RSLJ: Article 5 Perception or Deception.

In order to achieve the rockstar pecuniary status required in later life, my current academic commitments, such as they are, have retarded my recent posting ability. I have desired for some time to prove an, as yet, unverified theory and have sherlocked (sir doyleism) onto an instance of truth that should confirm it. Given the study break I find myself in, I feel it an injustice not to go ahead and prove this theory.

You diligent rockstar readers out there will be familiar with the idea that ‘when it rains it pours’ and you not utterly obtuse people out there will be familiar with the truth that girls get attracted to guys who have girlfriends. The Theory is that girls go for a guy cause of his ‘vibe’. Like the word sturdy, ‘vibe’ is a strong word except it is strong in relevance not in meaning.

I feel it is a word that I am as present too much of a literary neophyte to attempt to define in depth so you will have to do with an analogy: "A man’s vibe to a woman is akin to dog’s inherent desire to chase a moving car." The mutt has no clue why it has the urge or what it is going to do if it catches it but it is dead set urged on doing so.

Actually that is a crap analogy as the said woman is totally mindful of her intentions upon catching her man and more important she hopefully doesn’t look like a canine. Anyway the point is girls love that intangible thing that a guy ‘throws out there’! [vibe talk] This is the reason that chicks love a guy that already has a girlfriend, that and they are two-faced, lying crackwhores…I digress.

So here is my proof that this vibe thing is undeniable:

My mate Joey has this mate. Let’s call him Craig, wait that is his name so it would ruin my pseudonym, so for the sake of being mysterious, let’s call him Vince.

Vince is a good-looking guy. He is tall, handsome, long, intelligent, a good listener, plays the guitar and can pass both ways. He is an absolute catch but has never been hit on like a short ball from a slow bowler. Vince got himself a girlfriend. She was a horrible little wench of a cretin but she did two things to Vinny both which were to his advantage. She rode him like the Cobra at Ratanga and she changed his ‘vibe’.


Vince dumped the little nymph like 3 weeks ago and his vibe has undergone a transformation that would make Evita Bezuidenhout jealous. Random girls will come up to him and flock him when we go out. (they used to flock his better-vibed mates but no longer) They would shower him with compliments, baits, propositions and the lure of an exclusive viewing of their La Senza collections.

More substantial proof however has been amongst girls that knew Vince before the accelerated vibe growth. Totally unable, or just plain too stupid, girls couldn’t admit what had changed. They started to say things like he has cut his hair differently, he is dressing differently, he has got more ripped, he is more tanned and a lot richer. None of these are remotely true, the little ex-wench wasn’t Rachael Weiss, she only engorged his thing she didn’t shape it. Vince has always dressed like he has and has had that haircut since last summer. (it is still stylish now so must have been rockstarish then) The thing that has changed is the way he carries himself, his 'vibe'.

The hilarity of the reasons girls would come up with cause they don’t understand the Vibe Theory® is incredible and doesn’t look like its going to abate anytime soon. I feel this ample proof that although girls go for the big attractions that everyone assumes chick dig you still can’t beat the vibe.

Summary in one quote: Jonny Carson was once posed a question on how he became such a star? He answered: "I started out a gaseous state and cooled…"

Monday's Girl ...



I like boats. Boats with girls on them. Boats with girls in bikinis on them. Boats with seductively pouting girls in bikinis on them. Remember, we're going to be helping you countdown to CollegeHumour's Hottest College Girl from the quarterfinal stage. Watch this space. Or the one above it. With the bikini.

Revenge Attack or Bird Flu:

This just in: This past Thursday, around late evening, what can only be described as a horrible incident occurred in front of what can only be described as the castle from ‘Chitty-chitty-Bang-Bang’. The incident has left authorities perplexed and the international community mournful.

Interpol is handling the issue (an issue involving someone of such high international stature requires it) and confirmed that since Nandoes publicly denied any involvement whatsoever there can be only one explanation: That we at the Rockstar Journals are to blame…

Experts are investigating whether a recent Rockstar posting concerning the deceased, indirectly, inflamed and instigated a vicious rumour of paedophilic tendancies on behalf of the victim and the resultant public backlash has been a spree of vigilante type attacks. We don’t accept liability but do think it possible.

However we haven’t ruled out bird flu…

Hummers AREN'T shameful…!

This is brilliant. I have stumbled on an extreme of human idiocy. This guy has a website running that has the sole aim of ridding the streets of the coolest SUV available. Now I love ‘hummers’, but the vehicles are pretty cool to. This is what his site advocates:

“This is your chance to intelligently object to them. Hummers, Humvees, H2, H3 and whatever they roll out with next have no place in logical and socially-conscious suburban society, and this is how we should express this disparity: GO DOWN ON A HUMMER”

“Take pictures of yourselves or your friends giving a Hummer the thumbs-down sign, and email them to me. We'll build up a library of these thumbs-down pictures and maybe, just maybe...change the world.”

He argues that giving a passing by hummer the ‘bird’ has no ‘intelligent’ purpose and one should rather take a picture with your capsized thumb in view. Come the fuck on. That is so pathetic. Is this really the most intelligent objection you can muster? These are his reasons:

“For all these reasons and more, give a Hummer a thumbs-down:
• Disgustingly poor gas mileage (10 to 15 mpg)
• Never used as marketed (You'll rarely see more than one person in a Hummer, they're always car-wash clean, and they're never hauling cargo)
• Dangerous to other cars because drivers aren't aware of the size of their vehicle
• Opulence and materialism is a plague of society, not a hallmark
To all HUMMER owners: we're not poor jealous hippies. We're intelligent and often well-salaried human beings who understand that what you're doing is wrong.”

Fair enough they suck non-renewable resources like a tank and they do contribute more toxic emissions than your average family sedan, but unless you drive a Toyota Prius who the fuck are you to criticize these vehicular behemoths. I love the reasons 2 and 3 though. What ‘logical and intelligent’ argument can you create about something because it isn’t used for purpose it is marketed, and how an owner has the ability to have the resources to be opulent but not the powers of perception to notice how big a Hummer is. They're pretty damn big, you can really misjudge that.


What a twat. Hummers are rockstarish… I say GO DOWN FOR A HUMMER.

FYI: The third addition to the family H3, is being produced in our very own Queenstown, EC. Cool huh?

Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?

While we generally try to bring you original and entertaining information from around the world (or from just around the corner from where I live) - in this case 1 out of 2 ain't bad. Although we blatantly glassed this from another website, it seemed amusing enough to risk eternal damnation.

Rockstars, we present South Africa's very own - SpongeBob SquarePants.

Mexican Standoff ...

At the TRJ they tended to take arguments a little too seriously ...

Keep your eye peeled (or don't - depending on how far you want to push your anatomical luck) for the upcoming series of debates on ... anything. Over the next few weeks TRJ are going to choose a topic and debate it before your very eyes. How exciting.

Meatheads Only!

Front page of the Cape Times this morning has an article about how Bevin Cornelius and his 4 friends were ‘asked to leave’ two pubs when they attempted to watch the Currie Cup finals. I can see two logical reasons as to why management would request patrons to leave on such occasion.

Logical reason 1: The 5 patrons were sporting Cheetahs jerseys and the establishment was the ‘Ons Bloed is Blou’ pub off Zambezi Drive in North Pretoria.
Logical Reason 2: The said pub was the ‘Skop en Duik’ on the R463 between Koffiefontein and Petrusburg, and the said patrons were sporting Anton Leonard benefit year t-shirts.

30 years ago the logical, and lawfully accepted reason, could merely have been that Bevin (no relation to Bevin Fontuin) and his mates were not white enough. Then peculiar I find it that this anachronistic reason in the very one given on this occasion.

I have never been to Villiersdorp and must admit I probably won’t summer there but who the (for the lack of a better word) fuck do these meatheads think they are. We have had one of the most progressive Bill of Rights in the world since the 4th of February 1997 and no where in it is there a section protecting the right to be a bonehead.

Imagine slap bang in there between the right to life and the right to human dignity is Section X: Everyone has the right to being a bonehead. It looks like a Springbok wing in a Blue Bulls backline, anomalous.

The problem is that there isn’t a solution to this problem. You can’t journey back through time to replay the game and have the course of events run differently. Mr Cornelius et al does have legal recourse but it’ll cost a hefty amount to bring this case before Pius Langa and his buddies. You can’t petrol bomb the pub, as those stupid tactics are no longer necessary. (and at R5,85 a litre it’ll cost the same as legal fees)

Even if you could find a way to fine the bastards and make them open their doors to all you won’t change their archaic mindset, and they’ll just move to another building. They’ll be boneheads for life. Even grammatically poor yet stylistically effervescent webblog articles won’t bring about change.

Best thing to do is wait for these boneheads to die out and pray that they don’t pass on their ignorance to their next generation. I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall when Bevin Fontein scored the first of the Cheetahs comeback tries…

The Beer debate: Miller v Bud.

This debate is rather moot in our beloved RSA as Budweiser is not exactly easy to come by and we have more prominent local beers to choose from, besides it is not one a rockstar of any intellectual demeanor or profuse free time is interested enough to delve into. So if you thought this was going to be a well-structured coherent argument purporting both sides of a beer debate you are misguided. [however if such debate does tickle your thirst try ‘allicareaboutisbeer.blogspot.com’ or another site of less interesting topics like our own]

Instead I have found an interesting little story on a news site that is worth posting. As stated we are not a site that looks to spend oodles of free time sustaining such trivial topic as which beer is better nor are we one of those sites that spends time cutting and pasting stories from current American news sites and pawning them off as our own. [we don’t do that cause (a) it’s a flooded market (b) we don’t have the patience and (c) the arduous task of referencing other peoples stuff is such a hassle that we prefer to Stephan Glass it and hope we don’t get caught]

Fuck I digress. Anyway this is the story:

-------------------------------------Your company needs YOU!

“The battle of the beers took a new twist in Racine this week when a Miller beer distributor fired an employee whose picture was in the paper. He was drinking a Bud Light.”

“In Racine at the Mardi Crawl on Main Street, a newspaper photographer asked a group of revelers to pose for a picture. The only problem was that a man holding a Bud Light worked for a Miller distributor.”

The poor dude said, "I was just having a good time."

I think it’s hilarious it would create a pretty interesting legal debate up on Constitutional Hill if you had the free time and legal resources. His boss didn’t state that he was fired because of the photograph but that he was ‘merely surplus to requirements’! This is speculation but I reckon he was axed cause of what he was wearing and that he was at a Mardi Gras festival. I think my argument is as compelling as the one to drink Bud light…

-----------------------------------------Budlight: Compelling

Monday Girl...

I felt obliged...[well I wish I felt obliged]

--------------------------------------Obliged: Blair A

Fairytales, Ducks and Odds…

One of my favourite movie genres has to be “sporting-underdogs-comeback-from-impossible-odds”! Ever since Michael Jordan got sucked down a golf hole to lead 5 Looney Tunes to a 2 points victory over those gargantuan aliens in extra-time of Space Jam, since Emilio Estevez’s took that fatherless figure-skater under his wing (intended) and together they allowed the Ducks to over come insurmountable odds, poverty and Emilio's dodgy past to secure 2 league titles and an international victory, and since Robert Moxom threw down the shackles of parental pressure, professionalism, strip clubs and whipped cream bikinis to enable his side to defeat their overzealous coach Bud Kilner and claim a State Championship have I loved these movies.

I cheered and shouted when they scored, I cried when they won and I wasn’t surprised when they made a 30 points turn around in the last quarter to claim the win. The scripts to these movies are so outrageous that only their teenage demographic are gullible enough to believe that it could happen in real life yet we all love them…

However it does happen! 25-12 down with 15 min to play the, basically anonymous, Free State team clawed back to score 3 times (2 tries and a penalty) against the Blue Bulls taking the score to 29-25, and then held out for 5 long minutes to claim a Currie Cup they haven’t had for close on three decades.

It was absolutely incredible. Playing away at the stronghold of Broedebond rugby, Loftus Versfeld, everyone knew the Cheetahs were the underdogs and only the most loyal of Orange Free State farmers even gave them a chance. It was an insurmountable task. And at 22-9 down with 30 minutes to go everyone expected the Bulls to claim their 4th successive victory and make any knowledgeable rugby enthusiast vomit into his Woolworths biltong packet for the 4th consecutive time...


Instead grown men wept, minnows gained faith, Jerry Maguire started to believe and neutral rugby supporters around the country smiled as they would now stop playing that beastly Steve Hofmeyer song…

Oh and Auckland beat Otago 39 -11 in a try fest...

Round 3: Ding.

As the quest to find the hottest college girl in America (courtesy collegehumor.com) marches on we find ourselves at the end of Round 2 and just one round away from the quaters. I'm excited.

_____________________________ElizaE
If you do the math, like I have, and think you've done it correctly, like I do, then we left with 32 girls! Here is the 31 addition to the list. [Number 32 wasn't worth putting up] Will bring you an all 16 recap before the quaters.

Telkom is Next

The coolest thing about having your own website is the amazing power you command over lesser mortals like the public and major broadcasting coporations. (it's not really the coolest but for the purpose of this post it is) My scathing review of Supersports' less than impressive coverage of major sporting events (like the NPC) has reaped the reward of them making a formal and public apology. I didn't think a verbal media conference was necessary for them to show their repentance for being useless and that simply apologising in the form of broadcasting the NPC final live on 2 channels was sufficinet.

SS1 and CSN will both be showing Auckland v Otago at 08h35 tomorrow morning.

No need to thank me, I've thanked myself.

You'll know it when you see it...

------------------------------------Beeming: 10 points

I am in no way whatsoever condoning the actions of Donald (f/d)uck here, as she does look under-age (albeit consenting) and he is of course married, (Daisy Duck) but you have to see the humorous side to this. I think it adds clarity to the phrase that “the best way to judge results, when there is no scoreboard, is by the smile on her face…”

URGENT:

There is a massive 21st this weekend and people are flocking from across the globe to come to it. [I'm not going cause I have to study so don't get your hopes up girls...] Anyway a mate of a mate of a mate whose digsmate knows this guy from that thing at that place has a mate who knows these girls that have road tripped down for this 21st from Maritzburg. (hearsay but from their looks I must be right) Problem is they couldn't bring their horses to complete their outfits so we're looking for 2 shetland ponies, 1 My Little Pony and The Trojan Horse...

[that order must be read from right to left, and preference will be given to Odysseus's 'trojan horse' or one of comparable carrying capacity and Sundance or that cute yellow MLP]

Supporting all Sides...

I blabbed on recently about how pathetic the contact-sport competitions in this country are and how rather ineffectual in encouraging the fanatical supporter inside me they are and how in an imperfect world blah blah blah we couldn't expect more blah blah blah and how it's great that the Currie Cup in finally ending.

--------------------------------Blue 1 or 9, Blue 1 or 9!

It seems that when one door of misery closes a door of expectation opens. Only problem is the Lingerie Bowl 2006 will not be shown on Supersport or any SA television screen. And so our 'expectation door' slides closed. (sounds like a Gwyneth Paltrow movie review) At least the internet can allow us access....

-----------------------------Shouts of 'Smash her', encouraged the crowd.

When it rains it pours...

I love how this happens. When something happens it starts happening more often. I put up an intersting ad that I ound and then someone emailed me another ad by chance. Uncanny hey. Anyway when it rains it pours, and you better get this pun when you work out how the ad works...

Get it. The lovely people in Germany do the world such favours. (guilt reaction or whatever I don't care) They came up with an ink that becomes translucent when wet. Hence when it rains, it pours... we need these in Cape Town!

2D or not 2D...

Everything seems to be taking a turn for the better. Summer pokes her lovely face at us with more regularity as the days go by, with the end of exams comes the start of a long well-deserved holiday and this weekend signals the end to the excruciatingly painful farce of a so-called Premier Rugby competition the Currie Cup.

Yes I would prefer the aforementioned Summer to be the gorgeous starlet one from the OC and that she wasn’t just poking her face at me, and I would prefer it if exams were actually over let alone not even begun and I REALLY would prefer it if the Blue Bulls weren’t in line to win their 4th CC title, but in an imperfect world the mere end of the most boring sporting show on earth is enough.

---------------------------------Facet 1: Physics 900 v 700

Not surprisingly in the little tip of Africa we call home there are people (entire cultural groups of people) that totally disagree with me and are actually excited for the prospect of witnessing meatheads dressed in blue running headlong into a wall of defence over and over again until their superior weight advantage drives them past the wall and into the in goal area so they get an opportunity to watch their favourite son attempt to kick a ball through a couple of posts.

Everyone accuses Blue Bulls rugby of being one-dimensional! Utter lies, it is two-fold:

Facet 1: Blue-clad bonehead running into wall.
Facet 2: Blue-clad boy kicking ball.

I find it strange that people enjoy both these facets of SA rugby with such vigour. Besides the added perks of eating copious amounts of pre-packaged dried meat and swigging from brandy polluted buddy coke bottles whilst watching it there must be two explanation for why 50 000 of aforementioned bonehead supports (also clad in blue) pack an over-sized concrete lunchbox to witness the event.

They all are either astute students of the science of physics or it is their Tow-truck heritage that accounts for their excitement. Only a really commited scientist would be fascinated time and time again by the obvious truth that 900 kilograms of (blue) meat will, without fail, manage to push through, past or over a pack of meat of less magnitude. I think it is Newton’s 2nd law (or maybe his 1st or 3rd) but it’s an absolute truth. It’s physics. And if it is not for their scientific background it is because of their tow-truck affiliations. They just live for a collision, quite literally as it accounts for their income and hence their livelihood. Kind of like how all the tow-truck drivers in America watch NASCAR.

Maybe Rassie Erasmus’s shrewd and credibly intellectual coaching demeanour will rub off on his wall of defenders and they may actually turn a ball or two over and keep it away from the blue brainless lump heads and do something with it that might be worth watching but then again this is an imperfect world…[and while we tempting fate, maybe Supersport can broadcast the NPC final, pretty please]

Advertising...

People say some adverts are too offensive and in your face. So being the geniuses that they are the whiz kid coke snorters of the advertising fraternity decided to change this and make some in your car ads.

Rockstar of the Moment ...



Today's Rockstar is something everyone of strives to be. Not a guinea pig, though he is that too. Rather, a lad with an incomparable way with the ladies. He's like a 15cm Frank Sinatra. With fur. I will, however, bet that even ol' Blue Eyes never managed to fuck 24 female guinea pigs in one night, as this Rockstar has.

Sooty the guinea pig, catch up with me up at chicken burger sometime. This one's on us.


PS. This post was resaerched by the incomparable Splattermail. So, uh, thanks, I guess.

Special Mention: This goes out to our unknown reader in Sao Paulo, Brazil, who was the 500th person to visit The Rockstar Journals since we started keeping track last week. Now, I don't know you to well pal, so I'm not just going throw a free chicken burger around. Hell, you might even be a chick. Doubt it though - can they use computers? Anyway, I'm not a heartless bastard so pop over sometime and I'll buy you a coca-cola. 450ml one too.

Rockstar Anthem ...

" Oh Lord it's hard to be humble when you're perfect in every way. I can't wait to look in the mirror cause I get better loking each day. To know me is to love me I must be a hell of a man. Oh Lord it's hard to be humble but I'm doing the best that I can. I used to have a girlfriend but she just couldn't compete with all of these love starved women who keep clamoring at my feet.

Well I prob'ly could find me another but I guess they're all in awe of me. Who cares, I never get lonesome cause I treasure my own company. Oh Lord it's hard to be humble when you're perfect in every way, can't wait to look in the mirror ause I get better looking each day. To know me is to love me I must be a hell of a man. Oh Lord it's hard to be humble but I'm doing the best that I can.

I guess you could say I'm a loner, a cowboy outlaw, tough and proud. I could have lots of friends if I want to but then I wouldn't stand out from the crowd. Some folks say that I'm egotistical. Hell, I don't even know what that means. I guess it has something to do with the way that I fill out my Levi's blue jeans.

Oh Lord it's hard to be humble when you're perfect in every way, I can't wait to look in the mirror cause I get better looking each day To know me is to love me I must be a hell of a man.
Oh Lord it's hard to be humble but I'm doing the best that I can.

I'm doing the best that I can"

- Mac Davis

Waltzing Matilda ...
(sung to the tune of Waltzing Matilda)





Somebody wrote in and asked me what it is I have against Australians (cf. James Bond post). It's not that I have anything against them - just that I think that they are arrogant, inbred, brash, inbred, overachievers who were all bred from one tiny genetic pool of reprobrate prisoners sent there by Her Majesty's government to die.

Now we know from our own experience here in South Africa that putting people on an island and hoping they'll just go away isn't the best idea - mostly because they won't - they'll come back and take over. So maybe Her Royal Highness erred a little here.

Even so though, they should all be extinct by now, but instead they're winning more Olympic gold medals per capita than any other country. Now this might sound like sour grapes, hell, it may even be sour grapes except for one thing. They cheat. This is a fact. Everyone knows it, and they don't even try deny it.

In the past two years doping scandals have surface involving almost every known Australian rugby player, and yet, not one of them has been suspended. It has all been dealt with 'internally'. As if. Whatever.

Sorry, my 17 year old, uh, female companion, got hold of the keyboard there.

So, so far, we have qa nation of lying, cheating, inbreds. Added to this, they're inherently racist. Now, I realise that we lack the moral high round here, but we didn't exactly prance around in big dumb hats with corks hanging off them criticising anybody else's domestic policy, did we. In fact , while Australia were imposing sanction on apartheid SA, there was a law floating around Oz which allowed for Aboriginal hunting. Not cool.

I could go on, but as I type I'm foaming at the mouth and the people around me are getting that wide-eyed 'fetch-the-pitchfork' look. God, these people make me mad. Hate inbreds.

Fear and Loathing on the Nacho's Trail: Part 1

In the interests of all that is good and pure in the world the Rockstar Journals has taken it upon ourselves to travel the country sampling what may be one of mankind's greatest inventions, and report back to you - our devoted subjects. uh, I mean, loyal readers.

After venturing oceanside, aformentioned rockstars attempted to secure said nacho's at Buena Vista Social Cafe. Being in disguise (so as not to draw attention to our upcoming critique of the fair) the peons at BVSC failed to recognise us, and hence were unable to accomodate us - due to our lack of a reservation. (Note to self: fire secretary for failing to think of making a reservation on a Sunday night.)

From there, it was but a hop, skip and a jump to the V&A Waterfront, where we unerringly steered ourselves into Cantina Tequila. After seating ourselves, we were eventually attended to by a rather unattractive waitress. Strike 1.

As Mexican style restaurants go I don't expect a lot. I mean, they're hardly a very civilized nation. I do, however, expect Corona. Cantina Tequila had no Corona. Or jugs of frozen Margarita. I also expect that. Strike 2.

Corona: A must

Nacho's, however, they had. Or so they said. Unable to bring myself to order a portion after my appetite was ruined by Strike's 1 & 2, it appeared that the Nacho's trail might be over before it even began. Enter fellow rockstar, GH#12. In an effort of what I can only call sheer utter bravery, and self-sacrifice he ordered Cantina Tequila's Nachos Chiquita (or something to that effect). Dry, yet oily, tasteless, yet overwhelmingly unpleasant tasting - these were undoubtedly the worst nachos I have ever eaten - and I only stole one.

The nacho's were oversized, the portion was small, and the cheese looked like plastic. The chicken looked like shredded tuna of the earth, and tasted far, far worse. A unanimous - Strike 3. Cantina Tequila - You're out!

Rockstar Nacho's Rating:

1 Bandito (out of a possible 5)

Monday Girl...


This is JulianaF coutesy Collegehumor's competition for the hottest college student. She gets my vote. Christ if she ran for president she would get my vote...

Not so superSport…

It never ceases to amaze me how people come to Cape Town from all over the country and are staggered by the amount of beautiful women we have in the Mother City. People flock from unheard of places like Fouriesberg, Buffelsfontein, Diepsloot, Durban and Pietermaritzburg to walk around mouths agape at our impressively talented female collection.

This phenomenon continues however when we too leave the confines of our fishbowl. My mate Joey just got back from Biaritz, (think Serge Betsen) and he said the chicks were to die for. So the theory goes that when you get stuck with something you get complacent and when you remove your blinkers and open your eyes to what else is available you get stunned.


I realized this first hand this weekend. For a decade (or so they claim) the lovely people at multi-choice have bought us DSTV and 10 channels of Supersport. For a decade we have been in total debt for their brilliant sport coverage. And like all other weekends they bought us ‘great’ coverage this weekend.

We had the Premier Division Currie Cup semifinals, the First Division final of the Currie Cup, the Grand Prix on Sunday morning, the finals of the Kremlin Cup, numerous soccer match-ups from England, Italy and Spain, the entire coverage of both one-day games between SA ‘A’ and New Zealand. And on top of this they had their usual supersport highlights channel, news channel and ESPN.

HOWEVER, nowhere, at no time, either live or delayed did they show the NPC semis finals. They didn’t even show the highlights!!! How often does Otago (or anyone) beat the mighty Crusaders at Jade Stadium in Christchurch by 15 points and when ever are 10 tries scored in a semi final of any rugby competition like when Auckland beat North Harbour on Saturday morning?


Yes, really super coverage. Instead I had to watch terrible summer cricket ads, John Smit motivational ads, Shark Bite (fuck sakes), an NPC ad (interestingly enough) and the two semifinals of the pathetic excuse for a rugby competition we call the Currie Cup. It was nice watching the Free State anonymous XV beat the blue&white striped Springboks and Anton Leonard popping his shoulder but I wanted to see real rugby.

God help them if they don’t show Auckland v Otago next weekend…

Glam Fighting…

Leading an active lifestyle and staying in shape have made fitness a recurring infatuation of humankind. And rightly so. The rewards at looking at your toned body in the mirror and allowing gorgeous angels to do likewise on the beaches of the world are reason alone.

For this reason the fitness crazes that whip through society are more numerous than strip malls full of fast food drive-thrus. Cape Town is known for its cool and current atmosphere and for the city’s people for having their skinny, sexy, bronzed thumbs on the pulse of what is cool and in.

The positive effect of this is guys are sporting truckers and girls the latest in short skirt fashion even before they have been made public in the like of Heat magazine. In short Capetonians are our national trendsetters. [It follows then that this is the reason the Mohawk just arrived in Durban]

As with everything there are negative effects. We have this mob of dumb idiots that latch onto any craze with reckless abandon as they live in the perpetual fear that they might be left behind by their more progressive neighbours. Hence we have flash-trending. This is the reason you can’t park within 500m of Caprice, you queue to get a drink at Pulse (plus the barmen are crap), the reason 500 Puma tank-caps were bought from the Waterfront before people realized they looked ridiculous and why people started watching OC and Desperate Housewives on a Thursday night rather than going watch how the VIP queue at Fez was always longer than the normal one...

Anyway the latest flash-trend goes something like this…

- Guy at Pulse bar to girl: “Wow, I’m lank tired…!” [definite bait]

- Girl: “Really, how so?”

- Guy at Pulse bar back to girl: “Cause I do Muay Thai, and it’s lank tiring!”

- Girl: “What’s Muay Thai?”

- Guy: “It’s this hectic new martial arts thing from Thailand that I do. It’s lank tiring. Basically it’s a combination of hectic fighting moves and enough cardio to make me ripped and tired. And I obviously learn to handle myself in a club. Clubs like this one. You see that Bouncer? Well my personal instructor and good friend Quentin Chong taught me a back-foot, reverse jump roundhouse kick executed to the rear of the skull that would drop him. Quentin is world-champion. He says I’m pretty good and with a few months training, at only R350 a month plus access to their full gym and new changing rooms, I could be ready to compete…”

I have no problem with people taking on a rigorous form of exercise. Actually any fat girl who takes up one as a hobby should have her efforts lauded with a rockstar free chicken burger. (technically she wouldn’t cause she is a chick and they aren’t given to chicks and the carbs wouldn’t do her any good) What I do have a problem with is people paying a gross amount of money to be taught how to hit a punch bag by a ‘world champion’ and then claim they are ‘fighters’. It’s like getting a virgin contract in Claremont and saying you’re a bodybuilder, it’s like watching a movie and claiming you’re a film critic, it’s like starting your own blogspot and claiming you’re a rockstar…wait that’s not the same.


I found this interview with the acclaimed world champion instructor on kungfucinema.com. I think it proves my point:

KFC: Do you think you could beat up Keanu Reeves in the 'Matrix?'
QC: In the movies, definitely not because he’s paid to win. If he’s on the street with no 'Matrix' powers, he will sleep very quickly.

I suppose this is the reason that said world-champ instructor uses his amazing talent and fighting skill to fuck up guys in clubs just because they accidentally bump into him, and then hit his mates for just being there, and beat up homeless bergies on Long Street because they asked for change…

I can think of a change worth asking for. How about you drop the charade and change your horribly unrockstarish approach of pretending to be something you’re not…

The name's Bond ...

James Bond. Man, I feel cool just typing that.

I know this is somewhat old news but I've been away in some undisclosed location on some undisclosed mission. And no, I don't know anything about the upcoming stolen home video of Britney Spears , nor if I did would I be at liberty to discuss it.


Back to real life secret agent men - it appears that Daniel Craig will star as the next Double 0 - 7. Judging by his perfomance in Layer Cake he should be pretty good. It's not as if he could be any worse than George Lazenby (fucking Australian) was. Or worse than Jude Law could be, for that matter.

Break a leg..?

Exams are around the corner for many so I thought I would throw out a bit of a 'good luck' sentiment from all of us here at the Rockstar Journals. Since such sentiment can be construed as fairly queer I am going to throw in a macho photo... ha!

Asexual reproduction...

The Birds and the Bees talk is fairly fresh in my memory but Matric Biology is more of a faint memory. However, I'm pretty sure that someone told me trees reproduce asexually. Someone also once told me Dolphins are the only species, besides men, (used men specifically instead of humans) that have sex for pleasure. Judging by this picture one of these 'facts' are horribly incorrect...

My Grand Slam Year...

You can't really keep a rockstar down. No matter how hard you try to squash an individual of such rockstarish pedigree or remove the stage on which he can perform, he will always find a way to blow your feeble attempts away and show his true rockstar colours.

After speculation that he would recover from groin surgery and be ready for action as soon as Wales' game against New Zealand in November, it was corrected that Gavin Henson would in fact miss the rest of 2005 along with possibly the 6 nations.

Without the rugby field to use as his canvas for expression the celebrity player has written a book about his year. The rockstarish theme to his audacity is tangible. Firstly, the book is just about 2005 and not a biography. Secondly it is about 2005 and its only October!!!

Besides the huge drawcard that he speaks his mind and says it how it is without giving a coalmine about the repercussions, he also has a nice stab at Sir Clive Woodward. Anyone who hates the Poms is a friend of mine...

On SCW:
"I also felt his tactics and his game-plan were out of date, while I was shocked to see how little actual coaching he does."

"Clive's coaching methods were something new to me and left me a bit bewildered."

Hate me cause my tan is impossibly fake yet it looks good. Hate me cause my hair is sick crazy but chicks love me. Hate me cause I shave my legs, wear silver boots yet kick game winning penalties from my own half. Hate me cause I'm small in stature yet put in huge hits. Hate me cause I play 12 yet score more tries than your wings. Hate me cause I'm better than you...

Beating yourself... and the competition!

I must admit I have been full of empty promises of late. I’ve decided to turn over a new tree and start to make good on some of my currently void pledges. Remember I went on about Miss College Student 2005 courtesy collegehumor.com? Well here are some of the girls still in contention.

----------------------------Kristina B: Contender
The nationwide competition is still in the preliminary stages but as soon as they get to the business end you will be supplied great footage of the girls rears ends…

---------------------Rachel Y: Hot favourite (enoy the play on words?)

Aerial Dogfight…?

Found this on a website dedicated to animal rights and those dimwitted vegan activists that spend their lives trying to further the entrenchment of animal rights awareness in a society that hardly gives a fuck about human rights. Found the irony hilarious.

The article supporting the pictures went on about how the owner (of the airborne mutt) and the owner (of the irate looking bovine) were liable for their negligence in not sufficiently protecting either animal, which led to the attack and the ensuing counterattack. Apparently both animals were victims! Strange how when nature runs the course it is meant to some poverty stricken Bolivian (hearsay) farmer is to blame...