Outsider in Gatesville

Most people believe and say they are culturally diverse blending into foreign lands and cultures without being afraid or critical. But then again we have so many liars out there. Being culturally diverse only sounds good because you remember you signed the ethics course at work. Sure you work with a smarty box of cultures but immersing yourself on the grass root level is another story. Embracing the uncomfortable social trends and traditions is only part of it. Being objective and holding your tongue from criticism is far more challenging. Others know when you are faking - you don't ask the right questions or allow for proper responses because your impatience and indifference is the white elephant in the room.

This is true for my previous youthful self when I caught myself mentioning how many black and white friends I had, I knew I was a poser. I am now a glutten to learn as much as I can about those around me. And yes, eat any weird shit they put in front of me too.



Golden Dish, Gatesville, Cape Town

I go back to my wife's first trip to SA. I kinda gave her heads up about what Cape Town is about and how to survive the vacation without running to the Canadian Consulate for protection and helicopter emergency extraction.

My wife is extremely smart and well travelled so I did not have to give her the third degree about home. She knows we don't play with lions and some of us don't live in huts. Like I explained to many others, 90% of South Africans have not seen any wild life as most cannot afford to. There is no watering hole near our house which we can just mozy on down to for a quick sight seeing. You wanna see animals then take out that American Express and lets go. Let me tell you folks, we as Africans cant be ignorant to the fact that many first worlders believe that Africans live in the bush, its the most dangerous place on earth and you will die if you drink the water. When you live on the other side of the world knowing anything about Africa is no where near a priority. Often you see Ads on TV collecting money for starving African kids who are living in filth. Because they are played so often people get desensitized to it and this is what they know of Africa. So the ignorance is understood.

She was in deed well prepared. She had a GPS locator, pepper spray, police and CAA contact numbers and knew which side of Table Mountain the house was on. More importantly she knew we drove on the "wrong" side of the road. While she was professionally debriefed about the worldly surroundings there was nothing to prepare her for my FAMILY. There are some explanations too Taboo to attempt so I decided to throw her in the deep end and experience it first hand. Trust me the story that follows is worth a Trevor Noah skit but that story's for another time.

Golden Dish, Gatesville, Cape Town

The Top Ten must see in Cape Town is easy but generic. I have a different Top Ten which smothers and shocks your body with cultural efficiency. This is number one in the experience. On the far side of Athlone lays a buzzing hub of activity called Gatesville. Smack in the middle is Golden Dish. A Take Aways I called home for the last 30 odd years. Open almost 24 hours they serve fast food to the masses. Walking up to the shop I find my wife's grip nearly cutting of my circulation but I quickly realized why. Hawkers shouting at passerby's, people running over the road frantically no respect for cars, police vans racing with sirens blaring,  taxis hooting for no reason, garbage all over the place, criminal looking freaks that just escaped from prison, beggars following you for money, it was a madness spilled onto the street but just another day in the neighbourhood for us locals. What is more clearer than anything is that she's the only white person for miles around. I guess the shouting and raucous noise from hundreds of coloureds are a defense mechanism to keep all others at bay. I am sure this would be intimidating for many.























Then something happened that reinforced my pride about my people and instantly made me burst out in laughter with tears and all. If this happened in any other situation there would be blood and tears but this was just the equilibrium that was needed. Walking hand in hand we passed one of the hawkers selling his fruit on the pavement. It wasn't a second that we passed him that he said (In Afrikaans) just loud enough for us to hear: "Daar loop OJ" (Translated: There walks OJ). I didn't know if my wife would think of the comment but the brazen lack of filter and ignorance was heart warming to me. I was home.

Oh.... my people know when to turn on the magic just in time..........

Ist it Ironic??

At home in Africa one night before I set off on my worldly adventures I was relaxing under the majestic African sky. My head resting on my favourite rock next to my favourite tree while I waited for the cows to come home. The many rolling hills ahead seemed like many beautiful naked African ladies laying on their backs watching the stars and displaying their most precious assets for all to see. The stars were blinding and large against the dark and almost felt in reach. You see when you have no city lights for a thousand kilometers the night comes alive on its own.

 I dreamt one day of leaving the village and travelling to various countries and looking at these same stars. I guess I believed and hoped that no matter where I am that when I looked up I would still be the same African guy which distance and time cannot change. The world might be huge and daunting but my mind created a little space inside it just for me to enjoy the stars whereever I was.

Where would I go first. I have heard tales about Canada and always wondered how green it was on the other side. Maybe the humans there pissed Gatorade on their lawns and therefore the green, green grass. Made sense because at home there were constant ads about  Canada Green lawn seed. Just had to be greener. All I know is that they speak English & French, lived with Eskimo`s and could ice skate. What more did I need to know. They must have some travel restrictions though because with all the snow there I wondered why they all didn't just move!! Maybe one day they will all be allowed to get passports and leave.

Some only speak one Language!

Fast forward almost a year and my dream came true. I met a real live Canadian for the first time. She had fluffy hair maybe red, brown or auburn. Not sure which one as my excitement got the better of me. She did have rosy red lips, the big red leaf on her shirt and she spoke like an American. It took a while to convince me she was a Canuck but she did show me her passport. By the way I learned never to call a Canadian lazy. They don't like the word. Well there she was. I found one!! Hoping she would make one of my fantasies come true I asked her to speak dirty to me in French and to my shock and horror she told me she doesn't speak the language of love. Was this her way of blowing me off. I really only wanted to hear the accent. Cant believe it. She told me she does not speak French and there are more of them who don't. Its just this type of false information we get fed back home by SABC. Anyway I got over this setback and my search for a French speaking damsel continues.  The Canadian and I got to know each other and we actually became friends.

She looked like this!!

I soaked up as much as I could from this foreign lass. Alexander Keith is not everyone's neighbour. Tuuk is not the same as ``Tuuk you for a fool``Ice skating is for men as well. Canadian women love South African men. Yellow snow is for the guy shagging your wife.

We bonded like any Moose Girl would with her African King (insert song ``He's not heavy he's my brotherrrr....``) Okay, Okay......so the Irony of it all started off on a lovely evening. Work was good and everyone was excited. Tonight was skate night. Moose Girl wanted me to go party and ice skate. Two words you should never put together. Why would a grown African man with perfectly fine western made leather shoes want remove them and stand on a large sheet of ice. Oh no ....wait for it......to balance on the ice they will give me to wear female looking boots...... glued to knives with the razor part on the ice. Like this idea wont fucking kill me. Now if you don't like me, then say so. Don't try and convince me to kill myself. Have some back bone.

I just said NO. This is not happening. You cant tease me and I don't need your approval for any of my decisions. Leave me the hell alone. You want to show off with your sophisticated friends who can skate since they were in the womb. I don't play that. Go off and impress your other third world friends who have never seen a frozen pond. I don't need to be objectified with your skating charm. What a nerve. She always did things like this but my ignorance did not always let me down. Like the time she impressed upon me the miracle of doors which opened automatically. Whenever we would go to the restaurant the doors would slide open because of a sensor. But for her sake I still had to act surprised (being from the bush and all) because I didn't want her to feel bad because she was so proud of these first world trappings. Once again I digress and on with the story.

Apparently to help you balance on ice!!

It was not 30 minutes later when I heard the dreadful call siren. ``Alpha, Alpha, Alpha.........Studio B Ice Rink`` This means medical emergency someone fell on their ass thinking they could skate and broke the bum bone. Hahahaa. I was right. The ice is no place for me. I hope its one of the flashy Canadians who like to float like butterflies on the ice shoving their skills in your face. The smile on my face was priceless. For once in my life I was not peer pressured into doing something and I stood my ground. It was a good day for me.

Unfortunately for the next week I had to nurse and care for Moose Girl because she was the one who broke her ass on the ice. Not only was her ass sore. Her ass first warmed the ice to a liquid but by the time the medics came her jeans was frozen onto the ice and she needed to be ripped free of it. How ironic Ms fancy Canadian Ice skater. How ironic. I better stop here before I say something embarrassing.

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Most dangerous moment in my life......

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Its was just our usual mush up house party we have 3 times a week. Nothing really exciting besides getting completely wasted and unrecognizable. We had 3 friends who worked for the biggest brewery in South Africa and every month on pay day they would each get a bonus of about 5 cases of beer which for us meant 15 cases of free alcohol. To us this was not merely a convenience but more like a challenge and we were always ready to take it on.

Never happy with anything normal our evening took on a whole new direction. We needed to show the world what party animals really look like. So off we went to my moms hotel and the local watering hole. After abusing the barman there we were ready for the next adventure. Back to the house party just around the corner but this time we decided to crawl hands and knees all the way stopping all the traffic in the road. Yes six grown men foaming at the mouth like a pack of wild dogs. Looking back I really have no explanation for this besides madness.

In a blink of an eye all the guys were in floral dresses. They splashed crayola on their faces because life is too short. If this was not convincing enough they all found these female looking gladiator sandals which had long laces which criss crossed up their legs. What little memory I have left I believe I was in a suit driving the company van. Guess I was not feeling the gayness in me. I was good enough though to make another run at the smuggling house where one could buy beers, liqueur and weed. So off we went into the one of the most dangerous suburbs in the city. We never thought too much of the danger as we were there so often and fear was an annoyance our rough schedule had no time for.

Actual Neighbourhood in Cape Town!!

It was late and pitch dark with no light. The area had council houses which surrounded an empty square pitch. Its was a quick in and out operation with a parked car for less than 4 minutes. Its amazing though how alcohol takes away any fear or concern. Driving the company van did pose a risk but what could go wrong? I had two guys sitting with me on the front seat, my backup! The coast seemed clear from what little we could see. It all looked deserted. Not even the locals would be out at this time.

I pulled up alongside the smuggle house so the guys could jump out and buy supplies through the front window and off we go. Pulling up nice and carefully my eyes were adjusting to all the darkness. Scanning the area I saw some shadows moving in front of the van. As these figures moved closer I made out 3 guys walking toward the van. And out of the darkness the first object coming into focus was a barrel of gun pointed straight at me. FUck was all I thought while my heart stopped and my ass squeezed into my throat. Just Frozen......... All I could hear from my friends was "Drive, drive, drive!!"


This Mofo had the gun pointed directly at me with a fucking bright neon sign saying "George-the black one" Why the hell would I want to take such a chance? With the gun trained towards my head this Mofo casually walked around my side putting the nozzle against the glass. I slowly rolled the window down out of courtesy so when he shoots the glass would not litter on the ground. Desperately trying to think of a Steven Seagal move I could pull like we dreamt of as kids, but my brain said dont be an ass, act cool

The Catch 22 of cool was that in my peripheral vision I saw my two best friends wiping the lipstick and eye liner off their faces like the dresses wont give it away and I could already envision the headlines in the newspaper. "Man dressed in suite shot in head while 2 men in dresses and makeup lay in a field 10 meters away" It was not looking good. I am going to die with two transvestite looking wannabes by my side. What have I done to get myself this deep in the shit? (Well I know but....thats another story) With the gun to my head I could not think of anything brave to do. Nothing. Just sitting there with a revolver against my brain. All those action movies later, bragging about what you would do in such situations..........did not help me a damn.

My mind was thinking about these two next to me wiping their makeup as if they know their family has to view their bodies and all the makeup would be a hard to explain. Sitting there with an overwhelming sense of dread I heard a voice shout out: "Hey Faizel!! What the fuck you wanna rob us for. Voetsek!"

Turns out one of my boys with the pretty makeup actually knew the dumb Mofo with the gun and they started shooting the breeze about good old times - while the gun slowly came away from the head. There I am shitting bricks and Faizel shows us there's no bullets in the gun but he thought he take a chance away.

Slowly I could feel my bum descending from my throat back to where it belonged. Please rate this story below and subscribe. Thanks.




 

Only Virgins can wear that!!

With my fathers birthday on the 1st of June I took time to remember him and our time together. As I try to recollect moments I start to analyze them with a new more mature mind. If only I had this wisdom then, I suppose there would be many decision reversed or improved. Oh the hopelessness of regret. I will have to accept my earlier choices and look forward to bestowing my wisdom upon my children so that they are better informed.

But now time for a story: So it was time to collect our monthly maintenance money from our dad. Here they call it child support. My mom decided to come with us this time because every month we would return home with less money. She found that my father would give us all his money but would make us spend half of it on a night out. We all thought it was amusing but she had the temper of a Cape Coloured without airtime and would not stand for it.

So my father who is also never caught napping says to meet him at a local restaurant. So off we go to Mike's Kitchen which I dont believe even exists anymore. We walk into the restaurant and look for the noisiest person in the joint. There he was chatting up the waitress who he had in stiches with his usual charm and dry wit. He had the gift of the gab and loved talking. His eyes was glowing with the embers of a well intoxicated chap who was in full folly. This was my bad at his best. So we join him at the table and he immediately announces that the queen of Sheeba has arrived. Yes my mom. Iam really surprised my parents didnt get back together because they understood each other so well. They were exactly the same. Always the life of the party with the biggest voices.



Mom immediately starts messing with him and says he needs to look good for the sexy waitress. She takes out a comb and starts combing his hair straight up into a mohawk. He tried swearing and protesting but she was loving every minute of it and is unbothered. The two of them teased and insulted each other in good spirits. My brother and I just looked at each other and we knew it was gonna be a long tiring night ending with the usual blow out. After the third or so bottle of wine my mom knew the money extraction would become more tricky. So when dad stood up and left for the toilet I found my feet getting wet. My mom was pouring out his full bottle of wine he just ordered under the table. My brother was watching the wine run down the isle past our table. We did not know where to hide our faces. We have once again stepped over that huge luminous line which says in bold DO NOT CROSS. She didnt give a damn and emptied the bottle. The whole place reeked with that sweet and sour scent of a homeless person. But who cared?

Oh the drama when he came back trying to figure out why the bottle on the table was empty. After a few heated moments we finally managed to convince him its time to go. Stumbling out of the restaurant we passed a boutique and mom couldn't help teasing my dad about a sexy purple dress in the window to which he replied that "You cant wear that, its only for virgins!" That just made my night. In the end, I dont believe she got and the full amount of cash from him as he probably paid for dinner with it but the entertainment factor was well worth it.

I know they loved and complimented each other perfectly up until 10:00pm each evening after which they would try to strangle and insult each other in their usual loving way. Sad to say I miss you both. Wish I had real time to say all I wanted. Seeing a medium in January so you guys better say hi. 

Charles Bronson Wannabe

Watching all these train and bus fights on Youtube has brought back fond memories of Cape Town. Back in the Motherland was like being in a permanent Youtube clip of the craziest drama you could think of.

I was travelling on a train into downtown Cape Town to work night shift one night. Sitting in First class I had a guy sitting opposite me in our compartment. There I was in my finest suit trying to look all business like for the ladies. Then as quick as in an action movie the scene changed drastically. I looked up and found a skanky looking mugger holding a knife to the throat of the guy sitting opposite me. You should've seen the look on his face. I am sure he pissed his pants. He just sat there frozen stiff while the blade pressed against his throat.


Then the terrifying scream of women in the next set of seats pierced the air and immediately I summed it all up. Mr Dangerous here was going to cut this dudes throat if anyone tried to stop his partner from robbing the ladies in the next seat. I noticed these two walked through the carriage earlier but paid no attention. I could see a scuffle with ladies as the mugger was trying to rip her bag from her. The lady fought back screaming and not letting go of the bag. There was this chill in the air surrounded by a feeling of helplessness. I couldn't take it no more. This injustice could not continue. These thugs will have to be stopped. I stood up a meter away from mugger number 1 with the knife. I immediately removed my suit jacket and wrapped it around my forearm. If I was to survive this knife attack I needed some defense.


I shouted at mugger number 2 to leave the women alone but he just continued fight for her bag. All I could do was shout as the dude opposite me was close to having his throat slit. It wasn't a moment later that the mugger ripped the bag from the woman and they both ran out of the train timing it perfectly to it's next stop. I checked on the ladies and they were still very shaken but seemed unhurt. Guy sitting opposite me was relived to be alive and still in shock. I was just pissed that they got away with their stunt.



And to piss me OFF to no extent about 10 men stood up from where they sat in the train once the muggers ran out and the women stop screaming to offer moral support and to see if everything was alright. Bunch of useless chicken shits the lot of them. If they stood up early with me these no gooders didn't stand a chance. Aarrrghhhhh!!!!%$#@$& My wife says I should control my swearing but can you blame me. I cant remember if I said anything to them and I probably did say something shameful about their manhood.
 

All I wanted to do now was buy my gun and ride the train every night looking for my revenge and not hesitating a second to put these no gooders on their backs just like my friend Charles Bronson in Death Wish 1,2,3,4 &5. Charles my friend we would of made a great team cleaning up the streets while all these other pansies allow women to get robbed.

My name is George and I am a drug addict

I found myself preparing for an operation that would entirely reclassify my threshold of pain. It was an immense decision not taken likely. Did the numerous infections on a yearly basis outweigh the risk of being cut open under general anesthetic. I guess it was, because there I was in a room getting ready to meet the witchdoctor whose gonna slice me open. I could feel my heart palpatations and palms go sweaty as my mind races on and anxiety takes over.

This should of been the most scariest day of my life, was not for the fact that I was the only adult patient in the room. Yes ladies and gentlemen I was surrounded by toddlers who were all in for the same procedure! Now just calm down it was still pretty serious so dont judge.

Long story short.....I was knocked out by Propofol or something awesome like that. MJ would of been proud. Doc said he will see me on the other side and so it was. A few hours later I awake still in a Zulu blues and I immediately requested a cheese hamburger even though my throat was still raw and cut up. It sure was a good laugh. Doc then gave the all clear and sent me home with some A-grade horse tranquilizer and told me not to eat for 3 weeks. And this is where the shit really hits the fan.



So my lovely caring wife looked after me like a saint but as soon as I demanded my horse pills she shut me down like a devil. Turning into a diva she hides my pills and bitches about my self control. I spelt out the word PAIN to her but she completely ignored my cries for help. So what people said about her was right all along, there was something off about her. Turning into a prison warder shouting insults at me, telling me Iam out of control and over to the top. I know the pills are every 3 hours but when water feels like you swallowing minora blades I'll take that shit every 30 minutes if I want to. What happened to compassion and empathy, I guess it gets thrown out the window because of doctors orders. Those quacks don't know crap. Was there no trust? Would I be selfish enough to abuse this liberty. Well......

                                                       

So in the height of all this pain I wake up swallowing blood. Something in the plumbing came loose and blood came gushing from my mouth as if someone opened a tap. I was rushed straight back to hospital for surgery so they could seal the vessel. Once again I woke up in lalla land and with every minute I was there the pain came back harder and stronger. Thank goodness for the lovely nurses who would shoot me up with morphine whenever I sulked like a little baby. They took good care of me like a true dealer would. All I had to do was charm them with a few stand up routines and they were putty in my hand. I tell you......make a woman laugh and the world is your drug dealer. With a little sniffle they would give me all the happy pills I cry for. How could I not milk that for 4 days.

THE most pain I have ever been in. How these toddlers dealt with tonsillectomy I have no idea. All I can say is adults better beware. You will be hooked on those horse pills just to get your through the next 20 minutes. Dont worry though, its all temporary.

Profiling Gag

I finally completed my little say on profiling after a specific incident I experienced while out on a date night. As was customary I had the wife proof read the intellectual piece for some constructive feedback. I really respect her opinion and if she lights up with a smile or some laughter I know the piece is good. Boy was I surprised when her blank response was for me to remove the blog and send it to all damnation!!

I know I have no filter on my mouth but thats the only way to live stress free. If you have something on  your mind you gotta say it. Apparently my honesty with this topic was not appreciated and would of only lived to provoke and antaganize the masses. After six paragraphs of my ramblings she does mention that my closure slightly softens my outlandish opinion but this was not enough to make the topic more palpable.

I feel like a Nazi gag order on imposed on my free speech and I should not be afraid to share my opinion even at the risk of offending others. It must be said that my opinion did in know way reflect any hatred but simply just informed the reader of the real truth behind profiling. Being coloured and from South Africa, I do not hesitate pointing out stereotypes and talking about race even though the Canadians around me blush of embarrassment and disgust. You cannot avoid situations that are uncomfortable to address by pretending they don't exist. Tackle it head on is what I say.

Now if only I had the balls to stand up to my wife and re-post my original blog. I would then need a place to sleep for the night.

Profiling or scientific assessment

It was on our date night that we decided to stop for some cash at the ATM. Assuming the pharmacy had one the wife ran in quickly. I decided to join her as this was our first time in this part of the city. As I enter the store, I spot the security guard hiding behind a shelf and peeping down one of the isles every now and then. I knew straight off the bat what the situation was. It was all thanks to the Oath taken by all security guards on graduation. To seek, surveillance and follow anyone who is remotely brown and suspect. Yes I said it!



This security had tons more finesse though. He was peeping down the isle as if he was playing hide and seek without being caught. It took me only a second to find the object of his affection. There was this young native guy with black jacket, jeans and long hair walking from isle to isle. Seriously! The only way you could shop in peace would be to convince yourself that the security guard is not following you around and spying on your every move. With an air of comedy you have the coyote comically trying to keep up with the road runner while both acting as if they other is not there.

I played games like this myself. I would walk into a shop at 3am and start walking up and down the isles amused at how the security would follow me around. In SA the word finesse does not exist so these dudes would literally walk right behind you and look you in the eyes. I knew they were doing their job and suspicious looking brown men like myself should be monitored. And all this in a fair and equal paper society.



Being objective I put myself in the guards shoes and think that if I had to choose of the 5 customers who entered my shop late in the evening. Who would I select to follow. How would my secret service training make a split second decision on how I will save the store from being ransacked. Do I follow the little old lady with a cane who can easily sneak goods into her large bag or do I follow that well dressed man with glasses. How about the mother and 2 kids in floral dresses? Of course not...........I am following the hood rat with pants hanging to the floor, with the cap turned backwards.

If someone ripped out half of your vegetable garden and they caught a few suspects at the police station. Who would you pick out of the line up. 1. Old man in tweeds 2. Young girl in school clothes 3. Hip hop guy. 4. Rasta looking hippie with a smile on her face. Now you see what I mean. To all the constitutionally and politically correct friends out there who is shaking with anger I do apologize. To infuriate you even more I would say that stereotypes are created at times from trends and statistics that should not be applied to everyone but they do exist. I know I am deep in the political cest pool now swimming in poop but the heart says was it wants.


As I am damned to hell I also struggle to shake the stereotypes that is so in grained in society. I remember working at our family liquer store and a group of 8 suspicious coloured guys walked in. I immediately placed myself on high alert because my profiling mind knew we were in trouble. All I saw was sneakers, caps & hiphop wear. My thought was not even cold when they all split up into different isles. A classic divide and steal process. I could not follow them all and suddenly they all disappeared. My photographic memory found a missing bottle of brandy and I set off running after them. Thank God thieves never stick together and I chased the right guy and kicked his feet from under him. I picked up the bottle he dropped and let him go. My manager found I let him go and jumped in his car and knocked him over. At least thats what he told me. Now ofcourse I profiled them, in truth I suppose no thought was necessary as it just came instinctively.

 Now children, before you start protesting in the streets calling for my blood let me end with this. Stereotyping is unjust. It paints good people with undeserving assumptions and relays preconceived assessments about their person. With this hanging over your head you will find the judgement against you will destroy many opportunities possible to you. With that said my conscious is clear.

Religionless Baby......

Yes I said it. A baby with no religion. So take off your bra and pour yourself a drink, this is no reason to loose your mind. Wouldn't want you to have a premature mid life crisis, because if anything happens we will not be praying for you.

Baby is 6 months old and suppose people still expect me to send invites for some or other ceremony. Something about baptism, christening or something politically sounding like that. I know that a thanks is in order for this beautiful addition to your family and thats why Iam booking a hotel, wine, gala dinner and babysitter for my wonderful wife. Thank you love!

Since small we have always gone to church with ouma. Mom would dress us in our best threads with those shiny shoes and post us off to ouma. There were would stand mumbling our way through the hymns that everyone else knows off heart. Most of the process was just repetitive but every now and then the priest would turn stand up and give us a good laugh to make the boredom more bearable. For some reason our families confused our excitement for a calling and enrolled us in confirmation classes. And like Rick Ashley this did not last long. So dont tell me I know nothing of this. I do. I just dont feel it though. From being Roman Catholic to Anglican my calling to pray must of got lost in the many emails in my inbox.

Did this keep us out of church? Nope. We went as a family to every funeral and wedding we could in hope that we could con our way into getting complimentary ticket to heaven. This loop hole was our saving grace and yes - it does count!. As of late - like the last 15 years - I had no need for church or religion. I also dont believe its a necessity in life. Well mainly I worked Sundays and rent was important.

Now with a baby of our own do we pass the memory of childhood religion long forgotten onto baby? Will this give him the skills in life to navigate the mine fields of this world. I am not too sure. I do believe many friends and family have a healthy commitment to their religions. Personally I believe that religions seem to be a good crutch to use when you are battling whatever drama you have in your life. This is certainly true for many of my friends who were have not only hit rock bottom but slammed down all the way to middle earth. When no one on earth understands or can help you its best to believe in something that can not disappoint you and can guide you with its beliefs. If this is a structure that will help your cause then I say go for it. We all know all other help costs money.

I think I will leave such a choice for Elim to make or even consider on his own. There is too much hatred and ignorance around the thousands of religions out there and I want him to be able to neutral in all this madness. I want him not to be restricted and regulated by any standard. You might not agree with my well researched doctoral thesis but then again its none of your business. I could be completely wrong in your eyes but again.....its irrelevant. 

Now that I have spoken I will guide the kiddo to wherever he wants to go in life. That's with my approval of course.