Ahhh Journalism. And All Went Dark.

I used to think journalism was something that people with integrity aspired to do. Right up there with UN aid workers and sanitation engineers. So much has changed in the last 15 minutes. Journalism nowadays is akin to prostitution where the journalist, for the right price, will do it any way you want. PR has replaced objectivity and history is written by the twat with the most money.

Take this nugget of info from News24.com. According to Virgina Keppler, the prostitute...I mean, journalist responsible, one of the BIG CHANGES we can expect in the South African police is a change of name from South African Police Service to South African Police Force. That's right, criminals will cease their evil ways and turn to helping society once they realise that they are being pursued by a Force rather than a Service. The rest of the story reads like a government issue press release, which is probably what it was.

A piece of advice to the virgin journalist here - if you can't be bothered to write a real piece of news, at least try to hide your laziness by not attaching your name to the "story".

My Worst Movies 1: Skeleton Man

I rented this chunk of digital chunder over the weekend because I had little else to do and being a fan of horror pics I figured what the hell, it does star Michael Rooker (Sea of Love, Mississippi Burning) and Casper Van Dien (Starship Troopers). I should have known better because it had Michael Rooker (Cliffhanger, Saving Jessica Lynch) and Casper Van Dien (Casper Meets Wendy) starring in it.

The plot, if that's what you could call it since I have seen porn movies with better story lines than this, centres around a group of Special Forces members who go missing in the woods. Another group of Special Forces members go looking for them, with dire consequences as they are harried by a homicidal horse-riding skeleton.

The following are only a few reasons why this movie sucked (and not very well at that):

• What Special Forces group consists of manly men and beautiful, big breasted women dressed in hiking clothes, communicating via cell phone?
• The entire film looks like it was filmed in somebody's backyard.
• The entire film's budget probably came to around $100, including actors salaries.
• The Skeleton Man of the title looks like someone clad in black garbage bags and a Halloween mask.
• The last 15 minutes of the movie inexplicably changes scene to a chemical factory.
• The music soundtrack is truly the worst I have ever heard in my life.

No reason is given as to why, exactly, a skeleton is running amok skewering and decapitating people. There is a brief encounter with some mystical American Indian who seems to have visions after eating army issue baked beans but any semblance of explanation is lost in the sheer absurdity of the whole thing. This, coupled with the image of Special Forces babes cringing as they squeeze off round after round into the surrounding foliage, a single arrow from a bow downing a helicopter, and multiple shots of the "monster" appearing and disappearing via the movie's one and only special effect served only to worsen what has become the worst 95 minutes of my life (and that included the removal of my wisdom teeth).

With films like this being produced, I can't imagine why the Motion Picture Association of America is worried about piracy. I doubt that there is a single Malaysian, Chinese or Al Qaeda terrorist who would believe that they could make a dime out of bootlegging this crap.

Doing The Malema

A week does not go by without a sound bite from South Africa's foremost mental defective, Julius Malema. As president of ANCYL, or African Numpty Congress Yoof Luddites, one would assume that keeping a high media profile is part of the job description. Unfortunately for Julie Baby, no-one told him that in order to look intelligent and sound profound you actually have to have something that passes for grey matter. That mouldering lump of cosmic pus that passes for his brain hardly qualifies him to postulate on matters economic. In fact he barely qualifies for the role of retarded child screaming in an insane asylum which is pretty much what he resembles.

From his vacant "I am dumber than chicken shit" look to his inability to string together a coherent sentence, Julius epitomises South African politics as it has always been. From the time the National Party took power in 1948 all the way up to today we have been forced to endure a level of stupidity than gives syphilitic donkeys a run for their IQ. This, of course, explains why the average South African is a rude, brainless, self-absorbed asshole. They just have to look at their role models to realise why nothing will change in this country.

Take a drive along any South African road and you will see the result of decades of in-bred imbecility. Faced with a 4-way stop, the average SA motorist adopts a "damn the torpedoes" stance that ensures ER doctors countrywide are kept busy. The same applies to a South African with a gun. It's like giving the keys to the treasury to Carl Niehaus. It shouldn't be done. Ever. There is way too much "point and shoot" going on around here to warrant the notion that a firearm in the hands of a South African is a safe bet. In fact, the following is a list of licenses that South Africans should be denied:

• Drivers license - When South Africans turns 18 they are suddenly allowed to drive, drink alcohol and vote. They should be banned from engaging any of these things.
• Gun license - Guns don't kill people, South Africans do.
• Marriage license - The family that beats wives, abuses children and gambles away its life savings together is probably South African
• Poetic license - If you have ever had to suffer through a reading Jeremy Cronin's pig swill, you'll understand.

So South Africa continues to suffer through the day-to-day Malemaing of its citizens. It explains why things around here are in the state they are.