White Genocide Most Boring Genocide Ever, Say Experts

Sometimes I write stuff that's completely unusable by anyone who pays money. So like the egomaniac I am, I take to blogging my rejected work. Here is one such example of a failed attempt to score beer money.

Researchers baffled by continued white socioeconomic supremacy, despite genocide

PRETORIA - South Africa’s white genocide is ineffective, inefficient and extremely boring. This was the conclusion of a study, funded by the Drive Them Crackers Into the Sea Foundation, involving a team of statisticians, political analysts and David Icke’s Reptiles Are Everywhere Truth Jihad Collective. “Simply put, more whites must die in order for this genocide to succeed,” says statistician and head researcher Dr Justin “Squint” Quint. “I mean seriously, just look at these numbers. It’s pathetic. It’s almost as if genocidal blacks don’t even care about killing whites.”

Quint argues that although blacks in rural areas are slightly more effective at ethnic cleansing than their urban counterparts, their performance is still too lacklustre to be effective of ridding the country of the white menace. Coastal cities, he says, are the biggest disappointments. “I really don’t understand the delay,” says Quint. “The sea is right there. “And imagine how easy it’ll be to drive the whites into the sea during Summer. Most of them are already at the beach anyway.”

But although the white genocide has so far proven to be disappointing and boring, the situation can be easily reversed “It’s simple,” says Quint. “Blacks just need to up their game and stop being so goddamned oppressed. Statistically, there’s nothing ‘previous’ about their disadvantage. Whites still get most of the opportunities, the jobs and of course, the privilege.To be honest, it’s ludicrous that this white genocide is taking so long.”

When asked what could be done to speed up the process, Quint simply shrugs. “I’m out of ideas,” he says flatly. “it’s not like there are a whole lot of whites in the country anyway – and there are millions and millions of blacks. But it seems South African blacks are far more concerned with trivialities, like feeding and educating their children, developing their careers and living peaceful lives, rather than the wholesale slaughter of the white race. Sadly, All this peaceful behaviour is ruining what could be a damn fine white genocide.” 

Eddie Izzard Lite

(I did this parody for channel24.co.za a few years back when Eddie Izzard was in SA, aimed at readers who couldn't afford the R500 for a ticket.)

Hello, hello, welcome to South Africa, thanks so much for coming all this way. Because everything’s so far isn’t it, in Africa? Everything’s so far away from everything else, because you have these wide, expansive, majestic… spaces… between everything - which looks great on a postcard but it’s really a pain in the arse when you need to turn off the bedroom light. Yes.

That’s why giraffes have long necks and elephants have big trunks – so they can reach the faraway fruit and leaves – or the bedroom light, if you train them. Yes. A giraffe can be handy in Africa. Coffee on the top shelf? No problem – “Fred!” (sotto) His name’s Fred. “Fred, could you get this?” (mimes a giraffe entering the room, looks around, then speaks in a thick Sean Connery accent, slightly annoyed) “This had better be important. I was busy doing giraffe things.”

“Fred, you put the coffee on the top shelf again…”
(coldly)“Did I?”
“Yes.”
“Well. I suppose I’d better get it for you.”
“Thanks.”
(pause) “I want a raise.”
(sighing) “Fred, now is not the time…”
“Do you want the damn coffee or not?”
(getting angry) “Look, the coffee wouldn’t be out of reach if you hadn’t put it there in the first place.”
“Ah, so it’s all my fault is it? How very convenient for you.”
“All I’m saying is that if everyone just showed a little consideration for…”
“That’s it! Fetch your own fucking coffee, shorty!” (mimes a giraffe turning angrily and stalking off).

You don’t want a giraffe giving you the cold shoulder. No. Especially indoors. It could take out half the house. (mimes the giraffe turning again, then covers head with both arms as house falls down). Giraffes are dangerous creatures. Yes. They’re the rattlesnakes of the animal kingdom.

(mimes writing on hand)  I told them about the giraffe, but they didn’t believe me. I sense unease. They might strike tonight.

So, yeah...

And you have the cradle of humankind right up the road. Only about 50 kilometres or so away. That’s about (moves a small step to the side) here, in Africa.  I’m going tomorrow actually. I’ll finally see our origins - humankind’s cradle - and quite possibly humankind’s rattle, humankind’s teething ring and humankind’s blankie. Humankind’s crèche, basically.

And that takes us back millions of years ago, to when our first ancestors lived in caves - if they were lucky! Yes. You had to get up pretty early in the morning to get your own cave. Lots of people, you see… not a lot of caves. Highly sought-after, during the great cave shortage of the Pliocene epoch. Especially the caves in good areas. Which is why South Africa’s not just the cradle of humankind – it’s also the cradle of real estate agents. Oooh, they’ve always had their finger in every pie, those bastards.

(plummy British accent) “Hello! My wife and I would like to buy a cave please. Something not too damp, North-facing is possible, with a view of the mud lake.”
(Marlon Brando as Don Corleone  impersonation) “Forget about it. You don’t want a cave.”
“Actually I do, if you don’t mind.”
“What you want with a cave, huh?”
“Well, I am a cave man…”
“I can offer you a hole in the ground…”
“No, I want a cave, please.”
“I can offer you this…”
(pause) “That’s not a cave, it’s a granite cliff face.”
“It’s a fixer-upper.”
“It’s a wall!”
“It’s a property with potential. Needs a little TLC…”
(pause) “Where are you from, anyway?”

…and so on and so on for 90 minutes, followed by a standing, albeit nonplussed, ovation.

An open letter to scantily clad ladies

If you’re female, and for some reason or other you don’t want to be raped right now, I hope you’re dressed appropriately.

I mention this because a survey, conducted by TNS Research, revealed that nearly a quarter of South African men agree with the statement, “women who dress in revealing clothes are asking to be raped”.

Asking to be raped. Asking.

Holy crap. Really? I never would have guessed. And I doubt I’m the only one, so I’m taking the opportunity to announce this new information – partly as a service to single women who might want to rush home and change into something less dowdy immediately, but also as an RSVP to FHM magazine models and scantily clad women of all shapes and sizes everywhere. I’d just like to say thank you, and I humbly accept your generous invitation.

But first, I must apologise for the tardiness of my response. I had no idea, you see. All this time I thought that those of you who wore tight, low-cut sweaters did so for your own personal reasons. It simply didn’t cross my mind that your choice of clothing was an attempt to communicate with little old me. Honestly, if I’d known for a second you were requesting a decisive sexual assault on my part, I would have complied without a moment’s hesitation. I may be out of touch, but I am nothing if not a gentleman.

A rape in progress

In my defense, how was I to know? It’s hard to imagine anyone – let alone a woman in revealing clothing – desiring an unannounced carnal violation from a complete stranger. In fact, doesn’t the very definition of rape rest on the fact that it’s unsolicited? Once requested, it should be called something else. Perhaps this is what provocatively attired women are really asking for: not so much rape, but rather, sudden, unprovoked lovemaking, quite possibly at gunpoint. Now I don’t want to seem like a pedant, but if we’re going to be expressing our levels of illicit lust through items of clothing, I think it best we at least try to be as precise as possible.

And after a passionate round of “surprise-love”, as I like to call it, who knows where the evening could take us? Perhaps I could take you out to see a movie against your will. Then maybe we could get a late, non-consensual dinner. Do you like pizza? Or would you prefer a knuckle sandwich? Whatever you don’t want - the choice is mine.

You should feel ashamed of yourself for thinking what everyone is thinking

Now I’ve got to remind you, this isn’t an offer you’ll get every day. Remember, nearly three quarters of the men in this country don’t even know what you girls are saying when you’re wearing an ensemble so sparing it could fit into a cigarette box. They don’t hear your request. You know what most men are like: they just don’t listen. Thankfully, there are still a few sensitive new-age guys out there who know what you’re saying when you put on those high heel pumps. Nothing says “take me in the most illegal and traumatizing way possible!” better than a pair of shoes that make it impossible for you to run away.

But sometimes it’s possible to get your lines crossed. A well-meaning guy might spot a woman who he thinks is provocatively dressed, but it’s just a very hot day and she’s trying to keep cool. Nobody’s fault, of course, but it’s always possible to get the wrong message, resulting in considerable embarrassment for both parties concerned.

So perhaps men should take extra measures to ensure that the scantily clad lady in question is, in fact, saying what they think she’s saying before taking action. Believe me, nothing comes close to the interminable embarrassment of finding yourself standing in a darkened alleyway with your pants down, a roll of duct tape in one hand and a chloroform-soaked rag in the other while the object of your affection runs away screaming. You don’t need me to tell you that the evening can only go downhill from there.

So guys, before taking action, maybe you should first ask, just to be safe. If the answer is yes, it’s time for crime! If no… well, there are plenty of provocatively dressed fish in the sea, and about a quarter of us know exactly what they want.

What to do on a date

Every year about this time I find myself in a bookshop trying to find something for my father's birthday. I see titles like  How to Make an Absolute Fortune on The Stock Exchange - usually written by some junior economics lecturer who lives in a small bachelor apartment with his cat.

So I thought I'd take my inspiration from this and write about dating. This archaic mating practice is something I know little about and all previous experiences have left me depressed for weeks. Don't believe me? Well, here's a run down.

I've had three actual dates in my life. The first one didn't show up. The second one did - with three of her girlfriends, who kept on telling her to hurry up because they were going out to dinner together with some other guys. The third one invited me to her house. I arrived to find her passed out in her own vomit after drinking three bottles of cough syrup. So in short, I've had all the experience I need to give you expert advice.

Thankfully, dates are not a requirement for sex anymore, but although the concept is a bit old fashioned, people still use this form of social interaction to see if prospective sexual partners are compatible - if only for a half an hour or so of loveless, clumsy sex before slinking off in the middle of the night, humiliated and degraded.

Most of the time we don't bother with the whole dating process and skip straight to the getting-each-other-drunk stage with the first viable person in the bar. But sometimes there's no avoiding dating. Maybe it's someone you met at a party who you know you won't see again unless you ask them out. Maybe it's someone you met on the internet. Maybe it's someone one of your friends set you up with because you're too socially inept to do it yourself. Maybe you should just hire a prostitute and give up on ever contributing to the gene pool.

Whatever the reason, anyone going on a date is faced with the same timeless questions: Where do we go? What do I say? How should I act? How will he react when he finds out I'm not a 14 year old horny lesbian with a piss fetish, like I said in my online profile? What the fuck? Where am I? How did I get here? When do I get my phone call, you motherfuckers?

Where should we go?

Let's start with your choice of venue. It's important that you go somewhere cool, trendy, imaginative and fun, which can be a bit of a problem if you live in Edgemead.

Places to avoid include:
- Drinking club AGMs
- Death metal concerts
- Neo Nazi rallies
- Your mother's house
- Edgemead
- Your ex's engagement party (especially if you're still bitter and twisted and prone to fits of violent rage).
- Or if you're me, your house.


Cool places to go include:
- A Star Trek Convention
- If you're not me, your house.
- A really swanky restaurant where you can flash all your credit cards and be extremely rude to the hapless waitress while feeling up your date under the table with your foot.

How should I act?

Remember, humour is very attractive. Try to be funny. Tell jokes. If you're short of material, read Fred Basset. That's always good for a laugh. Here's an hilarious example:

Aha ha ha ha ha!!! Fred is the funniest doggy on the planet! And if anyone says otherwise I'll stab them in the face!!

Such wit! Fred rules! And there's plenty more where that came from. Don't be scared to steal jokes from any source you can find. All the standup comedians are doing it, so why shouldn't you?

Be friendly, courteous and polite. Hide your inner demons. If you're asked about your childhood, try not to break out into uncontrollable fits of sobbing and curling yourself into a tight little ball.

Be confident. This is extremely important. Try not to say things like "Thank you for allowing yourself to be seen in public with an ugly, retarded fuck like me." This may very well make your date realise that you are indeed ugly and retarded. You might want to divert your date's attention away from your gruesome features by wearing a very large and colourful hat. With fruit. Hey, it worked for Carmen Miranda.

Evening, ladies

Try not to show your date the surveillance footage you got from the private investigator you hired until at least the third date.

Avoid shooting smack for at least 4 hours before your date starts.

If you've dropped your date off at their house and the expected kiss doesn't happen, avoid going back two hours later and drunkenly screaming up at the bedroom window.

Mentally prepare yourself for an ego crushing failure while keeping a deathly grin permanently fixed on your ashen face.

This guide is by no means complete, but if you follow these basic steps... God knows what will happen. I have no idea. Dates may have nothing to do with the dates you find on trees, but so far all mine have been complete fruitcakes.

At this point I've kind of run out of dating tips, so I'll finish with a list of all the dogs I've had since childhood:

- Patches - ran away
- Sasha - car accident
- Caesar - bowel cancer
- Porche - back legs caved in

Have a great day :-)

Advertisement: I can be your enemy

For society to progress we need more than just doctors, scientists and advertisers to tell us what the doctors and scientists are up to so we can buy the result in easy no deposit low interest installments.

We need an enemy.

Throughout history, the need for an enemy as a catalyst to Progress has been proven time and time again. The enemy is an inspiration: it’s something to fight against, it justifies our unspeakable blood lust and looks really good on T-shirts.

All great people, societies and ideologies need a threatening foe. Or, at the very least, some weaker, non-threatening group or person we can market as an enemy, blame for everything in the world we don’t like and persecute to our heart’s content.

And since hating Jews has become infra dig, this is an essential role in society which I, personally, would like to fill.

Don’t thank me. This is my calling. I don’t think I’d be far off the mark if I said I was born for this. I’m physically weak, all my friends are cowards and I don’t have a gun license - I am as easy to split apart as the exposed underbelly of an anemic maggot – but I can shoot my mouth off with torrents of hateful bile at the drop of a hat.

You want something to really rile up the masses and get that inspirational seed of unreasonable, blind hatred planted in the collective consciousness of every man, woman and child? Do you need a vaguely justifiable target so that you, as a leader, can steer society in whichever direction you want to go?

Can do, will deliver!

For a small fee, I can either be your target, or target anything you choose. I’m a professional enemy with years of experience, and after a few weeks with me in your service, you’ll be asking yourself, with enemies like that, who needs friends?

Need something of a racial nature? No problem! I hate white people! With a few sharp jabs of my razor tongue, I can turn Caucasians into evil, imperialistic swine that invade other people’s impoverished countries and use their women and children as slaves in non-subsistence industries. As unbelievable as it sounds, I can make your followers accept this as the truth. Or, I can make them accept this as lies, so that all your followers will hate me instead. The choice is yours.

I can also help you spread equally ludicrous lies about gays (or straights), Christians (or Muslims) and Australians (or vertebrates). After all, we live in a free society which cherishes equal opportunity.

But let me tell you about my specialty: children.

I hate to blow my own horn, but I can say the most disgusting things about children imaginable. With just a few sentences on this subject, I could make Attila the Hun squirm with nausea - so imagine what I could do for your followers!

And now is the time to strike - while the iron is hot, as the saying has it. The masses are already pretty sensitive about the kiddies. Just the two words, “abuse” and “child” together in no particular order sends the hoi polloi into Heart Palpitationsville. Now you can take advantage of the situation! Catch a piggyback ride on social trends into the ashen souls and barren minds of the fickle, sheep-like electorate! Call me now! Go, go, go!

Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “But Chris, how do I know for sure that you’re the Man, the A-Class enemy I need to get the job done? Wouldn't it be safer - and cheaper - just to pick on some rock star, or something?”

Well, I hear you, brother and/or sister. But let me ask you something: where has picking on a rock star as the enemy ever helped a leader achieve their goal? I’ll tell you where: Nowhere! And do you know why? Because the kids LIKE rock stars! They’re heroes. You can’t go telling kids that their hero is their enemy.

No. What you need is a Third Force, and that’s where I come in. The children don’t know me, and if they start hating me they've got nothing to lose - neither music nor sweets.

I am your natural enemy of choice. I can bring solidarity to your people. And within 24 hours (for a negotiable price), I can be out to kill, fuck and eat every last one of your disgusting, mewling little sprogs. Call me now!