Friday, September 7, 2018

He no Longer Lives in my Nightmares






When one goes through a traumatic event or time, that memory lives on in your everyday thinking and haunts you in your nightmares.  The single best way to get rid of the effects of that trauma is to write it all down - whether it turns into a book or it gets burned or torn up - it is a cathartic experience to let it all out so it no longer controls your life. 

I went through the most traumatic time of my life when I became the target of the feared Scorpions - South Africa's elite law enforcement group.   It was the culmination of a restraining order that I served against a member of the South African Police for stalking and harassing me.   

When you walk into a storm, you don’t know if you are out of it or still in it, but you are different, more jaded, more cynical, less hopeful, less enthusiastic and more angry.   Until this book was written, I knew that I would still be in the storm.

 This book is not chronologically correct.  When a person is put through terror, nothing appears normal nor does one’s time appear linear.  Rather, time and events become jumbled up in one’s psyche, spewing over every now again as a smell, a sight, a song or even a view reminds you of that emotionally traumatic event.   This book is written as those senses are stimulated and as the memories come flooding back.  I am shaking and suffering from anxiety as I write this book.  Maybe the Scorpions and Jenner did win – Jenner said he would never stop to take me down…he lives in my nightmares. 


Easy to Kill you Bitch is available on Amazon and free on Kindle Select.

Sunday, September 2, 2018

The most astounding book I have ever edited and published ....

A must-read non-fiction ... "I am a sex addict. I have a medically diagnosed condition.  In addition to other things, I am hypersexual…in layman’s terms, a nymphomaniac, but not in the way, shape or form that people who do not actually suffer from this affliction assume.  Yes, I need sex.  It is like a drug, and I need it to survive, to remain sane.  Yes, I take medication to curb my appetite.  Yet and still, medication or not, I still have a certain need for a daily dose.  This might sound silly, but it is far from a fantasy for me, it is a means to retain my logical and level-headed sensibilities.  However, keeping my sanity does not mean I have to jump everyone’s bones just to be able to function.  It doesn’t mean I need sex 24 hours a day to breathe (although I won’t lie.  Sometimes I do feel that way) What it actually means is that I need doses of sexuality to keep my pheromone and serotonin levels acceptable for my own mental and physical survival. 
My “daily dose” can manifest itself in several ways.  Need I say that sexual intercourse can be a form of release?  My hypersexuality and its withdrawals are honestly very similar in ways to someone hooked on crystal meth or even heroin.  It is an insatiable need, constantly begging to be fed.  Yet, when you give in to temptation, it only causes the craving to be more intense after the high has worn off.  Yes, I get high.  I get a euphoric feeling, similar to (what I’ve been told by my doctor) slamming drugs into my veins.  The more intense my sexual urge before curbing it, the shorter the high and the more often it needs to be handled.  In contrast, the smaller the remedy (the less the sexual activity I get to satisfy the craving) the longer I can hold out until the next.  Satisfying my craving can be as little as reading erotica.  It can be touching in sexual ways, tasting someone’s body parts, sexual banter online, sending nude pictures, receiving nude pictures, holding hands with someone, and even just being spoken to in a dominating way.  It all depends on the levels I have been reduced to as to the amount of sexual contact I need to get by in a day, to defer my compulsion temporarily. It is a very complicated illness that involves the mental and emotional parts of a person, as well as physically affects them.  Then again, I am also a complicated hypersexuality sufferer that has been used as a guinea pig in the field, subjected to many different types of treatment.  It has been concluded that the way I live my life, with its many hidden and complicated facets, is actually the best therapy for me, the best way to control my disease. 
I had begun to notice this in myself, the growing urge, the insatiability, since I was fifteen years old, only a sophomore in high school, although I suspect I’ve been hypersexual since the onset of puberty.  Yet I wasn’t medically diagnosed until I was in my early thirties.  Of course, I kept this to myself; I mean I did have a “normal” life outside of sex.  There was a daytime Jezebel and a nighttime Jezebel and they were both equally important. The two parts completed my whole self.
Writing a story including all my sexual escapades, all the emotions I have felt, and the excitement my body has been put through… could take years and tens of novels.  This here is just a glimpse of my second life, the one no one knows about, the one no one could understand without being me, inside my head and body.  Even this second life has many different parts that fit together.

This is a small glimpse of some of the escapades within a few months …in the life… in Jezebel’s life".

Click on the link below the book cover to go directly to Amazon to purchase a copy.



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Friday, March 30, 2018

A sensible approach by Gayton McKenzie on the state of our nation

Dear ANC
The country has been wondering with bated breath whether we will be seeing the return to the ANC of a metro named after the ANC’s most celebrated leader.
I know how painful it has been to see the DA in charge of a city you must have thought it would be impossible for you to lose. Now on Thursday we will be deciding on whether Athol Trollip continues to be mayor.
When we first agreed to start the Patriotic Alliance in 2013 I never dreamt we would be the ones deciding the governance fate of a city of more than a million people. But it seems that’s how the cookie has crumbled. So I accept that this is a decision fate has somehow thrust upon us that we’re not about to take lightly or for any casual reasons.
No one has been sure how the PA will vote. After all, we are the ones who lodged the first motion of no confidence in Athol Trollip in November 2016. That motion was supported by the ANC and defeated because the EFF, at the time, protected Trollip.
During that process, our motion proceeded without any racism or racist insults. We raised the motion based on our disagreement with the direction Trollip was taking the metro at that time.
We have now watched the latest developments with interest after the call for the removal of Trollip yet again – this time raised by the DA’s erstwhile protectors, the EFF. We are, however, disappointed with the crude display of racism that has accompanied this, particularly the analogy of cutting the throats of the DA, the threats against white people and the general contemptuous rejection of “whiteness”.
This does not sit well in a country with so many political murders and such a painful history of racism. Such an analogy can easily be misconstrued by the angriest and stupidest among us. It has no place in our body politic.
I am, of course, not surprised by such utterances from the EFF, which has proven itself willing to do just about anything for media headlines and political survival, particularly after their biggest political blunder of having handed power to the DA while professing to be a revolutionary party.
My shock and utter disappointment has been compounded by the complete silence of the leaders of the ANC in the face of all this naked racism: your silence comes from your thirst for power in the Nelson Mandela Bay Metro. You dare not speak up because Malema will turn on you again and allow Trollip to stay. You have been cowed into submission by the dangerous yapping of this demagogue who is taking this country down a dangerous path. At what point will you decide to find your voice, ANC, and say he has stepped over the line? If you are okay with someone saying they will be cutting people’s throats, how will you react when throats actually do get cut?
You are throwing away everything the ANC stands for. Allow me to illustrate my point with two simple examples, the first because the ANC has been here before.
Those who started the Pan Africanist Congress (PAC) in 1959 took a similar posture against communist whites and other white freedom fighters, as well as the principles of the Freedom Charter decades ago. The leaders of the ANC back then, though, stood firm against Robert Sobukwe, Potlako Leballo and others despite the fact that these were popular men of strong character, intellect, passion and principle. They lost the support of many members who went on to form and join the PAC, but no one can say the ANC was ultimately genuinely weaker because of it. Instead, the ANC became the broad church that so many have been justifiably proud of over the subsequent years. The ANC didn’t compromise on its clear stance on nonracialism.
You, the ANC of today, have now been made to believe by some high-ranking members in your top structure that you will not get above even 50% in the next election and that Malema is your biggest hope to retain power. And so you are prepared to jettison one of your deepest founding principles, perhaps not realising that in so doing the ANC will cease to be the ANC. You cannot save something by annihilating its founding values. That is how you destroy something.
You were silent when Malema told the country he is now ruling South Africa, and that he is de facto leading the ANC. None of you dared to stand up and say a word in protest.
The DA is now being taught a lesson. You might learn from what Malema is doing to them, as it’s exactly what will happen to you.
Instead you are silent, waiting in anticipation for the removal of Nelson Mandela Bay from DA control, and then the return of Johannesburg and Tshwane. Is being in power really more important than being a powerful example to society? It seems that having raw administrative power trumps the more lasting power of simple, steadfast character.
The second example is more personal to me: my father lived it out. He refused to drive in any of my cars during my heydays as a criminal. He refused to take one cent from me. He told my mum that those benefiting from the proceeds of crime are no different from those cutting the throats of their victims and taking their money. He was only proud of me when I turned my back on crime – and because of that he died a proud father.
The ANC is the leader of society by virtue of having won election after election. It has always prided itself on its nonracialism. But have you now handed your greatest generational mantra to Malema to stomp on and destroy?
Your silence as you wait to benefit from silence suggests exactly that.
If Malema were at least honest in his racism, it would be easier to swallow. If he genuinely hated whites, white monopoly capital and the tyranny of our many economic compromises, then at least we could accept the man for what he is. But the trouble is that he doesn’t stand for anything except what he stands to gain.
Malema threatens white people with his right hand and takes money from them with his left, thinking we don’t know. Whites have been funding the EFF from the very beginning. All sorts of white people have stepped into the breach for Malema and his followers – from our captains of industry to those we might best describe by using the same word he used for me last week: “dodgy” whites.
We know this. You definitely know this. So we cannot even allow Malema the simple concession that his racism is genuine. It’s fake, just like everything else about him.
All the same, the trouble with Malema’s false racism is that the EFFECT of it can very easily become only too genuine. One only needs to ask a Rwandese what the effect of dangerous language can be. We know what happened in Rwanda in 1994, but we haven’t learnt from it, it seems. In that country, friends and neighbours killed each other simply because one happened to be Tutsi and the other Hutu. The language of hatred turned into the sickening sound of machetes hacking at a million defenceless bodies. And above it all, the language of hatred echoed – it was voiced on radio and in many other places by men such as Georges Ruggiu (a white man), Kantano Habimana and others. They wanted the complete annihilation of all Tutsis, along with conscientious Hutus who stood for peace or who had married Tutsis.
In the build-up to that slaughter, many stayed silent. You, too, are silent now, ANC. Too silent.
Make no mistake, I am a proponent of the return of the land without compensation – but not through the vitriol and spit-lined language of racism. This is something I will never agree with. The mini-dictator Malema can talk freely about even expropriating black-owned land without compensation, but I cannot agree.
His call for whites to flee to Australia represents everything we have not been for the past two decades. We have been admired and revered as a nation that talks out its problems. But the ANC has now apparently gifted Malema the power of deciding what should be done with our land.
The Khoisan, the First Nation in SA, is not even around the table discussing what should be happening. But the time for the Khoisan to take their rightful place as a shareholder of this land has arrived.
I know I am not the ideal person to caution South Africa on Malema and his racist talk. Simply because of my crimes of 25 years ago, my views can easily be discarded as those of a crook, no matter how much repentance I have shown and change I have brought in the lives of many young people in SA. But I have no choice but to stand up now for the principles of nonracialism because the voices that matter most in this situation appear to be terrified of Malema.
I don’t want it to be me, or up to me. But if it has to be me, then fine.
I left prison with R12 in my pocket. I had no income. Members of my own community shunned me. My cause was adopted by a white lady called Ria De Villiers. Members of her community warned her against this black boy with a vile past, but she defended me at every turn. She lost friends, but she stood up for second chances and against racism. I am who I am today because Ria stood up for me. Many other white people have been there for me too over the years. I am certainly not ashamed to say that, and why should I be? Why should anyone?
So today I want to stand up not only for white people but for who we should be as South Africans, and who we so nearly have been until this political opportunist was granted power by some in the ANC and the DA to lead us into Sodom and Gomorrah. He and other racists, black, white, Indian and coloured must have their views and demands rejected. It’s not too late for the true leaders of society to show us the path to the land of milk and honey. Mandela opened up the way. Let us enter those gates and fix joblessness and address the land issue without racism and threats.
No one could have known for sure which way the Patriotic Alliance will vote on Thursday. After all, we voted against the DA in Cape Town and it was our solitary vote that kept Patricia de Lille as the mayor there. We are in coalition with the ANC in Ekurhuleni. We have been willing to compromise and side with the DA in Nelson Mandela Bay when Mongameli Bobani was ousted as deputy mayor, just as we have also voted against the DA in the Bay.
So if you said you knew what we would do, that only tells me how little you knew.
But we have made up our minds, and I know it is the right decision. Trollip didn’t become white yesterday. He was born white. Let’s not be fooled by those who were comfortable handing power to the same white Trollip and who are now screaming that he’s too white for their liking and should go. We cannot support a motion of no confidence against a man when the only apparent basis for that motion is that the man in question happens to be white. Let’s be clear: anyone voting against Trollip on Thursday will be engaging in an act of racism, and the PA will not partake in it even if the EFF will try to dress it up as a punishment over differences about land expropriation.
As unlikely a candidate as I am to stop Malema from taking us off the rails, I choose peace, as exemplified by the PA; we choose nonracialism; we choose a shared future with whites; we choose to build on who we have become after apartheid instead of engaging in reverse racism.
So Trollip will be going nowhere on Thursday. Malema and his mad ego might have allowed him to believe he is now leading the ANC. But he doesn’t lead the PA. And he certainly will not be leading Port Elizabeth come Good Friday if the Patriotic Alliance has anything to do with it.
President of the Patriotic Alliance
Gayton McKenzie

Tuesday, March 27, 2018

My Tribal Nature

South African unrest

I think I have finally understood the big picture of the land grab and race-hate of South Africa.  We came from a land divided by the colour of our skin to a place where we believed that we could live as a diverse nation, each group maintaining its own identity.

However, since 1994, far more race-based laws have been put into place to disenfranchise the minority and radical blacks doing what they can to make Africa for Africans only…even to the extent of calling for the killing of whites.
The land expropriation without compensation is the final coup de grace by the ANC government to totally remove their culture and traditions.  
People are tribal by nature and when threatened, they will pull together to ensure that their traditions and way of life is protected.  Tradition is not the worship of ashes; but the preservation of fire and for that reason, the Afrikaner/Boer will fight and give his life for.

The Mandela and FW de Klerk era is over – the honeymoon was brief.  The preparation for war has been long.  While we pray for peace, we will prepare for war.  I am not even Afrikaans but people are tribal by nature and their tribe is closer to mine than to the tribal behaviour of the likes of the ANC/SACP and EFF. 

Tuesday, March 6, 2018

I BARED MY CHEST 24 HOUR FACE-Book-A-THON

Hi Friends,
                               Join us for the launch of  I BARED MY CHEST 
JOIN THE PARTY 24 HOUR FACE-Book-A-THON. This is 24 hours of live continuous streaming with a new host every hour. I’m one of the 21 women authors of I BARED MY CHEST: 21 Unstoppable Women's Bold, Brave & Ballsy Journey to Personal FREEDOM. The book and audio is now available. BUT WAIT! Order on March 7 and help this amazing book become an Amazon #1 best seller. Many thanks. Check it out at www.ibaredmychest.com
First time ever 24 hour Facebook live - launch for revolutionary I BARED MY CHEST megabook!  Begins 7am EST March 7  
                  Go to:  https://www.facebook.com/thegoodradionetwork/
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READ THE WHOLE REVIEW FROM NEWSWIRE: "These brave, bold and ballsy authors seem determined to delight and lift the spirits of both male and female readers and create history with the book's live launch. After the Oscar weekend which will address the social issues plaguing the country, it seems that this will indeed be a week celebrating female empowerment all around the world. What is certain is that this book addresses universal topics and is an encouragement that all of us need in today's world, as everyone can benefit from being reminded that we have the freedom to be unstoppable.” https://newswire.net/newsroom/pr/00100455-21-unstoppable-women-to-make-history-on-international-women-s-day.html

Monday, February 26, 2018

I BARED MY CHEST

Make History with the authors of I Bared My Chest Anthology as they ring on International Women’s Day beginning at 7:00 Am est March 7 thru to 7:00 AM est March 8th, hosting  the FIRST EVER  24-hour LIVE stream video on the Good Media Network Facebook Page. They will be  Celebrating Women from around the World, and hosting their own Amazon Book Launch .
I Bared My Chest is available in Hard copy, Kindle and Audio-book- Narrated by the authors themselves; and offers over 22 hours of listening pleasure!
I Bared My Chest is also a first of its kind anthology, written by 21 women from 5 continents, diverse ethnicities, religions and sexual preferences...  Each of the 21 chapters covers LIFE, and the ladies reveal never before told SECRETS!   Some chapters rival 50 Shades of Grey and make it seem as tame as a kitten at play!.  The chapters are engrossing, inspirational and guaranteed to give the reader the opportunity of becoming free enough to be authentically who they are.   With over 700 pages to its credit, I BARED MY CHEST is rich , meaty and so satisfying, a delicious meal to be savored, guaranteed to delight and fill your spirit.  We are also raising one million dollars for charity – it is a good cause.
Join us in our celebration of women Everywhere and listen to the authors as they discuss and interview women they admire from around the World. Learn how they have overcome hurdles to accept and love who they really are; without masks while baring their naked truth.
MARK March 7th &   8th in your calendars right Now and help us become a Number 1 BEST SELLER..but Wait..Please don’t get your Copy of this incredible book UNTIL you hear us on the above  dates.  

Tune in to our 24-hour LIVE BROADCAST at https://m.facebook.com/thegoodradionetwork/   SEE YOU SOON!

Wednesday, January 3, 2018

A Right Royal Christams Fuck Up

What a fucked up Christmas and New Year I had.  I had been to see my prisoners on Saturday and had kept myself as well as possible, taking every precaution not to get some opportunistic disease.  On Sunday I was going to sing Christmas Carols in the St Augustine’s Cathedral and attend mass afterward.  On Christmas day I was going to spend the day with my darling friend/mother.  Everything was wrapped and ready.
I visited my prisoners and there was a draught so I asked one of them if I could use his orange jacket which he very gallantly put around my shoulders.  The wardens walked up and down and passed us a number of times and no one had a problem with it until one over-weight, bad assed female with cellulite oozing out of her uniform ordered me to remove the jacket at once.   I don’t know if that draught had anything to do with it.  We got home at noon and by 3 pm I was having rigours and my temperature was over 39.  I was a sick as an unwanted township dog.  The ambulance was called and I was taken immediately to ER.  The doctor did a chest X-ray and took some blood, put up a drip through my portacath (in my chest and directly into my heart) and we waited to see if the temperature would drop.  After a number of hours – it felt like most of the night, the doctor gave me a prescription for antibiotics and something to keep the temperature down and told me I could go home.  When I started seeing my cupboard door handles climbing up the cupboards, I started to become afraid and sent Patrick to fetch my mother.  What a night!  Shitting in the bed, having rigours and convulsions and seeing things that are impossible – pictures don’t swop places with themselves!  She is 85 this year and she nursed me and held me and cleaned me over and over, brought hot water bottles, fed me with warm tea and even with her buggered back, she was bent over me and holding me tight as I shook and convulsed.  
The next morning was the day before Christmas.  I was feeling like shit on a stick but determined to get to my mom for Christmas day.  The food had been prepared, the cakes baked and the tinsel was ready with the Christmas tree.  The phone rang and the lady on the other end of the line asked to speak to me.  She said, "Ms Lang, you were here at the ER last night and was seen by Dr Boesak.  He sent some of your blood away to be cultured.  The results are back and you are to immediately be admitted to the hospital.  Do not take your time, please come as soon as you can.  We are waiting for you".   Wow … then it was a mad scramble to pack some stuff together to get to the hospital.  I had septicemia.   That is when your blood becomes over-run with bacteria and puss is in your bloodstream.  At that point they did not know where it came from – more cultures had to be made before we could find the source of the problem, but Dr Stern, my physician was on duty and he decided to give me the most expensive and most potent antibiotic via my chemo port to run 9 hours a day.   I was isolated in a room on my own and was supposed to be barrier nursed so that the infection did not spread to others in the hospital.  Well, some nurses adhered to the barrier nursing and others did not give a damn.    
My first night was a nightmare – I was alone and could not find the bell to ask for help.  I had crapped all over myself and I had to clean myself up and put the sheet in one corner and use the top sheet and then it happened again, and again, and again … until I had used all the adult disposable nappies I had with me.  I was now in the shit literally.  I eventually found the bell and pressed it.  The nurse asked me what I wanted and I told her I needed linen as I had messed the bedding and all over myself.  She walked out and back in with linen draped over her arm.  She put it down on the chair and walked out.  I was still seeing strange things on the walls and doors, I was still having rigours and was so cold I thought I would die from the cold although I knew my temperature was back up to the 40’s.
And Christmas day arrived – my mom and my stepfather sat alone at their home with all the food prepared.  She could not come and visit me because she had a sore throat which could make my situation worse.  I don’t know what Patrick did although I know he was at the hospital.  I remember my son coming to see me and at least I remembered to say Happy Birthday to him.   But most of the day was just a blur that I cannot really remember.   I do remember the Xmas lunch.  It was pretty poor – four small carrots, five small potatoes the size of my thumb, a chicken drumstick and a piece of ham.  The pudding was … you guessed it.  Jelly.
On the 29th it was my physician’s last day at work as he was retiring so he discharged me with my drips so that I could do them myself at home.   They had now found the cause of the septicemia.  It was Enterobacteriaceae septicemia.    I can’t ever remember being so ill – knowing that it was my body lying there but at the same time looking at myself and wondering why I am still alive and how can anyone have to suffer like this.  Where was God in all this because all I did was pray over and over again – I prayed my moments, my minutes and my hours away.
I am still recuperating and still have spiking temperatures – so those positive thoughts of yours and your prayers are desperately needed.    I am chronically ill, but it is these acute infections that are going to be the end of me.  The doctors are quite blasé about it – they tell me quite openly that one of these infections are going to kill you one day.
I have not been on FB as most of you will have gathered by now.  I just don’t have the energy.  I have received lots of inbox messages, many the same with little variety – but it is the thought that counts.  I won’t be answering you all back – please accept this as my thanks and my wish for you too to have a good new year.
I will be back on FaceBook when I feel well again … or as well as my ‘normal’ is.