Friday 16 October 2020

The Impossible Dream

Dear Mr Malema

 I slept the untroubled sleep of the just last night, knowing that you are on your way to Senekal. 

What a noble mission: to protect property, democracy, the constitution and anything else that needs protection Your sterling record speaks for itself. Who can forget your crusade against the purveyors of racist hair products? Who can forget Mr Shivambu, like a kindly uncle, lecturing that journalist on (I assume) democracy and dialectical materialism. I am still moved by the image of his hand gently resting on the man's neck. "You feel me?" were probably his concluding words. 

 The words from that Man Of La Mancha theme song come to mind. 'To fight for the right, without question or pause'. Except that you are fighting for the left, I think. Certainly, without question or pause. Or thought, said a friend. Sir, unlike the philosophers like Hamlet and Dr Ace, you are first and foremost a man of action. Rambo, Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin - they shoot from the hip - or the lip. So, I think, do you. Guadalcanal, Gallipoli and other names will forever echo in the spacious halls of history. Likewise, Clicks, Parliament, Senekal..... 

 I am at this moment so inspired that I must borrow from Blake's Jerusalem, lightly cannibalized (not the other one everyone is dancing to): 

 Bring me my bow of burning gold Bring me my arrows of desire
 Bring me my spear, o clouds unfold! 
Bring me my chariot of fire. 
I will not cease from mental fight, nor physical 
 Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand Till we have built Jerusalem In Mzansi's green and pleasant land. 

 Sir, I am overcome with nau...sorry...emotion. 

 Yours in the quest for the impossible dream. 

 Richard

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