A PHP Error was encountered

Severity: Notice

Message: Undefined property: stdClass::$rates

Filename: libraries/lib_currency_converter.php

Line Number: 102

A PHP Error was encountered

Severity: Notice

Message: Trying to get property of non-object

Filename: libraries/lib_currency_converter.php

Line Number: 102

A PHP Error was encountered

Severity: Warning

Message: Division by zero

Filename: libraries/lib_currency_converter.php

Line Number: 102

A PHP Error was encountered

Severity: Notice

Message: Undefined property: stdClass::$rates

Filename: libraries/lib_currency_converter.php

Line Number: 102

A PHP Error was encountered

Severity: Notice

Message: Trying to get property of non-object

Filename: libraries/lib_currency_converter.php

Line Number: 102

Freehance - articles - Life's a Glitch

.

“Debater one, how will you go about curing Aids?”
“A painting of a man with his penis hanging out.”
“Final answer?”
“Final answer.”
“A painting of a man with his penis hanging out going once, going twice and sold to the man on the street as a possible cure for Aids.”
“Debater five, you are stranded on a deserted island with no infrastructure. There’s a tap, but it’s under padlock. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, the mayor comes to open the tap. On Mondays and Fridays, the premier steps ashore. Who do you shoot first? Oh, yes – you have a gun also.”
“I won’t shoot them; I’ll throw them with shit.”
“Shit that you get where?”
“My own shit I get from shitting all over the island.”
“Whoa, that’s a great answer! Debater six, you come to a crossroad on a dirt road in an Isuzu advertisement. Left takes you to Jo’burg, but the road is tolled; right becomes a Prasa train track taking you to a certain death, but it’s scenic. You’re drinking Nesquik. What colour are you, and by colour I mean race?”
“White. Black. Indian. Somalian? I don’t know. Is it a race? Coloured? Can you repeat the question?”
“Pussy. Debater seven, tonight’s lucky number is crime statistics. Murder is up, theft is up, rape is way up. You’ve now won the Lotto and find yourself listening to dialling tone while calling the police in an emergency. What melody would you like to hear?”
  “Tough one. Is Shoot the Boer on the table? No? Okay, the Stellenbosch choir doing an upbeat number, but crying all the while.”
“Are you sure? This might be the last thing you hear ever.”
“Wait, no. Let’s go for a road accident. A massive road accident and screaming.”
“Excellent answer. I’m shuffling as we speak. Well, debater three, you’ve heard the prospects. Who do you choose?”
“Can I see them first?”
“Very well. Debaters one, six and seven – reveal your very selves! What do you think, debater three?”
“Debate master ...”
“Master debater, please.”
“Master debater, I think I’m going to be sick. Can I get parole?”
“Hell no, debater three! Does this look like a Monopoly board? You can’t just get out of jail for free, three. Fuck, it rhymes. Debater seven, switch places with debater three.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now! There’s no time. The elections are but a year away.”
“It’s 10 days to the Rugby World Cup, master debater.”
“That it is. That it is.”
“Naas.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Wouldn’t it be naas to win the World Cup?”
“Funny, debater one. You’re exempt. The rest of you, the tribe has spoken: walk over this slip-and-slide, climb into your constituents’ shoes and bend over that log. Debater one, you have 10 seconds to get the sjambok, jump through hoops and go to town council on them. Ready, set, go!”

Over dinner the other night my girlfriend and I had a lively discussion on Elon Musk’s theory — which she believed to ring true — that life is a computer simulation.

I told her not to trust the opinions of people named after deodorants and that civilisations normally wipe themselves out before sending thrill- seekers to places like Westworld.

She didn’t seem to buy into the logic of that and shot back.

“It’s pretty obvious if you think about it,” she exclaimed. “What happened at the Oscars has never, ever happened before, and neither did an oaf like Trump getting elected, which means there’s a glitch in the matrix — a big one.”

“Even gamers have off days,” I said, sarcastically, to try to lift the mood, but the gesture was met with a cold stare I’ve come to associate with the start of an argument.

A muscle in my shoulder twitched — a tell-tale sign that I was under pressure, brought on by the fact that I’m not exactly sure what a matrix is.

“I hate to break it to you, honey,” I went on against my better judgment, “but besides those two things nothing else out of the ordinary has happened in the world, which once again proves that Americans think they are the centre of the universe.”

My argument seemed to strike a nerve, or a wire, which made her drop her cutlery and look me straight in the face.

“Oh, so Zuma and his cronies bleeding the state dry is a perfectly acceptable narrative for very ordinary times,” she said, combining irony, anger and defiance to great effect.

“And 17-million people not receiving a pension next month and cellphones exploding and cars burning and Brexit and One Direction — these are all perfectly normal phenomena indicative of a perfectly normal society.”

My stomach dropped and I felt what I thought was the earth move beneath my feet, followed by a strong sense of déjà vu that that exact thing had happened before.

A song I had in my head since kindergarten days started up as hiccups from eating too fast pressed up into my chest.

A hadeda sounded in the distance, crossing Hout Bay in the middle of the night; a bruschetta fell from the table and hit the floor face first.

“I like your sex pack,” I blurted out suddenly. “Must be from all the crosstit.”

It was getting awkward. The fridge whirred to life and a car alarm sounded in the distance.

I tried to figure out what my partner was thinking, but couldn’t. My face was burning up as I sat in everyman’s land not knowing what to do or say next.

The thought of spending my golden years wilting away in an old age home with Alzheimer’s — a life wasted on resetting modems — flashed through my mind.

A neon light on the kitchen ceiling pinged off and came back on again.

“It does that,” she said.