Toi Toi Troubles

Let me start off by saying that I am not travelled. I have not been overseas at all. I do however know so many people that have had the opportunity to do it. And from what they have told me and from I have read in papers and the internet I can assure you that by all measures, our country is not a 3^rd world country. Okay maybe only our public transport system, but in general we can compete with most first world countries. Not too long ago you could not use a credit card in Europe to make normal purchases; it was cash or debit card. Our roads are apparently much better than most European countries and the list goes on of areas that we are very much on par, if not better than most first world countries.

There is however something that makes South Africa a bit…………shall we say dodge, besides for Mr. Julias Malema.

In South Africa we have a phenomena that is called the ‘Toi-Toi'. Let me explain this to our over seas guests. This is a form of a riotor protest but not quite as hectic/violent as a riot. It is when a whole bunch of people are extremely upset with their jobs or government or the never ending rise of petrol (gas) prices. What these unhappy people then do is they get together and they sing and dance. They have placards that state why they are unhappy and what should be done, but if it wasn’t for those you would have thought they were having a moerse party (Moerse is a South African word that means ‘very big’ or ‘huge’, pronounced moo{sound a cow makes} with an r and –si- a in simple).

The Urban Dictionary defines Toi Toi as:

“When a group of people, sometimes even hundreds or thousands, do a combination of singing, dancing and chanting to express unhappiness about something. In the southern part of africa, when the people are unhappy about something, usually something regarding the government, a group of people feeling strongly about the cause will organize a toi toi and take to the street. It usually gets alot of media attention. Most commonly performed by black people although in recent years white and coloured people have started joining in. A toi toi is often used as part as a protest”

It can however sometimes be very intimidating when they sing like traditional songs in Xhosa (one of our twelve, that’s right, twelve official languages). This is normally accompanied by dancing that involves serious stomping on the ground. But from a distance you would still think that it is a moerse party. When you are caught in it though it is a different matter. Let me explain.

When I was still working in Cape Towns CBD, I was on my way to Woolworths one lunch time. Now for those of you that know town, it is the Woolworths in St. George’s Mall. For those of you that does not know town, St. George’s Mall is in fact not a mall but a brick paved road, not for cars but for shopping. Anyway, as I got out of Woolwortsh, I suddenly found myself in a huge crowd of people. It was noisy beyond belief. Now I don’t like noisy, that is why my clubbing days are just about over. 

Being pushed and pulled in all directions I realized that I was in the middle of a Toi-Toi. I was completely outnumbered by the hundreds of people doing this Toi-Toi. They were dancing and singing down the road. Now as a kid we get taught that you stay away from such events because it is dangerous and that they do bad things to people who refuse to Toi-Toi with them. 

So I got scared. I tried to go back into Woolworths to just stay there until they had danced past but by now the crowd had pushed me to the centre and there was no way for to go anywhere but forward. Instinct kicked in. I can’t speak Xhosa to save my life. I can say a few things here and there but not even enough to help me in a sticky situation. There are many different tongue clicks in the language and its all very confusing. But in that moment I clicked my tongue as if I was being paid to do it.  I started moving my body and dancing and clicking my tongue, waving my arms around. I was protesting all the way. I remember a Mamma (a respectful term for an older African female) looking at me and frowning and saying something like “Eish, ooh these peepal.” So what do you do? I frowned back, throwing my fists in the air and confirmed with her “Eish, (tongue click) I know.” I protested that day for the first time in my life. I got into the spirit of things and it was kinda fun. Scary at first but all in all it was great fun. I have no fucking idea who I protested with, or what I protested against. I don’t know if the protesters got what they wanted as the moment we got to a point that I could actually turn off to go back to work I did. But that day, I sang and danced until God alone knew where I was.

This week, in the road where I work, there has been some Toi Toi action again. I don’t know what they are singing, I don’t know who they are or what the issues are, but I will tell you this much, I have been tempted to go join them.

Mwah!!

Here is a video to teach you how to Toi Toi

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_gQkWMekXeQ&feature=related

Malfunctioning Mirrors and Second Opinions

The clothing that we wear tells the world so much about the kind of people that we are. Now I know I am probably not one to talk since I know very well that I dress like I am part of some sort of experiment and people struggle to tell whether or not I am a boy or a girl. You see to me, clothes are clothes. I don’t listen to signboards that tell you what are the mens and womens sections in a shop. As long as I am comfortable in an item of clothing, I look ok and it fits, I will buy it. But there was the key word. FITS. This is the most important word that you have to take into consideration.

Tier-vel-leeu-tert

Look of all people I understand it. I used to be skinny and 5 years later I want to wear that jean again cuz 5 years ago I looked awesome in it. Now you put your legs in and realize that it doesn’t come up higher than your knees. So you rub some cream on your legs. I mean it makes sense right……..? 

So this time round you get up to your thighs but you slip and knock yourself in the face which sets you back an half hour because now you first need to stop the nose bleed. However you cannot walk fast cuz the denim is stuck on your thighs and the only you can walk is to imitate a penguin. You eventually stop the blood and your hands are dry again.  By taking deep breaths in you, 15 minutes later, have the denim over your ass and in place, well almost but hell who the fuck is gonna notice in any way. You try to pull up the fly but nothing happens. Of course it cannot be your weight, it has to be stuck. So with legs that are stiff and looks like a stuffed condoms you try to contort yourself to look down to see if the fly is stuck as you try to yank it up. On the yank you break a nail that tears in and you get your long hair stuck, but reflex tells you to just stand up because you cannot feel your legs anymore. This of course leave you with a sore throat (from the painful scream) blood from a ripped and torn in nail, a bald patch and hair hanging down your fly. But its still not up. Then you remember the advert that showed people lying on bed and hooking a wire hanger into the fly to pull up. So now that you cant use your forefinger you pull the fly down using thumb and middle finger. You get it down and pull the hair out. Walk like a robot to the closet to get a hanger. Position yourself in front of the bed, back to it and just fall backwards since your legs cant really bend in this damn denim that you are slowly starting to hate. You hook the hanger in and give one rough pull. The hanger breaks and cuts your hand, you knock yourself in the eye but fuck it that’s why we have make-up. You feel as if you have been vacuum sealed but you the fly is up. You have to now roll off the bed to fall on the floor and from there use your dresser to help you stand up. Your Stomach is hanging over the denim in the front. Your ass is peeling up your back and crawling out by your ankles. Your Cameltoe (Girls) or Mooseknuckle (Boys) is killing you and it feels like it is being pressed into your stomach. You can’t sit  and walking is next to impossible. But you think that you still look kind of ok, but then decide that you are going to wear a top that covers all of this in anyway because there is no way in hell that you can get this denim off again!

The lesson in all of this is….Just because the fly goes up and the button closes, does not mean that it fits. It just means that by the grace of some or other God you managed to get it on your big ass. I am not saying I don’t have a big ass. I have a huge ass. But I don’t wear clothes than gives me tits on my back.

What I cannot understand though is that some people then will wear that denim with a crop top that is even tighter and they have no issue. The top is so tight that your boobs are now one big tit that goes right around your body and the extra bits that couldn’t fit there moved up to your neck to swallow that. And then then they slap on some makeup and think they look fucking stunning. 

And don’t tell me it doesn’t happen. Go look at the people of Wallmart. Look at them and tell me that they are normal and have a sense of clothes. I am not saying that if you are bigger you should stick to wearing kak ugly clothes that resemble the Boswell Wilky Circus tent. As a matter of fact you get some really nice clothes for big people now. I know, cuz I also have to buy em. But my clothes fit!

I sometimes look at these people and wonder if they don’t have mirrors in their homes or maybe they have those circus mirrors that makes people look stunning.

I mean what goes through your mind when you stand in front of the mirror and you are wearing this tight, so tight it looks painted on, gold lycra number and you wink to yourself and say “Yea you still got it baby” What the Fuck is wrong with you if that is your thought process when you clearly should be buying clothes at Campers Paradise. Please understand, I am not knocking big people. I am also big. I am however knocking people that has no sense of dressing. Yes you get skinny ones of those as well but they should just be shot. Save us all the agony to have people that have bodies that we desire and then the fuckers cant even dress properly. Just kill them and get it over with.

I also see a few people are doing the mullet thing again. IT WAS NEVER IN STYLE PEOPLE!!!!!! Having a mullet means you are a fucking redneck.

I am not telling you all how you have to dress up, all I am asking you is that if your mirror is malfunctioning get a second opinion. Please for love of the Goddess get a second opinion!!

Mwah!!

Jesus had a Facelift: Catholic Church Finally Changes Logo to Evolve with the Times

Ok so I am sure we have all see the fiasco of the fresco that wasn’t quite restored to its previous glamour. For of those of you that has not seen it, before we carry on, take a look at the video link below.

http://za.news.yahoo.com/video/art-restorer-ruins-fresco-while-230416458.html

Now my first and most dominant reaction to this is that I am pissing myself laughing. Seriously I cannot stop laughing about this and every time I see it, it just gets funnier and funnier. But there are a few things that boggles the mind. 

Firstly, apparently the Priest asked her to restore this fresco. But she also states that she is an amateur artist. Now which part of amateur did he not understand? Did he not ask to see some of her previous amateur work? Or did he just believe that it would be ok. I personally think that he should be held responsible for this fuck up. Stupid fucking Priest.

Secondly, I realize that her grand daughter says that it went well when she started with the tunic. She says that she didn’t  do it in secret and that everyone could see her painting. How did no one see that she was giving Jesus plastic surgery? Or was it something she quickly did in an hour. Even so, it is normal to go look over a painters shoulder. People are nosy, how did no one pick this up or stop her.

Maybe the Priest realized that they needed a fresh breath of air in the church and actually commissioned this lady to redo the churches most famous logo. You know to move with the times. I know I am taking the piss out of this and yes a small, very small part of me actually feels sorry for the poor old lady who just thought she was doing a good thing, but the biggest part of me can see the humour in this and it is fucking funny people.

Wont someone that has a lot of money please commission this woman to redo the children’s Bible. I am curious to see what Mary, Joseph and Moses would look like when painted or perfected to this new fashion.

So this morning I get onto my Facebook and see that the new face of Jesus has already travelled to Rio where they have adapted the statue to take on this new look. (Yes obviously I know its Photoshop, but its still kak funny.) So I am wondering what will be the next thing to be changed to this new look of the Catholic Church. What will the Holy Saints look like when painted in this new fashion. But what I wonder the most is:, What did his Holy Father, the Pope, in Rome have to say about this? Did he have a stroke? Did his nazi blood finally over run his logical sense? Not that I believe the doos has any logic. I only give my strong opinion about him since he himself has made some really shitty public statements on behalf of the Catholic Church.

See, Jesus is sexy!

There are of course two reasons that could have sparked this new style. The first is that in previous pictures of Jesus, I will admit he is a sexy man. Quite a catch and honestly, I would do him. In a heartbeat. So maybe this is a way of stopping the perversion surrounding Jesus end ending Blasphemy, well at least when it comes to perving over the Son of God.

The second reason could be a marketing ploy. New Logo which is easy for everyone to draw. Soon they will have action figures and a series on Cartoon Network with all kinds of matching merchandise! Before we know it there will be a movie and then all kinds of other toons will want to do crossover episodes with him. Jesus and Spongebob! Before you know it he will have his own talk show, Jesus and pals. And you all thought that South Park Blasphemous. They were ahead of their time and could see the future of the Catholic movement!

I wonder what the Jews feel about this? Bwhahahahahahahaha I am sorry that is just too funny!

All I do know at this point regarding this ……….brillaint new style is that I for one am waiting with baited breath to see what else this artist is going to change. It is afterall a new age.

Mwah!

Redneck in the Family

In our lives we meet a lot of people. People that touch you and people that help you. You meet people that compliment you but the ones you always remember are the ones that make you laugh until you want to pee yourself, or the ones that shock the living shit out of you and you can only laugh at what happened, much later.

Jeff Foxworthy

There is an American comedian called Jeff Foxworthy that does jokes that all run along the line of “If your mother can tell a state trooper to ‘kiss my ass’ without the Marlboro falling from her mouth, you might be a redneck” He also says that to him being a redneck is something that everyone is at one point or another. To him it is a glorious moment where there is an absence of sophistication. Although in my opinion in some of his jokes it just seems like a lifestyle. Like “You know you are a redneck if you've been married three times and still have the same in-laws.”

I am not saying that I am not a redneck. According to Jeff, we are all rednecks at some point in time, some of us just more than others.

Another old friend of mine one day told me “Common does not choose a preferred skin colour.” Now this was information that I still carry with me. In Afrikaans we say “Kommin kies nie kleur nie.” Again I am not saying that I am not. For example, I do smoke Marlboro and I can say “kiss my ass” without the Marlboro falling out of my mouth. I do sometimes mix red wine with coke to have a Catemba and make the wine last longer. And I own a few label glasses, but at the rate that Paul breaks glasses, I wont have them for too long.

But I want to tell you about people in my family that have these Redneck moments. I wont mention their real names, cuz I know how damn touchy people are, but you will know who I am talking about if you have met them. Maybe you even have one in your own family. And if members of my family wants to get offended, “Kiss my Lilly white ass!” Its meant as a fun reading, be glad I didn’t put your real name on here. Let me just also explain that the man that is my biological father is one of a billion kids and my mother was married 5 times. So when I say there are a lot of people to talk about, I am not joking. Most of these people I no longer have contact with in anyway. So really no skin off my back.

There are women (yes plural) in our family that only 'wears' their teeth on special occasions. Meaning that they have false teeth and it only gets put in for birthdays, weddings and funerals, and for no other reason. One of these women with the no teeth, doesn’t even have special event teeth. She has gums. That’s it. Ok so its her mouth, who am I to judge. The problem is, that is becomes my problem when se greets. She is one of those people that kiss you when they greet, which under normal circumstances I also wouldn’t have a problem with. However when Gummy kiss you hello, your entire face is dripping wet and don’t think you are gonna escape her. Not a chance.

One of the men in our family used to be a serious drug addict. But he used to get so goeffed out of his mind, that you could fart in front of him and then you could scowl at him for being so shameless and he would apologize to you for his terrible behavior of farting in front of you. He wouldn’t even know that it wasn’t him. This same man went on to marry someone else who happens to be a now stepsister of mine. So he went from his previous relation to now being my stepbrother-in-law.  On the topic though there is a lot of inbreeding in our family. We are all related to our neighbours in a complicated way. For example. One of my best friends has a brother that is married to my cousin, but hang on it gets better. This friend of mine was married to a woman whose brother was married to a woman whose mother was married to husband number five. This mother was cousins with her my friends ex wife. Complicated!!

Then there is a woman in our family that just invites herself. When I say she invites herself I now only mean that she will just rock up at your house without phoning first but she will also just invite herself to go with you, wherever you are going to. She is not bothered. And if you are going to a nice place to eat then she will tag along and you will have to end up paying her bill as well.

Probably the pride and joy of our family was a woman that was married into it. She was married to my mother’s one cousin. They met each other in the mal-huis. True as god, You cannot make this shit up. Then he decided that it wont be good for them to get married because she is crazy. Pot calling the kettle black. But she then tricked him into marriage by getting pregnant. I don’t even want to picture that considering I know what they both look like. This woman had a handbag the size of a Queen size duvet cover. In this magickal bag you could find any pill. If you had a cough, she had a syrup, if your nose was stuffy she had a pill. If you couldn’t go or went too much she had a pill for it, she had pills for heart patients, diabetics, anti psychotics, fuck you name it and it was in that magickal bag of hers. Half of these tablets she also took herself. On top of this, if you offered her coffee or tea or juice she would reject it and ask for a glass of wine and or brandy. Please keep in mind that she is also on enough pills to cure fucking anything in most small African countries. What is scary about this image is the fact that she wasn’t a small woman and the handbag never left from under her arm. Never. It would always be clutched there, well unless she is taking out some sort of pill and her smokes. Yes she was also a smoker. This was a sight for sore eyes and one that I do not think can be explained. But it was kak funny to watch her smoke!

So share in the fun and comment below here about some of the redneck people you know!

Mwah!!

On Soapboxes about Judgment

So on the previous entry I briefly mentioned something about walking a mile in someone else’s shoes before placing judgment on them. Let me look into that topic and explain to you what I think about it.

Now I know all about people passing judgment way before they have even met me. As a matter of fact I even know all about judgment from people that know me rather well. In the house that I grew up I was constantly told by my brother, what a big Faggot I was. I was constantly ripped about it. At age 25 I realized that I was gay and he was the person that I was most scared of. His judgment was the biggest hurdle for me. Last year I realized that so much of my first 25 years was based on the judgments that he pushed on me. I didn’t really have a dad. And my brother was the older male that I looked up to. Then last year I realized that he just about ruined the first 25 years of my life due to his judgments. All the terrible stereotypes that he fingered my way. My point to this is, we grew up in the same house, but our lives were very different. Even today we differ like night and day. At family events he hardly speaks to Paul and I. As a matter of fact the only thing he has ever said to Paul was. “Hallo” and he did that twice. The rest of the time he just about ignores us. Want ons is Faggots en Pagans. It hurt me in the beginning but now I realize that, that is just how he is. And even if I had to confront him, he will just carry on passing judgment.

Every person has a very different life. Even when they life together. I wont carry on telling you about my brother so I am going to use Paul and I as an example. Afterall we live together. Paul can spend an entire day at a Japanese Tea Ceremony. He can tell you all about the ritual of it. The wiping of the bowls, the water having to be the exact temperature, the scoop, the whisk the macha and he truly loves drinking it. I tried it and to me it tasted like grass. Boiled grass that takes forever to prepare. If I want coffee, then I want I want it now. I don’t have time to wipe the cup and rinse it and wipe it again and wait for the water to be the perfect temperature and …….sit die vokken ketel aan en kry klaar.   

It is not a reflection on him or me. I love this about him. I love watching his eyes shimmer and glint when he is in that world of his, it’s just not for me. But it is a prime example of two people living together, yet their lives being completely different. The point of me trying to explain this to you is to let you know that even when someone lives with you, they have no right to pass judgment on you, because your life is immensely different to theirs.

I deal with people on an almost daily basis, that suffer from stereotyped judgment. It is so incredibly sad. I listen to them about how they are too afraid to come out of the closet, too afraid to not be Christian, too afraid to date someone with a different skin, too afraid to stand up for themselves, and all because of the people around them that judge them. Mostly these people are Dads, Mothers, Brothers, Sisters, Best Friends, Cousins, Aunts, Uncles and the ones that are nearest to us. And then I so badly just want to go that individual that is passing the judgment and knock their fucking heads against a bring wall while screaming at them “How fucking dare you?!”

A question that I get asked often is “Is teasing the same as passing judgment?” I cannot tell you that it is or isn’t. I suppose it depends on the way it is done, but I can tell you this much. I was teased as a kid by my brother. Look where that got me and my relationship with him. People tell me “Yes but it’s only a joke” While that might be true to you. It is not so true for the person at the other end of that joke. Let me paint you a picture.

A boy gets teased at home by……doesn’t matter who, that he is a Fag. And the people are allowed to laugh at him because of it and even treat him a little differently. Inside that boy is fighting one of the scariest things he will ever have to fight. You have no idea how scary it is to come to grips with your sexuality when you know that

1.     It is not “normal” according to most people

2.     You are already being made fun of about it

3.     Because of point 2 your mind tells you that you will become an outcast.

4.     For the rest of your life people are gonna treat you differently

Coming out is scary enough as it is.

But this same process applies to all areas that you are being judged or the one judging. And I know that 90% of the people that are judges will read this and they wont give a damn. But I am hoping that 10% will pay attention, because to me that is a change.No matter how small

My Wonderful Friend Estelle

You don’t know what it is like to be the person that you are judging. How dare you then judge. One of my friends, Estelle, one day said to a class.

“We all face the same demons, it may be at different levels of hell, but it’s the same”

Around the same time that I came out of the closet someone else I know did as well. He decided that it would be best to first talk to his parents about it and when he sat them down and told them his dad responded with “I’d rather you have Cancer.” 

Shocking isn’t it. 

And as you can imagine, it made things very difficult for him as well as even scarier for me. Your judgments are the same thing. I am hoping that at least a few will change their perspectives now.

I get judged as a Queer, a witch, a teacher, a leader, a friend and and and. I have learned to live with it. But the next person hasn’t. before you judge, rather ask and seek to understand. And if after that you still can’t understand, well then agree to disagree.

Have a great day all.

*gets off my soap box*

Mwah!!

Honour, Integrity and the Golden Rule

I was recently asked what my thoughts are on honour. This topic is however one of those things that can keep us busy forever and a day. So let me try to get to my point as quickly as what I possibly can.

When I think of the word Honour. I almost immediately think of the Klingon race in Star Trek. Granted, that is because I am a Trekkie. The Klingon race is all about honour. Everything that they do is due to them either moving to honour or away from dishonour. Saying that however, one has to realize that to define what is honourble and what is not, is largely open to the interpretation of ones own moral judgment and then the interpretation of the action. Let me paint a picture for you. Joe Bob is an employee at Happy Crunchies Burgers (Just a name I quickly sucked out of my thumb.) Joe bob knows that the owner/boss of the Business is busy with actions that could potentially bring Mr. Boss some issues. So what does Joe Bob do now?

1.     We live in a world where we get trained that it is morally wrong to question your boss and that to challenge your boss could get you fired and that would bring dishonour to your family.

2.     Joe Bob can decide that the actions of his boss are dishonourable and therefore challenge him, to try and bring honour to his boss.

3.     Joe Bob could decide that either way he doesn’t care about what happens and so shows a clear lack or disregard for honour.Choosing not to act is afterall still an action.

I do believe that honour is extremely important and that one should live an honourable life. But the crux of the matter is: “Honour according to whose definition of what it means?” 

So I have over the years actually asked a few people this very question and most, I would say about 87% of the people that I have spoken to about this, has responded with the Golden Rule. The rule that stipulates that you should do unto others, as you would have them do unto you. I realize that this “rule” is in just about every spirituality that is on this earth. Lets look at only a few.

·       Wicca: ‘An ye harm none, do as ye will’ (or ‘Lest ye harm none, do as ye will’)

·       Buddhism: ‘Hurt not others with that which pains yourself’

·       Christianity: ‘All things what so ever you would have that men should do to you, do you even so to them’

·       Hinduism: ‘This is the sum of duty, do naught to others, which if done to thee would cause pain’

·       Islam: ‘None of you is a believer until he loves his brother, what he loves for himself’

As you can see, just about every spirituality believes that you should not do things to others that if done to you, you would not like. This then means the things that you like to have done to you is ok to do to other people. Let me paint another picture for you.

Joe Bob likes it when he is on the receiving end of oral sex. The “Golden Rule” then implies that he is allowed to give it to whomever he wishes.  Not taking into consideration the person's personal morals and interpretation of the “Rule”.  Remember I am not the one that linked the Golden Rule with the concept of honour. I am simply giving you my interpretation of how I understand these things. The “Golden Rule” also does not take into consideration the morals and feelings of the other people that Joe Bob wants to go down on. Yes he loves it when it happens but it says nothing about what they love and or want.

Even when we look at the word Integrity it is a bit fifty shades. We are looking at this word because it was the next natural step. The meaning of integrity is defined as  

“The act of an entering a person or group may be measured in hours for consistency against that entity's espoused value system to determine integrity. This type of measurement is subjective because its measures rely on the values of the party doing the testing.”

You see it clearly states that it is measured by the values of the PARTY DOING THE TESTING.

All of it boils to the same point. That we are all individuals and what I deem honourable and what Joe Bob deems honourable won’t necessarily ever be the same. It is influenced by our persona’s, how we grew up, our social structure and and and. This then leads to the age-old maxim of

“Never judge a person until you've walked a mile in their shoes.”

Personally I also believe that, that is impossible but maybe that is a topic for another time.

No I am not saying that, because of all that I said here it is ok for you to be a person that has no regard for others. What I am saying though is that you should be mindful of how your actions and your life not only affect you, but also those around you, whether positive or negative. That is not my issue, that is your issue and it is your conscious that you have to live with.

In an ideal world or at the face value of the word, yes I do believe in honour and Integrity, but the simple truth is, that it is far more complex than just a simple word.

The New Snow White, Part 4 - Final

Days go past and the mirror is once again forgotten. Grimhilda is as happy as a pig in shit but of course the “sad” business of Snow’s funeral had to be taken care off. The afternoon after the funeral Grimhilda heard a familiar voice in her head. “How sure are you?” the voice of the mirror asked her in her head. She stormed off to her chambers. When she entered her chambers she again heard the voice, but this time she heard it with her ears “How sure are you?”

She gazed into the mirror but saw only her own reflection.  “How sure am I about what? I don’t understand what you mean” Grimhilda screamed into the air holding her hands in fists of anger. Then the voice responded “You are not asking the correct question.” Grimhilda panted and wanted to bash her hand against the mirror. Then as if flipped by a switch she composed her herself completely and she was once more the picture of a Lady.

“Mirror, Mirror on the wall, who is the most beautiful of them all?”

As always her image starts to blur and the dark clothed man stares back at her. “You my Queen are as beautiful as ever. A true pleasure to behold. But deep in the dark woods there is a girl with skin as white as snow, that challenges everything that you hold dear.”

The Queen screamed! Picked up her chalice and threw it at the mirror. The mirror broke into hundreds of pieces but as it shattered it moved back to fix itself. She got a fright and stumbled backwards. “The error of the life of Snow White is not my doing. I suggest you take it out on the one that did not do as he was ordered.”

The next morning, George, the Huntsman was beheaded for high treason.

In the next few days Grimhilda had learned that Snow had become cozy in the house of 7 midgets. Rumour has it that they are struggling to make ends meet and that things for the 8 of them are rather strapped. The queen decided to send  merchant on route to the decrepit home. He was to befriend Snow and get her hooked on crack or acid or coke, either would do.

As the weeks passed the merchant reported back that Snow was a junkie. From this moment on they would charge her for every ounce that she was taking. At a low price at first of course and include a six pack of some booze and slowly the price would also go up and the quantity would become less and less. The midgets only allowed Snow a certain weekly budget and soon she found that sustain the habit she had to have sex with them for more money. But as most men do, the midgets grew tired of her and kicked her out to roam the streets for money and some form of life.

Through the magick of the mirror the Queen rained for another hundred years. They became very good friends. Every so often the Queen would ask her mirror. “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the most beautiful of them all?” Please with the outcome the queen celebrated.

Now legend goes that this the way that drugs came into the world. And this way snobby little prissy bitches like Paris Hilton and Brintey Spears would be punished for being overindulgent and ungreatful. It is said that Snow lived forever. Hers was the curse to live forever under the rule of the Queen and her children that she had. ………… Which children? Well lets just say that even though the mirror could not completely be freed, as you know some parts of him could, as long as his heart was inside the mirror.

So next time you are stopping at a traffic light and a very ugly, very old, crack whore begs for money, remember, that could be Snow White.

The New Snow White, Part 3

The Huntsman from 'Snow White and the Huntsman'

Night after night Grimhilda tried to plot and plan how she would get rid of Snow and punish the Huntsman, for his treason, at the same time. But admittedly she was very new to this revenge thing and didn’t really have any good ideas of her own. On the 5 night of pacing her chambers, up and down, the mirror God looked back at her. In his hands he held a beautiful ornate small chest. As Grimhilda stared at him, his hands, holding the chest, came out of the mirror. She took it from him. It was heavier than what it looked like and his hands went back into the mirror.

A thought dawned on her. If he could give her the box through the mirror, what is then to stop him from coming out of the mirror completely? As if knowing her thoughts the mirror responded. “I can never leave the mirror. My Heart is bound to it. Open the box Grimhilda.”

She does as instructed and inside of the this beautiful chest she sees an even more stunning dagger. How is this man in the mirror a white man when everything else about him seems Charra. This she cannot put her mind around. She looks at the box and dagger questioningly. The Mirror smiles at her and starts to explain……

The next day the Queen orders the Huntsman to her. She explains to him, very slowly, that due to his betrayal he has a very daunting task in front of him. He is to take Snow White into the dark wood and end her life there. Then as prove that did, he must put her heart in the box and leave the dagger a bloody mess, and then bring these two items to her.

“I will never do it,” the huntsman cries out. Grimhilda glares at him and smiles ”We didn’t think that you would just cooperate with this plan. This morning while you were sleeping I captured your favourite Axe. If you don’t do as I say, your axe will never again see the light of day.” The huntsman drops his head in shame and mumbles to himself “Don’t worry Patsy darling, I wont let her kill you.” With that he looks up and takes the box and dagger from Grimhilda.

That night George takes Snow White out of the castle on a false pretense of a picnic followed by sex in the dark woods. He explains to her that he is really into the thrill of getting caught and that is why he wants to take her in the dark forest where now one ever goes. Nope doesn’t make sense, but I did tell you that he doesn’t have much for brains. Obviously didn’t eat enough fish growing up.

After the picnic and sex, as if he will miss out on food and snoes, George just cannot bring himself to kill this little tart. He tells her that she is no longer save and must run away and never return again. He explains to her that he has to go back to rescue his beloved Patsy, but once he has her, he will come looking for his belusted Snow White.

The Queen from 'Snow White and the HUntsman'

Later that night Grimhilda can see from her Chambers window as the huntsman comes riding into the Castle grounds. Immediately he is summoned.

Sweating his ass off in front of her he hands her the chest, that is covered in blood. Grimhilda is overjoyed. Even before she opens the box, she takes the blood from her hands and rubs it all over her face, laughing her ass off.

She opens the box, her eyes wide as she stares at the heart lying inside of it. Again she bursts out in a crazy laughter. She flicks her fingers and her right-hand henchman just appears. She hands him the box “Please make sure that cook prepares this for me for my breakfast tomorrow and see to it that George here is reunited with his beloved Patsy.”

George kneels in front of the Queen and follows the right hand man out of the chambers. In his thoughts he hopes and preys that the Queen will never find out that the heart he gave her belonged to a dear and not his beloved Snow White. For that information would surely mean his end, or worse even, the end of his beloved Patsy darling.

The story of the huntsman however is very brief after that. He leaves that very night to follow his little tart but because of his bad memory and night blindness he takes the wrong path and Is eventually eaten alive by a troop of giant ants. Torn limb from limb.

The next morning Grimhilda enjoyed the most beautiful and delicious breakfast she had ever had.