are a few of my best ideas for shows:

1) The Black Knight Rider

Nolie Damane, a young female black university student is walking home one day, only to be wounded in a hail of gunfire between two rival taxi associations. She wakes up in a private hospital run by the billionaire industrialist, Jakkie Vermeulen, only to find that she is now a paraplegic and will be wheelchair bound for life.

She tries hard to re-habilitate herself through physical therapy, touching the distant Vermeulen with her determination. Vermeulen then offers Nolie a chance to fight crime with his vast wealth working to aid her in her quest for justice.

Vermeulen gives Nolie access to his most secret high tech anti crime project, the Metal Overdrive Turbo Ordinance Recoil Keeper Arresting Revenger One (Or M.O.T.O.R.K.A.R. 1) for short. We learn that Vermeulen’s Right-wing younger brother Jako Vermeulen died in a similar senseless hail of gunfire, thus fueling Jakkie Vermeulen’s desire to bring those responsible to justice. It is this digitised version of Vermeulen’s dead brother that serves as the artificial intelligence Avatar for the M.O.T.O.R.K.A.R.1.

To avoid suspicion, the powerful and hi tech M.O.T.O.R.K.A.R.1 is clad in the black skin of a Toyota-Hi-Ace Mini bus under the guise of a Taxi. But no ordinary Taxi.

Its professional Rockford-Fosgate sound system dampens and distracts observers when the two .50 calibre machine guns mounted behind the headlamps fire.

It also features a 3G wireless internet connection with Vermeulen’s intelligence division, offering on the spot advice and analysis. The ashtray serves as a mobile laboratory able to identify every drug known to man.

Fully bulletproof, and running off a turbo charged bio diesel engine capable of reaching pursuit speeds of up to 400 km per hour, the M.O.T.O.R.K.A.R. 1 is a force to be reckoned with.

Coupled with this, Nolie is given the use of a special wheelchair; capapble of short range flight on jump jets; an accelerated motorised engine capable of accelerating the specially re-inforced chair to speeds of up to 80km per hour; and a special tazer that can kill or stun over short ranges. She is also given a special set of Kevlar riding leathers and a “Smart” helmet capable of projecting video onto the visor. It also serves as a hands free cellphone and two-way radio.

Thus armed Nolie Damane is reborn and will stalk the night, as a Black Knight, to fight crime with the help of the digital ghost of reformed right-winger Jako Vermeulen.

To Be Continued!!

If you were born early enough to remember watching (and REALLY enjoying) the A-Team when it was FIRST broadcast on TV, then you have to face up to the fact that you were a stupid kid.

Damian remarked that “it was a more innocent time” and that “we live in a more cynical time”. I disagree with both those statements. I, WE, were stupid children.

I was idly flipping between channels the other day and came across episode 10 of the first season of the A-Team (on DSTV’s series channel).

What. A. Crock. Of. Shit.

The A-Team: BEE compliant

Consider the main plot for a second:

The A-Team is hired to help a poor farmer and his daughter outwit and vanquish a bunch of thugs who want the said farmer’s land. They do this by preventing the farmer from taking his crop to market by making a roadblock and manning it with rifle-wielding men. If the poor farmer doesn’t get his melons to market then he loses his farm for lack of an income.

That sounds believable. Except it all falls apart on closer inspection.

The said crop is….(wait for it)…..watermelons.

Now watermelons are a fairly valuable commodity. In large numbers.

I had to choke back my incredulity when I watched the A-Team extort 2 trucks from a less then honest trucker and drive them to the farmer’s farm, only to have the farmer’s daughter state:” Why did you steal two trucks? We don’t have that many melons to take to market”.

In the mind’s eye, a truck is a huge 18 wheeled behemoth of metal and rubber. But in this episode of the A-Team, a truck means a little light duty truck, much like a little Isuzu delivery truck that drops off newspapers.

Now lets consider how many melons could go to market. At most you could fit maybe 5 melons in a wooden crate. And you could pack in perhaps a maximum of 250 crates in the back of the truck. That leaves you with 1250 melons in the truck.

In a telephonic conversation in the episode we hear that the melons are selling for 30 US cents each. So that leaves you with a total of $375.

This means one of 2 things:

1) The farmer is on his last legs and $375 will go a long way to saving his farm by helping to reduce his bond.

2) The farmer is actually not doing too badly at all and is just neurotic because he owes the bank $375.

Either way you look at it, this farm is circling the drain. The former because it looks like he only grew 1 kind of crop and he’d have to wait a whole growing season before he could make ANY money again (aside from selling the body of his mildly unattractive daughter. You know the ones I’m talking about, those 80’s women with bad makeup and the suggestion that they didn’t believe in waxing their unmentionables); the latter because if you’re the kind of person who’s going to get worked up over $375, then you’re the kind of person who will most likely (in a few years) blow your head off under a tree outside your house (so as not to leave a mess for your loved ones to clean up) and hang your burial suit up on a convenient branch so that the undertakers won’t have to hunt for something to dress your corpse up in.

At this point my brain started to palpitate and refused to consider the ramifications of my childhood stupidity. But just as we can’t resist stopping at a roadside accident to watch the gory clean-up; I couldn’t turn away from this big steaming pile of shit. Because believe you me, it got WORSE.

Here are a few highlights and why they hurt my soul so:

1) There is a scene where Murdock watches the bad guys building their roadblock.

What’s wrong with this picture: This roadblock is made up of a low wall of hay
bales. This wall barely reached chest height and was made up of a single layer of
bales. Bear in mind that this roadblock is meant to stop a truck.

2) The A-Team inexplicably need to build a “chase car”. This is probably done so that they can play the A-Team theme tune and the audience can watch Mr. T. weld for 5 minutes.

What’s wrong with this picture: Mr. T. is welding “bulletproof” plates onto a little Renault mini “Le Car”. These “bulletproof” sheets are made up of steel so thin that it can be seen to bend in Mr. T’s hands. Steel that thin will have trouble keeping out the wind, let alone bullets! Oh, and none of the plates cover the windows, thus offering virtually no protection to the heads of its passengers.

3) The A-Team pack two bales of hay onto a hastily constructed cargo bay at the back of the chase car. During the chase it is set on fire to make a smoke screen to foil pursuers.

What’s wrong with this picture: They’ve set their own car on fire. The smoke causes Murdock (the driver) to not see a bend in the road and he and Face crash the car.

4) The A-Team use the second truck as a dummy vehicle to fool the bad guys.

What’s wrong with this picture: They insist on packing a single layer of melon crates with melons in them to “fool the bad guys”. Even though it is a closed cargo cabin with no windows to let you see inside the truck. And at this point, every melon they can sell counts!! I’m not even going to bother explaining why this is fundamentally stupid anymore, just keep reading.

5) At the end of the episode the characters comment on how the melons weren’t fresh and had to be sold at under market value.

6) The A-Team took a 20% cut of the melon proceeds as a fee.

7) The A-Team stopped the bad guy by dropping watermelons on his car from a helicopter during a car chase. These inept bad guys were so scared of falling melons that they overturned their car. And once again, they needed EVERY melon they could get to save the farm. Its-called-bricks-or-stones!!

The men manning the roadblocks were expected to stop a fairly heavy vehicle going at top speed with nothing but .22 winchester rifles.

SEE?!! SEE?!! We were stupid children!!!! We never ONCE stopped to question the validity of what the A-Team were doing.

So in conclusion:

The A-Team were willing to put their lives on the line for just $75. They helped a rather stupid farmer prolong his suffering by perhaps another month or so before the bank declared him insolvent. They also messed up a perfectly good Renault just so that the audience could have a quick DIY course on how to turn a car into an armoured vehicle that couldn’t shield its passengers from gravel kicked up by its tyres.

I’m going to read an encyclopaedia now. I suggest you do the same.

Imagine that there was a secret that the South African government didn’t want you to know. Imagine that the secret was hidden in plain sight.

I’ve found that secret, and it is both profound and disturbing.

Riaan Cruywagen, well, at least the Riaan Cruywagen we all see on the SABC Afrikaans news….is a robot.

Wait! Wait! Don’t close the window yet!! Let me explain!!!

It all started one night flipping between channels. By chance I caught the tail end of a SABC Afrikaans news broadcast. And who should be reading it, but a face from my distant childhood: Riaan Cruywagen!

Riaan Cruywagen: Robot in Disguise…

And more than the shock of seeing a comforting old face, was the shock that the face in question hadn’t aged in more than a decade and a half!

Then it hit me: Riaan was a ‘droid.

Now what possible evidence would I have to back this up? Well, for starters he looks YOUNGER now than when I last saw him almost 15 years ago. The hair is exactly the same. Its as if they put him in a Zip-Lock bag every evening to preserve his crunchiness and freshness (I pondered that theory for a second and then promptly dismissed it as “creepy” and “wierd”). His skin tone is far too light for a normal human being.

See, how this came to light is that the real Riaan Cruywagen emigrated to Holland during the unrest in the 1990’s. In an attempt to circumvent the inevitable panic among the population that would follow at the departure of such an august personality, the old South African government developed the “Realistic-Imitation-Amorphous-Android-Nano-Bot” or the “Riaan-Bot” for short. Now they could have Riaan read the news for at least the next 50 years without interruption. Originally built as a series of 10 robots, only one remains. And that one remaining robot is the one we see on TV every night (Unit 10).

The reason why his skin tone is so light is that Unit 1 worked so well that the SABC thought that they would never need more than 5 units. The last 5 weren’t well maintained and were stored on the SABC roof, left to weather the elements on their own. As the first PC’s came out the “Stoned” virus corrupted the operating system of the initial core of 5 robots. When the last 5 robots were recovered from the roof, only 1 remained fully functional (if somewhat bleached). Namely Unit 10.

A very reliable source from the local pub has informed me that a combat function was also built into the Riaan-bots. After all, if you’re going to spend that kind of money developing an android you might as well put a gun on it, right? The Riaan-bot preserves its precious outer skin during battle by transforming into a more utilitarian shape, ready for battle (See image below).

The Riaan-Bot, fully transformed and ready to Rock!

So the question currently on your mind has to be: Whatever happened to the REAL Riaan Cruywagen? Well, he’s currently living a comfortable life in a quiet corner of the Dutch countryside in a palatial estate just outside of Amsterdam with his wife, and is grandpa to many little Riaan-lings. He is able to afford to live on such a huge estate with servants because he struck a deal with the then government to pay him royalties every time they used his “image” on TV.

And that explains why the programming on SABC stays so crappy, even though hundreds of thousands of us pay our TV licenses every year.

All that TV license money goes towards keeping Riaan in clogs.

Rest easy though. Should Zimbabwe ever attempt to invade our fertile shores, you can sleep in peace knowing that the Riaan-Bot will be first in line to defend our democracy, giving the ungodly hordes a facefull of good ‘ole South African Lead!