For one of this year’s pranks, Google made a video saying that it was going to shut down YouTube. What was meant to be a lighthearted joke — over 4 billion hours of video are watched each month, YouTube isn’t going anywhere — turned into a bit of a PR issue. Pretending to kill YouTube seemed to remind many, or at least many who have Twitter accounts, that Google is actually killing Google Reader. Last month, Google upset a whole lot of devoted users when it announced that it is planning to discontinue the RSS reader, the unspoken reason being to focus users on Google+. Just when that fire had died down, Google found a way to reignite it.

Having coffee with friends.

A day at the beach.

Cheering on your team.

Having dinner out with your friends.

Out on an intimate date.

Having a conversation with your BFF.

A visit to the museum.

Enjoying the sights.

The discovery of the calendar, and that it stopped on December 21, 2012, prompted millions of people to assume that the world would end on that date, rather than that the Mayan astronomers had run out of space on their big circular rock, or had gone for a tea-break and had forgotten to finish.

However, South Africans are preparing for the worst, many saying that the Mayan apocalypse was foretold by Nostradamus, a prophecy which is clearly audible if you play ‘Sugar Man’ by Rodriguez backwards.

This morning, consumer advisor Zara Rippov urged shoppers to be on the lookout for pre-apocalypse bargains.

“Just because a giant demigod with the head of a snake and the feet of an eagle is going to rise up out of the sea and obliterate us all, it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get the best deals,” she said, adding that sales of 2013 diaries were currently “sluggish”, and that shoppers should try to haggle prices down.

Cape Town residents say they are not particularly worried about the end of the world, as they experience an apocalypse every December when visitors from Gauteng start arriving.

“It’s pretty much straight out of a Mayan prophecy,” said resident K.P. Oake. “These creatures arrive and start stomping around your city: boiled red like lobsters, gigantically fat, with nasty pork-sausage toes bursting out of flip-flops, wearing Springbok jerseys and board-shorts instead of real clothes. Utter obliteration will be kind of a blessing, really.”

Meanwhile, the Education Department has confirmed that it will announce this year’s Matric marks on December 22, a day after the end of the world.

“We’re setting our Inflate-O-Marker to 11 this year,” said spokesman, Teechaz Pett. “It’s going to be so nice not having any whiny DA killjoys around to question why every single learner in the country has achieved 43 distinctions.”

The ANC has also confirmed that Jacob Zuma is looking forward to the apocalypse.

“He’s going to be riding it out in his bunker at Nkandla,” said an aide. “We’re under strict instructions to keep him limber and hydrated in case he needs to repopulate the planet afterwards. He’s been practising these last few years, and he’s pretty stoked.”

This article can also be found here

According to a spokesman for the South Africans United Against Uniting Beer Ads, the idea of a rainbow nation of sports-mad beer-drinkers had been “briefly quaint in about 1994”, but that the concept had worn increasingly thin.

“We know it’s hard to find stuff that unites South Africans of all races,” said Blackout Mfeketo. “After all, the only two cultural practises we all share are racism and wife-beating, and those tend to be buzz-killers in beer commercials.

“But seriously: boeps, beer, braaivleis and balls? It couldn’t be a more pitiful representation of our national zeitgeist if we all just lined up in adult diapers and gurned at the camera for 30 seconds.”

He confirmed that many intelligent South Africans were also “on the point of a psychotic break if they hear ‘Africa’ by Toto one more time”.

“Seriously, people,” said Mfeketo. “It’s not an ancient hymn chanted by Nguni shamans in an Azanian idyll. It’s a pop song written by some dudes in Los Angeles who once watched a documentary about ‘Africa’. And more to the point, it was written in 1982. 1982, for God’s sake! It’s older than the muppets in the ads! Move on!”

Meanwhile, South Africa’s woman have also come together to ask Carling Black Label drinkers if they would like a hug and some positive affirmation about their penises.

“We’re really worried about those ‘I’m a man’ ads,” said Boudica Golightly. “I mean, if you’re so insecure about your masculinity that you need to stand around with other men, not a woman in sight, while a mantra chants over and over again that you’re a man…ag shame.”

She urged South African woman to be gentle and encouraging with Carling Black Label drinkers, and to remember that “the only thing that scares them more than having a small winkie is having to talk to a woman”.

This morning advertising agencies confirmed that they were running out of new ideas, but blamed current hate-speech laws for limiting their options.

“Unfortunately that ‘I’m a man’ campaign is too sophisticated for most of our target demographic,” confessed local executive, Slithy Toves. “In an ideal world we’d just be able to have a group of men massaging bacon fat into each others’ thighs, drinking beer and saying, ‘Chicks are kak, okes are lekker, but I’m not a moffie because I drink beer’.

“But trying to get that past the lawyers is like trying to get a crate of improbably icy-cold Castle through the turnstiles of a Rainbow Nation rugby stadium: impossible.”

Found Here

Celebrities are notorious for changing their names to more appealing ones all the time, but political figures can’t always do that for fear of appearing phony. (God forbid.) That’s probably how we ended up with politicians named Schmuck, Assman and Boner (yes, there’s a Boehner and a Boner).

Unfortunate politician names can be cringe-worthy, but they can also be hilarious. Just check out the 32 awesomely bad names of political figures…

OK, so the way we’re gonna play this is to treat this review like a roast. Rocking the Daisies (RTD) is getting roasted because they’re the ones who’ve actually done something by pulling off a big-ass music festival and making a name for themselves in the process. Industry respect and all that.

Because we’re ‘the media’ and have nothing much else to do than jack off to Sorkin’s didactic dialogue in The Newsroom, we get to do the roasting. We’re the ones holding the mic for as long as we hold your attention. Our self-appointed job is to act as the lube between the shameless self-promoters out there and you, our ADHD public that we seemingly so selflessly serve.

You can read more here

This article can also be found here

This article can also be found here

This article can also be found here