Saturday, February 26, 2011


Whoa! so the last time i made a rap album was in 2004 with Spoek Mathambo..SPACEGHOST
And now i return with S&$(SANDTON AND SONS) which is myself and Johannesburg Legend Bhubessi. I prodeced all the songs, and the music can only be described as music for losers,stalkers, junkies and lovers. ITS GOING TO BE A GREAT YEAR, ITS ONLY FEBRUARY.

Here are the first two singles.
1. Aaliyah 666 drug love
2. Tom peep


Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Sunday, February 20, 2011


For My Nigga

Thanks for letting me know that i wasnt wrong all those times when i was a little boy thinking to myself, "surely somewhere out there there has to be someone like me, i cant be the only one". So..."lets coast". We have nothing lose and so much to gain. killing, stealing and raping... we shall purge these lands and drive out all the scum, the cunts, the bastards and the fuckers who stand in our way. Youre like the smell of sand after it rains...you make me feel better than a cigarette after a bong and a line of coke.
You Sexy motherfucker.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011


WOW..this is a Lebanese battle rapper from California...funniest person ever. He likes to stomp his feet and shout...rap battles..jesus christ.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011


The Gastronomic Public Enema: Percy Zvomuya

By: Montle 26 year old Moorosi. (No gang affiliations…vigilante justice)

Usually I only pick up newspapers to wipe my ass when I run out of toilet paper, but it was a Sunday and I was visiting my parents, they have 4 ply toilet paper, which feels like wiping your ass with a silk shirt, while newspapers feel like wiping your ass with a lesbian’s moustache.

Newspapers? They’re the tumble weeds of the modern day west, they’re left in the rain to get stuck on our shoes, hobos sleep on them and use them as car washing rags and of course they wipe their asses with them too. I know someone who once wiped their ass with the Time magazine issue with Barack Obama just after he was sworn in as president.” you used the cover?” “It’s the first page, why not?”

“I have lost count of how many people I meet who identify themselves primarily as writers. Most of the time they are journalists, DJs, students, people who have at one point or the other sat down to post a blog, tweet, write down a rhyme…”

I remember reading this and breaking into “gastronomic” laughter, especially at the “write down a rhyme part”, it was slightly personally poignant and which is what made it funny in the first place. Suddenly a Sunday at my parent’s house didn’t seem that bad, but then I carried on reading, and I said to myself “Wow, Percy Zvomuya is one retarded wet back.”

In the latest issue of the white guilt ridden Mail and Guardian, one can find an opinion piece by Percy Zvomuya, a person whom I correctly assume (I’m allowed to do that) is of Shona descent and PROBABLY 75 years old in a wheel chair. "I'll beat an old man up,i'm not afariad"- Zach Galfianakis, The Hangover.

The measly corned meat and baby potatoes of his article is that young writers and editors in South Africa are not well read and need to read more Achebe and more Achebe. His examples are based on his tedious sojourns to poetry readings in Melville and at Real Men Talk. Wow. Let me say, Percy, your research skills are amazing, as the young kids say these days, “you’re a fucking legend”. You’re a grown man who still hangs out at varsities going to WH Auden’s readings and bitching about how the students don’t do their home work. I’m guessing you never actually went to school yourself, but that’s okay, because you know what they say “Bru, you don’t need to study to do journalism”. Percy says things like “gastronomic cliché” (do you mind if I call you Pussy instead of Percy?) funny guy, funny. I can see he used to be a playwright for a junta in a bush somewhere, dreaming of grandiose scenes of your plays being performed by Zakes Mokae. But now you are in the city, with nothing but a heart full of hate, a screen filled with the empty words of a mere critic and of course a mouth full of Chinua Achebe’s dick. Chinua Achebe is awesome, but I don’t think he’d like you very much, you’re quite retroactive, “anti-revolutionary”, “gay”, “what you have in your trousers is rubbish”.

And speaking of gay, which is not a problem but it would be great if you would just come out the closet and save yourself the trouble and heart ache, come on man, you’re a city slicker now, its even hip these days brother. Percy goes about how publishers and editors are to blame for the amount of bad writing by local aspiring writers, and he bases his example on Kopano Matlwa’s Spilt Milk. I haven’t read her book, and I doubt I ever will, but I do know that she’s very easy on the eyes, very easy on the eyes. Percy sat down and interviewed her, and he could do was sit there and think about literature when right in front of him sat a girl who on most normal occasions would probably caught dead with someone that looks like a child soldier, but today she was at the mercy of the journalist, Percy had her in his hands, but then he put her down to the ground gently as he silently called her filthy names. But then again Percy did go to Real Men Talk.

Percy also hates bad grammer, he’s going to love me and my editor. All these commas and full stops make us wet our shorts.

Throughout his article Percy constantly name drops. This dude is so funny, he’s like a 16 year old American tourist partying in Johannesburg “yeah, I fucking partied with Pauly D from Jersey Shore”. But what’s so funny about his name dropping is that he’s always saying that his friends are in the process of publishing books, what I want to know is when can we read your big book of critiques? It’s going to be a great read, I have faith in you man. Were black brother’s man, yeah. Woo fucking hoo! I hate to sound like Steve Hofmeyer or an axe yielding ignoramus baying for foreigner blood, but Percy, this is South Africa, everyone whose dick you suck so much aren’t South African writers.

“At times I feel that the best writing that has come out of Africa is from the older generation- the people born in the 1920s, 1930s, 1940s and 1950s, writers such as Achebe, Ngugi wa Thiong’o, Mongo Beti, Mariam Ba, Ferdinand oyono, Dambudzo Marechera, Charles Mungoshi, Sembene Ousmane…” Nadine Gordimer and JM Coetzee are the other only South African writers Percy mentions. Dude, you’re just mad that Kopano has a book and you don’t, and I can understand that. Take a deep breath, close your eyes and give yourself a hug. What i'm trying to say in Basic English without using terms like “gastronomic” is that the basis of your argument is as good as trying to make love to an elephant with a rat’s penis. How the hell is reading any of these writers going to improve the level of writing? I don’t get it? I really don’t. Did ever occur to you that influence is a relative thing? Did it ever occur to you that there are plenty of black guys who like Joseph Conrad? Achebe must be barn dancing in his grave. I read Heart of darkness it three times. Once for school, twice for fun.

“Are there many young writers working at the moment who are worthy of these forebears? I have to tread carefully now as some of these writers are my friends. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Dinaw Mengestu, Hisham Matar, Jose Eduardo Agualusa and Sello k duiker aside, can we think of writers who are worthy of the average readers attention?”

Ha, ha, ha…or shall I say “lol” Percy just won’t stop with the jokes. First of all those writers names sound like they were taken from fusion food restaurant menu, or they could be carpenters, there’re names are so long I couldn’t even bother to copy paste them into Google…I once heard that Sello K Duiker likes to drink so I guess that’s okay. O.k., heres a list of writers who are worthy of the readers attention and they are also ummm my friends, Andy Davis, Rodger Young, Max Barashenkov, Brendon Edmonds, Robert Cockroft and Anneli Botes. (Just joking about Botes, I don’t know that bitch).

“Since men have learnt to shoot without missing the birds have learnt to fly without perching”- Chinua Achebe, so I guess since haters like you will always keep hating the younger one’s will always keep tweeting with our bad grammer, spelling and obscene abbreviations. Whether its our obsessions with Rihanna get her ass beat up or were eating sushi out of a white woman’s anus, nobody really knows why we do these things, and nobody ever will, and that’s the beauty of it. Rock and Roll bitch.

Monday, February 14, 2011

The Philanderer

A woman suspected of having an affair is driven out her home by a rather jovial mob.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Whistle and Cock Blowers: Just Do it!

Whistle and Cock Blowers: Just Do it!

By: Montle Moorosi

For some reason a lot of journalists think that they’re private detectives, Humphrey Bogart’s with champagne glass formats instead of shots of whiskey. They see themselves as these archaeologists or seekers of truth and even as martyrs or soldiers in their war on words, “were just playing our parts”. Connie Bogart Chung. Then when they retire from journalism the first they do is write a detective novel in some idyllic run down shack by the sea, or end up running the D.A. and Cape Town.

“Ja I’m writing an article about how air conditioners are racist because they don’t take the black man’s tropic equatorial genetic make up into consideration” -Journalist

The ANC hates journalists, and I can see why. Journalists have really bad taste, and I’m not talking about making up facts and stories like I do or putting pictures of dead naked white men on the cover of tabloid newspapers, journalists are in bad taste because they are lousy if not sloppy dressers and although they know a lot of big words like “contrived”, “personal hygiene” is the only word they have never stumbled across or “followed a lead into”. Most of them are actually way too smart to be doing journalism and often studied things like financial accounting and are just either trying to piss of their parents or suffering from the final stages of chronic bourgeois guilt. And of course some of them just did way too much Quaaludes in the 70’s and had orgies with IFP operatives in burnt train carriages and never really came back from it all. In school they learn to sleep on their stomach’s everyday and they have their left bottom ribs removed so they can suck their own cocks to the sound of the lecturer saying “FOURTH ESTATE”. And did I mention that they also want everything for free? Fuck it, I mean if you wanted to do a story about me because you found out my vagina was actually a singing piece of calamari I’d want at least R1000 you cheap motherfucker.

Anton Harber

If only Habermas, Foucault and all those other bores had realised what they were doing talking about public spheres and places of “rationale debate” what kind of evil cacophony they were composing with a crude ensemble made up of “objectivity” on the shoe string bass, “who, why, when, where” on the tin can drum and Deborah Patta on the vocals singing a maskandi version of Strange fruit. The media industry is something like the Tower of Babel. I remember when the Black Journalist forum was started and only black journalists were allowed to join. The uproar this incident caused made no sense to me at the time and it still doesn’t. White journalists were mad because they weren’t allowed to join the black journalist forum. Now first all why do journalists even need a forum? Isn’t it clear that what they need is Dettol and some life coaching seminars? The black journalists wanted a forum where they could discuss “black journalism” what that is I don’t know, but I’m assuming it means very long stories about jazz, hair products and sickle cell disease. What’s more retarded is that the white journalists were crying like bitches to be a part of this, writing about Zuma’s used condoms or the beauty of wicker furniture (let alone owning the media) wasn’t enough for them. It was like a child with Down syndrome crying and begging in the mall screaming at the mother “mama, I want elephantiasis”.

But you know what, it’s a democracy! Woo hoo! So I guess they wont be made into bars of soap anytime soon, nor will their heads be shrunken and be used as paper weights like God intended them to be. But what I still don’t understand is the ever present or “effervescent” hygiene problem this class of workforce are inflicted by, I mean, they aren’t construction workers or abortionists. I am told that Mail and Guardian journalists are some of the best paid in South Africa second to the Sunday independent, yet the founder and now current head of Journalism at Wits, Anton Harber smells like those tiny smelly balls you get at the back of your throat after a heavy night of drinking or a bout of hay fever. And his suits look like they were stolen from a morgue in Helsinki. A very rich man. Maybe sometimes eating sushi out of a woman’s ass is a way of preventing yourself from having delusions of grandeur that you’re an “everyday hero” as opposed to the not so sad reality that you’re a rich motherfucker with a small cock. Money can buy you a bigger cock and a bigger house. Like the 12 yr old Chinese kid making shoes said “Just Do It”.

Monday, February 7, 2011


So...Im writing a book of short stories which is going to be illustrated by my friend Nolan oswald Dennis, the book (www.mafutaink.com)...heres some examples... its going to be called TITS AND ASS.