RustyGate

Witness what happens when a Supreme Court judge interferes in the exploitation of “our” natural resources, and advances the cause of British neo-colonialists (whites) bent on stealing “our” wealth.

“The deputy sheriff then took the case with the diamonds to the Reserve Bank and surrendered them to the officials. While the deputy sheriff was still at the Reserve Bank, Assistant Commissioner Gumbo came to the Reserve Bank accompanied by several armed policemen and demanded at the ‘order of the minister’ that the diamonds be handed over to him.

We do not know what he (Gumbo) did with the diamonds. We consider that the actions of Assistant Commissioner Gumbo were completely unlawful and in contempt of a court order.

It is bad enough that the Minister of Mines should personally interfere with the judicial process of implementing an order of the Supreme Court. However, the position was made worse by the fact that Assistant Commissioner Gumbo, because he was told by the minister to seize the diamonds from the deputy sheriff or officials of the Reserve Bank, did so without any attempt to ascertain that the order of the minister was lawful. There is no rule of law if police officers blindly carry out an order given by a minister of state. Police officers should only act when they are satisfied that the complaint of the minister has a sound legal base.

We ask that this matter be investigated and that appropriate action be taken against Assistant Commissioner Gumbo. We also ask you to confirm that the Deputy Sheriff will not be obstructed in his duties, particularly in the enforcement of the provisions of the Order of the Supreme Court in case No SC 2307 09, and that the necessary instructions are issued to the Commissioner-General of the ZRP.”

Viva Zimbabwe, Viva! Viva our Sovrenity, Viva!

Watched the eighth episode of 24 season 8 last night. And promptly fell asleep. I woke up after a little while, only to find Her, who absolutely LOVES 24, fast asleep.

First of all, I remember you getting stabbed last week, Jack. In the belly. With a knife. Before the Russians took you away.

Now they’re torturing you, suspended by your wrists from a ceiling pipe, feet half-a-metre from the floor. You’re taking electric shocks to your bleeding knife-wound in the belly, and still refusing to talk. Awesome!

Wait a minute, you’ve knocked this guy out with your legs? Holy crap, now you’ve jiggled up and down until the pipe has dislodged and you free yourself? Oh wait, he’s getting up, you rush into action and break his kneck? Goddamn, Jack.

Now you’re up, gun in hand, ducking and diving through a firefight that you INEVITABLY win?

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

We’re not ten years old, Jack. This stupid shit just doesn’t cut it anymore. Show us a little respect, goddamnit.

I’m so bored. Please stop it, stop it now. Put him out of his misery.

24 is boring.

The Book of Eli. Starring Denzel Washington as a pilgrim walking across a barren post-apocalyptic wasteland of thirst and despair.

In his possession a precious book, the last of its kind, a book sought far and wide by murderous bandits, a book coveted by a power-hungry madman.

The book? A bible! The “walker”? Booooooring. The action sequences? Stilted. The storyline? Formulaic.

And then we find … the book is in braille. All along, Denzel was blind. Blind I say!

It’s I Am Legend without the dog.

I hate it when someone in a store acts like I’m privileged to be shopping there. This is an attitude I’ve come to expect from a few shops at Sam Levy’s Borrowdale.

But even shopkeepers in that tiny enclave of settler excess have come to realise that the customer is king, and we tend to be welcomed with (sometimes forced) smiles, and genuine customer service.

Not so much with Spar Athienitis.

I walked in there Sunday afternoon looking for something quick and dirty to chow, so picked up a box of Spar brand burgers and a bag of rolls.

At the till, I wasn’t surprised to see a difference in the sticker price and what was on the screen, but it was by TWO FUCKING DOLLARS!! So I tuned her, these burgers are supposed to be five bucks thirty, there must be a mistake, can you check at the fridge?

She gave me that look – you know it, the one people give when you’re really messing with their groove, like I was at fault and should just pay seven dollars for a box of generic burger patties!

Now, I know this happens, and I’m pretty used to till prices being different from sticker prices, but usually it’s dealt with timeously and courteously, because it’s an inconvenience to the goddamn customer, not the supermarket. Hell, one girl at Bon Marche Borrowdale even took my word for it and charged the price I told her was at the fridge!

Not the same at Spar Athienitis.

She half-heartedly calls for the supervisor/manager type (I think it was Mlambo) who didn’t appear at all interested, and went about his business by the next till without even seeming to acknowledge us and our half-hearted till operator.

That’s when it ended, and I just asked her to cancel the entire transaction, and we fucked off out of there. According to Minnie that kind of behaviour is not rare in Fife Avenue Spar (and being her local, she’d know) which leaves me wondering.

Whose money do they think is paying their salaries? Because once your staff start slipping, and your management starts slipping, believe me your profits are gonna start fucking slipping!

Needless to say I’ll be avoiding Athienitis with their high prices and shitty service, and continue spending my money where it’s appreciated.

Not at Spar Athie-fucking-nitis.

So I’m sitting here watching the football friendly between South Africa and Zimbabwe. Go Warriors, go!

Firstly, can’t help but wonder if ZIFA skimped on travel costs by selecting a squad made up of mostly SA-based players. No shocks there, although I’m still wondering if Zhaimu Jambo deserves a cap.

Secondly, both teams are wearing Adidas kit, but SA are looking sleek and lithe, yet Zim are the usual deformed baggy Dickensian urchins we always are, and that kit looks like it was sewn together in some sweaty pit of despair in deepest darkest Djibouti.

Plus, the flags on the chest were slapped on kinda squank.

Thirdly, this stadium is pretty full for a fucking friendly, and it makes for a raucous atmosphere, with the usual intermittent hum of vuvuzelas in the background. Talk about atmosphere.

Oh well, seeing as I’m going back to work on Monday, I guess I’ll watch this game then the Manchester derby after (go City) – and see if I can down this bottle of Klipdrift.

I know, I know; fuck my life.