First, some voluptuous, big boobed woman threatens South Africa on boobquake with boom and gloom. What the hell was that about? I get why Americans may want to annihilate Australia Iran. Terrorists threatening to bomb their fast food outlets and forcing their immodest women to cover up from toe to eyeball. Not cool. It warrants some serious ass-kicking with all the smart bombs you can drop onto a defined geographical desert region that also happens to have lovely oil fields. But South Africa? Take our gold and diamonds and vuvuzelas, just don’t kill us! Please. You can even have Malema.
And now Workers’ Day is on a Saturday. What the fuck is happening to the world? How the hell are we supposed to reap the benefits of a public holiday on a day we don’t go to work anyway? Fuck. It. This is some kind of cosmic joke, I’m convinced. Even more convinced than I am that the scientific cause of earthquakes is boobs.
Know what’s even more ridiculous than boobs crushing the planet and public holidays on Saturday? Not having a job in the first place and complaining about a public holiday on a Saturday. Every day is Saturday when you’ve been retrenched. But you can’t really sit around all day with your pants on the ground watching sport and swearing at the postman for losing your copies of Hustler. You have to blog about morons. And apply for a million jobs you hope you don’t get because that means you will have to put your pants back on and go to work. But if you don’t go to work you won’t be able to afford pants anyway. See where I’m going with this? All the way to the nuthouse. Better remember to put my pants on when they come to fetch me.
Enjoy Workers’ Day on Saturday, all you conscientious morons. And to all the slackers out there, the joke’s also on you motherfuckers.