The Cockfighters

This cannot possibly end well.

noreply@blogger.com (Phil) — Mon, 31 May 2010 16:56:00 +0000

Hey,

Okay so, we've been dormant for a while, and it's time to shake things the fuck up.

We have a podcast in the works, so you can look forward to relishing not only every dumb thing we write, but every stupid thing we say, too.

Look forward to useful and informative segments like 'Liquid Geoff's Solid Advice' and 'Sweeping the Leg'.

Phil out.

Its what the Fans wanted...

noreply@blogger.com (Geoff) — Wed, 27 May 2009 12:48:00 +0000

Wake up.
Its time to go to work.
Oh fuck where am I, did I bring the car back.
Oh my fucking head.
Amstel,Patron,cake,tequilla(with bubbles),new people,people I been told about,talk to them talk to them,talking to them,wine?,kitchen coversations,99 red baloons,tequila sunrises, sorry kai OJ was good,taste this, its strong, oh bugger maybe I'm racing to fast, blur, blur, blur, vodka soda, martini glass, balcony, watch fairy (i only seem to see him when I'm FUCKED!), blur, what you do?, TV repair man, plumber, gin from somewre, lectured in kitchen about not mixing, throwing out wine, mixing, blur, gin present, talking with them, jet plane in the sky...so high, blur, oh goodbye, blur, oops?, blur, blur, its ok, they think you're cool, blur, blur, walk in the dark,kai=dance commander, fiction, dancing, closed eyes, fantastic music, dance,blur, blur,BLUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUR
Wake up.
Its time to go to work.
Oh fuck where am I, did I bring the car back.
Oh my fucking head.

And so, to recap:

noreply@blogger.com (the foxweasel) — Tue, 26 May 2009 09:39:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (Geoff) — Sun, 24 May 2009 15:19:00 +0000

"I would love to know how your mind works"
"Do you really want to know how Geoff's mind works?"
To which my reply could've been, "Can you actually fathom how my mind works?"

I buy motorcycle magazines to look at the bikes, the babes on the cover are just a bonus.

I buy car magazines to look at the engines.

I bought an Alfa Romeo because I like how you change from first gear into second. (among other things)

I would probably read the articles in a playboy magazine too.

I keep saying how when I move out, my room and house will be neat and with everything in its place; while my room is a mess.
However when at work, any work. Everything is in its place and neat.

Normal walls cannot contain me.
Conventional Weapons cannot kill me.

I am the big bad wolf, (but the cartoon version)

I can think of a million different angles, ways of doing things and ideas, but follow thorough none.

I am a show off.
I am not one to boast.

You really want to know how my mind works?
I've been telling you all along. But not with words.
Its in my choice of watch, in my choice of car, in my choice of movie, in my choice of music, and whatver you may think. Its in the choice of my friends.

Maybe I'm complicated because of my multiple simplicity?

...maybe this was just a taste?

Two wheeled madness

noreply@blogger.com (Geoff) — Thu, 21 May 2009 20:16:00 +0000

Ok folks, I'm going to be pretty bland and do one of my hyperthetical what-should-I-get posts. Now before you shitheads make any snide comments about what I should get, I'm going to (what we in telecoms refer to as) "close" the question, and only give out a limited number of choices.
This week its bikes.
Personally I want them all, and one of every type...but I've got to start someware.
So where do I start.
Should I get a classic vespa to buzz around town on?
One perhaps like this?
Or should I go for a Cafe Racer look and buy a cheapish but old school 80s muscle bike. And do this to it.

Or lastly should I go for a modern Super Bike.

Pick A for the Vespa Sprint 150
Pick B for the Honda CB750 custom Cafe Racer
or
Pick C for the Suzuki GSXR400R

Also I found this cool website thanks to one of my favorite blogs.

http://www.bigdaddyroth.com/

ZANGZADANGZIDANGZABANG!

noreply@blogger.com (Kai) — Tue, 19 May 2009 12:05:00 +0000

They say a rolling stone gathers no moss. But what happens when you get to a point in your life where you are forced? I wouldn't say forced but morally and psycologically prevented from proceeding. You are wise enough to know that no moment lasts forever, that no ruts eternal, but you are frustrated with the waiting. The waiting for fate to take it's course. Sure i'm a fatalist. No one has proven me wrong so far. don't kill, or steal, or plunder, or rape. be nice to people and have a couple of friends and a couple of opinions and work hard and thank who ever the hell it is you wanna thank that you have parents that made it enough in the world to keep a roof over you somewhat pointless head. You do that and I assure you life will take care of you. It will give you drama, it will give you opportunities, it will give you excitement, it will give you girlfriends and boyfriends and best friends and movies and....

Holy crap i just wrote another slumdog millionaire.

WOOOOOOOOOOP WWOOOOOOOOOOOP EWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWEWE WAAAAAAHAAAAAAAHAAAAAAAH

heres another gouche tightener that is always a hot topic for discussion: the crap gender and the terrible things they make us do.
Chapter EIN! Haarschnitt

I was nearly blinded but the incredible reflection of light that bounced off the shiny blond surface of the razor sharp emo style side parting. My stomach churned as I gazed at the surgical precision. the perfect forty-five degree fringe, flattened against the forehead with the longest follicles gradually covering the proprietors left eye.
"How could it have come to this" I thought as I stared longingly at every movement made by the cranium before me. the cranium i thought i once knew well. But thats all changed hasn't it? The man staring back at me, mimicking my movements, my faked gestures of happiness. It was all gone. the once happy, hearty, carefree, magnificent, strong, masculine, soft, warm welcoming lockes. GONE!
"EH VOILA SE FINI! se bon no?"
"BABY YOU LOOK GREAT! Merci buku Jean-Francois! you did an aHsuum job! his hair looks fantastic! everyone is gonna love it!"
"Baby?"
"Baby stop staring into the mirror like that. it looks great, super sexy, better than that raggamuffin look, real.... mature, and deep. You like it right..............?"
I wanted to die.
"Yeah my jewel, It looks great. I mean its hair. I mean its awesome."
I took off the towel that had been choking me for the last thirty seven minutes, brushed the dead remnants of my former glorious quaffuer off my now exposed neck. Brock the death gaze, and stood up off the black pleather chair.

"I love you baby."
"I love you too."

I wanted to die.

I really do wish I was joking...

noreply@blogger.com (the foxweasel) — Wed, 04 Feb 2009 12:07:00 +0000

It's ridiculous just how many times I've hit myself in the face with my headphones.

It fucking hurts.

Why can't our governors be like this?

noreply@blogger.com (Phil) — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 13:32:00 +0000

Eosh!

Kai Curteis Freelance Badass

noreply@blogger.com (Kai) — Mon, 02 Feb 2009 10:42:00 +0000

Well gentlemen i have finally done it. With The significant expance of clientele I have become busy enough to be highly regarded as a freelance badass. Basically I have become a lower to mid level film industry tour de force. Work involves freelance camera assisting, editing, production assisting, Director assisting. This is the direction you take when you are in no way explicitly remarkable or talented enough get by on your own creative expertise, but rather the direction where you plod along with nothing but your own passion, diligence, work ethic and a friendly yet suck-upy demenour mixed with a mammoth amount of uncertainty as to which work set i should specialise in. This is what being a nepatismic child of the film undustry/red n yellow drop out has got me. And i'm only 23. And with all this work I should be able to live out my dream as wildlife cinematographer spending my days in the wild, filming wild dog hunts and doing taichi with my superhot, veterinarian, gameranger, confectionary baker, life partner. The reason for "life partner", who would be female you stupid fucks, is because i don't believe in the constricting constitution of marriage, and niether would she. we'd live in a fantastic tree house, like that one in Living in the land of the lost. what a great show. If there were still dinosaurs i'd definately film dino documentaries. that would be sweet. My treehouse would connect via wooden suspension bridge to a massive collections of other treehouses who's occupants would be a community of wookies and ewoks and whatever species of alien yoda is.

kai out.

Why can't our police be like this?

noreply@blogger.com (Geoff) — Fri, 30 Jan 2009 15:58:00 +0000

Are you German

noreply@blogger.com (Geoff) — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 23:25:00 +0000

So after work on Monday night, I figure what the hell, perhaps some of my friends are at the shack, or at least someone I know. I'll go in for a drink.
I pull up, find a parking space in the dirt parking lot, theres' a massive que to get into mercury, and the place looks packed.

I collect my backpack from the back seat and I lock my car before heading up stairs to do a quick recce.
I don't see anyone familiar, but as I'm going to the bar where we usually shoot pool, some guy actually stops me and asks me.
"Are you German?"
"No why?"
"Well cus you have a backpack."
I then asked him, if he was a local, and he said he was.
Ok tough guy, whatever.
So I go to the bar get some 'cake' and put my bag down.
Then I go to the table he's playing at, take a sip of my milk stout, and ask him if he's next on the table.
I put a coin down, and ask him if he wants to play singles.
Its my turn.
I then say, wanna make it interesting. Want to play for R20?
He goes yeah sure.
He sets up.
I take his hunters off the table and tell him not to put it there.
I break.
He takes a cocky lead.
I start sinking balls.
The fact that he's play for a whole twenty south african rand starts to get to him, he starts making mistakes.
I win.
I shake his hand and grab the money, to which he askes,
"you want to play again?"
"No you called me German."

Fuck you asshole for trying to be funny. I hope I taught you a lesson in respect you snotty little double up shooting prick. I hope I humbled you.

P.S. Who's laughing now bitch.

Geoff out.

Ok, I don't want to just be posting links all the time, but

noreply@blogger.com (the foxweasel) — Thu, 15 Jan 2009 07:54:00 +0000

Holy fucking shit.

As awesome as a majestic unicorn on fire

noreply@blogger.com (the foxweasel) — Tue, 13 Jan 2009 07:44:00 +0000

Hell yes.

Seriously, you bomb us, we bomb you back better.

noreply@blogger.com (Kai) — Tue, 06 Jan 2009 15:34:00 +0000

There is some major fuckin shit going down in the world.

But the girl i'm seeing bought a bunny.

sigh.

BUNNY!

The adventures of Karate Rock, Young Geezee and Mr Cool.

noreply@blogger.com (Kai) — Mon, 05 Jan 2009 08:51:00 +0000

Yes indeed. Plett was great. It was so great that it needs to be elaborated beyond that rather lackluster statement. We began our sojourn to the sweet Etheo jazz sounds of Molatu Astatke. The road was long, with many a wind and turn. The scenery, spectacular. The banter, witty and awesome. The mood slightly saddened due to the dropping out of a certain Matthew Erikson however that soon passed. As with all good road trips the food was fast and messy and came in poly styrene containers.

You talk like Marlene Deitrich. And you dance like Sarah Michelle

We arrive at our destination, unscathed yet exhausted from the many many hours of awakeness, to be served a fantastic Christmasy dinner. It involved gravy. We call it a night.

Ah Kai, you have the eyes of beautiful geisha,

the first day was more of a reconnisance day, the beach, the sleep, the Fried Chicken, to the roast chicken, The screwdrivers, the jameson, The Over-ratedness of Timbaland, The Quality of Paris Hilton, The Bar that was so much better that the last bar, the insanely bitter campari, Smiling and dancing tremendously when daft punk came on, immediately followed by kinda standing there, looking at each other, disgusted after hearing that it was the worst remix EVER! Let it be known that the bitches be OFF THE SHEEZEE in plett. But Young Geezee Hadn't read that far into the "Art of Seduction", Mr Cool had just found a lady back home (And Mr Cool says it aight cool to cheat) And the slip-slops-and-board-short-to-club-wearing poopulous just didn't get Karate Rock's sexy. Back to the roast chicken. The best Cohen Brothers film I've seen, And a talk that that lasted till dawn all about the our game plan on how to deal with Deceiptful Cape Town this year.

12;38 pm
the following day.....

"FUCK THE SHOPS CLOSE AT 1! I NEED TO PURCHASE THOSE SWEET KICKS I SAW LAST NIGHT!"

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRMMMMMMMM BRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMM BRUUUUUUUUUM BEEEEEPEEEEEP "GET THE FUCK OUT THE WAY WARWICK" YHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHIAIAIAIAIAIAI BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE BRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUM JESUS!!!!

Mr Cool, I fucked your mom.
Ow Young Geezee that was a wicked burn.

BRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUEEEYEYEYEYEYEYM SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECHHHHHH Click, SLAM, Run run run run run run "Whew it's open"
I'm sorry we don't have it in size 11

...

Chick chick BLAM!

The beach, the bats, The panic because our friends back home just are dumb enough to kill themselves if we aren't there, the dancing on the lawn, the spagetti bolognese, the godfather part 2, the Rain drops that fell on our head, the Warumu Sake, the Salmon sashimi, the salmon nigiri, the salmon rolls, the salmon everything! MORE WARUMU SAKE!
UMOIYTUGE!

The beautiful beautiful scenery, the hotdogs prepped by Nana, the Fried Chicken
KFC IS BULLSHIT! GIMME SOME OF THOSE POPS!
the Glenfiddich,
The relflection,
my sisters friends chunt.

Oh Champs Elysees!

Ps. plet was great

2009 Fuck yeah!

noreply@blogger.com (Geoff) — Sun, 04 Jan 2009 20:14:00 +0000

I've always wanted to design a interface that hooked up to a cars computer management system.
In short I'd want to design a system that changes the cars fuel maps, turbo boost and other variable paramaters, in real time.

So lets say you've got your Rx7 twin turbo, and you're driving around town, just picking up groceries and just generally commuting around a urban setting, so perhaps you'd want the car to accelerate to a fair speed, and not use too much fuel. So you set it to Economy mode, which might use the most fuel efficent fuel map, put more boost through the smaller turbo, while leaving the larger one to do practically little to nothing, perhaps the suspension gets raised up a little to help with speed bumps and other such things.
But then you see some little snot at the lights and you want to teach him a lesson. So you wack the car into sport mode, and before the light turns green, the car lowers, has changed its fuel map, and has changed the boost settings on both turbos.
Then maybe you want to do some track time, and you put it into super sport mode and the car goes to its lowest and firmest setting, the car's tuning changes to suit track conditions and the car's no longer is limited.
Perhaps even if you liked going long distances you could have a touring mode, that takes the limiter of the engine, and sets the engine and car up for optimal fuel efficiency, but allowing the car to still reach high speeds, perhaps by being all motor at this point?

And then I'd want it all to be controlled by an adorable Digimon!

I got one in grade 5, or standard 3 as it was called. I was about 11 at the time and I thought it was great.
Either way I think it would be cool to have a Digimon or Tamagochi hooked up to your cars computer. It could even have a spot on the dash, as most cars these days have similar screens to what those portable pet toys had.
The little character could, cry when the car has detected a fluid leak, it could make a poo when its oil needed changing, and it could act angry and grumpy when it was hungry (when you needed to add more petrol).
In fact it could all interface with the above system above and then your little guy could change his appearance to match the driving mode. And if you didn't service the car regularly or if you where generally abusive to the car, it would act all beat up and unhappy.
:whee:

Please car makers, see this post, steal my idea and put it into production, and then call it the Caramon!
Then if you have any decency, contact me, and give me one.

And oh yeah, happy 2009. Its the year of the ox, I'm a taurus and according to this web site,

"Taurus: "THE YEAR OF THE OX"

Meaning "the Bull," Taurus is the Sign of THE OX to both western and Chinese Astrology. Apparently the whole world agrees on one thing.. which is that the Ox Is STRONG (AND Stubborn!) "Bull-headed" is a well-worn term for Taureans, though it must also be said in their defense that this stubborn streak only comes out when they are defending their Private Pasture. Taureans have a long-accepted Way Of Doing Things; as long as that is respected, and you don't try to force them to do things they did not PLAN to do, they are genuinely placid, gentle and hard-working people. Try to force them in any way, and a head-down Charge is likely!

The special skill and interest of Taureans is WORK of the right kind; the Ox pulls the Plow, treads the grain and carries the produce to market; Taurus is intimately connected to Food Production as an industry, though anyplace where Strength and Stubborn Will are needed may likely have a few Taureans on the scene. Wildly FERTILE, the Ox is a natural Parent.. and tends to be an understanding and patient one at that.. though it is really Sex that the Ox sets-out after, they DO tend to accept the 'consequences' with placid serenity, afterwards. It is also a trait of this Sign that the Ox is deeply Philosophic in outlook; most Taureans have studied the ancient Philosophies well-enough to have a Fitting Quote for every occasion"

In short that means that this year, I'm going to kick your ass.
Happy new year fuckers, and remember:
Drive fast and don't hit anything. ;)

PS. Plet was great.

Dat wemen is da debil! Aka Decieptful Cape town

noreply@blogger.com (Kai) — Thu, 01 Jan 2009 10:15:00 +0000

Okay fuckyfucks you can all take a maasive sigh of fucking relief because because I now get to save this blog from the sad little peeks into Matthews abismal social life (when did this blog become a fucking dear diary today i nearly sucked Mavuso s dick) And replace it with MAH HAWsome musings.

Holy fuck look at the time IT"S 2009!
An as i stand on the edge of the presipis (yes presipis i have been up all night and just don't feel like looking for a dictionary) that is the rest of my adult life, and it appears to be the beginning of a doozie!

For the past few weeks I have been living in the land of the depraved that Master Philip Kramer knows so intimately. It really just takes a hosting of an insanely cool party to sky rocket ones social status amoungst the rabble of ,What I will now be refering to as' "Deceitful Cape Town"
Oh yes it is deceitful folks, all four of you know it to be true (don't know who else could be reading this, who knows what might get out!) the back talking, the i'm your-friend-but-i'm-not, i'm gonna fuck you over at work or home, steal all your clothes and music, sleep with your mother,sister,girlfriend,ex-girlfriend but tell you I am your loyal, loyal friend who would never do that, kinda decietful. Ala Deceitful Cape Town.

Sigh... If only I could be like Ian and find that prefect someone that'll stay true to me for remainder of my exxxcesive rockstar life..... In decietful Cape town

IF ONLY I had a fucking awesome trip to plettenberg bay with my two best friends to look foreward to.
IF ONLY (tremendously excited face) I could bask in the comfort of my jewish grandmothers bosom, while she feeds me delicious treats and strokes my hair and calls me boobalah before beginning another crazy year(And I have a feeling this one is going to HHHHHinsane!) in Deceitful Cape Town.

OH wait!

I AM! MWAAAHAAAAHAAAAAHAAAA! Die.

Okay niggas my new yearsies advise. Trust NO ONE. Especially me. It's the only way we'll make it out alive.

Fucking love you all

Scoot the Future?

noreply@blogger.com (Geoff) — Wed, 17 Dec 2008 10:42:00 +0000

I know you spelling nazi's are going to have a field day and Kai's going to jump in on the action too, but first and foremost, fuck you all.

Because at the heart of it, "Fuck you" and "fuck the institution" is what getting a motorcycle is all about. Its about going against other people's better judgment and getting around the anti-social way...on a dangerous, loud, fast, motorcycle.

The next question you might ask is, why do you ride?
When you're on a motorcycle, its very easy to blank everything out, except the act of riding the bike, to put all of your concentration into what you are doing and to focus yourself on one. Because if you don't, you crash (and/or die).
Its very therapeutic, almost a form of meditation if you will.
I remember countless times, when I'd go out for a ride with lots of things troubling me, and then coming back feeling refreshed, energized and focused.
Not to mention its fun.

So then what are the advantages of getting a motorbike?
Well, traffic is no longer a problem, and neither is parking. You'll be seeing less filling stations, depending on how you ride, and you'll get to where you're going having fun, and getting there quickly, and they're easier to operate than a car. Unless of course you're missing two or more limbs.

As for the disadvantages, well there are countless douche's on the road who don't EVER see you coming, so you have to ride in a manner that means you're always trying to get away from traffic, you have to be much more alert to your surroundings, gotta avoid painted lines and drain pipes when its wet. When it starts raining, you have to suit up and wait 15 to 20 minutes for the rain to really get going. You have to wear usually cumbersome safety gear, and when you crash it is guaranteed to hurt.

Now what I want to know, is. If this applies to motorbikes, why is it that people seem to get the idea that the disadvantages don't apply to scooters. I'm sorry but the logic falls short, how the fuck can a pissy scooter be safer than a full sized motorbike?!

BULLSHIT! You're just as invisible to drivers, you have smaller wheels, less traction, shittier brakes, no acceleration and more often than not, you're wearing flops, shorts, a t-shirt and a helmet. And people think this is acceptable. Then when that rider is asked why they didn't get a motorbike, thier reply is, "oh no thats too dangerous!"

I certainly ain't saying there's anything wrong with riding scooters in beach clothes, but don't go deluding yourselves if you think you're safer.
The reality is that you will crash, no matter what you ride. And as long as you keep that in mind, you're welcome to dress however you like. After all its your life.

In closing, if you want to get a scooter or a bike, get it for the right reasons, and understand all the risks involved. If you think bikes are dangerous and anyone on two wheels is a douche, then let me ask you this, when was the last time you saw a biker coming in your rear view? When was the last time you moved over to let him pass safely?

Keep the rubber side down, shiny side up. Check your mirrors and drive sober.
Later bitches.

A room blue and white: A brain full of pigshit

noreply@blogger.com (Kai) — Fri, 12 Dec 2008 08:22:00 +0000

A new tale must be told,

of woe this time chaps

My cranium, hellish agony

the night prior, to much schnapps.

And the light burns as bright

as it ever did before.

"I want everyone to die,

I wan't their blood on the floor."

Okay so yeah, I was moody,

But in my defense, you would agree

the models are snotty cretins

A swift decapitation, with absolute glee.

A Series Of Recent Events:

noreply@blogger.com (the foxweasel) — Mon, 08 Dec 2008 14:17:00 +0000

Today, I was accosted by Phil as I went shopping for ham:

On Friday night, Matthew introduced me to two German girls he had met:

And on saturday, I went to the movies with James, who is a pilot:

Haiku for Geoff

noreply@blogger.com (Kai) — Mon, 08 Dec 2008 11:57:00 +0000

Fingers in nostrils,

he would do them from behind,

Squeal little piggies.

Capoeira vs Boxing.

noreply@blogger.com (Geoff) — Sat, 06 Dec 2008 13:29:00 +0000

A room blue and white: The accidental observation.

noreply@blogger.com (Kai) — Fri, 05 Dec 2008 17:55:00 +0000

I have your attention,
you ponder my tale.
today i saw a nipple,
Argentinian breast, pale.

The angel don her wings.
the product, some insurance.
the shot; damsels in halo's and
loose, flowy garments.

And oh how loose it was!
As a boob cover, quite pathetic.
And as i had Phils shades
mine eyes invisible and erratic

And a lesson I relearned,
never judge a book by its cover.
Tits like snow capped Mount Fuji!
She was all areola.

Just quickly.

noreply@blogger.com (Kai) — Fri, 05 Dec 2008 11:49:00 +0000

Kai: Why have you not shaved your face for this audition?

Bearded male model ala fuckface: I had NO Idea that we have to shave.

Kai: Do you know what the product is?

Bearded fuckface: Um, nivea... aftershave... balm.....?

That is what happens when all you need to do your job is a virgin active gym membership.

WATCH YOUR GESTURES

noreply@blogger.com (Phil) — Fri, 05 Dec 2008 10:29:00 +0000

Okay, not that I want (or feel the purpose of this blog should be) to host endless amazingly funny Youtube videos...

But.

This. Is. Amazing.

Watch the whole thing.

Trust me.

Peace out.