Saturday, November 27, 2010

Anniversarial Thoughts…

I’m not often sentimental on my blog, but today is a special day. So everyone can forgive me this moment of sappiness.

A year ago today, I married the love of my life. While I often tell her how wonderful she is, and as much as the whole world knows this, I need to shout it from the rooftops. Or, as this case may be, the blog tops.

I met The Boss in the strangest of places. An internet dating site. I was going to give up hope. Getting ready to spend the rest of my life alone. Okay, not entirely alone, there was a whiskey bottle involved. I digress however.

After a few tentative dates, we were officially a couple. Myself, of course, being my normal abrasive self and The Boss being her normal accepting and loveable self.

The entire first year of our relationship was a tough one. With The Boss being away during the week, and us trying to build our relationship on weekends. But we persevered.

A little over a year after we met, I decided one day that I’m not letting The Boss get away without a fight. I cornered her father and asked permission to marry her. I came off lightly. Granted, he was up a ladder at the time, and I had the bravery that only three double whiskeys can give one.

Almost eighteen months after we met, we signed the lease on our current flat. Living in sin for a few months, while planning a wedding.

Don’t let anyone bullshit you into thinking that planning a wedding is hard work. It really isn’t. Apart from the dress, I had our entire wedding planned, booked and paid for in three weeks. I digress again.

We were married a year ago today. In a small ceremony overlooking the ocean. Surrounded by only our immediate family. Some of our family members couldn’t make it. Their lack of presence was felt by all.

The few days running up to our wedding day, we were getting worried about the weather. Our ceremony was due to take place outside, and the weather was awful. Pissing down cats and dogs almost every day.

The day we got married, someone was looking out for us. Clear and sunny skies.

But now… Today… A year had passed since we have made the biggest decision of our lives. The entire year has not been smooth sailing. In fact, the last three months were downright rough. No fault of our own though. The Boss was away assessing some mine’s risk, and I was left watching the cat.

All jokes aside for a minute.

For as long as I can remember, I was looking for someone like The Boss. Someone that understands that I have a hard time in the morning. Someone that gets why I can’t stand the general population of this wonderful country of ours. Someone that doesn’t just cater to my every whim, but tells me to get knotted every now and again. Someone, that at the risk of sounding cheesy, completes me.

It was a rough couple of years, looking for her, but I found her. And now, there’s no backing out. She’s stuck with me.

At least we’re both happy to be stuck together. And in a last soppy moment. The Boss, I love you. More than life itself.

We now return to our normal programming. And in the spirit of the usual posts… Fuck off!

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Drama Tweens

Is it my imagination or have the teens of today become more neurotic and angsty?

I look at the youngsters of today and all I see is them constantly bitching and moaning about absolutely everything. They seem to think that because they are at school, live with their (controlling) parents and are suffering from the onset of puberty, that they have the right to act like whiny little shits.

They whine because their parents won’t buy them the latest iGimmick. They whine because their parents demand a certain level of respect. They whine because their parents demand they do a few things around the house. They whine because they get assigned homework, projects and tests at school. Then they whine because they fail the abovementioned tests.

I know that I was not the easiest teenager on earth. I gave my mother a good run for her money and then some. Even in my 30s I am still my mother’s most difficult child. I also know that if I acted half as badly as today’s Drama Tweens, my mother would have given me a beating I would not soon have forgotten, and it would have been a beating I would have deserved. Beyond the shadow of a fucking doubt.

Apparently now, according to some “real” research, teenage angst is because of biology. Bull-fucking-shit! Teenage angst is because teenagers have become whiny little shits with more human bloody rights than their parents. If parents today had the rights my parents had when I was growing up, there would be fewer angsty bloody teenagers.

I know I was not always the world’s happiest child either. I was also “misunderstood”. Except in my case being “misunderstood” meant I was a self-centred, whiny little shit. However angsty we were back in the 80s and 90s, no-one actually ever knew about it. The really, very angsty ones were just a little different, and usually ended up being art students. Which is fine, since everyone expects art students to be a little “different”. But, however angsty, self-centred and whiny we were back in those days, we were not a patch against the kids of today.

But with the incidence of Facebook, Twitter and Mxit, I tend to see a lot more of this whiny-ness of the younger generation. Not only are the younger generation in our midst whiny, needy and self-centred, they are also tremendous attention whores. Heaven forbid anyone on this planet should not be paying attention to them for five minutes.

You do not even have to go on Facebook or Twitter to see these little attention whores. Go to any mall. Now, I cannot remember if I ever did this, but you see the parents and five steps behind is the teenager, sulking. Sulking because of being dragged out in public with their uncool parents. I know my parents are uncool, but guess what? Fuck everyone else. They are MY uncool parents. What they lack in uncoolness, they make up for in everything else. Christ, I can swear like a drunken pirate in front of my mother and she accepts that as a part of me. However, I digress…

Apart from the whiny little shits walking five steps behind the parents, they walk with their headphones in their ears. Listening to whatever is playing on their iGimmick that they eventually guilted their parents into buying. That kind of behaviour is unacceptable. You do not go out in public with a set of headphones plugged into your ears. Wrong on very many levels.

Amongst my Facebook and Twitter “friends” I have two teenagers. Roughly a year apart in age from each other. A more depressed collection of youngsters remain to be seen. One complains most of the time about how big a loser it is. How it does not have any friends. How it does not have a best friend. The list goes on. The other just complains a lot, about pretty much everything in its life.

The common denominator between the two, both hate their parents for some perceived wrong doing on the parents’ part. The only wrong my parents ever did was not beating me enough.

I had a point to all of this… Yes! Please can someone tell me if I am imagining all of this? I really cannot tell any more. Have teenagers become tiny, self-centred, whiny little drama queens? I think they have. I think parents should start beating the shit out of their kids again. Perhaps then teenagers will go back to being less self-centred and whiny. They will still be little shits, but they will whine less.

Thursday, November 4, 2010


I’ve known for quite some time that I’m a bit of an anti-socialite. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have anything against socialites, I’m just not one myself.

It used to be that I avoided social settings to avoid the numbskullery that usually goes on at these things. That and most of the dumb fuckery as well. I just cannot do social. Mostly because social events are made up of small talk, and as I found out years ago, I have a malformed small talk gland. I cannot talk to strangers about the weather, the crime or house prices.

All of yesterday I was mulling over an invite I received for an event. An event I would have had to attend alone. I have never been a huge fan of going anywhere alone. Always feeling that I stick out like a sore thumb.

It’s easy enough to say that I will know the person that invited me, but it’s not always quite that simple. Yes, I will know the person that invited me. Flipside of that coin is that the person that invited me will also know everyone else that they invited. And being the inviter, they would have to spend equal time with everyone that they invited. And, as with most invitations passed my way, I could only imagine that the majority of inviter’s other invitees will also know each other.

Now, yesterday a new “thing” manifested itself. It wasn’t just an absolute blind hatred of social events, but the very thought that I have to be in the company of people I don’t know sent me into a paroxysm of fear.

I have no idea really where this fear came from. Maybe I’ve just been to one too many birthday parties where I was the one standing around feeling spare. I usually end up feeling a bit like a pork chop at a Muslim wedding, and it’s not a feeling I particularly like.

I saw a shrink once that said I lack social skills. I don’t think it’s just a “lack” any more. I’m in a negative balance when it comes to social skills. I just cannot for the life of me do it. If I could avoid most, if not all, social events for the rest of my life I can die a happy man.

However, sadly, I cannot. Having married to someone that is a bit more social than I am and her coming from a family far, far more social than I can ever dream to be. Therefore certain social events I’ll never get away from.

Most people meeting me for the first time offline are usually in for a rather big shock. I’m only funny online. Offline I’m really a bit beige. The only way I could be more beige was if I dressed in tweed.

Sunday, October 31, 2010

This is a Test

Just a short test to see how Windows Live Writer works with Blogger.

If it works OK, I might use it in future to write and post my entries.

Sunday, October 3, 2010

Leading with Lights?!

A week or two ago Lead SA launched the Lead With Lights campaign.

The idea behind the campaign is that motorists drive with their headlights on during the day in order to increase visibility. In theory this is a good idea. In practice not always such a bright idea, no pun intended.

Firstly, the motorcyclists took issue with the campaign. They reckoned that the motorists driving with their headlights on will decrease the visibility of the motorcyclists on the road. However, driving these roads and seeing the motorcyclists act like total shit heads every day doesn’t do much to endear them to me. Yes, they drive with their lights on while wearing their hi viz jackets. Some of them wear the hi viz jackets at least. The younger two-wheeled ass hats usually just wear shorts and a t-shirt.

They weave in and out of traffic. They will ride their motorcycle at speeds approaching stupid between two lanes of stationary cars. Taking stupid fucking chances and we should be worried about their safety. They have no grasp of the meaning of the word safety.

Regularly, you will pass some road side memorial to the stupidity of some motorcyclist. How many accidents are caused by motorcyclists? I’m guessing that it’s loads of them.

Often when on the highway I will check my mirrors and blind spots before changing lanes. Then just as I am about to move into another lane a motorcyclist will appear out of nowhere and I have to change plans, and forget about changing lanes.

I realize that it’s not every motorcyclist that rides like this. Probably around one, or two, percent of motorcyclists obey the rules of the road. The same ones that afford motorists the same mutual respect that they demand.

Enough of the motorcyclists for a minute.

The day the campaign was launched, several people phoned into the radio station I frequently listen to in order to praise the campaign. Some old duck even insisted that it should be made law to drive with your headlights on. My first thought was that that was the kakkest thing I have heard that entire week.

If they should pass a law compelling motorists to drive with their lights on it will become just another way for the metro to make easy money. They will be pulling people over, in order to write fines for stupid little things, instead of tackling the real law breakers.

Several times a week I see people breaking any number of road laws. Driving in the emergency lanes. Driving over painted islands. Tailgating. Driving like total douche bags. All while having their headlights on.

Increasing visibility on the road is not going to help as long as people drive recklessly. Take care of the reckless drivers and our roads will be loads safer already. Take care of pedestrians crossing the road willy nilly and your pedestrian death toll will go down.

Take care of the shit heads on the roads, and the law abiding motorists among us will be safer. Impound a few taxis and life will be better for everyone. Stop hiding behind a shrubbery and do something more constructive than issuing speeding fines and the roads will be safer.

Keep your lights off, and obey the rules of the road.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

I Weep for the Children

I feel like I have to feel very sorry for the future generations of this world.

I have been spending a lot of time recently scouring the back catalogues of groups like AC/DC, Iron Maiden and Rush.

Let us have a look at AC/DC for a minute.  Two members are over 60, the others approaching 60. Rapidly. However, age aside, these guys rock harder than a lot of the new acts on the charts. Still touring, still releasing new material. No constant rehashing of old stuff.

Now, browse over to Iron Maiden. The oldest member of that band is Nicko McBrain, who at 58 is the old man of the band. The rest of the band members are all in their early, to mid, 50s. Similar to AC/DC, they’re still recording, still touring. For god’s sake, Bruce Dickinson flies charters for Astraeus when he’s not busy with Maiden.

Rush’s members are all in their late 50s. Neil Peart bashes a set of drums like I have never seen before, or since.

The point I am trying to make is this... I weep for the children, because they may never see talent like these guys live. Ever.

What have we got when these bands retire? Let’s have a quick look at what we’ve got...
Justin Bieber
The Jonas Brothers
Miley Cyrus
Coheed and Cambria
The fucking Parlotones
R&B acts too numerous to mention.

Do we notice any superiorly talented, hard rock acts on that list? No.

And, that boys and girls, is why I weep for the children.

While Rush, AC/DC and Iron Maiden are still recording and touring, all is good in the world.

What happens when they feel like retiring? The same thing happened with Toto a few years ago. All I can give my kids one day are a few recordings and some live DVDs. My children will never have the privilege of seeing Toto performing live.

My children are most likely never going to see Maiden, Rush or AC/DC live. And, fingers crossed, gods willing, they will have better taste in music that whatever is popular today, or tomorrow.

Please, can we have some serious hard rock acts? People that don’t care to be relevant. People that don’t care about popularity or album sales. But, rather, people that care about the music. People that care enough about their art to be the best at it. Not good enough, but the best.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

You're Building a What?!

The Boss’ company has decided to send them all on a team building exercise. Anybody who has known me for any length of time will know what I think about team building. Besides being an enormous waste of a day, it is also a large pile of bovine manure.

I decided to have a look at what was on offer from the place her company has tentatively chosen.

Beach Soccer... Great for the athletes, not so great for the rest of them.
Beach Volley Ball... Great if you are coordinated enough to smack a ball in mid-air, not so great if you have the grace and coordination of a baby elephant.
Beach Dodge Ball... Now you need to be coordinated enough to dodge a ball in mid-air.
Life Saver’s Flag Races, Beach Rugby and Treasure Hunts. Yeah, I can really see how this can bring a team together.

Then I decided to do a little search for team building exercise offers. I could not believe the shit I saw being passed off as “team building”.

Often, team building will have what they call a Trust Exercise. This is where you have to fall backwards into the arms of someone that can’t catch a cold without written instructions.

Then I found the gem that offered a drumming circle. You sit in a circle with your “team” and beat a drum. This supposedly brings your “team” closer together. What I know is that if we had to go on a team building like that, the only thing that would get beaten is a colleague, or two.

Then there’s the one that offers fire walking. Yes, I’m really going to get along better with my co-workers when my feet are blistered.

Basically, what I am saying is that there is only one way to build a team. You start with a good manager. A good manager knows how to pick people that will work well together, and work well with him.

At the risk of looking like a brown noser, my manager has managed to mostly get it right. He has three team members that work exceedingly well together. No matter the challenge, we rise above it. We have a few members that can’t take strain, but we manage to always step in, and help out.

So keep your beach soccer, your drum circles and fires. Give them to someone else.

There may be no “I” in team, but only because it’s being used in “Bullshit”.

Friday, July 9, 2010

Dear The Editor

I opened my local newspaper yesterday afternoon, and found this letter to the editor. I typed it in here exactly as it appeared in the newspaper. In a rather pissed off state of mind I formulated a reply, which I sent to the editor.

“Myns insiens is die mens net ‘n robot van God. God skape die mens volgens Sy wil.

Voordat die mens gebore word, programmeer God hom om te dink, sê en te doen wat God wil hê dat hy moet dink, sê en doen deur sy hele lewe, sodat God se wil met hom vervul kan word. God plaas gedagtes in sy bewussyn soos liefde, honger, seks, ens.

Hierdie gedagtes vloei net in sy bewussyn in, sonder dat hy enige beheer daaroor het. Hy kan nie verhoed dat enige van sy gedagtes sy bewussyn binnekom nie. Hy tree dan op volgens hierdie gedagtes. Party mense reken dat die mens tog ‘n wil van sy eie het en kan besluit wat om met hierdie gedagtes te doen.

Dit is maar net weer ‘n ander gedagte wat sy bewussyn binnegekom het, sonder dat hy dit kon verhoed. ‘n Mens bid soms, maar jou gebed word nie verhoor nie, omdat dit waarvoor jy gebid het, nie is wat God wil hê nie. Dan bid jy weer en jou gebed word verhoor. Hoekom? Omdat dit waarvoor jy gebid het, is wat God wil hê.”
Piet, Lindhaven (e-pos)

To summarize Piet, no idea, action or thought you have is your own. Everything comes from God, no matter how fucked up it may seem.
Dear The Editor,

In response to Piet from Lindaven’s letter in the Roodepoort Record dated 9 July 2010, I have the following in response.

It is quite obvious from what Piet wrote that he is the kind of person that has made some bad choices in life and doesn’t want to take responsibility for them.

Piet postulates that man is a robot, created and programmed by God. What an absurd notion. Then he goes on to state that man does not have a free will, but that the idea of “free will” is another idea planted into our heads by God.

Piet’s idea is that we are nothing but puppets, having our strings pulled by The Almighty. If that is the case, then why are there still murders today? Hell, why was there a murder in Genesis. I mean really now. If God was in charge then, as He is supposedly now he could have stopped Cain murdering Abel.

If free will is not involved, then why in Joshua 24:15 does it say “And if it seem evil unto you to serve the LORD, choose you this day whom ye will serve...” The word I see there is choose, meaning free will, the one thing Piet from Lindhaven wishes to rid us off.

By that same argument, God himself decided that I should be an agnostic misanthrope. It was God’s will that I become a software analyst for a billion rand a year organization while Piet fits tyres at the local Supaquick.

I think that perhaps that is Piet’s biggest problem. Piet couldn’t hack the math, science and logic exercises to understand how computers work, besides sending e-mails obviously, and maybe finding some naughty pictures. It seems that Piet has a paltry grasp on the nature of the human animal.

Supposedly, according to the honourable and oh so clever Piet, when you pray and nothing happens it is because you were not praying according to God’s will. But, when what you pray for becomes reality, then that is what was God’s will. What is the use of praying then? If the Almighty God is going to perform according to His will, what is the use of man doing or saying anything? It is quite obvious that the God of Piet does whatever He, or She, wants.

And before Piet decides that I am an ignorant buffoon with no idea of the Holy Scriptures, let me say that I have a diploma in theology. Which, I can assure you, is more than some pastors have. I would’ve completed a degree by now if I didn’t wake up one day and realize how absurd the notion of another being controlling my life is.

I would advise the Piet to revise his thinking. I would further advise Piet to “man up”, take responsibilities for your actions. Do not, under any circumstances, pass the blame for your life sucking onto someone, or something, else.

Best Regards.

I Loathe Modern Buildings...

I hate townhouses, I really do. And flats, don’t get me started on flats.

I know some people have issues with townhouses and flats for the fact that one townhouse looks exactly like its neighbour. I can assure you that that is the least of my problems with townhouses. If I really have to think about it, I have a problem with any house built after the 1990s.

Getting back to the issue at hand. Yes, every townhouse in a complex looks exactly like the one before it. And exactly like the one after it. My biggest issue with buildings built after the 1990s is space, or lack thereof.

We have a flat that we rent for a few thousand a month, not including the liquids and sparks. That is for 80m², and a garage that locks.  In that 80m² we’ve got a lot of stuff piled in. Basically, enough space for us to have our shit all over the place and not trip over anything, except for the cat, but that was her own fault.

Now recently Herself & I went to look at another flat.  Advertised for a thousand more than what we’re paying now, but Herself talked it down by R500. Apparently this place is 85m². We looked and looked but couldn’t find the 5m². Besides not finding the 5m², it looked like another couple of square meters got lost somewhere.

We could comfortably fit all our stuff in there under one of two conditions. Either we put all our furniture in piles, or we sell three-quarters of it. Neither of those two conditions was ideal.

It is quite possible that my ideal house doesn’t exist, or it does exist just not in the area I want it to exist in. My ideal home would be like my parents house.

The Parental home was built in the early 1980s. Back when people had larger families than the norm today. Back when people still lived at home, not just a place to consume meals and catch up on sleep before rushing out to meet yet another deadline.

These days you can’t get a house really big enough. It’s big enough for sleeping and eating, and that’s about it. You can’t swing a cat in these modern houses. I could try, but I don’t think Her Royal Cattiness would appreciate being knocked about the head with a wall.

When I moved to Jozi 5 years ago, I had a bed, a chair and two folding tables. With each flat I moved into after that, my possessions have grown exponentially. Then I added Herself into the mix. Herself didn’t have too much in the way of furniture, but together we have acquired a few items. Now we’re quite attached to these purchases of ours and really don’t want to get rid of them in order to fit into a broom cupboard advertised as a “townhouse”.

So, the search for the perfect house, in the perfect location and at the lowest possible price continues. Hopefully, one of these days we’ll be successful. Who knows.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Things I've Learnt From My Neighbours

  1. Never close a door quietly. In fact, doors must be slammed shut with as much energy as you can muster. Preferably, for maximum effect all door slamming activities should be performed in the early hours of the morning.
  2.  Never, ever invite your friends into your flat for a coffee and a conversation. It is far better to have your conversations in the corridor outside your flat, and at a level that allows your neighbours to find out how it’s going with Piet’s divorce and Sibongile’s kidney stones.
  3. When having your friends over for a braai, you should under no circumstances use the designated braai area by the pool. For best results, put your braai right outside your front door. This will enable the maximum amount of smoke to infiltrate your neighbours’ apartments and for them to enjoy the atmosphere you are creating for your guests.
  4. If you have a cellphone that can play music, use it. Play the most obnoxious music you can find, loudly while strolling up and down the corridors. The effects can be maximised by having a simultaneous shouty conversation with your friend, who is happening to be standing right next to you at the time.
  5. During school holidays the best place for your children to play is in the corridors between the flats. Any of your neighbours that may be working from home will welcome the distraction that your screaming children bring.
  6. When parking your car, it is best not to try and get into the parking straight. Rather have a large part of your car sticking out of the parking in order to see which of your neighbours are alert when entering the premises.
  7. When leaving the parking area, try go as fast as possible. For your enjoyment the people walking to and from their cars will dance a little jig to avoid getting hit by you.

Bonus tips from the idiots at the bar across the road:

  1.  Music in the bar area is best enjoyed at air raid level. The people in the flats across the road absolutely love it when you make their fillings rattle.
  2. Always try and rev your souped up Corsa or Shiti Golf for as long as possible. We appreciate this show of masculinity and bow to your awesomeness. The same is true for any shithead on a motorbike.
  3. One word: Donuts. The ladies love donuts. We salute you... shithead!
  4. If, for any reason, the bar closes early and you feel like partying then by all means have your own party in the parking lot. We love Kurt Darren. Especially on repeat. And very especially at 6 o’clock in the morning of a public holiday. The only day we get to sleep in.

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Don’t Hate Me Because I’m Employable

You see, it started like this, or maybe it didn’t really start it just was.  Every time I get into my car to drive somewhere, I have to dodge all the beggars at the traffic lights. I can’t even go to the shops at times without some person down on their luck trying to guilt me out of a few bucks. Fair enough, it’s only a few bucks, but it’s my few bucks.

I saw the funniest thing one day. Stopped at a traffic light. Car next to me was driven by a black man. Car behind me was driven by a black man. Car behind the car next to me was driven by a white person. The black beggar went and begged from all the white motorists and didn’t bother the balck motorists. Strange?

I regularly receive e-mails asking me to help out some or other charity. I also once made the mistake of signing a petition for whatever cause it was at the time, and now I get e-mails telling me how bloody dangerous it is to give birth in Rwanda, or some other kak spot. Newsflash... it’s just as dangerous giving birth at Joburg Gen.

Then you get the lovely people from the townships. Dancing about because they’re unhappy with their RDP houses. For fuck’s sake! You are getting a house for free, and you want to bitch about it. My tax money hard at work.

I am probably sounding evil and selfish. Well, I’m selfish at the very least. I believe that I work hard for what I have. Just today I saw it. Traffic light, guy with sign “Please Help. Wife + 3 Kids”. Here’s a thought, get a job. And don’t say there isn’t work available, there’s always something.

However, people don’t want to work. If, and I say “IF”, a person really wants to work then they will find something to do. People don’t want to do anything that they think is beneath them. I don’t want to mow lawns, pack shelves, wait tables.

 There was a point to this. Somewhere. Oh yes! Guilt. At least once a month someone, somewhere will try and lay a guilt trip on me regarding the plight of some nameless, faceless people who are living in conditions worse than my own.

I don’t like this guilt trip. Especially when I feel it’s undeserved. Because it gets laid at my door that I have “so much” and they have “so little”. I have earned what I have. I have worked bloody hard, and bloody long to get where I’m at today. No reason why someone else can’t do the same.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010


...of entries.

I've noticed over the years how long it takes me to write anything for my blog. My very first blog I had, I could hammer out something in a couple of minutes. Then, five years ago I started taking longer. Sometimes taking up to a week to put something together of only a few hundred words.

The only thing I can say is that it's a bloody good thing I don't write magazine or newspaper columns for a living. I would have starved by now.

I have to wonder if it's some sort of recessive perfectionist gene that comes to the fore when I want to write something, or perhaps lack of creative spark. I will never know. I could just do what some other bloggers do, and do like this:

"Dear Diary,
 Today I went to the mall.... blah blah blah"

Some days I can just rant. Like, for instance my complaint about our highways being tolled. I can rant about other things too. I'm no good at writing book reviews, or how-to columns like my good friend Bazzabent. I'm good at bitching. Sadly, I've learnt to bitch in 160 characters or less. Thank you very much Facebook.

However, I am working on a few ideas. Got stuff brewing, and on the back burner while I take care of how I earn my crust. Leave a comment if you wish. Or don't.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

Tolled Roads

We were informed some months ago that the Johannesburg Roads Agency wants to toll our highways. Our highways are major routes to and from work for the majority of us.

However, the plan is to use open road tolling. A brilliant idea some might say. Where you get an RF tag attached to your car, or license plate, and when you drive past the tolling gantry on the highway, you get charged.

Now, this morning I had a thought. All of us that live here and want to make use of the highway will have to get these tags, do the paperwork, and all the other nonsense associated with it. What about visitors? When people from other towns and provinces drive around up here, sans tolling tags. How the fuck are they going to get charged for using the highway? 

In essence, with our rates and taxes, we have already paid for this bloody road. Now some schmuck from down the coast comes to wreak havoc on our roads without having the pleasure of paying for it. What a bloody cheek.