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Ostriches have got the right idea. They bury their heads in the sand and they let life pass them by obliviously. Of course, they're also absolutely brain-dead so they're oblivious in the first place. I think I'm going to go the ostrich route for the next months, just to see if it takes the edge off.
It's definitely the only way to deal with some of the world's more serious matters, like the FUEL CRISIS that just gripped the city or how about the continuous and depressingly Sisyphean state of South African rugby.
First, the FUEL CRISIS. Now I believe there was some kind of strike somewhere by a group of embittered workers. Because I actually haven't read anything about the strike I can offer no valuable opinion on the matter whatsoever.
Which will undoubtedly make my musings on the fuel crisis far more entertaining than anyone else's because absolutely none of my opinions will be based on fact or knowledge. In fact, I might as well apply for a job in government right now.
Not overly concerned
Right, so the FUEL CRISIS, and I write it all in caps, as the newspaper headlines do, so you can get a real feel for the terror that gripped the country this past weekend.
Can't you just picture Bob from Melkbos, curled up in the corner of his bedroom, white with fear and shivering like a wet hamster because... why? Because a FUEL CRISIS IS GRIPPING HIM. Aaaargh. It's got me, the fuel crisis. Oh no. I can't take it anymore. Somebody buy me a bicycle. Please.
Personally, I live about three minutes from my office, so I'm not overly concerned about having to drive anywhere. And at the moment I'm particularly lazy and terminally grumpy so my friends don't really want to see me. No fuel crisis in my home then.
And while I think headline writers are the lowest of the low, the pond scum of all journalism (over promise and under deliver, people. Pick up a magazine, read a cover line - those are the words blocking the ripped torso or the perfect breasts - and try and find the matching story inside. It's nearly impossible) I think they got it spot on this weekend.
More important things to worry about
Why? Because I can just imagine the carnage in the plush suburbs of Cape Town, or wherever the fuel crisis was, when the bored housewives get home from Pilates and realise that without petrol in the SUV they may have to walk to a shopping centre so they can diddle away the hours drinking coffee or compare thigh sizes with Caroline from pottery class.
In my limited time as a viewer of world events I imagine that a crisis would involve hordes of disgruntled commuters storming the city centre and torching petrol stations (with lighter fluid and bourbon. No petrol remember), toyi-toying outside Shell House and demanding a day off work because of the emotional scarring of having to drive into another suburb to fill up.
And as for the rugby. I used to work for a sports magazine until I realised I was dying from boredom. Same story, month after month. Where are the players of colour, where is the transformation? A Springbok side with 15 black players, coloured players, stripy players - does it really matter? It's just a game. I really don't understand the fuss.
Besides, there are more important things to worry about. I mean for goodness sakes people, we're smack bang in the middle of a FUEL CRISIS.
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