Thursday, October 14, 2010

This is a test

Hello, this is a test.

Posted via email from Gus Silber's Twitter Overflow Blog

Sunday, June 6, 2010

South Africa, where the Riot Police are Friendlier than the Football Administrators

0 false 18 pt 18 pt 0 0 false false false

Okay, maybe it was a stupid idea to go to a football match without tickets. But come on. Firstly, this is South Africa, and that's the kind of thing we do over here.

Secondly, this was a friendly, USA vs Australia, at Ruimsig Stadium. A friendly! Step inside, you're very welcome, sit anywhere you want, we're all friendly here!

And also, I had tried, all week, to get tickets, or at least to find out whether or not you need tickets to go a friendly.

I asked the Internet, I asked Computicket, I asked the lady at the FIFA ticketing centre, who looked at me blankly and told me to ask Computicket, who...well, this is South Africa.

So when Saturday came, I left nice and early with my son and his friend, and we drove to the stadium and eased into the queue of cars, with their flags fluttering in the breeze, only this time there were Star-Spangled Banners and Union Jacks with Southern Crosses rampant as well.

Someone was waving the Stars 'n Stripes from the sunroof of their SUV, and for a moment I felt a curious sense of disconnection, as if I wasn't in Roodepoort anymore, and had somehow translocated to Kansas. I get that feeling a lot these days.

Then we got to the gate of the parking lot of the stadium, and the man standing there sketched an oblong shape with his fingers, which I immediately understood to mean "ticket".

I rolled down the window and said, "Can we get tickets inside?", and he said "No, you can't get inside without a ticket", and he motioned us to turn back because we didn't have tickets. But this is South Africa, so I just said, "We'll get tickets inside", and I drove in and we parked.

Everywhere I looked, as we walked towards the stadium, I saw people clutching tickets in their hands. I was getting worried. I saw a man wearing the American flag on his shoulders, and I asked him if we knew where we could tickets. "Ah, we got them from the Embassy," he said, and he gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder when I sighed and said I didn't have any.

A big sign at the stadium gate said "No Entry Without a Valid Ticket", and a big man at the stadium gate, with a curly wire dangling from his ear, said "No", when I asked him if we could tickets inside.

My son and his friend were getting impatient and irritated, and so was I. I asked a man with an Australian Football Federation blazer, and he said no, and a man handing out tickets to schoolchildren at a trestle table, and he said no, and then I saw a man from my team, wearing my shirt, and standing outside the fence, looking on as the teams ran onto the pitch for their warm-up. He also didn't have tickets. He had a picnic cooler with him. He was ready for the game.

"Maybe they'll let us all in when everyone with tickets has gone in," I said. "No," he said, "I don't think so. They're FIFA. They'll probably just leave us all standing here." But he was wrong, because a policeman came along and told us we had to move away from the fence. Ag, come on, seriously?

By now, there were a horde of us standing around the fence, ticketless, clueless, hopelessly trying to figure out a way to get in, as the minutes ticked away to kick-off. I wandered around, mentioning the word "tickets" to people who looked friendly, and no sooner had I done so, then other people would come up to me and say, "You got tickets?"

A guy in a Bafana shirt, just like mine, said in a low voice that he could get me tickets, and how much money did I have on me? I said a hundred bucks, which wasn't really true, but I didn't really want to spend anything on free tickets for a friendly anyway. Come on, we have to draw the line somewhere.

I went back to the guy with the picnic cooler, and he was talking to a riot cop, with a regulation 9mm pistol and a regulation baton and a regulation teargas cannister and a regulation boep. The cop said, "It's not us, hey, it's FIFA, they're going to ask to chase all you okes away from here any minute now." I said, it's crazy, we just want to watch some football, we've come all the way out here, and our own team isn't even playing. They'll never let you in, said the cop. Not without tickets. Forget it.

The guy with the picnic cooler said to the cop, "is it okay if we drink a beer here?" And the cop said, because it was a serious question, "Strictly speaking, this is a public place, and you're not supposed to drink alcohol in a public place."

"Is it okay if I drink it in a glass then?" said the guy in the Bafana shirt. The cop popped his earpiece from his ear and said, quietly, "Look, I'm not going to say whether you can or you can't." He pointed at a glass enclosure at the top of the stadium. "Just remember FIFA are in charge here, hey. And they can probably see you, wherever you go."

Then he gave us a conspiratorial shrug, and went back to his duty, which was to stand at the fence and make sure we didn't hop over or disturb the peace. But there wasn't any peace: the ball had been kicked into play, and the vuvuzelas were already drowning out the announcer.

Okay, I said to my son and his friend, let's go, we can stop along the way for a milkshake. Then, just as were heading up the hill, back to the car, we saw a lady who recognised my son's friend from school, and we told her our sorry story, and she pointed at a man in a green jacket, and said, why don't you ask him nicely.

So we asked him nicely, and he motioned us to wait, and then, looking straight ahead, he tore three tickets from a roll in his pocket, and we thanked him discreetly and made our way in. They were great seats. It was a great game.

We saw David Beckham in the VIP suite, up and to the left. And we learned a little bit about South Africa, which is probably the only country in the world where the riot police are friendlier than the football administrators.

I hope the guy with the picnic cooler managed to find some tickets too, or at least enjoy the game while drinking his beer on the verge.

Posted via web from Gus Silber's Twitter Overflow Blog

Football

Okay, maybe it was a stupid idea to go to a football match without tickets. But come on. Firstly, this is South Africa, and that's the kind of thing we do over here. Secondly, this was a friendly, USA vs Australia, at Ruimsig Stadium. A friendly! Step inside, you're very welcome, sit anywhere you want, we're all friendly here! And also, I had tried, all week, to get tickets, or at least to find out whether or not you need tickets to go a friendly. I asked the Internet, I asked Computicket, I asked the lady at the FIFA ticketing centre, who looked at me blankly and told me to ask Computicket, who...well, this is South Africa. So when Saturday came, I left nice and early with my son and his friend, and we drove to the stadium and eased into the queue of cars, with their flags fluttering in the breeze, only this time there were Star-Spangled Banners and Union jacks with Southern Crosses rampant as well. Someone was waving the Stars 'n Stripes from the sunroof of their SUV, and for a moment I felt a curious sense of disconnection, as if I wasn't in Roodepoort anymore, and had somehow translocated to Kansas. I get that feeling a lot these days. Then we got to the gate of the parking lot of the stadium, and the man standing there sketched an oblong shape with his fingers, which I immediately understood to mean "ticket". I rolled down the window and said, "Can we get tickets inside?", and he said "No, you can't get inside without a ticket", and he motioned us to turn back because we didn't have tickets. But this is South Africa, so I just said, "We'll get tickets inside", and I drove in and we parked. Everywhere I looked, as we walked towards the stadium, I saw people clutching tickets in their hands. I was getting worried. I saw a man wearing the American flag on his shoulders, and I asked him if we knew where we could tickets. "Ah, we got them from the Embassy," he said, and he gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder when I sighed and said I didn't have any. A big sign at the stadium gate said "No Entry Without a Valid Ticket", and a big man at the stadium gate, with a curly wire dangling from his ear, said "No", when I asked him if we could tickets inside. My son and his friend were getting impatient and irritated, and so was I. I asked a man with an Australian Football Federation blazer, and he said no, and a man handing out tickets to schoolchildren at a trestle table, and he said no, and then I saw a man from my team, wearing my shirt, and standing outside the fence, looking on as the teams ran onto the pitch for their warm-up. He also didn't have tickets. He had a picnic cooler with him. He was ready for the game. "Maybe they'll let us all in when everyone with tickets has gone in," I said. "No," he said, "I don't think so. They're FIFA. They'll probably just leave us all standing here." But he was wrong, because a policeman came along and told us we had to move away from the fence. Ag, come on, seriously?

Posted via email from Gus Silber's Twitter Overflow Blog

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

"Bloody Agent"

Download now or listen on posterous

REVOLUTIONARY_HOUSE.mp3 (3995 KB)

Posted via web from Gus Silber's Twitter Overflow Blog

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Valentine

The things about you I appreciate

May seem indelicate:

I'd like to find you in the shower

And chase the soap for half an hour.

I'd like to have you in my power

And see your eyes dilate.

I'd like to have your back to scour

And other parts to lubricate.

Sometimes I feel it is my fate

To chase you screaming up a tower

Or make you cower

By asking you to differentiate

Nietzsche from Schopenhauer.

I'd like successfully to guess your weight

And win you at a fete.

I'd like to offer you a flower.

I like the hair upon your shoulders,

Falling like water over boulders.

I like the shoulders, too: they are essential.

Your collar-bones have great potential

(I'd like all your particulars in folders

Marked _Confidential_).

I like your cheeks, I like your nose,

I like the way your lips disclose

The neat arrangement of your teeth

(Half above and half beneath)

In rows.

I like your eyes, I like their fringes.

The way they focus on me gives me twinges.

Your upper arms drive me berserk.

I like the way your elbows work,

On hinges.

I like your wrists, I like your glands,

I like the fingers on your hands.

I'd like to teach them how to count,

And certain things we might exchange,

Something familiar for something strange.

I'd like to give you just the right amount

And get some change.

I like it when you tilt your cheek up.

I like the way you nod and hold a teacup.

I like your legs when you unwind them.

Even in trousers I don't mind them.

I like each softly-moulded kneecap.

I like the little crease behind them.

I'd always know, without recap,

Where to find them.

I like the sculpture of your ears.

I like the way your profile disappears

Whenever you decide to turn and face me.

I'd like to cross two hemispheres

And have you chase me.

I'd like to smuggle you across frontiers

Or sail with you at night into Tangiers.

I'd like you to embrace me.

I'd like to see you ironing your skirt

And cancelling other dates.

I'd like to button up your shirt.

I like the way your chest inflates.

I'd like to soothe you when you're hurt

Or frightened senseless by invertebrates.

I'd like you even if you were malign

And had a yen for sudden homicide.

I'd let you put insecticide

Into my wine.

I'd even like you if you were the Bride

Of Frankenstein

Or something ghoulish out of Mamoulian's

_Jekyll and Hyde_.

I'd even like you as my Julian

Of Norwich or Cathleen ni Houlihan.

How melodramatic

If you were something muttering in attics

Like Mrs Rochester or a student of Boolean

Mathematics.

You are the end of self-abuse.

You are the eternal feminine.

I'd like to find a good excuse

To call on you and find you in.

I'd like to put my hand beneath your chin,

And see you grin.

I'd like to taste your Charlotte Russe,

I'd like to feel my lips upon your skin,

I'd like to make you reproduce.

I'd like you in my confidence.

I'd like to be your second look.

I'd like to let you try the French Defence

And mate you with my rook.

I'd like to be your preference

And hence

I'd like to be around when you unhook.

I'd like to be your only audience,

The final name in your appointment book,

Your future tense.

Posted via web from Gus Silber's Twitter Overflow Blog

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Untitled

Mandela

Posted via web from Gus Silber's Twitter Overflow Blog

Monday, February 8, 2010

Fun New Internet Game: Google se Engelse Vertalings vanaf Nuss24 se Webwerf

Fishermen ask for help from Dirk's 'seksslaaf'

2010-02-08 08:06

Cézanne Visser earlier outside the High Court in Pretoria, where evidence in mitigation of her sentence because of more among the indecent assault of children of today will be heard off (Liza van Deventer, Image).

Sunday, January 10, 2010

The $30,000 Paycheque: a new South African Urban Legend?

Heard from a friend at a braai, that a friend of his, a highly-qualified telcoms techie, had been offered a job by a telco in the Gulf. He was tempted, and when they asked him what his earnings expectations were, he said he was earning 30k a month in South Africa.

The prospective employers were a bit taken aback, that figure being way over their budget. But the guy said he was paid a premium because he was one of very few people in the country who could do the kind of high-level work he was doing. So they signed him on, saying they'd match his salary.

He took up the positon in the Gulf, and at the end of the first month, he got his first paycheque. For 30k, all right...but in US Dollars.

My friend swears this is true, and who am I to argue? After all, I once saw a very nice William Kentridge original at a gallery in Joburg, and when I asked the gallery-owner what it was going for, he said "ten thousand". I thought that was a very good price - almost unbelievably good for a Kentridge, in fact.

So I phoned a gallery-owner I know in Cape Town, and he said he'd check. he called me back a few minutes later to say he'd called the gallery, and yes, 10,000 was the right price. As in 10,000 US Dollars, at a time when the rate was about R13 to $1. I did not buy the Kentridge, I'm afarid.

Posted via web from Gus Silber's Twitter Overflow Blog

South Africa, Unplugged

Thursday, October 14, 2010

This is a test

Sunday, June 6, 2010

South Africa, where the Riot Police are Friendlier than the Football Administrators

Football

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

"Bloody Agent"

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Valentine

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Untitled

Monday, February 8, 2010

Fun New Internet Game: Google se Engelse Vertalings vanaf Nuss24 se Webwerf

Fishermen ask for help from Dirk's 'seksslaaf'

Related links

Sunday, January 10, 2010

The $30,000 Paycheque: a new South African Urban Legend?

TODAY'S MULTIPLE CHOICE QUIZ: DO YOU HAVE POWER AT THE MOMENT?

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