The Intergalactic Daily Message (D.M. - Die Emmers, get it, its frigging brilliant) Hosted by the Holiday House constituents in Cape Town. Spreading the good news to YOU, whilst creating the illusion that you never left home and we still love you.

Wednesday, December 14

So long sucker fools

This is officially my last post of 2005, (unless I find a comper on the beach). As you can see by the above cheesy pic, it is time for a Imafeelin Kindakinki roadtrip down to paradise. This time its myself, Sera and Mr. J heading down the east coast in what can only be discribed as a ramant rampage of revolution. We are even packing extra jerry cans of fuel to combat potential 4 day stops in Riviersonderend.
Thanks for a great year mochacho's, to those who had to read and to those who wrote and to those who where forced to write at gunpoint. We indeed still love you. And just one final thanks to the great mother herself. Auntie Slaapstad. We could not have done it without you

Christmas Story

Three men died on Christmas Eve and were

met by Saint Peter at the pearly gates. "In honor of this holy season," Saint Peter said, "you must each possess something that symbolizes Christmas to get into heaven."

The first man fumbled through his pockets and pulled out a
lighter. He flicked it on. "It represents a candle," he said.

"You may pass through the pearly gates," Saint Peter said.

The second man reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He shook them and said, "They're bells."

Saint Peter said, "You may pass through the pearly gates."

The third man started searching desperately through his pockets and finally pulled out a pair of women's panties. St. Peter looked at the man with a raised eyebrow and asked, "And just what do those symbolize?"

The man replied, "These are Carols."

And So The HolidaySeason Begins...

Tuesday, December 13

DMer Roundup

Ok, so I am a bad friend. Big things have been happening to our Contributors and I have failed to mention it. So everybody, I A M S O R R Y!

I will do this cronologically as to not upset anybody.
  1. So on Saterday, Jace's longterm manwhore aka Noembie flies her down to Swizerland for a last minute impromtu ski weekend. He gets her up on a nice rocky outcrop and WHAM, whips out a ring. She obvoisly accepts. Congratz with some Pongraz from all and sundry here at DMers. Another smokin lady of the menu. Another hunk o' rooinek bites the bullet. Here's to a happy life together and when do we start sending in our CV's for bridemaids.

  1. Next up we have our very beautifull rockin' K-mac celebrating her $*th birthday. That was yesterday. May the wine flow with the speed of your husband's rapidly receding hairline. May your business be boomin, may you booty be shakin, may your flowers be bloomin and your husband be bakein. Big up Kerry, we all love you.

  1. Next up it looks like me and Mr. J is going to be homeless next year. We are looking at the last house this afternoon. Wish us luck, and to Cheer mr. J up, please go vote for him.

  1. And just in case I left anything out please just forgive me, I am male.

Monday, December 12

Mr. J for Mr. 2oceansvibe

Yes it is time to show your appreciation for all the good times that Die Emmers has thrown your way. Fellow Capetownian society blog 2oceansvibe is having their annual Bachelor competition. And Lo and behold, our very own Mr. J is one of the contestants. Just have have a look at his exitement, look at those eyes. Its almost as if he is looking at his first bottle of Brandewyn ever. His poor heart will be broken if you dont show him some love. And if he wins we might thow a "win a date with Mr. J" afterwards. (yes, Lisa you may enter).

NY Times great ideas

The New York Times has done this years great ideas:

Go check it out. There some interesting stuff, like why popcorn doesn't pop and the anti-paparazzi flash invention.

Friday, December 9

Funny for money

The ultimate revenge.

There was this little boy about 12 years old walking down the sidewalkdragging a flattened frog on a string behind him. He came up to thedoorstep of a house of ill repute and knocked on the door.

When theMadam answered it, she saw the little boy and asked what he wanted. Hesaid, "I want to have sex with one of the women inside. I have themoney to buy it, and I'm not leaving until I get it."The Madam figured, why not, so she told him to come in. Once in, shetold him to pick any of the girls he liked. He asked, "Do any of thegirls have any diseases?" Of course the Madam said no. He said, "Iheard all the men talking about having to get shots after making lovewith Annie . THAT'S the girl I want."Since the little boy was so adamant and had the money to pay for it,the Madam told him to go to the first room on the right. He headeddown the hall dragging the squashed frog behind him.

Ten minutes later he came back, still dragging the frog, paid the Madam,and headed out the door.The Madam stopped him and asked, "Why did you pick the only girl inthe place with a disease, instead of one of the others?"

He said,"Well, if you must know, tonight when I get home, my parents are goingout to a restaurant to eat, leaving me at home with a baby-sitter.After they leave, my baby-sitter will have sex with me because she just happens to be very fond of cutelittle boys. She will then get the disease that I just caught.

When Mom and Dad get back, Dad will take the baby-sitter home.On the way, he'll jump the baby-sitter's bones, and he'll catch the disease.

Then when Dad gets home from the baby-sitters, he and Mom will go tobed and have sex, and Mom will catch it.

In the morning when Dad goes to work, the Milkman will deliver themilk, have a quickie with Mom and catch the disease, and HE'S theson-of-a-bitch who ran over my FROG!"

Have a fantastic weekend.

Happy Friday

What happened to the chinese man who walked into a wall with a boner?
He smashed his his nose.

Whats the Diffenence between kinky and perverted?
Kinky is when you tickle your girl friends ass with a feather.
Perverted is when you use the whole chicken...

A girl went into a doctors office with a Strawberry up her ass, The doctor said I've got some "Cream" For that.

Why was the washing machine laughing?
Because it was taking the piss out the underpants.

What do you do with a years worth of used condoms?
Melt them, turn them into tire and call it a goodyear.

What's the difference between a penis and a bonus?
Your wife will always blow your bonus!

A man goes to a fancy dress party wearing nothing but a jamjar on his cock.
A lady asks "What are you dressed as?"
He says a fireman!
You break the glass, pull the knob and I'll cum as fast as I can.

One night a policewoman pulls over a drunk driver.
She politely asks him to step out of his car. He willingly does so.
She says, "Anything you say can and will be Held against you."
He replies "BREASTS."

Thursday, December 8

Random carp on a hungover thuesday

Cool trucks


Antelope (v): to run off with your mother’s sister.
Assassination (n): an arrangement to meet a donkey.
Diarrhoea (n) a very unattractive bottom.
Dictator (n): hilariously shaped, edible tuber.
Diversion (n): Princess of Wales' version of the events that led to her divorce.
Dumpling (n): small lump of excrement.
Gastronome (n): small person prone to excess wind.
Hatchet (n): small, bird droppings that fall from the sky.
Headband (n):
top of the bill at a rock concert.
Hormone (n): the sound a prostitute makes when she's not been paid.
Hobnob (n): cooking accident often suffered by nudists.
Homophobe (n): strong dislike of The Simpsons.
Honeydew (n: women who regularly arrive late for appointments.
Laminate (v): to artificially inseminate a sheep.
Limpet (n): male who has trouble getting an erection.
Mantrap (n): sexual favour used by women to obtain money from men.
Mastiff (n): mass erections induced by watching pornography.
Menopause (n): break in conversation to allow men to get a word in edgeways
Minjita (n) (slang): an Indian lesbian
Misfit (n): an attractive young woman
Mislay (n): a brazen or promiscuous young woman.
Morbific (n): excessively violent
Negligent (n): cross-dresser.
Outage (n): process of exposing a Gay politician.
Propaganda (n): a wooden support for one-legged male geese.
Rectitude (n): Precise angle at which a rectal thermometer should be inserted.
Snuff box (n): slang term for a coffin.
Spade (n): Small surgical tool for removing ovaries.
Testator (n): a male who is constantly adjusting his genitalia
Titillate (n): delayed onset of female puberty
Vagrant: (n): confused insect
Willy-nilly (n): male who continually catches their penis in their zipper.
Losers need hats too

Newspaper from 1978, our folks really werent lying. More here

Wednesday, December 7

A slice of nice

I am exited like a little boy, X men 3 is comming. Deep down i've always thought myself a bit of a Wolverine, you know -rugged, head of bushy hair, imune to tequila and the uncanny ability the slice the roundhouse kick right off Chuck Norris.

Do the official website. Cause you're worth it.

Tuesday, December 6

Friday - La Med - Flat Stanley - Tequila - PERFECT

Ja, jy met die kyf

Its the end of the year and stress levels are running high. People are just gunning for that well deserved holiday. What I dont understand, that with all these high emotions, a suprisingly small amount of celebs get beaten up. Why is that? Are people not angry? Did Colin Moss say something worth a chuckle? what did I miss?
Personally I would love to have a go at Gareth Cliff, I would actually swop it for my holiday. Who would you like to beat up? No, not just beat up, beat the crap out of him (till they are a see-through plastic bag). Well, now is the time to vote. I have my own sneaking suspitions on who is going to win, but lets just see it pan out.

For those who missed it, voting on the right.

Word of the Day, Volume 5 part 3

panache \puh-NASH; -NAHSH\, noun:
  1. Dash or flamboyance in manner or style.
  2. A plume or bunch of feathers, esp. such a bunch worn on the helmet; any military plume, or ornamental group of feathers.
Panache is from the French, from Medieval French pennache, from Italian pinnacchio, feather," from Late Latin pinnaculum, diminutive of penna, "feather." It is related to pen, originally a feather or quill used for writing.

Optical Vortex Could Look Directly At Extrasolar Planets

Keep in the mix at those astronomy conventions...

A new optical device might allow astronomers to view extrasolar planets directly without the annoying glare of the parent star. It would do this by "nulling" out the light of the parent star by exploiting its wave nature, leaving the reflected light from the nearby planet to be observed in space-based detectors. The device, called an optical vortex coronagraph. Reference here.


These laboratory images demonstrate how the optical vortex coronograph works. They were obtained with a green "star" and red "planet" (point light sources). (a) shows how the green light is "spun out," while the red light remains unaffected. Images of the point sources are shown when large (b) and small (c) apertures are used to limit the transmission of light from (a). (Reported by: Foo et al. in Optics Letters for 1 December 2005)

Monday, December 5


Who is this blond surfer boy in this mugshot?He looks strangely familiar.

Could it be Ozzy Osbourne? What? I know, its unfrigginbelieveable

this one is a bit easier

Its the one hit wonder, mr. Vanilla Ice,
For more shockers get all you celebrity mugshots here

Friday, December 2

"I’m afraid we going to have to operate immediately."
Yes I can definitely see myself as a doctor and had been practising my most concerned look, while standing in front of a bright light wielding a small sharp knife, early one Saturday evening. Unknown to me, this practice was to prove to have been prophetic…

Now everyone knows the sole reason men become doctors (I concede some women doctors have different agendas, not necessarily more noble, but different) is because of female nurses. This is a sorely missed aspect of the engineering world but then also not the least of its worries. So moving along…I had been practising my doctor impersonations (as one does) when I was invited out for the evening by a housemate who was going to meet all her nursing friends for a night on the piss in the great metropolis of Worcester. Well what could a young man do? Except graciously except and at once brush up on my "If you could just step behind the screen ma’am and remove all your clothes and put these on." doctor voice and I was ready to immerse my self in the medical world.

What awaited me can only be described as a revelation reserved for saints and suicide bombers. For there in the club, were 70 beautiful virgins all shakin some ass and the occasional palm leaf. (Umm where this story digresses slightly from the promised virgins of paradise is, a) There were only about 20, b) They weren’t all maybe as beautiful as one could wish and c) This being Worcester most had kids that couldn’t still lay claim to being virgins.) But as I like to say, When life gives you Worcester, make Worcestershire sauce.

So I started breaking it down on the dance floor (And I was breaking it down dorky dance Namastad style on a Friday night to BZN!)(For those of you who don’t what I’m talking about think small town sokkie and not giving a f*ck)(if you still don’t know what I’m talking about, umm… I’m no longer talking to you)(and for those of you who didn’t do BOD maths at school, you are probably struggling with all the brackets now)(And then there are those that have used old Castigliano’s theory to solve 3D stresses and no doubt are now breaking into a small sweat at the mere thought of all these brackets returning to haunt you) (ha ha)(Ok I admit that was probably only funny to one of my readers and then maybe not even for him?)
Anyway as I was saying: I was breaking it down sokkie style when I suddenly had an epiphany that all this couldn’t solely be down to my charming ways, dashing good looks and Oscar like doctor impersonations. There had to be a higher power involved….

And then I saw him. At first just a bright light behind the bar, indistinguishable from the mirror balls and bottles of tequila. But as I quietened my soul and allowed the Night Rider sound track to guide me through the crowd I knew he had been looking down on me all along. Bestowing his blessings as the walls dripped with the cheese that issues forth from his every pore.
I stood mesmerised. After all the rumours, the speculation about his involvement in the July 7 bombings and the painful death of his brief music career in Germany (the career was probably more painful than the death). We thought we were doomed to spend the rest of our lives remembering the good old days when cars could talk and people still believed that a "Soen sonder snoer is soos n eier sonder soet".

But now I’m here to tell the faithful. I have heard His voice and The Hoff says "Who’s your daddy?"

Some adds...

Thursday, December 1

Beware the blogger


Russian Monkey....

the lesser spotted Imgonna Suckmeoff