The Life of Shaun Brian

The true story of a reluctant Messiah trying to save himself from himself. Hear how he constantly gets nailed. Notice how he gets cross. Will he last supper? Will he resurect his life? Will there be a second coming? Or will he just hang around.

Saturday, March 12, 2005

One thing I REALLY hate...

WARNING! Parental Advisory WARNING!
This post contains profanities that you may not want your kids to view. (but are 100% totally justified).
- Tipper Gore eat your fucking heart out.
I am usually pretty passive. Not much makes me want to empty an Uzi But if there is one thing that will get me to go totally ballistic, that will get me to pull my hair out, the thing that wastes my time, are those stupid programs that some total jerk downloads onto MY PC HARD DRIVE. I have one very simple message to all of you:


I paid for it, not you. To all those useless, pathetic, cheap, dot crooks, that think they can download, upload, install programs, dial-ups, borrow storage space or even just add fun icons for the kids, on MY hard drive without my express and written permission, you are scum of the earth. Stay away from my machine. You are not Invited.

I hate it when I have just finished loading a WEB page, and I still have bits and bytes streaming into my machine at 1000mbits per second.

I hate that I have to check my PC for new, unsolicited files every time I log off. I do not appreciate a new search engine every time I log on. I do not appreciate some new 'turn your PC from a 386 to a Pentium 19' software, even if it is free of charge.

My dial-up is fine, I do not want to dial Norway, the land of snow and naked amateur girls. I can only look at so much internet porn in a day, and my favourites are sorted, so fuck off! (or Jerk-off)

I do not appreciate having to supervise my kids just because their PC has been 'Specially selected to choose a naked Russian mail order bride'.

I do not want to set my machine to the Fort Knox security setting, that says:

'Are you sure you want to press letter 'A'?'

'Are you positive'

'Capital or small letter?',

'Must I ask you this question every time you want to press 'A'?'

'Are you sure the answer is 'No'?'.

It is MY machine.
Besides, it doesn't seem to help. And as for you, the jerk that says: 'WARNING: Someone is hacking into your system and stealing your identity, wife and kids, so buy my software NOW!', how the hell do you know? You shouldn't be their either.

If I found one of you fuckers in my house, I would.....ask you to leave? Politely, as you look through my dirty laundry, while you watch me page through the newspaper? Not a chance, I would kick your arse right out of there, you unsolicited intruder. I would set the dogs on you. I would call the cops and load the shotgun, I would run you down, you vermin.

Explaining that I did not actually choose to visit 'Young Boys Looking Horny dot cock' cost me my last relationship. Bugger, now you think you can send me more adult sites that download automatically, so automatically that they hack my banking software and withdraw their own monthly fees. Based on a per unrequested view basis.

So here is my plan of action:

1. I am hereby telling all of you cheap shits to stay away from MY hard drive. I will shoot to kill.

2. I will be creating a new site, which is open to all (except the guilty ones), to name and shame these cowards.

3. We will find out who their CEO's, Managers and programmers are and we will spam, spam, spam,spam,spam,spam,spaM,spAM,sPAM,SPAM them. With gross porn, with Rottendotgross we will SPAMSPAMSPAM them. WIth pictures of their mothers in compromising positions we wil SPAM them.

4. You will have Spam, Spam, Spam and eggs for breakfast, Spam, spam,spam,spam and toast for all other snacks and meals and spam for dinner.
5. We will name the host sites, and we will not relent.

By the way, since time is money, you owe me US$1,500,000.00 for my time wasted and the years off my life.

You have been warned! Trespassers will be SPAMMED, SPAM LOVELY SPAM!

Are there any class action lawyers out there? Oh shit, one is being automatically downloaded now.
and now for something completely different...
Scene: A cafe. One table is occupied by a group of Vikings.
A husband and wife enter.

Man (Eric Idle): You sit here, dear.
Wife (Graham Chapman in drag): All right.Man (to Waitress): Morning!
Waitress (Terry Jones, in drag): Morning!
Husband: Well, what've you got?
Waitress: Well, there's egg and bacon; egg, sausage, and bacon; egg and spam; egg, bacon, and spam; egg, bacon, sausage, and spam; spam, bacon, sausage, and spam; spam, egg, spam, spam, bacon, and spam; spam, sausage, spam, spam, bacon, spam, tomato, and spam;
Vikings (starting to chant): Spam spam spam spam...
Waitress: ...spam, spam, spam, egg, and spam; spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, baked beans, spam, spam, spam...
Vikings (singing): Spam! Lovely spam! Lovely spam!
Waitress: ...or Lobster Thermidor a Crevette with a mornay sauce served in a Provencale manner with shallots and aubergines garnished with truffle pate, brandy and with a fried egg on top and spam.
Wife: Have you got anything without spam?
Waitress: Well, there's spam, egg, sausage, and spam, that's not got much spam in it.
Wife: I don't want ANY spam!
Husband: Why can't she have egg, bacon, spam, and sausage?
Wife: THAT'S got spam in it!
Husband: Hasn't got as much spam in it as spam, egg, sausage, and spam, has it?
Vikings: Spam spam spam spam (crescendo through next few lines)
Wife: Could you do the egg bacon spam and sausage without the spam then?
Waitress: Urgghh!
Wife: What do you mean 'Urgghh'? I don't like spam!
Vikings: Lovely spam! Wonderful spam!)
Waitress: Shut up!
Vikings: Lovely spam! Wonderful spam!
Waitress: Shut up! (Vikings stop) Bloody Vikings! You can't have egg, bacon, spam, and sausage without the spam.
Wife (shrieks): I don't like spam!
Husband: Sshh, dear, don't cause a fuss. I'll have your spam. I love it. I'm having spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, beaked beans, spam, spam, spam, and spam!
Vikings (singing): Spam, spam, spam, spam. Lovely spam! Wonderful spam!
Waitress: Shut up!! Baked beans are off.
Husband: Well could I have her spam instead of the baked beans then?
Waitress: You mean spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam... (but it is too late and the Vikings drown her words)
Vikings (singing elaborately): Spam spam spam spam. Lovely spam! Wonderful spam! Spam spa-a-a-am spam spa-a-a-am spam. Lovely spam! Lovely spam! Lovely spam! Lovely spam! Lovely spam! Spam spam spam spam!

Spam Song

Spam! Spam! Spam! Spam!Lovely Spaaam! Wonderful Spaaam!
Lovely Spaaam!
Wonderful Spam.
Lovely Spaaam! (Lovely Spam!)
Lovely Spaaam! (Lovely Spam!)
Lovely Spaaam!Spaaam, Spaaam, Spaaam, Spaaaaaam!

Lyrics by: Terry Jones and Michael Palin
Music by: Terry Jones, Michael Palin and Fred Tomlinson
Arranged by: Fred Tomlinson

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Saturday, February 26, 2005

The Editor should be Shot - World's Worst Headline

The other day I spotted an absolute gem on the 20th of February front page of the Sunday Independant (South Africa). It read "Study casts doubt on African potato Aids remedy " WHAT WAS THE ALTERNATIVE! "Potato's cure aids!" I think not... This reminded me of this terrifying piece of journalism:

A few years ago in Cape Town, there was a terrible massacre in a gay massage parlour in Sea Point. The house of gay repute was called "SIZZLERS", hence, this became the "Sizzlers Massacre". All the employees and customers were shot, execution style, in the back of the head. There was only one survivor, who was not in good condition. He pulled through, and was called on to attend an identity parade. The headline in the Argus of 5 March 2003, read, I kid you not:

"Sizzler's Survivor Fingers Two Men."

My e-mail to the Editor was:

"I am glad to see that the sole Sizzler's survivor has recovered sufficiently to resume his trade of choice. Either this is the ultimate in Bad Journalism, or Bad Taste."

I got no response.

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Sunday, February 13, 2005

An explanation...

As the more perceptive amongst you may have noticed the site has been quiet. In fact it has been deathly. If, in fact, it was not fixed in the digital WEB by bits and bytes, it would have ceased to exist. Etc etc etc. You will also see that many of the postings have disappeared. Well, there is a reason. I have re-organised the site, and it is nearly complete, plus I have been doing a lot of writing, which will soon appear. So visit the site and see what is new. Maybe there's life in the old duck after all...or is that parrot?

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Friday, January 28, 2005

This is a Holyday...

They say a change is as good as a Holiday, but only if you're broke, otherwise stick with the holiday! Since the Life of Shaun Brian is the home of a reluctant Messiah, this change will be a Holyday. Over the next few days there will be more changes, and all sorts of other things. (Mainly mistakes as I learn this frigging code). Enjoy, and comments welcome!

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Thursday, January 27, 2005

On Memories....

"The things we remember best are those best forgotten"
Baltasar Gracain

How true that statement is. For me, that is. There are some people in my life who seem to forget only the important things and remember the trivial. Such as the money I borrowed from them 15 years ago. For me, I remember, with painful reality, every stupid thing I have ever said or done. Take for example the relationship I have with my brother: I can clearly remember destroying a Lego castle he built, I can remember his tears, how upset he was and how he looked at me with genuine pain in his eyes. 30 years later I am still apologetic every time I see him. I have apologised every time I have been with him and had a few too many drinks, and yet he still has no bloody idea what I am talking about.

I can also remember the stupid comments I made in front of school friends of mine. Just the other day I went to fetch my daughter from school and there was a mother picking up her daughter. I recognised her as a contemporary of mine, and rushed over to say “Hi”. Then I remembered that I had once made an idiotic comment in front of her – what, doesn’t matter, but even as I write this I am turning crimson. So I snuck over and whispered, “ Hello Jane, how are you.” I really expected her to turn round and say “Hi, how are you, I am so glad you came to say hello, I could never have done it if I had said such a stupid thing!” Instead she said “ Do I know you?”

I could not believe it; she could not even remember me, let alone my stupid comments. Incidents like this are not infrequent. I avoid shop assistants because five years ago I asked for a size 30 when I am obviously a 34…well 38. I have crossed streets because I have seen people that where once at a party and I was wearing leg warmers – hey, it was the eighties. You listened to Modern Talking! I have a friend who is a music critic, and I just pray he doesn’t remember that I actually bought the Kim Wilde album.

My memory haunts me. If my life was to flash before me it would be one embarrassing blunder after another – the people I have hurt, humiliated, embarrassed, pissed off, lied to, cheated (that includes me) – I will not forget a second of it. But they, of course, have forgotten every incident, unless it happened in the last 24 hours. I consol myself in the knowledge that my friends have forgotten the worst of me, my enemies have made up even better stories than my worst, and the rest have probably forgotten about my existence.

The other trick my memory plays is to remember people without actually recalling their personality. I have occasionally ended up at a bar and recognised an old school friend. After the second drink I remember that actually this was the school loser, I hated his guts, and nothing has changed. Except now I have already given him my phone number and will have to move cities to avoid his calls.

So I have taught myself the following: Very few people will remember your mistakes and stupid comments, even if they do remember you. I now treat faces from the past as if they are brand new and form my own adult opinions anew. Just the other day I saw a chap across the room at a party. I recognised him and went to say “Hello, I’m sure we were at school together.”

“Bloody right!” He replied, at the top of his voice. “ You’re the prick that left my sister to go out with my girlfriend, and by the way, where are those leg warmers you borrowed from me the day you came to my house and broke my Modern Talking Album.” I guess some of us do remember the important things after all.

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Sunday, January 16, 2005

10 Ways you know it's time to get some sleep...

Sleep: 6hours.
Awake: 82hours.
(this week, so far, no further?)

Why? Because I think I can.......
  1. Everyone around you has changed clothes twice, but you think it is Monday, still.
  2. Your 25 simultaneous projects are down to a cycle of 2 seconds per project. (It starts at about 2 useful hours per project)
  3. The only way you can accurately tell time and day is with a 24hour clock that displays the date.
  4. The Gray shapes that appeared 48 hours ago, wandering across your peripheral vision, now all have names, and are close friends.
  5. You keep on hearing your name being called, but you ignore it because those grey people never get to the point.
  6. Every shape has to be confirmed for what it really is – by walking into it.
  7. Sleep seems more attractive than another life-defining experience.
  8. You say – “that can wait until tomorrow”
  9. Speed freaks and tweakers start asking for your autograph. You develop a cult following, with odds on you making the next 2 hours in the local press.
  10. Youuuuu staaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaakrt toooanlzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzz z z zzzzzzzzz zzz

What really happens:

XTC, this is for you, baby.

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Thursday, January 13, 2005

a little known fact...

At the moment of my daughters birth, Gary Kirsten was caught in the short square leg position by Ganguly. (SA /INDIA test match, 1996) She was nearly called "Kirsten", as "Ganguly" was out of the question.

(relevance to one is still relevance)

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I made my choice...

I decided not to do Grannie's grounding. The main reason is that I honestly don’t think I can spare the energy. That may sound rather weak, but it is not. This is going to be like a David Lynch film – after he raided Hunter S. Thompson’s medicine chest.

There will be my mother, basking in the glow of another crises. She will be supported by social workers, hospital staff and Christians.

There will be the other side of the family, who will serve as a reminder of the mental illnesses I have to look forward to in my later years.

There will be the co-habitants of the aged care facility, who all hated her, and will insist on offering sincere condolences. Half of them are Nazi’s and the other half the mothers of apartheid – I never thought age was an excuse. Each will insist on kissing me with downey-lavender-goo lips trailing breakfast spittle.

There will be the “gentleman friends”, each of whom has invented some aristocratic title, after finding out which buttons turned granny, well, generous. These expectant leeches will be feigning total devastation – try destitution - they got that one right. They will be late for the funeral due to the inconveniences of the once-rich, but they will all be early for the reading of the will!

And then, most frighteningly, there will be the spectre of my stepfather, who had a very, very close relationship with his mother-in-law. While still in the proverbial closet. He will wail like the apron-tied son, and glance over at my 100% biological brother, whom he believes is his son by immaculate conception – because God told him so in a vision.

No, I can’t do it. I cannot cloud the memory by this circus-freak side show. I said good-bye a year ago, when my visits became something of a catalyst for World War 3 among the family. I ensured that my daughter still spent time with her, so that she could have pleasant memories.

I would rather remember the smell of Ginger-beer in wooden crates under the sink, honey-comb pudding for good boys and Saturday morning tea than the stench of greed, malice and discontent.

Thanks for the memories, the history and the touch of genius, or is it madness? Sleep well. I love you.

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Wednesday, January 12, 2005

Goodbye Gran...

I had just said to someone that at least I had not had to endure a death over the last year. Spoke too soon. My grandmother died over the weekend - she was very old, and I had not seen her for a while, which was a conscious decision, so I won't beat myself up over that! I am just glad that my daughter got to meet her.

I was trying to think of what memories I had of her, and I walked into my daughters room and she was watching "Willy Wonker and the Chocolate Factory" on DVD with Gene Wylder. Then I remembered as clearly as yesterday, my Gran had taken me to see this film when I was 7! How the circle turns!

I might put down some of the memories, if relevant. Need to decide whether to attend the funeral or not.

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Sunday, January 09, 2005

Mayfly Project Submission

Thank you to the ever-present [parenthesis] for enlightening me with regard to the Mayfly project. The object is to describe your 2004 in 20 words or less. Hereunder is my submission. Visit the Mayfly project at:


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A poem on splitting up...

On breaking up with my ex-girlfriend, I wrote this piece to try and explain the contradictions I was feeling and the reasons for my splitting from her. The relationship was 12 years old, as hinted in the title.

Y after X, I, I dis-pair us.

(c)heated moments.
Too many foreign-ers?
Too many fee-males?
Discover he di(e)d.

History, I say. Present tense.
Too much missed her trusted.
Not Ice. De man. Wild(her)ness.

Con-Template. Laid. Re-laid by others.
Rough like sand. Paper over Pain.
Full marks on surface.
10 out of 10sion.

No cents. Stealing Time.
Her – under. Standing tall. Stories, too high.
Time-share. Holidaze – de-fined.
Laid. Bare. Outside taken. Aback.
Never be li(e)ved again?
Miss (ed) ucation. For bet (her),
or worse. For ever (last)
Mine. Feeled. Too (h)old

Re-pair (in) time?

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Saturday, January 08, 2005

A brief update...

I am currently planning exactly how to structure my site to include the following elements:

  • My diary
  • My Fiction
  • My observations, recordals and two-cent psychology

but right now I am going clubbing...and that has nothing to do with Seals.

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Thursday, January 06, 2005

The Prone Ranger

Why "The Life of Shaun Brian"?

Pretty obvious: My first two names, and I am a reluctant Messiah, mainly to myself and my imagination, and if you don't know the reference to the Monty Python film, don't read any further.

Who am I trying to save?


From What?

From myself.

And if I can do that I will deserve the title of Massiah! And my immediate aquaintences will give off a MASS-SIGH-AHHH.

Why the "Prone Ranger"?

Simple: I am prone to suffer every small inconvenience that life can throw at me. And I often feel alone, and usually could do with a loan. (as in the Lone Ranger - get it?) Or as in my case, "The Loan Arranger - I owe Silver!". Or when I feel removed from society: "The Lone Stranger." But most of the time I am lying on my back (Prone), taking whatever anyone, or life, has to throw at me. Like the masked lawman I hide behind a flimsy disguise - usually humour or obnoxious behaviour. i.e. I horse around making people nervous!

So, here I am: homeless, broke, unemployable, single, carless and approaching middle age. Watch over the next 12 months as I extricate myself from this perilous predicament, and rebuild the life I once had, and believe I deserve. The cards may be stacked against me, but to my advantage I have kids who rely on me, bilnd faith in myself, and the odd functioning braincell. It should be a sinch for "The Prone Ranger", and when the going gets tough, I will use my body double, "The Clone Ranger"!

Over the next months you will learn the following lessons, and how to perform the following tricks:

  • How to have a threesome (that'll get a big readership)
  • How to gate-crash Nelson Mandela's party
  • How to lose a best friend, business partner, girlfriend, trust, and your life and not notice
  • How to create something perfect
  • How to destroy a life
  • How to remain faithful to one person for 12 years
  • How to have the best sex in the universe (Readership, again)
  • How to lose 8% of body fat without dieting

These and many other fascinating things will be revealed.

Todays motto: "My life may be tough, but fuck, I'm having fun!"

Donnie Darko Monty Python Cape Town coping with life

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