31 July 2010


That doddering old fool

He must be at least six years older than me.

Had a post


In which the second post is about the pic that i used as my starter for this:

I alerted him to this and whatever.
Forgetful old fool whatever.
My PS skilz remain very chalenged whatever

Can't you just click the "x" and it goes away?
You might want to spell "challenged" correctly. Oh! And I'm sure you meant off, instead of "of". But, then, maybe you're just creative... or stupid. I could be wrong: maybe English is not your best language. I have always liked your pictures of Africa, however.
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I've had a couple of birdstrikes in my plane. A Red Milan put a dent in the front of the wing once.
On another occasion a seagull went through the prop and the pieces got embedded in the left side cylinders' cooling fins :-(

Both on very short final so evasion not possible :-(
I have had several birdstrikes, none in a plane however.
Leaving guns to one side:
:I have run down tarentaal "Guinee Fowl" or sum such, to cook that evening.
You have to be quick, as a tarentaal is a big bird. If you show your intent too early the tarentaal can rise high enough to damage your trucks grill or headlights.
So you have to pretend not to notice them on the side of the road, and at the last moment swerve and run them over, with the tyres/tires taking the brunt.
Tarentaal is very intelligent, really.
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30 July 2010


A Cute Comment - Outstanding comments

I posted this picture here

The Cute comment is the second one
Good goddamighty!
I think Vman is in love.

And then we had this

The Comments in question
My guess would be Elisson then Eric and no comment on the female.
Perhaps Vman and Eric. Anal zombies and all that.
Richard took my first choice.
So I guess I'll go with Vman and Yabu.
.. you sick fuckers... heh heh...


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29 July 2010


They do not have a topic called "CRAP"

The bullshit of averages
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It is just as vile when perpetrated by the female.

Heh, Lucky youngster.

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27 July 2010


Hey Robert Menendez

I just saw you on Sky News blabbing about BP
Get your own house in order before you open your f*ckin trap
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How to lose a million POUNDS


When businessman Terry Collins was offered the chance to buy the Ritz Hotel for a knockdown price of £250million it was an opportunity that sounded too good to be true.

And it was indeed too good to be true. The hotel, with an estimated market value of around £600million, was not on the market.

Yet two conmen managed to persuade Mr Collins, co-founder of a large and reputable property company, that the hotel's owners, the Barclay brothers, were prepared to sell it at a bargain price.

Anthony Lee and Patrick Dolan convinced an intermediary that they represented the Barclays and even had a team of lawyers on board to give the plan respectability.

Lee turned out to be an unemployed lorry driver and bankrupt with no connections whatsoever to the brothers.

Dolan, too, was unemployed.

The elaborate fraud emerged yesterday in a judgment handed down at the High Court in London as the two victims of the fraud battled over the £ 1million which was immediately spent by Lee and Dolan.

Lee, 47, bought a £55,000 Land Rover as a Christmas present for his girlfriend Jennifer Hodgson, then took her on a luxury cruise.

He sent £59,000 to his creditors and paid rent arrears on his Yorkshire bungalow.

Dolan, 66, bought a Mercedes for £43,000 and splashed out on a lavish day at Cheltenham races, where he bet and lost heavily.

He paid off the £30,000 mortgage on his house in Barnet, North London, and paid £293,410 to his wife.

In yesterday's judgment, Mr Justice Henderson said: "The Barclay brothers were known by Mr Collins to have the reputation of being extremely secretive in the conduct of their business affairs, and it did not strike him as implausible that they would wish to structure a transaction of this sort through an intermediary such as Mr Lee."


To clinch the deal Lee convinced Mr Collins that another buyer was on the scene.

It was at that point that Mr Collins contacted Mr Boekhoorn, of a firm called Apvodedo, and outlined the opportunity. An agreement was reached.

The judge continued: "Readers of this judgment will perhaps have guessed by now that Mr Collins and London Allied Holdings (and indirectly Apvodedo and Mr Boekhoorn) were the victims of an elaborate fraud.

"Mr Lee and Mr Dolan were not currently involved in the property business, nor were they authorised in any way to act as intermediaries on behalf of the Barclay brothers.

Mr Collins said it was the legal element of the deal that had been so convincing.

"If the lawyers hadn't been there we would have laughed in their faces," he said.

"We are still very angry."



The mind Boggles at the stupidity.

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25 July 2010


Since the oil spill

I have travelled from SA , Zambia, SA, Ghana, SA, Zimbabwe, SA, UAE, SA, Kinshasa in Kenya, and Freetown in Sierra Leone, by air.
I am liking John Kerry more and more.
He dodges a huge tax/mooring bill by mooring next door.
He also dodges bullets to an amazing extent.
I mean, 3 purple hearts, and not a scar, superb.
I can spend a free weekend with this man anywhere, I suppose.
I mean, do I look like a green hottie freak?

I am checking my green credentials by the way, greenback US Dollars, that green.

I have emailed Mr Kerry to came and spoke at my nuptials, to no avail.
The baby, and the Bride will be be blessed by me alone. And that is OK.

Go Yonder and Wonder:
AND Travel by Air.
The Cat's Mother is good.

"There's going to have be a point in time where these people have to be held accountable," Poepol said. "How about all these bloggers that blog anonymously? They say rotten things about people and they're actually given credibility, which is crazy. They're a bunch of cowards, they're just poepol's seeking attention."

Ya Ya, I am a poepol. Like to suck?

You should read up a little, if you're interested, on Charles Rangel, the former head of the Ways and Means Committee. He is a very bad man. Sometimes good war veterans inexplicably go bad.
That should be "come" and "speak". I guess you need a proofreader... or a dictionary.

Amateurs... (sigh)
Amateurs IS STOOPID, offfff course
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21 July 2010


I fukced a unicorn

Professor Bellesiles says.
"Great, heart warming, empowering, anti war, stupid, false story"

... damn, brother..... lay off the gin for a bit.....

No Bru, I did, no Gin or Tonic.
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20 July 2010


MC blocks my comment and does some Photoshop

It started here 2 days ago

Tanker had a regular

Today in History – July 18

The last entry was this:

1984 – Beverly Lynn Burns becomes first female Boeing 747 airline captain, performs her first take-off roll while applying mascara.

And I tried to say something as below, but was thrown under the bus:

Previous, now deleted comment.
As it is a well known fact that females have fewer accidents because they do not have bl*w j*bs while they are driving, I would ask Beverly to do her nails at the same time.
Or something like that.
Maybe the “*’s” in the B J’s above, as apposed to “o’s” will let me publish this time.
Holding thumbs here Bro

Alas my first comment was disregarded. It is there now two days later. WTF.

I then used my awesome THML abilities and delved into MC's Photoshop files.
Well it shocked me, but in the interest of Journolist's all over the world I have to Publish:

Ladies and Gentleman and whores and pimps and others here is the MC PS files.

I for one love this man.
Hey MC block me again for such a M1Garand moment.
Thank you.

CNN se moer

That's a carbine
Oh thank you Maxx I thort it was a pistol
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Stopping the rot - even if we have to censor

No nipples
No cleavage
Little else
Whhooo Hhaaa

Sorry Marcus

Maybe it is not the Japanese that smile.

Omg...you are truly one of a kind, my friend. Her boobies look like alien pods.
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19 July 2010


I would have waited for Schleck

Andy Schleck lost his lead of 31 seconds after a mechanical failure as he was attacking Contador.

I have lost because I played fair. So what?

I have also won because I played fair. So what?

I only had pride, no millions awaiting me.

Contrador have to live with this.

He should have waited, even if the third and second in the race went screaming by. He could have redeemed his ego, and his soul, and have gotten 200 million screaming, panting, sweating female fans.

Sadly he did not


Alberto Contador explains his feelings about Andy Schleck and himself after Stage 15

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18 July 2010


Vida and Pierre and their siblings

One of the nice pics
A scrum to beat all

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Post-World Cup uses for the Vuvuzela

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15 July 2010


Microsoft Windows understands Sex

They may have a diff take on it but you have to understand sex before you can have leaders like this:
When you download a big file:
6 minutes remaining
18 minutes remaining
21 minutes remaining: Hopefull
6 minutes remaining
5 minutes remaining
6 minutes remaining
6 minutes remaining
6 minutes remaining
3 minutes remaining
6 minutes remaining
6 minutes remaining
2 minutes remaining
1 minutes remaining
6 minutes remaining
6 minutes remaining
6 minutes remaining
1 minutes and 55 seconds remaining
55 seconds remaining
52 seconds remaining
50 seconds remaining
3 minutes remaining
5 seconds remaining
1 minutes and 55 seconds remaining: If you are lucky

Are you perchance suggesting that Microsoft's idea of a progress bar is a cock-up;-) ???
@ Old Phat Stu: Perchange?
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12 July 2010


The end times - Shoot on sight

Mr E Holder the current Attorney General of the United States and the first African American to hold the position, told me in secret this afternoon: "You know like Whoopi said "I know it wasn't rape-rape." ,but I have a problem, he did not rape a minority, how can I extradite a person for not rape raping a white person, skank that she was, even at 13. If at least I could show that that the person that he raped had a small percentage of black, I would have forced the fucking white Swiss. The morals are easy, in the intimidating case that the whiteys are now howling about, the intimidators were black, so you tell me, can I go against them?, NO and NO again.

Next time you vote, shut down the effin government.
And shoot evil on sight.
Mr Holders viewpoint is explained further below
The images reffered to are so disgusting that I recomend that you do not click HERE
If you click you have now viewed my putrid brain, shame on you.

I have had a few complaints about these photoshops.

You probably know how I feel about Whoopi the Condescending. Why is it that overpaid "celebrities" know so much about social, economic, and political issues? I absolutely detest that woman, and the current administration running my country.
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08 July 2010


Will you pick up? - think - Reply

Crashed Van Spills Millions On M-Way

Italian bank chiefs have been left short-changed after motorists coined it in when a bullion van overturned, spilling up to two million Euros (£1.6m) onto a busy motorway.

Drivers and their passengers risked life and limb to make off with close to 50,000 Euros (£45,000) after thousands upon thousands of one and two Euro coins scattered across the lanes.

Bound for Bari, the bullion van spilled its valuable load after bursting a tyre, causing it to hit another car before slamming into a barrier on the A14 motorway, near Foggia in southern Italy.

The accident dislodged the boxes on board which burst open as they hit the ground, paving a vast stretch of the road with gold.

One witness told a local TV station: "I couldn't believe what I was seeing. People were stopping on the motorway risking their lives to pick up the coins.

"It was a real free-for-all and I am amazed no-one was killed as people were running across the lanes to reach the coins."

Police said the thirst for the crash cash outweighed compassion for those injured in the collision and disrupted any attempts to contain the costly spillage.

"Our job was made very difficult as the coins had gone onto both carriageways and motorists were stopping and picking up the money," he said.

"Two drivers in the truck and two in the car were hurt, but no-one was bothered about them. Fortunately they were not too badly hurt."

Staff from the bullion company were still at the scene using brushes to sweep up coins a day after the collision.

Police have appealed for the public "to return the money to its rightful owners".


I would not stop unless I saw a person in need of help.

And I would not pick up a single euro, One as a memento, would be cool, and I would nail that to my Bar

I would rather shoot the fuckers that are picking up, REALLY.

Nobody owes you Fuckall, REALLY.

Is this making hay while the sun shines?

... email me your address and I shall mail you a few euros.... it'd be cool to know that they were nailed to your bar.....

... and if you feel so inclined, you can mail me back a few of those golden rands.... heh heh....

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07 July 2010


Tall Tales.......

Can we tell them or can't we?
I report, you decide.

Herman Charles Bosman

He is our premium teller of ...Tales...
And one of my most loved authors, if not my most loved.
Patrick Mynhardt made a career out of performing, joyous, marvelous, telling and acting HCM ...Tales...
I have seen most from PM and I have read every single word that HCM has written.

A Story, and a Fact of Historical fact, as in FACT, by HCM.

In the Withaak's Shade

Herman Charles Bosman - He tells the story as Oom Schalk Lourens.
The story is told from somewhere between the present day Botswana and the RSA

LEOPARDS? - Oom Schalk Lourens said -
Oh, yes, there are two varieties on this side of the Limpopo. The chief difference between them is that the one kind of leopard has got a few more spots on it than the other kind. But when you meet a leopard in the veld, unexpectedly, you seldom trouble to count his spots to find out what kind he belongs to. That is unnecessary. Because, whatever kind of leopard it is that you come across in this way, you only do one kind of running. And that is the fastest kind.
I remember the occasion that I came across a leopard unexpectedly, and to this day I couldn't tell you how many spots he had, even though I had all the time I needed for studying him. It happened about mid-day, when I was out on the far end of my farm, behind a koppie (Ed: hill), looking for some strayed cattle. I thought the cattle might be there because it is shady under those withaak (White Hook Thorn) trees, and there is soft grass
that is very pleasant to sit on. After I had looked for the cattle for about an hour in this manner, sitting up against a tree trunk, it occurred to me that I could look for them just as well, or perhaps even better, if I lay down flat. For even a child knows that cattle aren't so small that you have got to get on to stilts and things to see them properly.
So I lay on my back, with my hat tilted over my face, and my legs crossed, and when I closed my eyes slightly the tip of my boot, sticking up into the air, looked just like the peak of Abjaterskop
(Ed: kop = hill).
Overhead a lonely aasvoël (Ed: Vulture) wheeled, circling slowly round and round without flapping his wings, and I knew that not even a calf could pass in any part of the sky between the tip of my toe and that aasvoël without my observing it immediately. What was more, I could go on lying there under the withaak and looking for the cattle like that all day, if necessary. As you know, I am not the sort of farmer to loaf about the house when there is a man's work to be done.
The more I screwed up my eyes and gazed at the toe of my hoot, the more it looked like Abjaterskop. By and by it seemed that it actually was Abjaterskop, and I could see the stones on top of it, and the bush trying to grow up its sides, and in my ears there was a far off humming sound, like bees in an orchard on a still day. As I have said, it was very pleasant.
Then a strange thing happened. It was as though a huge cloud, shaped like an animal's head and with spots on it, had settled on top of Abjaterskop. It seemed so funny that I wanted to laugh. But I didn't.
Instead, I opened my eyes a little more and felt glad to think that I was only dreaming. Because otherwise I would have to believe that the spotted cloud on Abjaterskop was actually a leopard, and that he was gazing at my boot. Again I wanted to laugh. But then, suddenly, I knew. And I didn't feel so glad. For it was a leopard, all right - a
large-sized, hungry-looking leopard, and he was sniffing suspiciously at my feet. I was uncomfortable. I knew that nothing I could do would ever convince that leopard that my toe was Abjaterskop. He was not that sort of leopard: I knew that without even counting the number of his spots. Instead, having finished with my feet, he started sniffing higher up. It was the most terrifying moment of my life. I wanted to get up and run for it. But I couldn't. My legs wouldn't work. Every big-game hunter I have come across has told me the same story
about how, at one time or another, he has owed his escape from lions and other wild animals to his cunning in lying down and pretending to be dead, so that the beast of prey loses interest in him and walks off. Now, as I lay there on the grass, with the leopard trying to make up his mind about me, I under-stood why, in such a situation, the hunter doesn't move. It's simply that he can't move. That's all. It's not his cunning that keeps him down. It's his legs. In the meantime the leopard had got up as far as my knees. He was studying my trousers very carefully, and I started getting embarrassed. My trousers were old and rather unfashionable. Also, at the knee, there was a tom place, from where I had climbed through a barbed-wire fence, into the thick bush, the time I saw the Government tax collector coming over the bult before he saw me. The leopard stared at that rent in my trousers for quite a while, and my embarrassment grew. I felt I wanted to explain about the Government tax collector
and the barbed wire. I didn't want the leopard to get the impression that Schalk Lourens was the sort of man who didn't care about his personal appearance. When the leopard got as far as my shirt, however, I felt better. It
was a good blue flannel shirt that I had bought only a few weeks ago from the Indian store at Ramoutsa, and I didn't care how many strange leopards saw it. Nevertheless, I made up my mind that next time I went to lie on the grass under the withaak, looking for strayed cattle, I would first polish up my veldskoens (Ed: Shoes made from Raw beef hide) with sheep's fat, and I would put on my black hat that I only wear to Nagmaal (Ed: Holy Communium). I could not permit the wild animals of the neighbourhood to sneer at me.
But when the leopard reached my face I got frightened again. I knew he couldn't take exception to my shirt. But I wasn't so sure about my face. Those were terrible moments. I lay very still, afraid to open my eyes and afraid to breathe. Sniff-sniff, the huge creature went, and his breath swept over my face in hot gasps. You hear of many
frightening experiences that a man has in a lifetime, I have also been in quite a few perilous situations. But if you want something to make you suddenly old and to turn your hair white in a few moments) there is nothing to beat a leopard - especially when he is standing over you, with his jaws at your throat, trying to find a good place to bite.
The leopard gave a deep growl, stepped right over my body, knocked off my hat, and growled again. I opened my eyes and saw the animal moving away clumsily. But my relief didn't last long. The leopard didn't move far. Instead, he turned over and lay down next to me. Yes, there on the grass, in the shade of the withaak, the leopard and I lay down together. The leopard lay half-curled up, on his side, with his forelegs crossed, like a dog, and whenever I tried to move away he grunted. I am sure that in the whole history of the Groot Marico there
have never been two stranger companions engaged in the thankless task of looking for strayed cattle. Next day, in Fanie Snyman's voorkamer, which was used as a post-office, I told my story to the farmers of the neighbourhood, while they were drinking coffee and waiting for the motor-lorry from Zeerust. "And how did you get away from that leopard in the end?" Koos van Tonder asked, trying to be funny. "I suppose you crawled through the grass and frightened the leopard off by pretending to be a python." "No, I just got up and walked home," I said. "I remembered that the cattle I was looking for might have gone the other way and strayed
into your kraal. I thought they would be safer with the leopard." "Did the leopard tell you what he thought of General Pienaar's last speech in the Volksraad?" Frans Welman asked, and they all laughed. I told my story over several times before the lorry came with our letters, and although the dozen odd men present didn't say much while I was talking, I could see that they listened to me in the same way that they listened when Krisjan Lemmer talked. And everybody knew that Krisjan Lemmer was the biggest liar in the Bushveld. To make matters worse, Krisjan Lemmer was there, too, and when I got to the part of my story where the leopard lay down beside me, Krisjan Lemmer winked at me. You know that kind of wink. It was to let me know that there was now a new understanding between us, and that we could speak in future as one Marico liar to another. I didn't like that.
"Kêrels," I said in the end, "I know just what you are thinking. You don't believe me, and you don't want to say so.
"But we do believe you," Krisjan Lemmer interrupted me, very wonderful things happen in the Bushveld. I once had a twenty-foot mamba that I named Hans. This snake was so attached to me that I couldn't go anywhere without him. He would even follow me to church on Sunday, and because he didn't care much for some of the sermons, he would wait for me outside under a tree. Not that Hans was irreligious. But he had a sensitive nature, and the strong line that the predikant took against the serpent in the Garden of Eden always made Hans feel awkward. Yet he didn't go and look for a withaak to lie under, like your leopard. He wasn't stand-offish in that way. An ordinary thorn-tree's shade was good enough for Hans. He knew he was only a mamba, and didn't try to
give himself airs." I didn't take notice of Krisjan Lemmer's stupid lies, but the upshot of this whole affair was that I also began to have doubts about the existence of that leopard. I recalled queer stories I had heard of human beings that could turn themselves into animals, and although I am not a superstitious man I could not shake
off the feeling that it was a spook thing that had happened. But when, a few days later, a huge leopard had been seen from the roadside near the poort, and then again by Mtosas on the way to Nietverdiend, and again in the turf-lands near the Malopo, matters took a different turn. At first people jested about this leopard. They said it wasn't a real leopard, but a spotted animal that had walked away out of Schalk Lourens' dream. They also said that the leopard had come to the Dwarsberge to have a look at Krisjan Lemmer's twenty-foot mamba. But
afterwards, when they had found his spoor at several water-holes, they had no more doubt about the leopard.
It was dangerous to walk about in the veld, they said. Exciting times followed. There was a great deal of shooting at the leopard and a
great deal of running away from him. The amount of Martini and Mauser fire I heard in the krantzes (Ed: cliffs) reminded me of nothing so much as the First Boer War. And the amount of running away reminded me of nothing so much as the Second Boer War. But always the leopard escaped unharmed. Somehow, I felt sorry for him. The way he had first sniffed at me and then lain down beside me
that day under the withaak was a strange thing that I couldn't forget.

But I also wondered if I hadn't dreamt it all. The manner in which those things had befallen me was also unearthly. The leopard began to take up a lot of my thoughts. And there was no man to whom I could talk about it who would be able to help me in any way. Even now, as I am telling you this story, I am expecting you to wink at me, like Krisjan Lemmer did.

Still, I can only tell you the things that happened as I saw them and what the rest was about only Africa knows.
It was some time before I again walked along the path that leads through the bush to where the withaaks are. But I didn't lie down on the grass again. Because when I reached the place, I found that the leopard had got there before me. He was lying on the same spot, half-curled up in the withaak's shade, and his fore-paws were folded
as a dog's are sometimes. But he lay very still. And even from the distance where I stood I could see the red splash on his breast where a Mauser bullet had gone.


If words were only words.


Herman Charles Bosman - Afrikaans poet


To represent Afrikaans humour there has been added the inimitable H. C. Bosman's classic story "In the Withaak's Shade". Though his work was originally published in English, Bosman is thoroughly Afrikaans in every other respect; characters, settings, situations, dialogue and the whole atmosphere of the stories are Afrikaans and could have been created only by one who felt, thought, and probably conceived his story through the medium of Afrikaans.
taken from 'Verborge Skatte, Herman Charles Bosman'

Bosman also tried bridging the gap between English and Afrikaans by translating Afrikaans poems to English.
Here's an Afrikaans poem by Jan F. E. Celliers, 'Dis al', that Bosman translated.

Dis al

Dis die blond,
dis die blou:
Dis die veld,
dis die lug;
en n voël draai bowe in eensame vlug -
dis al.

Dis n balling gekom
oor die oseaan,
dis n graf in die gras,
dis n vallende traan -
dis al.

'Dis al'/ That's all

It's the yellow and the blue,
It's the veld and the sky,
And a lone bird above it
Flies slowly and high -
That's all.

It's an exile returned
O'er the ocean drear,
It's a grave in the grass,
It's a falling tear -
That's all.

"I take up my position on the soil of Africa.
I believe that Afrikaans has a great calling to portray the romantic inspiration of Africa in a powerful literature... The Afrikaner spirit is one with the spirit of Africa. And that is the spirit of romance" -
Herman Charles Bosman

.... beautiful, sir... the
Story AND the poem.... a good tale properly told bonds all men.....

That, Sir, is a story
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03 July 2010


Vida - My baby is now a Woman - GO Pumpkin GO

My Vida got Married to Pierre.

Mostly random and untitled pics.

How does a father love it and wish them well and still cries his heart out?

Vida my dear, the Cindy and I hope you have a wonderful life.

And I know that Your Mother, Esta would have loved it as well



More to Follow

Kids, not war, changes boys to Men.
Keesie, your daughter is gorgeous, your wife is gorgeous, you, yourself, are gorgeous. What beautiful, beautiful pics. Bless you and yours and congrats and best wishes to all! That made my day.
Lovely, wonderful photos...mazel tov to you and your family, my Afrikaans-speaking buddy.
Good for you. Good for them. Good for all. She's a beautiful young woman. I wish her all the happiness I can muster, and am throwing some Good Good Juju to her and her mate. May they always be happy!
What love and happiness shines in every picture! She's gorgeous, Keesie.

I will be walking my own daughter down the aisle in 5 short days.
... your wife is a beaut... and your daughter is a cutie.... and Pierre is a lucky man to have you guys as his new family.....

... all the best to you and your folks, sir...

Best wishes to the couple for long life and happiness.
Strange. Blogger ate my original comment.
Pierre is a lucky man to be married to such a wondeful woman.
May they have many, many years of marital bliss.
She is a beautiful bride and you clean up pretty nice too Kees!
Thanks for all the well wishes everyone ;> it truely was a day to be remembered.

Papa love you lots : Pierre and Vida
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Riehl can't google

My Comment:

Botswana is not a failed African state.
Google is your friend.
Billinois and Balifornia or maybe Bassachusetts could be used if you want to point to fiscal shit.
OK Burkina Faso can also be used.


Nic S

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NASA: Fixing what Yeager broke

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