Rango: hero to the creatures, saviour of the hopeless.

Today’s topic… Drum roll please… Rango, yes the animation with the funny looking chameleon that has no idée how to camouflage himself in the desert. So how much can one say about a silly little movie with a few outrageous looking critters, well, actually quite a lot.

Firstly, total fucking brilliance, the reference to the Gonzo king is most probably the influence of master Depp himself and it took me right into the graze of fear and loathing. The poor old chameleon had no idée whether he was coming or going and like in the writings of Hunter S. Thompson, it almost felt like the desert was about to destroy the little man. It is truly amazing that the animation can round up this astonishing amount of intricacy. I think its dam smart, capture the kids with creatures and lure the intellectuals with a great textual base, a recipe for success. The intriguing Spirit of the West, wise as always, certainly gave the movie the twist it needed with the fiery-eyed hell dweller waiting for his moment to unleash hell on the world. However, as always, the hero came out on top. With a little spiritual help and the love of a certain damsel in distress, Rango managed to out-smart all the evil lurking in their midst.

As it is with our daily struggle between good and evil Rango rolled up his sleeves and stared evil right in the eye, gave him the finger and became the hero the people of Dirt needed. A true hero, in my mind, strays from his path from time to time but never gives up on what he believes in. Even though Rango is just a mere fictional character, he for some reason conjures hope to the hopeless. We need people that will find the courage to fill the shoes of giants.

We need a little critter called Rango!

My Vocabulary: Reminisce, the art of recollecting stupidity.

  So last night, while fighting off the demons of insomnia, I started recollecting past experiences of stupidity. I would, after last night, never again use the words “my friends” and “sanity” in the same sentence. It is true that your friends mould you in a way that no one else can, yes, your family plays a part but growing up with a bunch of crazies is the best thing that can happen to a boy. As Francois once said, “we are intellectually mature and still we are young at heart”.

 A few years ago, I was part of small incident regarding a two-metre Nile crocodile; we were recreating the live version of Steve Irvin’s Crocodile Hunter… It turned out well and we left the pond with only a gash in the arm and a bruised ego, and off course a pretty funny video… With the words “eina!! Jou ****”, as the crocodile bites into Janco’s arm… then hysterical laughter and something that sounded like Mutley, dog of Dick Dastardly.

The silly image of three cars, owned by three good friends standing next to the road after a bumper bashing at four in morning, vividly took over my brain. I, instantly, started laughing aloud. The specifics of the night seem to have dissipated after time, but what I can recollect is this. We were driving home after a good binge when we saw our friend on the side of the road; he drove right into the back of some idiot. While, being in the first car to pass, we slowed down to have a look, my good friend Marius drove right into the back of our car. So, imagine this, three friends driving to the same house, from the same place, standing on the side of Brooklyn Road, all of which is part of the accident scene.

While on the topic of cars, the following “recollection of stupidity” came to mind. “Was jou hare met bier of jy’s nie cool nie”, the song I sang while Bernard drove my father’s brand new Nissan Hardbody right into a Trumpet tree.

I think it is fair to say that I have indeed been part of a few stupid acts of insanity, not to mention the four metres of African Python we pulled out a hole, the mud fights after driving into a ditch, and the silly art of catching Impala at four in the morning, which Nicolai perfected. The fact of the matter is that even though times are tuff there are ways to enjoy every waking moment of every day. Finally, after having a good laugh in my bed on my own, I realized that reminiscing on your own is never truly reminiscence, you have to able to share it with friends.

So… who’s up for a braai?

Leaving Home and Loving laundry

Ok, so let me start by saying, without sounding cliché-ish, I truly loath the Blog, but one can certainly find the time to write something on the web that might just capture the audience in such a way that it might brighten a day or two. Please note that this Blog will not be funny, interesting, or even true but I am sure it will be amusing, so read if you will with caution.

A good friend of mine eventually managed to move his ass down to Cape Town, after many years of deliberation he picked up the scraps and left for the land of wind, wine, sun, rain and expensive bars, beaches and any other commodity you can think of. Accompanied by his brother and another good friend of mine they moved in to a brilliant little flat next to the most annoying mosque in the city. The job hunt started and although jobs came easier for some…

Gerhard managed to talk himself in to what would seem like the most boring underpaid job, being what most would see as a laundry manager, well to be fair that is exactly what I thought, but hell if I have ever been impressed this was it.

On my first visit to this “brand new, fresh and well thought out”, as Gerhard explained, concept I found myself drinking a glass of red wine surrounded by local artwork in a very well decorated “laundry”. The door has a massive red heart with the words I Love My Laundry on it, obviously the name of the laundry, corny much. Well, NO… not at all, I would actually love to do my laundry in an art gallery slash wine bar, not to mention the brilliant setting.

Having to do my own laundry from time to time this whole idée of sipping wine and staring at some form of art while someone else does your laundry seemed to me like a bargain and looking at the prices on the laundry menu it actually is just that, a bargain of note. After a thorough browse of the art, the owner came strolling in, he immediately offered me another glass of wine on introduction and showed me around the rest of the laundry. A while later I realized I had check my mail, as I have been waiting for some delayed marks, Gerhard came around from the counter and ever so calmly said “geen worries bru ons het wireless tik net die pin in”. Seriously, these people thought of everything. Impressed by this whole new outlook on laundry the owner told me about the art and wine pairing evenings, really you’ve got to be kidding me, they invite artists to come and showcase their art and to top it off they throw in a good wine estate to show off their latest harvest.

So let us recap, we have an art gallery and a wine bar, a dim sum bar for the snack-monsters and a laundry, all in a small space with the busy Buitengracht passing right by the front door. Crowded… Not at all for some reason all these elements seem to complement each other, a truly hip and Cape Town-like twist on something most of us would find excruciatingly boring.

To come back to my boys in the City of Sin, they truly have had an amazing experience that only Cape Town can offer, with the exception of a few bumps here and there and a stolen television or two, it is safe to say that Cape Town hooked another bunch of maniacs in search of The Good Life.