Who is Robert Mugabe?

I live in Southern California, but my home is a far trip from pacific shores. I'm from South
Africa a country just below Zimbabwe. The country ruled by a mad man. Robert Mugabe is a man running his country into the ground. He has personal vengenses that he is acting on that have made him unfit to be president (I use that term loosely as he is nothing more than a Dick-tator.) Zimbabwe formerly known as Rhodesia was previously run by the British empire. After leadership was handed over to the people of the land, Bob was elected to the presidency. He hasn't been out of office since then. In the last "elections" he commanded his soldiers
to steal the voting boxes. After receiving some pressure over the issue, he announced that he would allow the votes to be counted, but only by his men...hmmmm, sounds fair. Anyone who now speaks out against the "president" can be instantly imprisoned. He has murdered white farmers in there hundreds and his own people who stand against him. In hell he will be sharing bunks with Hitler and Saddam

Now I find it interesting that no world power (no names mentioned) have not removed this man who has committed so many atrocities against the human race from power. Could it be they have no oil to offer. So come you leaders of the world. Leaders who claim to step into nations to remove their powers for the good of human kind. I could name tons of third world African leaders who make Saddam Hussein look like an Arabic smurf. Take your good intentions and effect countries that have nothing to offer in return. I'm not talking about throwing money at the problem. Most of the time corrupt government prevents those funds from ever getting into the hands that need it. I'm speaking about taking that muscle and using it where it matters. No other motives, no looking for weapons that to this day were never found. I know the people who need to read this will never get the chance... but here's hoping.

"President" Robert Mugabe.

OH CANADA!

Mean people in fishtanks.

I'm in some kind of twilight zone state at the moment. I just flew from San Diego to Calgary (which I've been told by some Canadian friends is pronounced Cal GERRY.... Why didn't they just spell it that way.) So I slept something like 3 hours. I got up to catch the LAX transit at 4:50 am. Found out I was way early for my flight. I thought my plane left at 9... when in actuality it only took off at 11:20. Oh happy day... I found myself with many hours to spare for incredible airport entertainment like "spot the weirdo" and "find the toilet." After counting about 200 weird looking people and making my 8th trip to the porcelain haven I decided to settle down for some terminal shut eye (not death... just sleeping in an airport terminal.... lame... anyway.)

So my first impressions of Canada ey!? I could say it was the tall white snow covered mountains, the mooses, moos-i... meese...(damn... whatever they call multiple moose...mooses...meese...!!!!!! aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!) It wasn't the snow or the wildlife that "welcomed me" into this fine land. But mister customs man. Or mister immigration man... or whatever they call the beady eyed little individuals who sit in there booths of power deciding the fates of happy holiday makers. The guy I got was mean. The kind of mean that really does send a nervous tingly feeling up your spine, causing the little hairs on the back of your neck to salute. Very intimidating, angry sort of chap with power hungry ambitions to oneday rule the world as a Hitler of all the airport terminals. I tried to say something funny to get him to crack a smile. Apparently airport workers don't have a sense of humour. I decided to stop trying to tickle his funny bone before I found my self naked and bent over in a small white room while he searched for weapons of mass distruction with his little rubber gloves. I was just about to allow my annoyance with the guy to get the better of me when I realized 2 very important things. Firstly.... in that moment he held the power to keep me in a little room for my two week stay or let me into Maple Land. The second thing came out of some twisted place of compassion for this wonderful twit of man. I have come to an epiphany, this cosmic altering revelation. That is: some people are just payed to be mean. They have to be all gruff and horrible and scare the nana out of you just in case you are some kind of bomb strapped to your chest, Flame throwing, stone hurling, knife wielding psycho. If he's not mean... well all sorts slip through cracks. A smile would have been nice from my fellow earth sharing human being, but I understand. He's incredibly interesting life consists of him sitting in a fishtank and marking millions of passports each year with a rubber stamp. Man ! I think I'd be a little bit cranky too. So mister airport guy.... Here's to you... Your meanness was at it's absolute professional best. My hat's of to you Bravo. If nothing else you add a little flavour to life... that flavour may be manure, but none the less it has some kind of taste.... 5 stars for at least trying.

And remember boys and girls next time you meet a mean person, thank them, for it is such magnificent individuals who allow us to take a look at ourselves and realize we're not so bad after all.

My entrance into the bright lights of blogging

So here I stand on the verge of a new era for Clint (I heard somewhere it is important to refer to oneself in the third person in order to sound important.... Not really working for me.) Cyber space has finally won it's battle against my resistance and so here I find myself blogging with the rest of them. Not quite sure how this going to work out for me yet. Especially when I move back to South Africa and have to use stone blocks and chisels in order to connect to the internet.

And while I'm changing the issue for no apparent reason, I really miss home. The beaches of cape town, the pink and orange sunsets. Africa first thing in the morning. I miss rooibos tea and biltong. Little thorn trees dispersed over african veld. Africa is different from everywhere else. It has a pulse.. A Heartbeat. Rythm isn't something learned by her, it's just who she is. Culture and music and passion merge in South Africa painting the most beautiful of paintings. Ok... so I know I'm getting a little mushy... but She does that to you... she get's inside of you.

Ever need to taste life at it's best. Be so consumed by a magical world that it overwhelms you... go to Cape Town.