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6th Zuma Wife says goodbye, sort of: South Africa, I wish you luck.

Turns out I’ve been labelled somewhat of a political slut.

My term as the 6th Zuma wife seems to be coming to an end.  Apparently my kraal at the arse end of Nkandla has not been included in the renovation budget.  And until the security budget gets cleared, I am taking what I can to sell. And now that Mampollie Rampacious is announcing her big news today, how do I stand a chance?

When I was released from the basement by Jacob, I got a glimpse of the news. It turns out that South Africa is not doing too well at the moment. I didn’t know that the Oscars got this much media attention in South Africa.

Don’t get me wrong, I clung. I clung to my man’s ankles like a middle aged woman clings to youth. I clung like local sport heroes cling to their dignity. I clung like a conservative to his ideals. I clung like cling wrap to Jacob Zuma’s face during role plays…

So I fear that my time as the umpteenth partner to the sperm donor of our nation, the commander in penis, the handjob that holds us all together, and apart, must now bid him a farewell.

Don’t worry about me though. I will be a-okay. I did not survive being the mistress to Mandela and attempted murder charges from Winnie Madikizela for nothing. I did not survive a night of passion with Julius Malema only to find out that he was fired the day before for nothing. Nope, nah ah, I won’t have any of it. I am no longer about that life. These are lessons learned and I shall grow from them.

So on I go to new and more exciting opportunities. And for those of you who have not yet acclimatised to the jawonthefloor lingo, “new and exciting” is code for powerful black man.

As a sassy black woman who is neither black nor female, I feel that it is my duty to continue this tradition. So, Cyril Ramaphosa, I’m coming for you. Then you can come for me. Then we’ll just plain come.

This is exactly what I need to take my mind off everything.

First of all, his initials are CR. This means nothing, really, but I needed an introductory point, and I’m a little short here. Speaking of short, he is not. I got so tired of sitting on Jacob’s face and not being able to see his feet. Ok, now I’m just being bitter. One does not break the bonds of the union like JZ and I had without at least a little animosity.

I love you JJ.

But back to my silly Cyril! Here is a man who was the chief negotiator for the ANC during the tense pre-democracy years. Now if there are a few things I know in this life, they are tense, pre and democracy. Well, maybe not democracy.

This is exactly what South Africa needs at a crucial time like this. While I fill a bag with silver from the main house at Nkandla without being detected, Cyril has spent millions, on himself. Now that is the selflessness that I need at this time. All Jacob ever bought me was a George Foreman grill. Classy, but cheap.

The fact that Cyril has written constitutional law textbooks does not bode well for our imminent divorce, but I’ll cross that bridge when I use it to flee from the security guards.

So here is to hoping for a better tomorrow. But for now I need stronger knee guards. This Ramaphosa guy looks like he needs a lot more coercion than my Zuma. Your wife will miss you, Jacob L

 

<p>Author <a href=”https://plus.google.com/102128103971030481396” target=”blank” rel=”author”>Jerome Cornelius</a></p>

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Drag On, you’re on fire! (the beauty of drag queens)

I recently hosted a drag pageant. Yes, you read right. Drag Queens.

I was not in drag, but was chosen because of my wit, sparkling presence and of course, availability. Well mostly availability. Ok, only availability. But this got me thinking about this notion and its importance (yes, importance) for our society.

First, to me. So it was Miss Gayla 2012. This organisation is apparently the only one of its kind at a higher learning institution in AFRICA. Yes, I know that “in Africa” is not always that prestigious, especially with regards to LGBTI issues, but this is big.

I was told later that I had done a good job. Now of this I had no doubt. After all, I had been hosting my own show in my head for over two decades. So talking over a mic and making a room full of people feel at ease with my mouth is a talent which I have developed over many years. Wait…

Moving along. I wrote this awesome monologue and it totally flopped. It couldn’t have been me and my post-surgery face (I wore shades all night, so maybe I looked like an asshole) because it looked mostly ok, all things considering.  The event starting over an hour late may have contributed to a dour and unresponsive audience. This is a little bit from my opening monologue:

Good evening and welcome ladies and gentlemen.

Ladies, gentlemen,

gentle ladies,

lady men,

girly boys,

manly girls and of course, undecided. Or as I call you, the swing vote.

Tonight we have a fabulous evening in which we will use the word fabulous at least 300 times. Fabulous.

For those of you who are not aware, or are visually impaired or just too kind, my face is not what it should be.

I recently had some surgery, but wild horses couldn’t keep me away from hosting duties. And for those of you who came around the back way, we have actual wild horses in the back.

That is not true, but we do have a drag twin artists named Wild Horses which will be your mid-evening entertainment. In other news, just call me Wild Horses.

I’m sorry, but that was hilarious. But someone even shouted “Hou jou bek” (that’s an Afrikaans slang way of saying Shut The Fuck Up) at me.

The ladies were of course exceptional. Working the catwalk in dangerously high heels.  I didn’t actually want to speak about the actual pageant. There were no real surprises. It was a fair fight as they stomped it to the end. I did want to think broader. Congratulations again to Katlego Sibeko from Sebego Gold (pictured below) for winning and also to the other contestants.

A quick sidebar, when dressed as women, drag queens are referred to as women.

In terms of that LGBTI acronym, drag queens fall under than banner of trans gendered which is in itself quite peculiar and open to misconstruction. Drag queens are essentially men who dress as women. Men, not necessarily gay men. This often leads to confusion as people assume that all drag queens are gay. Not always a bad thing, but more about that later.

I was forced to face my own prejudices through drag queens and effeminate men. I’ve spoken about this before, but I initially had my own issues and did not like drag queens and overly effeminate men. I thought it was a disgrace and completely unnecessary. It took me some time and insight to point out the stupidity and hypocrisy in my own judgments. I realised soon enough that it, like any other fear, was about me and my own insecurities.

Drag queens are interesting. There’s something about them that I have grown to love and wonder why this phenomenon has not grown more than it has. RuPaul is the obvious example. The Queen, the Mother Drag and the one that first appeared in my consciousness.

Dame Edna Everage is also another that stood out for me, but not as big as RuPaul. Back in South Africa we have Tannie Evita Bezuidenhout.

Tannie Evita makes me particularly proud as this is exactly the potential that this art form possesses. She has risen to prominence as the political critic who uses satire to call out the fools in power, pre and post democracy. I consider myself a B-grade version of her.

Now many people may scoff at it being an art form, because that could negate from it being a way of life to many. I think that that depends on the individual to decide, although this could also lead to subjugation as the majority may feel that this should remain art and kept in the dark clubs where these ladies perform. To me it can be no less than art the way that someone can transform themselves across a gender.

However, this role of drag queens as performers should be utilised more and promoted to a greater extent. These performers could even be seen as (and this may be offensive to some) as the court jesters of society. They can say whatever they want because they usually do it behind an elaborate and dramatic façade and they can use humour to soften the blow (so to speak. I had to throw in a pun somewhere!).

Not many people are willing to be the mirrors to society and these ladies are brave and have the flair to do it.

On a similar lip-synched note, the very antagonistic nature of these ladies is essential if we are ever to move forward as a country and people. One of my mottos is “Top it or Stop it” and this could not be said better with regards to drag queens. Many might say that it’s wrong to throw the fox among the hens, but I’d rather know who the foxes among the hens are! Throw a drag queen into a crowd and watch who the seemingly “cool” people are. Body language changes and people suddenly change colours as they are forced to face how uncomfortable they are. Or they realise that they don’t care. Many men realise that they don’t look half-bad. That one is always awkward when the light bulb goes off [don’t worry boys, it doesn’t mean you’re gay!]

Now I’m also not saying that drag queens should be used as social barometers or as a way to test how homo/transphobic and –prejudiced people are. What I am encouraging is is a sense of pride for everyone, not just the majority. And maybe others will have the moment of realisation that I did.

<p>Author <a href=”https://plus.google.com/102128103971030481396” target=”blank” rel=”author”>Jerome Cornelius</a></p>

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100 Dates Failed? Update

“I don’t think so!” he said snapping his fingers and working his neck.

That was me narrating myself.

For those of you voyeurs who watched as I took the 100 Dates Challenge this year, don’t worry, I didn’t forget about it. Between studies and personal mock, it didn’t quite happen as it was meant to. Was it a failure? Nope. Do I regret it? No way! You clearly don’t know the jawonthefloor way if that’s the natural assumption.

What I set out to do was find my groove and just get all that awkwardness out of the way and improve social skills. Some people didn’t believe this and thought it was an excuse to whore around. So be it. If that’s what people want to use the 100 Dates Challenge for, that’s fine.

Instead I went on many dates with the same person, and they were great! If I had been counting, I’m sure I probably even exceeded 100, not that that was the intention. Remember if you going to do this challenge for yourself find a balance between quantity and quality. The idea is to get them all out of your system to make yourself a master dater and exceptional social navigator, but if you think you have met the right person on the way (go back and check the rules in the other posts in the category and feel free to make up your own as you go along, just like we did) then don’t let anything stand in your way. If it “fails”, it “fails.” Of course, if you’re a good Floor Jawer you will know that there are no failures in life.

I didn’t learn those social skills and experience that first “date” exhilaration that comes with the unexpected. All of the dates were with friends anyway! But again, no regrets. I had some great conversations that I would not normally have outside of the context of friendship with Tswana Queen, jolyndotme.wordpress.com and Queen Galaktika. I had a great time and always lots of laughs.

So where to from here? Keep earning, learning, living and exploring is the answer. Like I said, the Challenge didn’t go as planned, but what does? In this I see the beauty of life; unexpected and filled with blessings. Always a lesson to learn, I say.

 

<p>Author <a href=”https://plus.google.com/102128103971030481396” target=”blank” rel=”author”>Jerome Cornelius</a></p>

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The Life of a Bearded Man


Which is different from the life of a bearded woman, which I have also been called.

Well, not “a”, but “this”. I have been scratching the hell out of this rat growing on my face and I feel that the rest of the jawonthefloor community deserves to know.

Now I could make the obvious joke here and wish some of you a happy belated Shana Tovah Kippur Mazel Matzos, but that would be offensive.

However, I was recently accosted.

The Americans appeared to have got wind (feel free to laugh at that) of my appearance and I was detained for a cavity search. The fact that I was going for a cavity search in the first place is irrelevant. It’s as irrelevant as the third Jonas brother who was also at the same detention facility. It’s as irrelevant as the second page of Google, which is where you will find my mug shot and my naked protest after I was detained. The fact that I was naked already is irrelevant. It’s as irrelevant as…. Well, you get my point.

I left there feeling delightfully violated and ready to take on the day. Then a hipster grabbed me and dragged me away. I was so confused and amused. He was skinny, wore skinny jeans so tight he was penguin-waggling walking and …surprise surprise, he had a big ol’ beard, which was not skinny.

He pushed me into this café and we sat down and spoke about indie music and philosophy or something. Photos were taken on Instagram and other hipster joke scenarios were acted out before I got so incensed that I nearly pulled my beard out.

Just when I thought it was safe to come out, as I stumbled out, I typed started typing the word on my phone for advice as to how to overcome this obstacle in my life (I had tried calling on Jesus earlier that day, but in the bearded community we have something known as beard envy and he hasn’t trimmed his in over 2,000 years. Not looking so good, JC) but I only got as far as “bear” when I realised that it was in fact Grindr and not Google (at this point feel free to use Google to search ‘Grindr’ and then feel free to not use Grindr. You’re welcome)

This opened up a veritable Peter’s Box of activity as I became the hot commodity on the block. How upset people were they when they discovered that the only type of bear I was was the Wandering Somalian Bear known as Skinnybitchilus Bloggercetus. It’s the scientific name.

So as if being confused for a terrorist, hipster and then a hairy homosexual male were not enough, I saw my barber. He was not impressed. I have not fought off a man with a pair of scissors like that since my audition for Edward Scissorhands in Johnny Depp’s apartment in the 90’s (this is completely plausible because the beard makes me appear younger than I really am and he was also a member of the Beard Brigade for a bit).

So where to from here, I thought to myself as I ran my hand through my hair, then down to my beard then over my chest hair for good measure? Up and up, Floor Jawers. Or down and outwards, if that’s how yours grows. I’m a down pointer myself. If we stick together, we can defeat the smoothies. Down with razors!!

 <p>Author <a href=”https://plus.google.com/102128103971030481396” target=”blank” rel=”author”>Jerome Cornelius</a></p>

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Dear Mr Malema (Sixth Zuma wife appeals)

I Love you. Whoa JAW, calm down.

Hello my Floor Jawers, I trust that you are all doing well. If you are not, don’t complain. There are people out there without roofs over their cars. It may be their choice, but still, it’s a tough life.

This is my attitude. One of optimism and hope. Therefore I would like to put in an application to be the Malema wife; the next first lady of this country.

I know that my faithful followers and readers are used to being addressed personally, but this is an open letter to my curvaceous new man. So calm down girls while mamma puts more food on the table.

Mr Malema, I watched you recently on Amanpour and I kept thinking, AmanPOUR this girl a drink.  I swooned when I saw your full face, revolutionary beret-clad head on my screen, shining like the black hole that you are. And that’s a hole into which I would like to be sucked.

Christiane did not seem to get who you are. I do not believe that you are the cause of all that is wrong with this country. Fighting for miners rights and the poor and embattled of this country? Yes please! We need more of you. And going on overseas trips to research the way in which others live? Can we all say SELFLESS?! You, my man, are a man amongst, you know, more men.

Some call you Black Hitler, I just call you my Black Chocolate.

As the sixth Zuma wife, I have had experience in being part of a presidential delegation. Even though I was kept in the back kraal, I often caught glimpses of the meetings.  I have a unique an fragmented insight into the colourful world of South African politics.

I do not agree with Ja-Zu that you should have been suspended. Maybe a little discipline, but that is what you will have me for. You see Juli, you are a bad boy. But that is just what we need. Let’s face it, Madeeba couldn’t do it. All that freedom and constitution nonsense will get us nowhere. This is a rainbow nation that needs our particular brand of black-and-white colour. Forget 50 Shades of Grey. I want one shade of YOU.

I mean if you could get from whatever hole you grew up in all the way to the title of former ANCYL president in the span of a few decades, I think we have a potential role model in you. And I would like you to be the potential role model in me.

So I appeal to you JuMa, take your cocoa finger and go over to that “follow” button and follow me all the way to the altar. Let jawonthefloor show you the way. Hit that button, and then hit me up. I’ll show you how to run this country.

 

<p>Author <a href=”https://plus.google.com/102128103971030481396” target=”blank” rel=”author”>Jerome Cornelius</a></p>

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Things for which I am grateful (but not really)

I am at a point in my life where I need positivity. This is not coming from anyone in my life, so as usual it falls on JAW to go it alone and do it himself. Why he is speaking to himself and referring to himself in third person is another issue all on its own and will be dealt with at a later stage.

My family: but not really. Only my asshole nephews. Because when I see those smiling eyes, I realise why I should never be young again. I was a mess!

My body: but only the back really. Seriously. Apparently I have a really good butt and I love the contours of my head. This is why I walk backwards so often. And as evidenced by this blog, the reason why I think and speak in a backwards way too.

My health: except when it fails me, like the wisdom teeth currently shooting their way out of my mouth like the oral diarrhoea version of stalactites and stalagmites. . For this I am grateful for the public health system of this county which will allow me to get them removed under the guise of surgery while I also get some work done and a little heavy petting (what the doctor and anaesthetist do is their business)

Honesty: that word that has freed me in a way like no other. And that other word  ”sarcasm” And  the way in which they work so well together, practically holding hands. You say potato, I say “but didn’t you say something else the last time?”

Let’s all claim and reclaim, for the love of positivity.

 

<p>Author <a href=”https://plus.google.com/102128103971030481396” target=”blank” rel=”author”>Jerome Cornelius</a></p>

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Yet another “jawonthefloor” Solution (you’re welcome)

Water and salt and stir. SAY LEAN! You’re welcome. See how smart I am? But because I love you dear followers, I present more solutions for our out-of-shape nation.

I am sick; sick of being labelled as “that sarcastic, satire guy”. This is, in fact what my embarrassed mother and fed-up father call me now, which is a pleasant change from “when are you moving out?”

You see, I am getting a little tired of this country. My immediate sphere, as well the larger emanation makes me so exhausted that this blogger and social commentator/sassy activist will now tell you what to do.

Apparently our credit rating is now in the negative. It is the first time since the late 90’s that we are in this big fat hole. Thanks a lot Lonmin Mines and Marikana peoples.

My friend said that we will find our way back when “we stop stealing from others and when we stop feeling that the rich owes the poor anything. [It will happen] when we take responsibility for our own shortcomings”. Now obviously that’s ridiculous and unrealistic.

So here’s what we now need to do:

We tastefully recreate what happened.  We may need to bus in immigrants to fill the roles so that may be a problem. I mean, where would we find people from other parts of Africa?

This could be our way of making up for not cashing in on Apartheid. A few museums do not do this justice.  Heck, we already do Township Tourism. Why stop there? I just hope no one beats me to the “Rape Rallies” idea.

This could be our version of those American Civil War re-enactments. And let’s face it; if the Americans do it, it has to be right, right?  It might not go off well with government though. I know how much those guys and gals at the top HATE the theatre and dramatics of politics.

*

In case you heathens don’t read your Bibles, Wkikpedia says that this joyous book says that if you don’t use it, cut it off. Or if it doesn’t work, cut it off. Either way, I say we cut off some loose ends.

Let’s start with Limpopo, simply because of the word “popo”, or the anagram “poop” (don’t pretend you weren’t thinking it). Next we have the North-West. Surely we can move Sun City if we ever need to host Miss World/ Universe again.

Then there’s that other hot bed of hot messness that needs to go like a ho, the Eastern Cape. For my international followers, Google these places and cower in horror. We can keep the Northern Cape for that Kimberly place because that way I won’t be the only thing called “The Big Hole” in this country. WE can’t have that, now can we?

Let us not pretend that “natural beauty” can’t be bought. I’m a Capetonian, I see natural beauty on people’s faces all the time and baby photos cannot change that drastically. Ask me, I used to be called The Nose. Now I’m just called The Nosy due to a blog, inquisitive disposition and clever marketing.

So what’s the solution? Sugar plus water to make a yummy caramel. Or, and this is where I go revolutionary on you and even do a parenthesis … [BAM!] We lop it off and sell it to the Chinese! Again, you were all thinking it and I had the guts to say it. OF COURSE we will fix them up, flip it and make it a profit. If there’s one thing we know how to do in this country, it’s how to renovate. It may lead to an awkward body shape for our country, but we can do it, girls. It’s better than my other solution of buying our boring older cousin Namibia and having a hunchback.

Let’s get back in shape and figure this out. What do you say?

 

<p>Author <a href=”https://plus.google.com/102128103971030481396” target=”blank” rel=”author”>Jerome Cornelius</a></p>

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Be More Gay! But not quite…

I have had a very interesting day; one I’d rather put behind me and I didn’t even have to leave my room to experience.

There were rumours, confirmed and refuted, angry and bitchy comments and then there was the question: What the fuck is wrong with the gay community?

Can we just move beyond the self-hating, materialistic, bitchy, undercover façade and be true to who WE want to be?

Why is this mould so hard to break out of? My oldest friend and soon to be blogger, (yes I said it, now you can’t not do it!) and I had this conversation.  Why is it so tough to just be? Why can’t one embrace being a gay man (I know there’s a dirty joke there, but I didn’t go there. Stay with me) and just exist without drama and live in a conventional way without resorting to stereotype?

Embrace who you are, but within the framework of the gay community, which in turn exists within the framework of society. Get it? A box in a box, with a sole individual in the middle. That’s me.

So repulsed was I by this world within the world that I believe I went to the other extreme. Not content with being (just) a flashy, prancing, chat room trawler. Because I can be flashy and prancing, but I want to do it on my own terms.  And the online hook-ups are so last century; come on people, move with the times!

So instead, I became the interesting, quirky, intellectual. It’s a role I’ve played well all my life, but now I’ve played up to it and became an enhance version of this archetype.

Am I happy? I think I am. But we could all do with a change. I don’t think that this warrants a new challenge per se, as yet, however it does allow room for consideration. Why do we box ourselves willingly when there’s a whole wide world trying to do that already?

Be happy with one partner at a time? Dress how you want? Speak how you want to speak? You can have it all. *Someone once said “be the change you want to see in the world”. Whoever that genius is not important, just go on and be.  Conventional, especially when unconventional is SO boringly normal!

* I know it was Gandhi who said it!

 

<p>Author <a href=”https://plus.google.com/102128103971030481396” target=”blank” rel=”author”>Jerome Cornelius</a></p>

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Cheaters Club – Cape Town edition

No, this is not a clever play on words on the majestic fastest land mammal in the world. In fact, this type of cheater is not a rare breed or endangered by any means.

One of my Twitterers, Gunther Kriel suggested today on twitter that “there should be a website or blogsite listing all the assholes/cheaters in #CapeTown. Would be half the city if you ask me”.

Genius!

Well of course this got me thinking!

What would this website entail? I imagine it to be a blog pretty much like this one. Members only though, like much of cliquey Cape Town. It would be a magical place where race, gender and sexuality don’t matter. All that counts is that everyone would be a cheater.

Now, this is not as simple as it sounds. You would have to do a thorough scour of the city’s depths and under depths for only the best to filter (feed) through. Obviously FaceBook and Twitter would be excellent sites to start the search, but only via DM (direct message) or inbox. Come on, people, these are the simple basics. Do keep up! Nothing can be out in the open here.

Ok, next step, the rules.  You may only chat to someone if you are in a relationship. What?! I’m just checking, you could be new to this! Now that that is out of the way, go forth young one. Explore. Browse the archives and find your ideal meeting point.

Whether train stations are your port of entry or maybe you prefer finding your victims at your place of work, somewhere else maybe, just be discreet about it. Clubs are also still popular meeting points. Dark with deceptively flashing lights and the inebriated witnesses. We can’t have others finding out about our secret society, now can we?!

We need a name though. Union of Conning Taciturnity? No, not catchy enough. After all, there will be catching of all sorts happening. The Mutual Decepticons?

Damn this is harder than I thought. Cheating is hard work. Telling one person something and another to another and then an other to another. And then you have to maintain your cover all the time while not blowing said cover.  I just broke a sweat thinking about it!

Especially in Cape Town with so few paces to meet people, how are we expected to meet multiple people?! So as soon as we get our hands out of the cookie jars, this site will be the perfect initiative. In fact, we have our rights. We deserve a space where others can know who their compatriots are.

Take your hats off to them, comrades. Especially if they wear hats, seeing as they have to wear so many of them. It’s an amicable profession. Cheaters of the Cape, UNITE!

 

<p>Author <a href=”https://plus.google.com/102128103971030481396” target=”blank” rel=”author”>Jerome Cornelius</a></p>

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WWTD? When good things go bad

The conversation went as such:

–          But how do I not care about him?!

–          The question is, how did you stop caring about yourself?

Is this really the “answer” to relationships going bad?

This was the wisdom from the Tswana Queen in her usual simple, yet effective way.

I have spoken about this issue at length, some on this blog; however when one is faced with a problem, it is so much harder than writing about it. Although writing does help.

I had this discussion with a friend and we came up with the acronym WWTD – What Would Taylor Swift Do? Apparently, rumour has it, that the scathing songs of love and heartache which she has written were slyly aimed at her exes, including Joe Jonas.

Is this girl crazy? Or is she simply a genius? Is putting your heartache on paper and passing it around for the world to see a good idea? I’m doing the swaying ship between tacky and smart. Maybe I should shut up as I do the same on this blog.

Whatever happened to letting people imagine for themselves… or are we just a bunch of speculators?

After all, Carly Simon has yet to reveal who “Youre So Vain” was really for.

<p>Author <a href=”https://plus.google.com/102128103971030481396” target=”blank” rel=”author”>Jerome Cornelius</a></p>

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