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Ben Trovato

@ Sunday Times Books LIVE

Archive for the ‘Facebook’ Category

Disappointingly, Facebook is not a dangerous, hormonal hotbed of sex-crazed juvenile delinquents

So how about that cabinet reshuffle! Something else, hey? Shoo. Wow. And moving right along to something a little more interesting. Facebook, for instance.

Being an irascible misanthrope with 1.5 friends in real life, it never occurred to me to venture forth into an invisible field of electromagnetic energy like some kind of ethereal knight on a quest for God only knows what.

Clive, my hebephrenic loinfruit, talked me into it. He said Facebook was an essential communication and marketing tool and any writer who failed to subscribe to the global social media was an irredeemable fool who deserved to burn in Luddite hell.

It was immediately obvious that he was using the global social media to score drugs from abroad, but they seemed to be making him smarter so I let it slide.

When I was young and foolish (last year), I joined Second Life and got my virtual heart ripped from my chest and cruelly stamped on at Club Quake by a raven-haired avatar called Sue E Cyde, so I was reluctant to go back out there.

Brenda said I was being ridiculous – not because she didn’t want to see me get hurt – but because I was too old for Facebook. She said it was almost certainly illegal for someone my age to join this “dangerous, hormonal hotbed of sex-crazed juvenile delinquents”.

Clive helped me sign up.

“Half a billion people can’t be wrong,” he said. Word spread like wildfire and before I knew it, I had 80 friends and never felt lonelier. It wasn’t easy to accept the fact that 499999920 people weren’t remotely interested in getting to know me better.

Devastated, I went out and bought 80 beers and invited Ted around to help me drink a toast to each of my true friends. One beer, one friend.

“You shouldn’t let it worry you,” said Ted, when we reached the halfway mark. “Worry?” I shouted. He made me come down off the roof and put my pants back on. I had never felt less worried in my life.

When I awoke at the bottom of Brenda’s underwear drawer two days later, I logged on and was delighted to see that I had made another 24 friends. I called Ted and told him to bring over a case.

“Who are these people?” he said. “There’s nobody here but us chickens,” I said. He confiscated my beer and explained that he was talking about my Facebook friends. I studied their faces but words failed me. I stood there snorting gently, my head lowered like a wounded buffalo.

He gripped my head with both hands and shouted, “Face!” Then he picked up a dog-eared copy of The Complete Marquis de Sade and shouted, “Book!” I began to grow afraid. What was he talking about? It was like being five years old again and forced to go through a tin of meaningless squiggles that later turned out to be unhelpful words like “hen” and “fox”.

Then Brenda walked in. My body went into code red and scrambled a squadron of rapid response enzymes to repair a million beer-logged neurons so that I might stand a chance of defending myself.

“We’re booking about Facetalk,” I said, nonchalantly leaning against the dog which we didn’t have.

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Two Open Letters: Dear Andre Visagie and Benjamin Netanyahu…

Dear Mr Visagie,

I was crushed when I heard you had resigned from the AWB. At first I thought you quit after trying to touch Chris Maroleng on his studio. What were you thinking when you agreed to appear on Did you not know that the station is a hotbed of communist agitators? It’s a good thing you didn’t end up like Piet Retief.

I reckoned you had been so psychologically scarred by the incident that you had decided to forsake everything and become a dominee in the Dutch Reformed Church, but then I remembered that the NGK is no longer what it was. I hear that they even allow darkies into the services these days, and not just to polish the pews and dust the Bibles, either. They get to pray right there alongside decent white folk. It’s a bloody scandal.

The running dogs of the Illuminati-backed press are reporting that you resigned because you said the AWB was taking too long to form an army to protect Afrikaners after the death of Eugene Terre Blanche.

Me myself, I would also have resigned. You need to be part of an organisation whose idea of an air force and navy is something more than two crop-sprayers and a rubber duck. What you don’t need are people who say they have access to a Ratel and when it comes time for war they rock up drunk with a honey badger on a leash.

I am glad to hear that your new group, the Gelofte Volk Republikeine (the Holy Nation Republicans, in the tongue of the devil) will “fast-track the Boer resistance movement and be true to Mr Terre Blanche’s aspirations”. I hope these aspirations don’t include sharing crates of vodka and cider with the hired help. All this will do is fast-track the contents of your stomach to the front of your shirt, and that won’t help anyone at all.

I also read that your group had already attracted 80 people. This is excellent news. Even though the government has an army of 80000 troops, if you take away all those who are too sick, fat or babelaas to fight, they are left with maybe 50 soldiers. Plus, all their tanks are up on bricks and the air force runs out of fuel every September.

* * *

Dear Bibi,

Well done on stopping those perfidious bootleggers from delivering their deadly cargo to the terrorists of Gaza.

What an exciting operation it must have been! From what I saw on the telly, your boys have certainly picked up a thing or two from the Somali pirates.

I must say, though, that I was a little disappointed in the way things turned out.

I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but some of your fans are asking whether a late-night boarding of these ships was really the way to go. Have you seen video of the operation? It is so grainy and poorly lit that you can barely tell the pro-Palestinians from the good guys.

Pre-dawn raids are very romantic, but you of all people should know that tracer fire and phosphorous bombs make for fabulous night-time viewing.

For a really spectacular finale, you might have fired off a bunch of them damn fine AGM-142 Raptors. Or even dropped a small nuclear device on top of the Mavi Marmara.

What an awesome way that would have been to get your message across to those Hamas-hugging mung beans.

I understand your navy commandos were forced to open fire when one of the activists slapped an Israeli officer after he rappelled out of a helicopter. This kind of conduct cannot be tolerated in times of war, even if it does come from a short-sighted 19-year-old vegan with PMS.

Let it slide, and the next thing you know, Israel is overrun with moth-eaten urchins demanding money for sweets and detonators and shouting “Allahu Akbar” all over the place.

A few girly governments have condemned this latest skirmish as some sort of atrocity. Many of these countries, like France and Sweden, have appalling human rights records and they should keep their opinions to themselves.

Israel has done a splendid job of isolating Gaza for the past three years and even though 80% of the Strip’s 1.5 million people now depend on outside help to survive, one cannot assume that they will not misuse even the most basic of commodities. These Arabs are a cunning people, capable of making weapons of mass destruction with nothing more than a bar of soap and two spoons of instant coffee.

Had this armada of evil made it to Gaza, the carnage would have been unimaginable.

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