Posts Tagged ‘junkyard site


An Addendum To Yesterday’s Post…

manbabiesFirst off, thank you all for the positive vibes you sent after yesterday’s post where I announced that I’m going to be a dad. It means a lot to both J-Rab and I, you guys rock.

Secondly, I just wanted to set something straight in case there are a few of you who might have instantly decided to never read this site again in fear of me becoming a “daddy blogger”.

While I am blown away at the thought of being a dad and will definitely write about fatherhood from time to time, I still intend to use this site as I always have, namely as a place where I can hang out on the interwebs and be weird.

At heart I guess I’m a lot more private than a lot of other bloggers who bang away at it every day and the same way I don’t use the site to document the intimate details of my relationship with J-Rab, I don’t see myself using it as a platform to show my girl-child off to the world.



If it gets to that point, I’m relying on you guys to set me straight. If every post is about my kid I want you  guys to shoot me. Don’t kill me, aim somewhere non-lethal like the shoulder or the head, but definitely shoot me.

As a show of good faith, here’s a badass video I found yesterday featuring possibly the world’s best narrator (with the world’s largest hands) labouring a point in an extremely colourful and energetic manner indeed (huge props to @BrettRexB for unearthing this classic piece of interwebs awesome):



So don’t worry guys, yes your Tiger pal is going to be a dad in August, but no it won’t affect this old junkyard spaceship I call a blog site.

Party on Wayne Winking smile



Happy Second Birthday SlickTiger!

stripper cakeExactly two years and one day ago I pushed this site out lovingly from the moist, slippery birth canals of my twisted mind.

Can you believe it’s already been two years?! Christ, if I’d actually dedicated all this time to writing a novel like I’d originally planned and stuck to writing it as religiously as I blog on this site, I’d have a fucking masterpiece by now.

But, conversely, I never would have met all you, my happy little gang of imaginary internet friends so yeah… um… whoop whoop dee doo?

Joking! You know I love you goofy basterds. That’s the one thing you learn about blogging right from the get-go, every comment you get on your site is like a little hit of internet crack and once you get started on that shit you’ll blog about your own dead mother to get more!

I think it’s been a pretty fun ride so far. Sure, sometimes I write about utter shite just for the sake of posting that day but I’m only human. I can’t think up earth-shattering posts every day. Hell, if I manage one a MONTH I’m happy.



But enough about me, this post is about YOU – my loyal readers who come back time and time again to see what the Tiger’s been up to, what weird shit he’s cooked up today.

Civilian, Seer0wer, Guitar Jon, DP, Jax, Psymon, Action, Mattcredible, Megs (the ORIGINAL Slicky-T groupie), Callegari, Tara, Supa Dan, The MAEN, Ricksaw, Flavid, 1/2 a Rent, Peggles and Stikey just to name a few. You guys are the shit. I’d write this site until hell froze over just for you guys.

Thank you for being total badasses and hitting this site like it’s a prime piece of 18 year old ass and you’re the creepy PE teacher who touches his students inappropriately while they’re stretching.



Empires will rise and fall, but this junkyard site will float on through the blogosphere, edging ever closer to the event horizon, the still point of the turning universe and when we get there we will see the beginning again and we will know it for the first time…

And so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.

I’d like to play out with a song close to my heart. It’s Eagles Of Death Metal with “Whore-hoppin’ (Shit, Goddamn)”



Shine on you crazy diamonds Winking smile



This Is The Four Hundredth And First Post On This Site

And man, what a ride it’s been Winking smile

Sadly I missed the fact that yesterday’s post was number 400, I knew I was fast approaching that milestone, I’ve gotten into a solid routine these past few months of posting every weekday at 8.30 and the numbers have been adding up fast.

It’s a great thing this junkyard site, the greatest project I ever embarked on and though it’s still very much in it’s infancy, it’s clocking up between 400 and 500 hits a day on average and continues to grow, slowly, like a troop of mushrooms pushing up through the asphalt of the information super highway.

I get nostalgic at moments like these because I never thought these fightin’ words would ever reach so many people in such a short space of time and that they’d keep coming back for more.

That’s the greatest thing about blogging. You can cook up the weirdest fucking post, you can go way, way out there on a limb and bang out the craziest shit you can think up and someone out there will read that piece of sheer insanity and not only like it, but understand exactly where you’re coming from.



I am constantly surprised by the comments people write on this site and how fucking cool they are, it’s a daily reminder that there are good people out there despite what a lot of people would have you believe.

It’s for those people that I stay up until the early hours or wake up while the world’s still dark and like some kind of mad scientist, cook up a fresh batch of fightin’ words to serve to them, piping hot and full of fury.

I’d like to always be here, fighting the good fight, even when I’m old and worn out, reliving the glory days when we were young and bursting with fresh ideas and ways to change the world and when I die, I want this site to exist until the end of time, floating around in the ether of cyberspace like some great and rusted old spaceship.

And somewhere in the bowels of that gigantic, belligerent tetanus-shot-waiting-to-happen, this song will echo through the empty spaces long since abandoned by the friends that used to gather there and shoot the breeze.



Four hundred and one posts in and life’s just begun.

Ain’t that wonder Winking smile



A Post For Salome

I always felt bad because when Stikey and I, at the tender age of about 15, decided to run away from home, we passed Salome in the street and lied to her about where we were going.

She could see that something was up. Two adolescent shit-kickers dragging a colossal tog bag up the road randomly in the middle of the afternoon. Not normal.

She asked us where we were going and I told her I was spending the night at Stikey’s place and not to worry about us and yes, our parents knew about it.

Then we high-tailed it up the street, jumped in a black taxi and drove to a Formula One hotel where we spent the night getting as wasted as humanly possible and freaking out completely that our parents were going to disown us.

We were asshole kids and we did a lot of asshole things, but lying to Salome like that, it never sat well with me.

I don’t remember if I ever apologised to her for that. To this day I still don’t know if my parents asked her if she’d seen me that afternoon and what she said.

I’m not sure it matters anymore. Salome died yesterday afternoon.

Let it be known, for as long as this junkyard site stands, that Salome was a  good person, that she went to church every Sunday and said her prayers, that she was a gentle soul and that she deserved to live longer and see her grandkids grow up big and strong.

Salome was young, younger than my mom is now when she died, too young.

She used to give the softest hugs.

I think that’s what I’ll remember about her the most. She gave the softest hugs and she had a great laugh that could always make you laugh.

And holy shit, she make the best goddamn chicken mayonnaise rolls you’ve ever tasted in your life! I swear to God, her chicken mayonnaise rolls were so good, I’d save them for the end of my school day and eat them on the rowing bus going back home with this big dumb smile on my face.

I’m older now and I understand that life is cruel, but why the fuck did it have to be so cruel to her? What the fuck did she ever do to deserve losing her daughter who died right next to Salome on the bed in the tiny room that Salome used to live in, what did she ever do to deserve that?

I remember one night she spoke to me about it, she came to me for answers, she wanted to know how the God she loved could do that, but what could I tell her? What the fuck do you say to  someone who’s been through that?

I hugged her because there was nothing I could say. I just hugged her for the longest time, until she’d stopped crying and I told her things would be ok, they would get better.

She used to give the softest hugs Salome, and if there is a God, she’s giving her daughter one of those hugs right now and they’re together in a world that’s much, much better than this one.





The Party

Guitar Jon called me up the other day, asked me about the site and I told him that it had been over a month since I posted last.

“Blogging,” I said to him, “is like ice skating up a fucking hill. It’s hard fucking work. You’ve got to post and keep posting, as often as possible and be topical and relevant and all that crap or people just wander off to play somewhere else on the interwebs.”

“Sure,” he replied, “nobody really gives a shit whether you do it or not. It’s like a party – if you don’t show up, nobody’s going to stop the party, it just carries on whether you’re there or not.”

Which really got me thinking, because what the fuck? I like parties…

It’s about time I got back in the cockpit of this rusted old junkyard spaceship and started piloting it through the ether once more because if not me, then who?

And so, no fucking around, I hereby declare Them’s Fightin’ Words back up and running for 2011 – BOOYA!

God DAMN that felt good! Winking smile

Oh yeah, and Merry Christmas and Happy New Year and all that stuffs.

Hug? Hug.



Your Tiger pal,



Goodbye Rocko

I knew it was going to be rough for J-Rab when she eventually had to say goodbye to Rocko, our favourite of the fourteen Anatolian Sheepdog puppies we’ve been raising, so it was no surprise to me when she called in tears to say he was gone.

But what killed me was how fucking unhelpful the Express Air staff were. They left J-Rab completely by herself to pack the four puppies who were too little to be proper sheepdogs into these tiny crates so they could be flown up to Joburg.

The crates were full of shit-covered old newspaper and were so small the puppies couldn’t turn around in them, so naturally J-Rab lost it completely, tore all the newspaper out the crates and used the puppy blankets she’d brought with to line them instead.

And all the while the puppies didn’t make a peep and let her put all four of them inside their crates without making a sound because they’ve learnt to trust her and they know she’d never hurt them.

But when she had to shut the crates and lock them, one by one the puppies started crying and there was nothing she could do, nothing at all except walk away and probably never see them again for as long as they live.

Fuck, I felt all choked up when she told me the story and I wasn’t the one who watched every one of them be born and who fed them from when they were little furry worms right up until today, when J-Rab kissed them goodbye for the last time.

Life is just plain fucked up sometimes. On Wednesday the rest of the puppies go and I guess life just goes back to normal, like none of it ever happened.

I’ll miss Rocko though, he was an amazing dog. I just hope he gets a good, loving home and people who’ll look after him and treat him right.

Good luck to ya Rocko little buddy, grow up big and strong and brave. Life ain’t gonna be the same without you, but for as long as this junkyard site stands we’ll remember you and probably even if it doesn’t.



Your dad.