50%

Not 50 percents. I can’t stand the guy, why do people like this slurring misogynist? Yup, the beat, the beat… Talib and KRS already covered this one.

Moving right along. 2/4 equals 50%, that is the number of the boys left. Yes! I am pumping my fists like Jomo Sono cheering Bafana Bafana* during better days. The human ran around and

Not quite as good as the video. Thanks SABC

around and around… with a net and some other pole device and actually managed to catch two of them. They flew straight into his net. Geez… some chickens just give us a bad name. I had mixed feelings about this. They are my offspring after all but just as the sorrow settled upon me, the 2 remaining boys tried to pounce some of the girls. I jumped into action to scatter their horny asses back into the shadowy depths of the garden. Now I must send some mind waves to keep the human going. They suffer major trauma after such events and usually slacken off. This cannot be allowed. There can be only one! Moi.

Anyway. Part of my mind wave coercion technique uses subliminal imagery. I am not very familiar with chicken recipes so I need your help.  Please send me some of your favourite, mouth-watering dishes. And stop looking at me like that!!

*Did you note my tip of the hat to the 2010 World Cup rip-off? We are drowning in too much patrioticity to quite realise how much FIFA is taking us for a ride. But that is a rant for another time.

march of march

Oh my goodness, was doing some admin on the blog when my calendar caught my eye. No posts this month!!

Is the year just running away or what?

Autumn is here and new year’s resolutions are fading. For myself that represents my blogging. For my students that is coming to class or calling to start class. I couldn’t help but be struck by the imagery of the curling in and shrinking away of the vigour of summer. I think in pictures.

I started following my heroine, Margaret Atwood (@MargaretAtwood) yesterday. Puleng assured me I would be bored stupid. Little does she know how to a fan like myself every driblet from her ripe and juicy brain is like mango juice slipping down the chin. Yum! Yum! Double yum! Think she’s somewhere in Germany at the mo. Yesterday I sent her a direct message asking her to come to SA. I know how delusional that is but I like that I could have been a ripple in her ocean of thoughts. She is disappointingly not all witticism and self-revealing expression. I like to think that I can glean profound meaning from her otherwise factual declarations.

Oh dear, must get back to coding. Must pay the bills. Stolen moments, life’s little pleasures.

WARNING: If you see a tired, bleary-eyed looking hen walking down the road, avoid. Avoid at all costs, that is your life you will be playing with! That will be a seriously sleep deprived Puleng. The boys are making more noise than ever you see. Is it right to drug cockerels? I don’t see how else I’m going to catch them. I’m beginning to fear for my own life.