Somizi can play with my jewels any day

Did you hear about the case of indecent assault opened against dancer, choreographer, singer and actor Somizi Mhlongo? This is the type of story with “Silwane Files material” written all over it.

The article reports that Somizi’s accuser approached him to ask for an autograph and Somizi “played” with the accuser’s private parts during this interaction. People close to me are always telling me that I have a tendency to worry about the wrong things and I might be playing into their hands here. But I’m really curious to know what the chronology of events was in this hand-to-gland contact situation. I find it difficult to believe that this is what happened;

Fondlee: Ohmygod! Somizi! Can I please have your autograph?
Fondler: [GRRRRR!]

I think that a conversation must have taken place between the fondler and fondlee that led to the willy rub. Oh, how I would have loved to have been a fly on Somizi’s petite little handbag and overheard the whole conversation … I think that the fondlee started it. Unless, of course, Somizi is a serial fondler — but we would know this about him by now, surely.

I wouldn’t want to be as presumptuous as to try to give advice to Somizi’s excellent legal counsel or anything, but I’d knock this case out in a few minutes. For starters, I’d argue that my client is a millionaire who doesn’t need to grab perfect strangers’ cojones to get off. He can afford to have any nuts he wishes to juggle any time he wants to.

I’d argue that, in fact, the man whose meaty bits were handled had actually asked for it. I’d get a credible witness to testify how the man had approached Somizi with licentious intentions and had, in fact, been the one who voluntarily placed his family jewels in Somizi’s hand, which had, at the time, just so happened to be perfectly cupped to receive this bundle of manhood.

The article describes how Somizi had been dressed in “a black bikers’ jacket, a lime top and tight-fitting jeans”. This is one of those times when I so wish I had a picture to go with the article. Try to stay with me here. If Somizi is … er, well-endowed, then I don’t think it’s an accident that his jeans were tight-fitting. I suspect that Somizi’s lawyer is ahead of me here. I don’t trust lawyers, the sneaky bastards. I think Somizi’s attorney plans to argue in a suitably shrill voice that his client had no reason to grab anyone’s gonads:

“My Lord, the defence wishes to enter my client’s genitals as Exhibit A and asks the question: Why would a man who packs that anaconda go around grabbing tapeworms?” (There is just something … little-peckered about a guy who takes a little bollocks-rubbing to court, I feel.)

This is the type of watertight logic that would elicit murmurs of agreement from the public gallery. The article doesn’t clarify where this crotch assault took place, but if it happened inside a nightclub, for instance, I think I could successfully argue that there were no lewd intentions at all in Somizi’s actions but that it was part of a new dance craze that he had started.

“If it pleases the court, My Lord, I’d like to enter into evidence Exhibit B; a live performance of the ‘rub-a-nut’ by my client on the court interpreter,” I’d scream in a shrill, high-pitched voice while pointing a finger at the court interpreter. When the interpreter inevitably refused, my voice would rise by a few octaves as I played the sexual-orientation card:

“This is exactly the type of bigotry that my client has to endure on a daily basis. My Lord, if my client cannot rub the interpreter, you must acquit him.”

OK, I may be slightly going off the deep end here, but this is actually quite serious business. No, really. Stop giggling. I have to assume that this guy is a heterosexual gentleman; otherwise the charge would probably be sexual harassment, wouldn’t it? There is a high level of homophobia-fuelled righteous indignation in that whole “indecent assault” charge, I feel. Somizi merely rubbed the man’s balls. What part of that is “indecent” and which part “assault”? Depends how vigorously he rub-a-nutted him, I guess.

Still, when I sniff at this whole sordid matter, I catch a whiff of the sulphuric scent of homophobia. Would this autograph seeker have complained if the nut-rubber had been the delicious Simphiwe Dana, for instance? I think there would not have been a court case here but an incredible, one-in-a-million one-night stand with a celebrity. If not, the victim of the cup-a-nad would have run back to his mates and shouted excitedly:

“PLEEEZE tell me you got that shot on your phone camera, dude!”

This makes me think about why it is that we are so homophobic. Don’t get me wrong and accuse me of saying Somizi has the right to go around grabbing people’s genitals. That’s just disgusting. I probably would have punched him in the snorkel if he’d pulled that crap with me. I’m a self-respecting Zulu man with a wife and kids, ferchrissakes. And I think that our president-in-waiting has been very clear on this point. You know, about what my people did with ancient male-on-male couplers back in the day. Plus, I have always felt that people can’t go around grabbing my crotch willy-nilly without invitation. I have perfected the art of doing just that by myself since I was 13, thankyouverymuch. But the question is: Would I punch Khanyi Dhlomo on the snot if she grabbed my nether regions? I’m not too certain that I would. I might even take showers with plastic boxers for a few weeks afterwards.

But this is not about me. This is about my suspicion that, as a heterosexual male collective, we are driven by more than just a hint of homophobia when it comes to these things. Most men I know get really upset when a gay man makes a pass at them. (“What is this *&*&%^ smoking? Do I look gay to you?”). Huh? Unless a man is an outrageous exhibitionist, gay men and straight men look about the same to me. I think gay men shouldn’t have to expend all that energy trying to figure out who’s gay and who’s not. I think they should be able to approach any guy and wink at him. Whoever is not interested should just pull their reject-the-guy-with-a-purple-dinosaur-at-an-intersection posture and with dismissive wave of hand: “Nah, I’m not interested in that type of coupling.”

It’s the same principle straight men use all the time. Women who are attracted to you look exactly the same as women who think you’re a lower life form than seaweed — until they open their mouths and tell you. That’s not for you to worry about. And, am I the only one who has heard the ridiculous “I don’t have a problem with gay people as long as they don’t interfere with me” line of reasoning? The thought behind this particular retarded thought is, of course, that gay people are perpetually on the prowl for straight men to “turn” gay. If this is something that seriously concerns you, then perhaps you have bigger problems than these gay-switchers who want to turn you. You might just be batting for the wrong team, to borrow from the homophobe’s lexicon.

I look forward to the day when we all learn to live and let live. There are so many more rational reasons to hate people. (For instance, I hate all people who call radio talk shows and start talking about: “I don’t care what colour the person is; black, white, brown, orange or blue.” Let’s get this straight. There are no orange and blue people, alright?! Say what you want to say and stop making up non-existent races.) See? Now, how difficult was that? Right now I have that lovely glow that can only come from veins popping in my forehead from hate-inspired rage. Allow me to pass da bong of hatred. Pheeeew!

Meanwhile, I can only keep on dreaming that we might, one day, learn to tolerate that with which we don’t agree (read as “don’t understand”). I’m going to start with the man in the mirror and ask him to change his ways. So, without further ado (drum roll please), the next time I see Somizi, I’ll ask him to fondle my ‘nads.

Some people reading this might, at this juncture, be wondering out loud what the point of all of this is. Perhaps I just wanted an excuse to poke fun at Somizi. Or maybe I’m just suffering from a serious bout of succession-battle exhaustion. Make up your own mind.

I look forward to all the comments and emails from people asking me if this is my way of coming out. I’ll particularly enjoy those. I also look forward to comments from my fellow irrational believers in God who seem to have a perplexing vested interest in other people’s choice of coupling.

I don’t remember if I ever publicly declared this before, but I fully intend to run for president in the year 2019. When I win, life will get quite uncomfortable for homophobes everywhere. The standard punishment for hate crimes against gay people will be 40 years in jail, being subjected to the rub-a-nut after every taxpayer-funded meal.

Wouldn’t you feel that your taxes were working for you under my presidency?

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