Make America Economically Dystopic Again


Well it’s official: Donald Trump is the 45th president of the United States of America. Yes, I know, it’s almost unbearable to believe. The deal had been sealed by Trump and Obama’s meeting at the White House on Friday in what was the most awkward first encounter in the history of most awkward first encounters.

The news of Trump’s astonishing victory over Hillary Clinton surprised even the most paranoid of conspiracy theorists. The two had ran the most intense presidential campaigns in modern history, with record-breaking millions of dollars spent by each camp. However, the likelihood that a bloated clown like Donald Trump – with as much experience as our very brief former Minister of Finance, Des “Weekend Special” Van Rooyen – could actually command the most powerful nation on the face of the earth is something neither Clinton nor Trump (judging by the look on his face when the results came in) could have comprehended. It took the entire world by a storm and the markets quickly swirled out of control in response as uncertainty spread like wild fire. Ironically – or should I say, symbolically – Trump’s first achievement as presidential-elect of the United States had been a financial crisis, somehow prophetic of his economic policy, which, if I may borrow a few words from his lexicon, will be a “catastrophic disaster.”

The hallmark of this year’s US presidential elections had been economic prosperity, or more specifically, the tax policy. Hillary Clinton argued that taxes should be raised on the rich as a measure to stimulate economic growth in the lower and middle classes. She stressed that, with enough financial support, the middle class had a potential to create millions of jobs while not adding a single dollar to the US’s national debt. The plan was intended as a refined continuation of President Obama’s tax plan after the 2008 financial meltdown. Obama’s plan had resulted in a historical 6% steady growth in employment over the past eight years. In addition, Clinton also argued for renewed international trade policies with America’s trading allies in order to protect domestic production while maintaining amicable relations.

Donald Trump’s tax plan, on the other end, was a total opposite. Trump argued that big firms, such as Ford and General Motors, were leaving the United States because the country imposed ridiculously steep taxes and unnecessary regulations upon them. These companies, Trump argued, were taking millions of jobs out of the US to other countries such as China and Mexico. Thus he stressed that when he becomes president, he is going to cut taxes and regulations on large corporations by more than a half. Trump then solidified his argument by asserting that if taxes were low on big businesses, then they would not have any reason to leave the US, essentially taking money out of the country. He also lamented that these businesses were, and I quote, “ripping” the US off because they were moving to countries that America has a preferential trade agreement with, most notably Mexico, with absolutely no import tariffs imposed on them when they export their merchandise back to the US. In addition, Trump believed that adopting a sort of protectionist policy and easing up on the red tape that is standard requirement for anyone either looking to or already operating a business in America would create tremendous job opportunities and economic growth not seen since Ronald Regan’s time, his words not mine. The only hiccup to this tax plan, of course, is that we are all well aware that tax cuts have never stopped large corporations from keeping production costs at the bare minimum, and yes, even it means laying thousands of people off their jobs. And this brings me to a list of possible scenarios that will more than likely unfold because of Trump’s disastrous tax plan.

  • Throughout his campaign, Trump has stressed his desire to obstruct international trade under the pretence of putting America’s interests first. The danger of this anti-free trade policy is self-explanatory. Trump’s protectionist tax plan will resurrect Mercentalism, the likes of which will reverse America’s economy back to the Middle Ages, increasing the already alarmingly wide income gap between the rich and poor. In addition, his ill-conceived tax plan will add an enormous amount to America’s chocking national debt as US imports will decline, inadvertently lowering government revenue from import tariffs.
  • The idea that cutting taxes on large firms somehow stimulates job growth is the biggest pile of bollocks I have ever heard. Although on paper it seems plausible, in reality it is anything but. The truth is, realizing positive economies of scale is every business’s objective. Businesses by their nature will always seek to minimize costs as much as possible, whether or not the tax rate is high or low is beside the point. In essence, employment trends are unlikely to be impacted by Trump’s tax plan, at least not in a positive light.
  •  The rapid growth in domestic output and exports, coupled with a sharp decline in imports will raise the value of the dollar significantly. This may sound like good news except that, well, it isn’t. You see, a dollar appreciation will raise input costs, which in turn will be directly transferred onto final goods and services, hiking prices on pretty much everything, and ultimately resulting in what is commonly known as inward inflation. Inflation is not something any sane president would want on their term in office, then again the man in question has never been known for his exceptional logic.
  •  The inflation mentioned in the previous bullet point will make American exports less competitive in global markets, thus putting a tremendous dent in the country’s balance of trade account. Although the country may see a positive balance of trade or trade surplus in the short-run, Trump’s tax plan will more than likely result in the greatest trade deficit in American history in the not-so-long run.
  •  The final repercussion of Trump’s disastrous tax plan will be certain retaliation by such countries as China and Mexico as they impose a full-blown economic embargo on all American goods, paving the way for other countries to set in motion global sanctions on American goods as well. The American economy will slump to its lowest as national debt, trade deficits, inflation and ultimately unemployment will be at an all-time high, essentially igniting the modern day Great Depression.

All of this might seem like something out of a dystopic Stephen King novel, but with someone like Donald Trump at the helm of the world’s economic hub, soon fiction will start depicting reality. As an economist, the election of Trump as the commander-in-chief of the United States symbolizes the end of free trade as we know it, and while this may have enormous benefits, its downfalls are just as equally unpleasant. The events of this year, starting with Brexit and of course Trump’s election, will go down in history as the tipping point when the world moved from a globalization disposition to a harsh era of economic dystopia.


Trumped Up, Trickled Down


DONALD TRUMP. Now here’s a name with enough clout to summon any of the following emotions in anyone: anger, bigotry, racism, Islamaphobia, or – if you’re an illegal Mexican immigrant – vicious diarrhoea. Donald Trump, or as I like to call him, ‘The Donald’ is to Americans what Boris Johnson is to the Brits – a bloated half-wit with 12 chromosomes and the temperament of a horny rhinoceros. Needless to say, if you look past the Hitler-esque rhetoric and overly compensated tan, there’s actually a lot you can learn from the guy.

Donald Trump is a giant asshole, there’s no denying that, but if there is anything you should hand to the man is his grand optimism. He doesn’t let anything get in his way, certainly not losing. His companies have filed for bankruptcy a record six times, but each time The Donald bounced back with the vigour of a ZCC dude on a trampoline before going back to doing regular Trump stuff like, well I don’t know, I suppose grabbing women by their pussies and whatnot. When asked about this in an interview, he said “I like bankruptcy, I think it’s fantastic. I have tremendous admiration for it. In fact, I have an impulsive fetish for it. Yeah, that’s right, next to foreign models with exotic accents and literally nothing upstairs, bankruptcy gives me the biggest, veiniest boner.” The Donald sees failure not as a loss, but as a learning curve and, of course, a wonderful opportunity to once again grab women by their pussies. His larger-than-life charisma is often misspelt as egotistic. Perhaps he is an egocentric maniac but it is important to note that his inflated ego is the reason The Donald succeeds in pretty much any endeavour he pursues. He grabs opportunities by their, and I quote, “pussies” and leaves no stone unturned. His life-long devotion to always stay on the winning end makes The Donald a crazy-haired force to be reckoned with…like his alter-ego, Dennis the Menace. Donald Trump radiates what the rest of the world needs in these tough, economic times – insanity with a large dose of unwavering optimism.

Hate him or love him, but there is one thing we can all agree on – Trump is one hell of an exciting bastard. The last time American politics were this exciting was when Bill Clinton screwed his secretary with a Cuban cigar, and no, I’m afraid that is not even a metaphor for his willy. It’s true, check it up online, Bill banged a chick with a cigar. Bloody hell, right? But I digress…

America doesn’t need another honourable African-American president, neither does it need a strong, calculating first female president. What it needs, however, is a blonde Stalin with the mannerisms of a rare cross-breed between Idi Amin and Victoria Beckham. What the United States needs is a delusional psychopath with the confidence and sanguineness of a fat dietitian. In short, what America needs right now is Donald “ I like to grab em by the pussy” Trump.

The Newton Philosophy


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A few days ago I watched a documentary about the recluse life of Sir Isaac Newton. You might recall him as the guy who made your life in high school a living hell, and might have even had something to do with you failing the 11th grade or that embarrassing score in Physics on your academic transcript. Nevertheless, Newton invented some of the most ground-breaking laws in human history. His scientific breakthroughs have tremendously contributed to advancements in medicine, chemistry, technology, mathematics as well as astronomy. Today we are able to send man to space, diagnose bone ailments without surgery, or quite simply send a tweet, all thanks to Newton’s Universal Laws. Although Newton made strides in science that far surpassed any that have followed since, one particular aspect of his life stood out to me. He was a serial introvert who often spent days-on-end doing what is commonly known as introspection, and it got me thinking…

Scholars have long been on opposite ends with regard to the inspiration of Newton’s genius, which – even by today’s standards – is incredibly impressive, to say the least. Some have attributed it to the fact that Newton was a life-long bachelor. The idea behind this argument, of course, being that the presence of a woman in a man’s life is detrimental to his creativity, while the absence thereof stimulates creative neurons necessary to summon the genius within him, a claim I believe every man – whether he admits it or not – will agree with. Others, of course, quite simply chalk it down to necessity – that basic stimulus for scientific endeavour. I, however, think there’s more than meets the eye. I believe I have discovered the secret to Newton’s genius: consistent introspection. What made Isaac Newton such an exceptional scientist was that, unlike many, he looked for answers not outside but within. He realised that some of the universe’s most puzzling mysteries could not be solved by conventional, empirical scientific means. Quietly meditating and continual introspection are as equally effective in scientific discovery as  mathematical projections. As it is with the laws of motion and gravity, Newton’s source of genius could be applied in a wide array of scenarios, which is why I have come up with what I call the Newton Philosophy for unleashing the genius within you. The Newton Philosophy calls for no greater effort on the part of the individual who wishes to rid themselves of the burden of mediocrity. If applied efficiently, it has the potential to deliver to one’s doorstep the brilliance and genius of Sir Isaac Newton proportions. The philosophy is neatly summed in the four following points:



Isolate yourself from the world’s standardized conventional ways of living. Every era has this, where everyone follows the crowd without really knowing why. In universities, and particularly here at Fort Hare, acceptance in social circles is measured primarily on the degree to which you are willing to lower the moral bar. Drinking yourself to a pulp and indulging in irresponsible sexual behaviour is seen as the “cool” thing to do, while completely immersing yourself in books and other hubs of knowledge is frowned upon, and the few individuals who have taken it upon themselves to live outside the conservative belt are ostracised, often labelled as “clever blacks.” Well I say there’s nothing odd with being a “clever black.” More than anything, it is an honourable title. If it makes you feel any better, it sure beats being a fucking brain dead senile moron. Carve your own lane and do that which will leave an irreparable dent in the universe, as Sir Isaac Newton did with his timeless scientific breakthroughs.



Whether or not Newton’s genius stemmed from his abstinence from carnal relations is unclear but it certainly played a tremendous role, that much can’t be disputed. In the book ‘Think and Grow Rich,’ Napoleon Hill writes about what he cleverly calls “The Mystery of Sex Transmutation.” Hill argues that if used effectively, sex can deliver to your doorstep riches beyond imagination. And no, before you get excited, he didn’t mean shagging your way to the top. Hill simply argued that young people often make the mistake of only seeing the physical side of sex. He solidified his argument by asserting that sex is a unique kind of energy that can be repurposed. In his words, “It’s an energy that can be directed into many channels. Anything you do can be electrifying and positive and profitable when it is infused with sex emotion.” In short, in lieu of being hell-bent trying to get laid, divert that energy into something meaningful and preferably life-changing. It is particularly true of us lads. We waste a good portion of our youth lurking after skirts, completely ignoring our deepest aspirations. This is why only 5% of us generally achieve the textbook example of success, while the rest remain worthless losers with nothing but depreciating assets and dumb broads to show-off. You want to know the secret to the progressive realization of any worthy ideal? Absolutely detach yourself from these pig farts you call relationships. The notion that ‘Behind every successful man is a woman’ is obsolete and terribly inaccurate. Behind every successful man is his own shadow – a symbolic reminder that his success, or the lack thereof, is entirely his own doing.



We literally become the people we hang with. If I have to put it scientifically, the quality of life you live is directly proportional to the ilk of people you gravitate toward. Believe it or not, but this is the same principle, as shown by Newton in his Law of Universal Gravitation, used by planets as they gravitate around the sun. The sun is a cosmic bundle of positive energy, which is why life without it would simply cease to exist. If the sun exuded radioactive energy, the planets would simply gravitate away from it as such energy would only yield negative inter-planetary repercussions. The same for human relations is just as true. When you surround yourself with people who radiate positive energy, good things somehow gravitate toward your life. That nagging lump of anxiety suddenly gives way to optimism and a grand sense of purpose. The reverse, unfortunately, is just as true. So surround yourself with individuals of the highest, stupendous degree and unapologetically get rid of mediocre, toxic ones.



Legend has it that Sir Isaac Newton was sitting under a tree when he observed an apple falling, a phenomenon which would alter his perception of nature and inspire the blueprint to which he modelled his most famous law – the Law of Gravitational Force. This story, of course, is bollocks. It undermines the endless hours of astronomy and mathematical calculations that underpin much of Newton’s research on the aesthetics of the universe. It somehow purports that the Law of Gravity was a mere hunch, not a product of tedious years of trial and error. The message we can all take out of it, however, is that Newton was immensely patient. He failed numerous times, the probability of which was made a whole lot worse without a previous framework to guide him. He had to rely solely on mathematics and his intuition. So any failure might have easily persuaded him to conclude that many of the novel laws he is so revered for are outside the reach of science. Nevertheless, Newton persisted against his own will. The final product of that was the invention of Calculus and the wonderful laws of physics that have dramatically enhanced science in ways Newton himself couldn’t have possibly imagined. Patience is the elixir of any worthwhile goal, and to summon the genius within us takes enormous amounts of perseverance.


The world will never have another Isaac Newton again unfortunately. What it can still have, however, is you. There is immense greatness within you, the likes of which if released has the potential to change the world in ways unimaginable. Start today, I say, emancipate yourself from the shackles of mediocrity and heed the Newton Philosophy to unleash the giant within you.


The Utopian (Black) Man


There have been a lot of talks lately about what it truly means to be of African descent or, specifically, black in a society where people of colour broadly feel marginalized. Once in every while my intellectual ally as well as one of the sharpest minds I have ever had the pleasure of crossing paths with, Sibusiso Twala, and I pick each other’s brains on this subject rigorously. Although we have slightly diverging philosophical perspectives (as should be anticipated when exceptional minds collide), there is one thing we are in unanimous concurrent of – that something is terribly wrong with our race.

There has never been a time in history where black people walk around with such a gigantic chip on their shoulders quite like the present. It is though being black instinctively gives one the prerogative to self-entitlement – the notion that someone out there owes you something, although you have no idea what it is, but in your gut of guts you believe they owe you anyway. This toxic and incredibly brain-numbing outlook has trapped millions of black people across the globe in a vicious and seemingly never-ending spell of poverty, misery, and anxiety. It isn’t institutional racism nor is it hundreds of years of racial segregation or oppression, but it quite simply and inconveniently boils down to one thing: attitude. It is difficult for the adult mind to comprehend how something as insignificant, yet significantly essential, as attitude could be a reason for the sluggish progress black people have made to the advancement of humanity. You might be tempted to argue that the oppression and subjugation of black people has never quite ended, but has merely morphed into a different form over time, thereby deterring any contribution they might have made to the advancement of humanity. If you nod to this, I will of course remind you that we are not the only ones who were dealt a cruel fate by the universe. The Jewish people have probably been ostracised more intensely than any other race on the planet, for reasons I’m afraid only history scholars are qualified to disclose. Throughout history we have read of the heinous horrors committed against the Jews – from biblical times in ancient Egypt, to the Spanish Inquisition, and more recently in Nazi Germany with the Holocaust. What is perhaps most remarkable and a wonder about the Jewish race is that, despite thousands of years of horrific maltreat, they have continuously emerged as a force to be reckoned with – acclaimed rulers of the world whose power and influence knows no boundaries, even in the presence of adversity. Jewish people have contributed more to civilization than the rest of the world combined; through the realms of science, philosophy, religion, and, most importantly, technology. How is it then that a race so despised and marginalized ‘til this day has left, and is still leaving, such a grand imprint on the world? Well, depending on your inclination, your bet is as good as mine. The Jews have quite simply mastered the art of optimism and entirely divorcing themselves from the propensity of self-entitlement. After World War II, a plurality of holocaust survivors migrated to Jerusalem, wherein they established the nation of Israel, which would be a safe haven for all the world’s Jews fleeing persecution. Almost 70 years later, Israel has grown to one of the world’s most prosperous countries with the most advanced military structure in the world.  How did they do it, you ask? It’s no brain surgery, really. The Jewish have absolutely no room for self-pity and time to deal the perpetual victim card. We, too, perhaps can take a page out of their book to ascend from the abyss of narrow-mindedness and claim our spot on the global arena. We, too, can transform this cradle of life we call home from a war and famine-ridden swamp to a utopian paradise equalled only by its outstanding technological advancements and stock of rare, precious metals, as in Marvel’s fictional kingdom of Wakanda. There was a time when Africans ruled the world, with an empire so vast the whole earth shook under its weight. Egypt stands as a shrine to our glory and what we are truly capable of when we stand together. The utopian Africa, of course, begins with the utopian African man. Levitating to this rare state of bliss is an ideal which obliges one to completely strip himself off the fetters of conforming to standard notions of what black people should do to affirm or solidify their authenticity. In the following paragraphs, I have taken the liberty of summing up what one ought to do, or not to do, to ascend to that calm state of utopia.

  •  The utopian black man doesn’t brand himself with such petty titles as ‘black child’ or ‘child of the working class.’ A child is naïve, gullible, easily deceived, and its intellectual capacity is, to say the least, non-existent. When you call yourself a ‘black child’ you are intuitively suggesting that you, like a child, ought not to be taken seriously. There are, of course, other similar loose phrases such as ‘black child you are on your own’ which are designed to incite feelings of triviality and mass pettiness. The utopian black man is privy to the law of auto-suggestion – the idea that what you think about yourself is essentially what the universe makes of you. If you think yourself a god, you will be a god. Similarly, if you think yourself a child, infallibly you will remain a child – paltry and helpless.


  • The utopian black man is a global citizen. He is absolutely oblivious to racial, religious, or cultural barriers. He recognizes no race other than the human race. His only religion is the betterment of his fellow man. He realizes that the intertwining of cultures is the quintessence of life, and that by learning about others ironically you begin to know more about yourself. The utopian black man knows that bigotry or prejudice erodes the mind and that by opening yourself to the world, the world automatically opens itself to you, with all its marvels and wonders.


  • In the realm of business, the utopian black man doesn’t build “BEEs” or “100% black” businesses. He is a global entrepreneur whose commercial endeavour is inclusive of all races and cultures. He understands that “BEEs” or “100% black” businesses are frivolous concepts conjured by unimaginative simpletons with dwarfed IQs. Mark Zuckerberg doesn’t absent-mindedly proclaim that Facebook is a ‘100% Jewish’ company. Jack Ma doesn’t go around boasting that Alibaba is a ‘100% Chinese’ venture, yet Alibaba’s daily returns on New Year’s Eve are higher than South Africa’s annual GDP. This is why there are no multi-billion dollar black businesses in the world today. Intelligent entrepreneurs know that racial profiling (which is the correct appellation to describe branding one’s business as being “100% black”) confines the opportunities your business might have otherwise reaped to a bare minimum. Imagine if a Caucasian man openly declared his business a ‘100% white’ business. There would be uproar, and no doubt he would have the ‘white supremacist’ brand hurled at his direction, yet we see nothing odd about proudly boasting that our businesses are “100% black,” which, in itself , is the worst kind of racism.


  • The utopian black man is a noble gentleman whose work, not his words, speak for itself. He frowns upon ostentatious display of wealth, for that is a mark of a very weak mind. He understands that true wealth is not in how much you have, but in how much you leave. In other words, true wealth is not in possessing depreciating materialistic assets, but in leaving a legacy that reverberates through the ages.


  •  The utopian black man derives no pleasure in rising above his fellow man, for true nobility is rising above your former self. His life’s purpose is not in self-enrichment, but the prosperity of his fellow man. He is a serial philanthropist and humanitarian whose grand aspiration is the alleviation of others’ suffering. The utopian black man is also an instinctive pacifist who realizes that no greater good has ever come out of segregation, and that the creation of a truly utopian Africa calls for the cooperation of all those who dwell in it, irrespective of race, culture or creed.


  • The utopian black man is a man of education. However, unlike many, for the utopian black man the procurement of education is not a bragging accessory. He understands that, as the saying goes –“knowledge is power.” Nevertheless, for the utopian black man this is not enough. Knowledge on its own is useless. Knowledge is only power when it is organized to deliver to one’s doorstep their most cordial desires as well as all that he needs to leave an eternal mark in the world. For this reason, the utopian black man is an avid connoisseur of literature. He understands that wisdom, as well as all that will elevate him to that calm state of utopia, resides within the library. Tyrion Lannister of Game of Thrones said it best when he argued, “The mind needs books like a sword needs a whetstone.”


  •  The intelligence of the utopian black man is rivalled only by his unyielding curiosity. Counter to orthodox belief, intelligence is not a hereditary entity. Intelligence is, in fact, deliberately cultivated by those who truly desire it through persistent curiosity. The utopian black man transcends conformism and seeks sound, rational explanations for many of life’s puzzling mysteries. He does not subscribe to superstition as this cripples the mind and hinders its optimal capacity. In this regard, the utopian black man is a man of science and reason. He knows that the secrets of the universe can only be unravelled through sound and testable means, and not through delusional superstition.


  • The utopian black man is privy of that age-old notion that we literally become what we think about. As thus, he keeps inventory of all the thoughts that pass through his brain’s faculties. Negative thoughts are quickly dispelled and replaced with calm, and cheerful ones. It is for this reason, therefore, that the utopian black man is a chronic optimist. He believes that everything, good or tragic, somehow works in his favour. He doesn’t fold his arms and count his loses when the universe deals him with the unfortunate. He gets up, dusts himself, and hunts for the nearest opportunity. He doesn’t recoil at the inevitable arrival of failure. He understands that, as the proverb goes –“Rome wasn’t built in one day.” He sees failure not as a misfortune, but a learning curve and daring invitation for improvement.


  • The utopian black man is absolutely self-reliant. He realizes that no one can change his situation but him. He is not deterred by such inconsequential things as poverty. In fact, he sees poverty not as a hindrance but a stimulant – an empowering reason to deliberately do that which brings him closer to his ultimate goal. He doesn’t walk around with a gigantic chip on his shoulder, neither does he feel the world owes him something for which he has no idea. He derives his motivation by persistently reading and listening to uplifting success stories. He understands that jealousy, envy, and other similar toxic emotions have never done anyone much good other than tightening the fetters of poverty and unending misery.


  • Lastly, a man is only good as his word. The utopian black man is a man of honour; he keeps his word. He understands that a true gentleman’s armour is his honour. He neither deceives nor seeks to defraud his fellow men. There are certain fixed laws in the universe which cannot be altered. One of these is that ancient law of karma. Many falsely believe that karma is just another extension of superstition, but actually there is more science to it than meets the eye. Karma works on the premise that for every action, there is an equal but opposite reaction. Those who do good shall be rewarded with good. Likewise, those who lie, deceive, and cheat their way out of life shall also be rewarded with equally unpleasant perks. No one can change it, it is a universal law, like the laws of Sir Isaac Newton. The utopian black man is of course privy to this. He understands that honour and good manners will open doors that the best connections cannot.


The idea behind the utopian black man is not only confined to men of African descent. The utopian black man, incidentally, is an ideal prototype of all men, hence the brackets enclosing the word ‘black’.

We are not weak, unintelligent beings racist bigots would have us believe we are. We are the last gods, strong and powerful beyond measure. It is time we ascended from the hollows of indignation and self-entitlement to our rightful rank as the epitome of humanity’s ingenuity and brilliance.  It is time we reminded the world what we are truly are. We are the cradle of civilization; bearers of man’s glory and greatest accomplishments. We are intelligent, innovative, resilient, majestic, incredible in our abilities, and, above all, we are the architypes of humanity’s optimal potential. In short, it is time we reminded the world that we are the utopian race.

An Apple A Day, Screwed Adam’s Life Away


cup of coffee

It’s 10pm on a Saturday night and I’m in my room, mouth full of Lays with only a cup of coffee and a Dan Brown novel to keep me company. Sixty years from now I predict the cup of coffee and Dan Brown novel will be replaced by homeless cats, a pack of Viagra, and awfully fitting dispensable teeth. If my social disposition is any yardstick, the probability that I am likely to wind up rich, horny, and lonely is about as high as Keith Richards on methamphetamine. The odds, of course, were further shrunk recently when I took a last-minute resolution to pluck that absolute waste of noetic energy, otherwise known as the opposite sex, from my timetable.

The move took shape after years of running in cycles, caught in the habitual rat race of conformity. The realization slapped me in the face, but as I was about to return my own equally menacing klap, time stopped in a trance of slow motion…and then there it was, the moment of illumination. It became crystal clear that to hoist to a dimension far higher than the ordinary ether certain changes were, in addition to being inevitable, a grave necessity. Surprisingly, executing this had been smooth sailing, more so considering there was only one hump which needed tweaking – a weakness I have it on strong suspicion must’ve been passed down to me in the gene pool through annoyingly accurate osmosis – WOMEN. Here’s a five-letter word I bet every man in my family breaks into a cold sweat or stubborn erection upon hearing it. The men in my family, yours truly included, have an affliction that predates thousands of years to that apple addict, Adam of Eden, whom we are rumoured to be direct descendants of. If I’m correct, it was a woman who persuaded my rumoured ancestor Adam to partake in the forbidden fruit, thus inviting the excruciating wrath of the Creator, which can still be felt to this today through Cassper Nyovest’s “music”. Although all bans on apple trees had since been lifted, the gene responsible for allowing women to get their way with us had passed the test of time, simply hopping buoyantly from one generation to the next. This unfortunate ‘hiccup’ in my genetic makeup reared it’s hideous head recently and, right as I was about to give into the impulsive act of bimbo-pleasing and allowing the futile charade to go on, I raised only the most offensive of my fingers and said ‘bugger it, the affliction ends with me.’ I solemnly vowed to steer clear of anything with a set of jugs, a clam, as well as all the apparently hypnotic feminine parts that have kept me in-check for all these years. And no, before we get ahead of ourselves, I’m not going celie, quite frankly that would be inaccurate and misleading. I am simply re-establishing that calm state of equilibrium I believe everyone in their mid-twenties is rightfully entitled to. The truth is, overindulging in girls and all the senseless theatrical baggage they bring vacuums energy that would have otherwise been apportioned to a more worthy cause, like debating whether or not it’s ethically moral to fart in church. By the way, farting in church is a grand blasphemy, although I bet it’s not that big of a deal, unlike in Islam where I imagine you would probably be stoned to death, what with the other fella’s face literally on your buttocks and all. But I digress…

They say I’m a hard man to please, and perhaps I am. No matter how hard I try I could never have enough room reservation for mediocrity, which, I’ll be honest, is all I have ever been inundated with since making that self-degradation debut into the art of skirt-hunting. It appears whatever magical magnet Cupid adorned his aphrodisiac arrow with before jabbing me only attracted incredibly bizarre and totally mainstream women to my orbit. And that is a serious cause for concern. Not to wave my own flag or anything, but I am one of the handful people on this planet who have been imbued with something so rare, it’s almost legendary – an extraordinary celestial-esque aura. It is because of this that I have decided, once and for all, to strip myself of all the fetters of according with prevailing social standards (read: bimbo-appeasing) and ascend to my rightful rank – among the demi-gods.

All White Parties, G2Gs, Sunday Chills & Other Black Fails


Conformity has never been my strongest quality, I’m afraid. I’ve always been left behind when everyone hoped onto that sporadic wave of the “coolest” trends. It’s not that I’m slow to catch up to stuff or that my adaptability skills are impaired. I don’t follow the so-called ‘in things’ simply because I think they are fucking stupid and distinguishing of a generation that has completely fallen out of tune with itself.

Excuse the deep-Pan-African-dude-in-Dashiki-garbs talk but we’ve evolved from slaves in shackles to vanity slaves. We are today living in a time where black people have completely lost their fucking minds, not forgetting morals – that definitive entity that separates us from Neanderthals. It’s sickening, you know, like these binge drinking orgies otherwise known as ‘Sunday chills, all white parties, and get-togethers.’  You will see them with cooler boxes, blinding white apparel, those slightly oversized cowboy-esque hats, and dancing to that ghastly music that would make anyone with half a brain cringe. And when you ask what the occasion is, you’re most likely to get a reply that’s more along the lines of, “Well, it’s a Sunday chill. We basically get together on a Sunday and drink and chill.” Talk about a no-brainer. The irrationality of these parties doesn’t seem to read at all to those who absentmindedly partake in them. Living life to the fullest, they claim it is. I don’t know, maybe I’m a tad bit boring, and that’s okay, but I have a hard time comprehending how getting completely shitfaced and then waking up with a million irreversible regrets could ever sum up to ‘living life to the fullest.’  Living, ironically, has absolutely nothing to do with that. It’s learning to play a musical instrument, writing, reading, feeding the needy, sky diving, bungee jumping, hiking, travelling, saving the planet by driving a Prius (and then shortly recycling it to toilet paper), great food, great wine, great sex, etcetera, etcetera. None of these airheads would agree with me, of course, because to them living means getting inebriated and catching all kinds of venereal diseases.

It doesn’t stop with the moronic parties, mind you. There are also the senseless hashtags and loose phrases that, again with absolutely no logical reason, go viral with the velocity of a brain disease, which is exactly a symptom of what they are. A particular annoying one pops in mind in this regard, the nauseating “Ziright igirls?”  Who came up with this anyway, some half-wit with a stutter? What is its relevance really? What do the people who say it hope to get out of it? Would I be off track for assuming those who recite this phrase are missing a couple of chromosomes?  Yes? No? And then you go online and find your feed inundated with these fucking idiotic hashtags, like #situationrightnow, #famvibes, #MCM  #allwhitethangs, #Baecation, and a myriad other fails that just make you want to commit cyber suicide.

If you think I’m one the self-hating blacks who are too ashamed of their own, you’re partially right. Remove the self-loathing bit and you are spot on. I am ashamed. I’m ashamed of what we’ve become – a race that is a laughing stock to other races. We have become an epitome of a culture in demise, a predictable species that backslides at every turn. The Jews control banking institutions, the Indians control businesses, the Caucasians control, well, pretty much everything, and what do we pride ourselves in? Government tenders? Sport? Music? All-white parties? Surely we can aim higher than that. We need to wake up, smell the proverbial coffee and claim our spot on the universe’s stage. We need black inventors, astronauts, innovators, veterinarians, particle scientists, and, for crying out loud – black rock stars, we discovered the damn genre for chrissake! All of this, of course, is fairy tale until we prune all that pulls us back as a race. Start now, I say, decide not be a giant cliché and do away with these stupid mediocre trends, take the path (or hashtag) less travelled and unleash the extraordinary Nguni within you.


Here’s Why Being A Narcissist Isn’t Such A Bad Thing…

social-media-narcissism-mirror Blog Pic

A lot of people go through life with an inferiority complex. They don’t know their own strengths, so they allow their brains to tell them they’re losers. It’s not that they really believe they’re losers; they’ve been conditioned to think there’s great honour in being one. There is absolutely no honour in self pity. There is, however, every bit of it in immoderate self appreciation or what those boring mind shaggers with crossed legs and note pads call ‘narcissism’.

I am a narcissist. And yes, from time to time I contemptuously give myself back pats before treating myself to a raucous round of applause for no conceivable reason. I also do certain embarrassing stuff to my own reflection in the mirror which I will not mention. It’s not a shame, really. Ask Kanye West, Donald Trump or Fikile Mbalula, they’ll tell you all about it. Narcissism isn’t such a bad thing. Of course we’ve had insane narcissists like Hitler or Shaka, needless to say, it’s also worth mentioning that these men rose to their respectable ranks by embracing their insanity with the utmost severity instead of allowing society to tell them to sit in a corner somewhere. The notion that one must put others before themselves is bollocks. I believe in putting myself first. It’s this same philosophy that has nudged me to excel in pretty much everything I do. The likelihood of being a disappointment to myself far outshines any judgement that may be levelled against me by anyone else. In fact, I am one of the few people on this planet who genuinely mean it when they say they don’t give a shit about what anyone thinks. It’s that drunk little dwarf inside me whose opinions hold any weight, really. And perhaps that’s the problem with the world today; people living by everything else that isn’t them. They’ve been told narcissism is bad and that one should love themselves fairly, just not above a certain agreeable point. And we wonder why there’s so much depression, anxiety, and suicide. People just don’t love themselves enough. Narcissism in this regard isn’t necessarily a bad thing at all. Narcissists, like introverts, don’t need the second person to praise them. They’ve got all of that covered. You rarely find one that suffers from any of the attention-seeking disorders. They give themselves all the attention in the world. With narcissism you develop an acute appreciation of both your flaws and strengths. Criticism just falls by the waistline because, guess what; you’ve already done that. You begin to take great pride in your work because you are one of a kind and no one else in the universe can do a more sterling job, or at least you delude yourself into believing.  You walk around with your chin held high because you know at this very moment you are standing at the centre of your own colesium with the only audience that truly matters – yourself. Every decision is carefully refined, because messing up would be a poor reflection on you, and that of course would be a bigger disappointment than that waste of sci-fi money, Jupiter Ascending. Self-downgrading, despair, that nagging lump of anxiety; all these things become a myth.

The world would have us believe that narcissism is a terrible disease, and that loving yourself too much is a symptoms of a disturbed psychopath. It’s not too late, I say, to stick your middle finger up to society’s preconceived notions of what is socially acceptable or not, and recognise that right now the only rules worthy to abide by are those set by that amazing woman or man in the mirror.