The Truth About Mogotsi, Trump and the CIA

 Dear Mr Trump 

I am indignant, nay, angry, horrified, incandescent with rage at the alleged meddling of your CIA in our sovereign affairs.. In short I'm rather pissed off. 

The first hint of this alleged meddling... no, actually, as Paul Simon sang: 'all along there were incidents and accidents, hints and allegations'. 

One of the more recent indications that your fellows in dark suits have been at work in the Beloved Country was the accusation by Dr Ace Magashule that the CIA has been meddling in his political career.

 I scoffed at Dr Ace, thinking that he was using a 'the CIA ate my homework' type excuse.  I should have known better. After all, he has an honorary doctorate in philosophy from a Turkish university.  Philosophers are seekers after the truth,  Dr Ace, being one of the foremost philosophers in our country, or at least in the Free State, is hardly likely to lie.  Not the man who was awarded the sobriquet 'Acebestos',  for his experience and expertise with asbestos in buildings. 

All of this was brought to mind when Mr Brown Mogotsi give evidence at one of our many commissions of inquiry. He claims to have been working for the CIA. His behavior while giving evidence was very CIA-like: laughing into his jacket, casting sidelong glances around the room, giving off a furtive, secretive air and answering in roundabout generalities. He behaved very much like a spy, the sort of 'bloody agent' that Mr Malema once referred to.

Mr Mogotsi's ramblings were so weird and wonderful that they could well have been cooked in the same kitchen that produced the bizarre plot to destabilize Cuba by making Castro's beard fall out.

Now that I look back In anger, I see that it is quite conceivable that I too, was targeted. I believe that my many failures in business endeavours were because of CIA interference. The same applies to my failures in the field of romance. A very sweet lady in Texas dumped me soon after your inauguration, probably believing that I was dallying with the Democratic Party. She might have confused them with our own Democratic Alliance here in South Africa. Understandable, what with the donkey being the symbol for the democratic party and many of our politicians here behaving like asses.

My blood boils in similar fashion to the frogs that Mr Ramaphosa is said to be tending. More rapidly, of course (he is said to favour the long boiling game).

Mr Trump, I now call on you to cease and desist. Or, otherwise to stop completely. Do not force me to report you to our Human Rights Council who have been known to impose severe penalties on the corrupt, the thugs, the nouveau racists and others who have done enormous damage to our democracy. Examples are... oh, oh hang on.  I'll get back to you on that one. 

Failing that, I will bring a massive lawsuit against you and your wretched CIA, for sums far exceeding those normally paid to talented,  nubile actresses for private perfornances (that one just sprang into my mind - can't remember the context). I plan to engage the redoubtable Mr Dali Mpofu as my senior council. His success with lawsuits are the stuff of legend.... somewhere.

I expect to receive from you, in the very near future, a fulsome apology, together with an invitation (embossed, of course) to tour the White House and a few of your better known attractions. Unlike our Mr Cele, I generally deem it beneath me to accept 'freebies'. However, one might, in a show of magnanimity, demonstrating that we South Africans do not bear grudges, contemplate accepting such an offer, particularly if accompanied by some sort of per diem allowance (in US dollars), for expenses. Why should our president have all the fun with benjamins? We also do not send messages by drone to those who have offended us. You need have no fear on that score (we don't have  suitable drones anyway).

We do reserve the option to invade some small part of your country as a lesson and a warning. I'm thinkingTexas. Remember the Alamo.

Yours in solidarity, friendship and fraternal espionage.

Richard

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Holding our Heads and our Soup Bowls High

 It's good to know that our farsighted servants of the people in government have their priorities right. 

We have police officers, politicians, criminals and assorted fellow travellers scuttling away like startled sand crabs at the approach of General Mkhwanazi's footsteps. I imagine that private clinics are treating fingers scarred by furious, prolonged tapping, as emails and call records are wiped clean. The South African equivalent of Bill Clinton's "I never had sex with that woman (just shared a cigar)" reverberates in public and private places. The stench of corruption makes breathing difficult.

Other business goes on as usual: fraud and all its synonyms, gross incompetence and neglect wherever it is possible to practice the same and all that makes us the Land of the Free-for-all and the Home of the Bent. 

South Africans struggle, starve, sink into depression and despair, while heroes of The Struggle do their heroic stuff in parliament, SOE's and other traditional lairs of those who didn't struggle to be poor. 

Now, a Servant of the People could be forgiven for being distracted by these many horrors. But our lot, ears keenly attuned to the bugle call of duty, are not easily swayed. They are made of sterner stuff. It is vital to the wellbeing of every South African that we tweak the tail of the American eagle at every opportunity. I am, therefore, delighted that our government will not go running off to the US to do a G20 handover. What the hell! Let those arrogant Trumplodytes come here, if they dare. Even if it means sacrificing shopping and luxury hotel accommodation. We are nothing if not resolute. (A friend says that that is precisely why we are nothing).

So there, Mr Trump! We are not Nigeria to be trifled with. Don't think that we don't have a formidable army and air force. (We don't, but you don't have to think it). Our navy is fully prepared (not sure if that doesn't include at least one sub resting on the seabed, biding its time). We will not be bullied by the orange-haired One's USA. Crushed maybe, by tarrifs, restrictions and withdrawal of funding and trade agreements,  but bullied,  never!

We will hold our heads and soup bowls high, as we queue for chow and unemployment benefits. The Scuffle continues.

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Nifty Ways To Loot Your Country

Nifty Ways to Loot Your Country

Tune of 'Fifty Ways To Leave Your Lover 

The problem is all about your debt he said to me
The answer is easy if you connect politically
You didn't struggle to be poor but to be free
There are some nifty ways to loot your country

He said, “There's public money easily accrued
Furthermore, you can be sure
You won't be jailed or even sued
So I’ll repeat the theme
How to siphon off the cream

There are some nifty ways
To loot  your country
Nifty ways to loot your country ”
Keep the tenders on track, Jack
Bribe the main man, Stan
You can redeploy, Roy
Just get yourself free
Hop on the BEE bus, Gus
You don’t need to explain much
Join the ANC, Lee
And get yourself free
Keep the tenders on track, Jack
Bribe the main man, Stan
You can redeploy, Roy
Just get yourself free
Hop on the BEE bus, Gus
You don’t need to explain much
Join the ANC, Lee
And get yourself free

He said it grieves me so
To see you in a mess
But here's what you can do to guarantee success
I said, “I appreciate that
And would you please explain
About the nifty ways?”

He said why don't we be both just call some friends tonight
And in the morning I believe we'll have it all locked up tight
And then we called them and I realized he probably was right
About the nifty ways to loot your country
Nifty ways to loot your country

Keep the tenders on track, Jack
Bribe the main man, Stan
You can redeploy, Roy
Just get yourself free
Hop on the BEE bus, Gus
You don’t need to explain much
Join the ANC, Lee
And get yourself free
Keep the tenders on track, Jack
Bribe the main man, Stan
You can redeploy, Roy
Just get yourself free
Hop on the BEE bus, Gus
You don’t need to explain much
Join the ANC, Lee
And get yourself free

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Sick in South Africa

I took an 88 year old lady to one of the state hospitals that Mr Ramaphosa lauded in his Tintswalo state of the nation address.

The purpose of a hospital visit is to be treated by a medical practitioner - as soon as is humanly possible. Not so in South Africa.

We queued for receipts. Then we queued at the file issuing window for over an hour, invisible to the administrative staff who passed back and forth, some of them shuffling as if they had long lost the will to live. No-one spoke to us. No-one looked at us (perhaps some did look through us). All questions or complaints met with curt, 'why are you bothering me' type responses. Add to this the joys of being directed to some five different offices to no avail. An alien visitor, fresh off his starship, would observe a small, obviously upper class group of humans behind counters, lording it over a large group of peasant supplicants. No different from apartheid's  finest hour. The concept of service is clearly an archaic, colonialist bit of nonsense.

Of Ubuntu there was no sign. uBulongwe ( manure) and uBunja (look it up) were much in evidence. 

Many scams, many frauds, many evils are perpetrated in South Africa, often by those who swore to serve. This is one of the worst: the shameful way in which your parents, grandparents, elders are treated. It's an abomination hidden in plain view. You and I silently consent. 

Shame on you South Africa. Shame on you, ANC.

All of this must be laid at the door of leadership - from lowest ranking supervisor to the president of South Africa. 'Ah, but we are struggling with resources'. I worked once at a primary healthcare NGO (doing work that rightly belongs to provincial and national Healthcare). The NGO relied to a large extent on donors, in a continuous struggle for survival. Patients would bypass their nearest clinics to attend that particular clinic. Why? Service, of course.  Just two minor examples: 

All complaints by patients were examined at executive meetings and were followed up on until resolved.

Doctors, cleaners or anyone else who came across lost or bewildered patients accompanied them to where they needed to be - accompanied, not directed. 

That is the much mumbled about organisational culture in action. Many doctors, nurses and others who could have earned more in state institutions,  preferred working at the clinic. Interesting to speculate why.

I watched a video recently, extolling our riches in minerals, arable land, wildlife, scenic landscapes, diversity. All of these make us a nation and a country poised to make a mark on the world. All of these, the politicians, and in particular the ANC, have managed to gut and destroy.

The story, and perhaps the future, of a nation can be read  on the faces of its people in the crowds. Here, you will read frustration, helplessness, defeat. No thriving country was ever built on these. One imagines that bread queues in the Soviet Union and other workers' paradises wore that look.

South Africa, the answer is simple, if not necessarily easy. Lance the boil. Sever the gangrenous limbs. 

Here is a simple truth: as long as the incompetent, the corrupt, the clowns are mystifyingly elevated to leadership roles that they are manifestly unsuited for, we will languish in this swamp. As long as we lie to ourselves that it is fine and normal to tolerate indifference, laziness, corruption and incompetence, South Africans will wallow in drawn-out misery. For as long as we mistake tired clichès and worn-out slogans for truth and action, we will remain a doomed people, shuffling toward an inevitable going out, 'not with a bang, but with a whimper'.

It's up to you.

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The Struggle to Excel

 Dear Chris Excel

Your tweet:

'Coloured people are also included in BEE they benefit from  it … 

That “B” from BEE stands for “Black” 

Their problem is that they are desperately wanna be white and get white privileges and white don’t want them 

So they end up feeling like victims that are left behind …'

Oh, Chris, Chris. Does not the Book of Proverbs tell us that: 

'Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise: and he that shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of understanding.' 

And, in more recent times: 

Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and to remove all doubt.

I am embarrassed for you; such a reflux of ill-considered, ill-informed, ill- mannered, bilious stuff. Reading your outpouring is like watching a drunk heaving out his partially digested dinner on the pavement.

You do realize that your flatulent noises on social media say more about you than about those you seek to denigrate. Just as Kelloggs is the breakfast of champions, spite and hateful generalizations are the breakfast of bigots, losers, the immature and the foolish. Make your pick. 

Do you not have a life, Chris? Unfortunately, many will leap on the afterbirth of the misshapen child of your thoughts and tuck into it with gusto. As is customary in this land.

Do you know many people? I mean, in the way that transcends gossip and populist prattle? That is the starting point if you wish to make sense and contribute more than post-digestive waste to the discourse. Of course, if your fervent desire is to mud-wrestle in the pits of racism and mindless hatred, you can ignore that option. Don't Let truth get in the way of a glorious romp in the pigsty.

Surprisingly, there is infinite variety in any group of people. Even yours. To stereotype is the way of the lazy, the infantile and those with darker motives. Again, take your pick. Just remember Rwanda. Oh, and Nazi Germany, Bosnia and the many other fine examples where things began with a nudge and a whisper.

Unlike the Almighty, you cannot see into people's hearts. That one thing about people makes nonsense of every racist rant whispered in darkness or shouted on rooftops. 

Your piece would be insulting to those who poured out their lives trying to make South Africa a real country for people (indeed, insulting to all decent people anywhere), were it not that, like horse droppings, it needs to stepped over and paid no more attention.

Racists, the old, common or garden variety and the new breed, foam and spittle flecked populists, social media tub thumpers - they are all cheaper than a dime a dozen. There's a better, higher way, if we have the foresight and courage for it. You don't need to ask, because we all know. It's easily seen in whether you left the people and the places you spent time in / with / on just a little better or like a typical South African public park or toilet. Yet again, your choice.

I wish you well in the arduous, long march to maturity and a semblance of wisdom and in the struggle for something more enduring than fifteen minutes of dubious fame.

Richard

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When is Too Much Too Much?

Just days after Mr Ramaphosa's anaemic response to allegations of corruption and criminality run riot in the Police 'Services', with collusion from 'business people and Honourable Ones, this:

'DA condemns transfer of arrested, untrained Brigadier to head Moot Vispol, demands immediate reversal and proper suspension'

When is too much too much? What more must the gangrenous ANC do, before they are frogmarched out of office like the confidence trickster bums that they are?

'The Democratic Alliance strongly condemns the temporary transfer of a 29-year-old Brigadier who has never worn a SAPS uniform, never undergone formal police training, and is currently out on bail on serious corruption charges into the post of Head of Visible Policing (Vispol) for the Moot District in Pretoria.'

This would be beyond belief, beyond wildest imagination, beyond drug-induced hallucination, if this were not South Africa, land of the vilest possibilities.

Truly, this is George Orwell's 'Nineteen Eighty-Four' come to life in our country. What we say in every forum and in our media is as far removed from our reality as the sun is from the moon. 

Things have fallen apart. We are in crisis. We are in hell. The convicts run the institution without fear of consequence. The media play the game, floating woolly, fleecy news bites, while rampant crime, corruption, incompetence and buffoonery gnaw at the nation's jugular. Politicians sell their souls and their constituents for half an hour of fame plus salary slip. Never did Rome burn as fiercely to manic fiddle music.

The time for commissions, euphemisms, think tanks, national dialogues, oil and  glibness from fat, fleshy political lips and dried stalks of long discredited, failed ideologies, is long past. Where is the scalpel to sever the gangrenous limbs? Where the cold steel of handcuffs for those who have plundered, raped and betrayed? Now, before we perish.  Before we are poisoned for generations to come; when we will be spoken of as those whose foolishness, willful blindness and deafness destroyed a nation of much promise. Who danced between the crazed fiddlers and the fire. Whose short sightedness and meanness of spirit chose greed, grievance and revenge over the future of our nation.

The Brigadier in question was one of several senior Crime Intelligence members arrested just weeks ago on charges including fraud, corruption and abuse of SAPS secret service funds. SAPS management now claims this is a “temporary transfer” under the Disciplinary Regulations, which allow for redeployment if a member’s presence in their current post is untenable. But nothing in the regulations justifies failing to impose precautionary suspension, which exists specifically to protect investigations and institutional integrity in cases exactly like this.

That this even needs to be pointed out is evidence of how far we have fallen; how deep into the mud and slime we have sunk. Too long ago, we crossed the line that integrity and decency used to hold, guarded by consequences. So many lines that we have crossed, so difficult to recross them.

Appointing an untrained, operationally inexperienced officer to oversee front-line visible policing undermines public safety, the credibility of SAPS and the morale of honest, hardworking police officers who have earned their rank through service and merit. It also places ordinary constables and sergeants under the command of someone unfamiliar with the realities and risks of policing on the ground.

A low budget movie on shenanigans in a banana republic would not dare include such a scenario. It does not meet the abysmally low minimum requirements for cheap movie scriptwriting.  Yet it doesn't raise an eyebrow in South Africa anymore.

That the ANC must go in order for our country to be saved, is as axiomatic as a + b = a + b. Those who waste breath debating this issue, as plain as the curve on Mantashe's midriff, are still frozen in 'liberation' cryo-sleep. They need to be liberated.

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Tipping Point, South Africa

Dear Mr Ramaphosa 

Many express disappointment with your tepid, lacklustre response to a chilling warning of the catastrophe facing us, as we descend further into the hell of your party's making. 

I refer to the General Mkhwanazi saga. Just want to clear that up, as it's one of the many that have been coming thick and fast since you first made 'tepid' and 'lacklustre' your mantra.

You do not disappoint. You lost the capacity to do so many, many ineffectual responses ago. You merely weary, bore and nauseate, like a dose of some dreadful laxative, taken at dreary intervals.

You are the surgeon who, after being appropriately surprised, shocked and dismayed at the size and growth of the tumour, calls a commission of inquiry. Three months into the also wearying, boring, nauseating and, inevitably, ineffectual performance, the patient dies - having lingered on in agony all the while.

We understand that your team is not exactly composed of the brightest and the best that South Africa has to offer. Nor do they shine brightest in the firmament where integrity, honesty, reliability and the like dwell. That is common cause. The evidence is compelling. If you are unaware, scan the news of the past few years. You may even be shocked.

But, Mr President, leaders clean up such messes with alacrity. In the crudest terms, they fire the asses of those who are dragging us to the lowest level of the pit toilet that our country has become. Time and consequences are merciless, for countries, as for individuals. Ask Zimbabwe.

So, sir, you do not disappoint. You merely fulfill your own prophecy. As did so many ANC luminaries before you. You merely confirm, as if any further confirmation were needed, that you need to go. Without delay. We have a country to save. You and your comrades may continue your games of make believe and your good stories from your fantasy and fairy tale shelves. Please, get out of the way. Let those who have a care for South Africa and South Africans do what so urgently and desperately needs to be done. While you dream gently in the sun of deeds done in the struggle for liberty and the far more successful struggle for wealth, ease and power.

Yours in the struggle for sanity and clarity of sight.

Richard 

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Cops 'n Robbers

So our gallant men and women in beribboned, bemedalled blue are mired in allegations of corruption. No surprises there. There have been hints and allegations, (as Paul Simon sang), for decades. 

What is surprising is the silence of the sacrificial lambs, you and I, fellow South Africans. What is the point of democracy, when there is a sense of overwhelming powerlessness in the face of the worst excesses? 

Cancer cannot self-correct or reinvent itself, except as a more virulent, malignant version. It has to be cut out. Voters have the knife. But, to quote from that English bloke's 'Julius Caesar', if Caesar had stabbed their mothers, they would have done no less (than vote for the stabbers).

I think of two possible reasons for this bewildering phenomenon. One: the liberator halo shines strong and dazzling, despite the fact that the only liberating done of late has been the liberation of vast sums of money from public fund captivity. "Ag, shame, they suffered for us, in the struggle'. A bit like having your head held underwater by someone who swam to your rescue from drowning. Through a stream of bubbles, you mouth: "Ag, shame, he really tried to save me". 

The other reason may be phrased thus: "Don't disturb me while I'm eating".

Of course, General Mkhwanazi may not be aware of a massive, brilliant undercover operation, headed by the minister himself. Perhaps, once all the many, many villains, like sardines in the KZN sardine run, are gathered, the net will be closed. 'When?', you ask. Patience, my fellow citizens. You have already waited some thirty years. What's thirty years more?

"Dem Herren sind eine tausend Jahren Wie ein Tag,

Ihm ist ein Tag Wie Tausend Jahr".

(To God, a thousand years are like a day,

To him, a day is like a thousand years".

There, that's comforting, isn't it?

If there is substance to the allegations, then, to the opposition parties, we expect the usual feeble bleating in protest, but it would be nice if you:

'Do not go gentle into that vile night

Rage, rage, against the dying of the light'.

(Apologies, Dylan).

Some historian will probably say, years hence:

"This was their darkest hour". 

Good night, South Africa.

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The President and the Pesky DA

Dear Mr Ramaphosa 

Who says you don't have a backbone? Such bold, decisive action sacking that DA chap who couldn't wait a mere ten days for permission to go on a trip at own expense. I bet that people who flew to Zimbabwe at taxpayer expense on a Defence Force aircraft would have waited a month, if need be. Why, I've sometimes waited months for responses from various government departments. We've waited decades for proper government, while the current lot are faking it and far from making it. Oh, sorry, that's your....

Word on one of the streets has it that Mr Whitfield's redeployment to the streets has more to do with his journey into the foul swamp of questionable 'thath'amamillions'

dealings than his journey to the USA. I'm sure that you have addressed, or will address that with your usual frankness and your newfound boldness. At any rate, we all know that Lotto matters are handled with the same diligence and transparency that all ANC matters, from corruption scandals to SOE fiascos are handled. A few little scandals along the way notwithstanding.

You gave further proof of your vertebral fortitude when you bravely exonerated assorted vill..., pardon, people accused of despicable behaviour. Of course they are innocent until proven guilty. Going by the long running, seat-gripping Zuma saga, that should be in some thirty years' time. 

But, yes, we have far more pressing matters to attend to: dinners, meetings about meetings, a national dialogue costing some R700 million or more. We all look forward eagerly to the succulent fruits of said national dialogue: the end of unemployment, crime, corruption, incompetence and much more. One can almost hear celestial choirs singing joyously as we mumble and drone our way through trite restatement of the blindingly, glaringly obvious. In the absence of decent shelter for many, during winter, at least this brilliant initiative is bound to warm the cockles of their hearts. I do so love how you comrades prioritize the critical stuff.

Our media people are an interesting bunch. Sometimes they come across as a sort of informal opposition to the DA. The DA media briefing sometimes sounded like an ANC / EFF interrogation of the DA. There was very little focus on or reference to the ANC's contribution to the problem. Several times, questions that had already been answered were asked again, albeit using different wording. Our press continues to impress.

Well, sir, that showed those uppity DA people. And it shows us how much you care about South Africa.

Yours in the struggle against difficult coalition partners.

Richard

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Files and Mysteries of Modern Medicine

 Dear State Hospital CEOs, Minister of Health

I feel such a fool. I thought that the point of a hospital visit was to consult with a medical practitioner.

After many stimulating visits to one of your fine state hospitals, I am a wiser man. I now know that we (South Africa) lead the world in the discovery of the importance of files in modern medicine. Most of our considerable time waiting around in these cheerful surroundings is dedicated to the Great File Hunt. This is how it usually works:

At six am or earlier, you make your way into the great hall of files. The hall is already packed with eager people, hiding their optimism and joire de vivre behind blank, tired expressions. When the clerks arrive, you shuffle from seat to seat, until you have the great, good fortune to appear before a godlike clerk who hands you a receipt. This precious scrap of paper entitles you to join the queue for files. On a good day, the queue moves with agonizing slowness. On a bad day, the queues, (sometimes a second queue materializes), disintegrate and it's every man for himself. You hand in your scrap of paper.

Now, a truly exciting, tense passage of play. Names are called and the fortunate ones receive their bulky, shabby files in battered, brown covers. Exciting and tense because this questions flashes through one's mind:

"Will my file be found?"

 In this particular hospital, files are not the docile, obedient bundles that one may find elsewhere. Here, they are mischievous, cunning creatures that go into hiding almost daily. They probably wait for the moment that the clerks leave for the day, then jump to their devilish game of hide and seek. I have spent several fruitful hours, dashing between departments, trying to track files down. The mental and physical health benefits are probably enormous. 

On one occasion, a helpful clerk asked me for the date of the patient's last visit. As I take different patients to the hospital daily, I could not remember.

"You must remember the date", said the clerk sternly. 

I then saw clearly how all of this was my fault.  Dear patients, please avoid adding to the enormous stress burden of our harried hospital clerks. Theirs is a complex task, requiring great skill and nerves of stainless steel. This may well be why a smile never lurks anywhere near their lips. Also why they need to communicate in abrupt, hurried bursts. Perfectly understandable.

Know-it-alls may argue that there are far more efficient ways to store and share information. How dare they question processes that have been used for ages? And take ages to work through. This is the Great South African way of life that keeps armies of bureaucrats, clerks and others gainfully employed. And you and I on our toes. Who knows how those golden hours spent in queues and polishing seats with our bottoms might otherwise be wasted in the trivial business of making a living. 

Musk warned against artificial intelligence. In the good old days, files just lay wherever they'd been placed. Now, with AI, who knows what's going on once the humans have gone home. It's a devilishly complex business.

Of course, once you have your precious file, many more queues and hours may await you, but who cares? The critical first phase of your healing has been accomplished. 

The name of the hospital? I'm no fool. I don't want thousands of eager patients from far and wide descending on our model of efficiency and compassionate service. Nameless it shall remain.

There's a classic twist. I wrote this article while waiting in the pharmacy; blessed last stop before one gratefully departs the place of compassion and healing. I never seem to learn. It had been far too easy up to then. 

My patient noticed that some of his medication was missing. There was no script for that medication, said the pharmacist. After an exchange of several angry words, punctuated with nautical terms, we stumbled on the key to the medical mystery. On a previous visit, the patient's file had gone walkabout. A new file was put together. During the current visit, the 'old' file had magically reappeared. The script in question was in the 'new' file, which the clerks, bless their hearts, had not incorporated into the original file. Why should they? Why make things too easy for patients?

Yours in the struggle to marry modern technology with caring, compassionate service.

Richard 

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ATMAAV Thanks the ANC

Dear ANC 

As Secretary General of ATMAAV, (Association of Thieves, Murderers and Assorted Villains), I express our sincere thanks and appreciation for your enlightened initiatives in the sphere of legislation governing private security.

The Private Security Industry Regulation Amendment Act is a giant leap forward in addressing and redressing the wrongs and discrimination suffered by the historically disadvantaged criminal classes. The struggle continues, viva ANC, viva!

The  mandatory 51% South African Ownership regulation gives us, too, opportunity to gain a stake in an industry built on our blood, sweat and tears. For too long, foreigners have played a disproportionate role in an industry in which we have the requisite skills and experience.

I trust that, with his expanded ministerial powers,  the Minister of Police will deal firmly and swiftly with any attempts to exclude us from ownership participation. Do we not have a long history of shared interest in this sector of South African business activity? Some of our own people have worn the police uniform with pride. Regardless of what the Musks of this world may think or do, there is no stopping the great empowerment train.

The firearm usage restrictions have the potential to level the playing field very nicely (and may also give us the opportunity to level the opposition). It really is concerning that such firepower should be in the hands of private security operatives. The potential for abuse is enormous. Why, several of our members, innocently going about their normal business, have been injured, and worse. Do you have any idea what it's like having to explain to traumatized family how their loved ones came to such harm? Our only concern is that these restrictions do not go far enough. Surely a truncheon in the hands of the well - trained security officer should be deterrent enough. We would be fair, committing to leave our firearms in their safes, so that the game is evenly matched.

Yes, it is crucial that private security officers are at least as well trained as our highly skilled police officers. And are as effective. I trust that training will emphasize human rights, particularly those of suspects. One hopes that issues of stereotyping and discrimination will be addressed in great depth. Some of our professionals are still in therapy over gratuitous insults and name- calling. In short, we are comfortable with the enhanced training and accreditation requirements. We can't have any Tom, Dick and Harry blundering about, making our people's work even more difficult. Quality over quantity. We believe that there are far too many security companies and operatives swarming around the suburbs. The paranoia around crime is not healthy. Like some of my comrades in the enlightened political parties, I don't understand it.

We are also firmly behind the regulation of drone usage. Look at the havoc those things are wreaking in the Ukraine. We believe that we should keep our suburban skies safe and clear.

Once more, congratulations on your enlightened, progressive approach to the safety and security of South Africans.

Yours in the promotion of opportunity for all.

Richard 

Secretary General: Association of Thieves, Murderers and Assorted Villains (ATMAAV)

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ANC Excels

 I am outraged. 

I read that the ANC has been ranked as the 16th most corrupt organisation out of 7,000 worldwide. 

This is a travesty. Surely you belong in the top five, or at worst, top ten. 17th!  This has to be racism at play. How could they not top rank an organisation that cast off the yoke of oppression (though that bastard, Apartheid,  still rears his ugly blond head from time to time) and rose to achieve the following:

1. Misallocated, redeployed, wasted and looted trillions of rands that could have made a significant difference to the quality of life of all South Africans.

2. Failed dismally to deal with rogues, frauds, incompetents and thieves within the party.

3. Indeed, retained, promoted, transferred and otherwise rewarded so very many of the guilty.

4. Allowed corruption, incompetence, indifference, buffoonery to blossom and flourish in every sphere - wherever they lifted a leg and marked their territory 

5. And did so, so much more to transform South Africa 

Who else has turned bullshit into a sublime art form?  Who has conned millions into believing that being deceived, stolen from, lied to, manipulated, is good, liberating, revolutionary and should continue until Jesus returns. I use the word 'conned' innocently, as an abbreviation for 'convinced'. Once more, Africa sucks the dry hind tit. Once more we are denied our rightful place in the shadows. 

I think that the ANC, led by the redoubtable Ms Pandor, should take this matter up with the International Court of Justice. Perhaps Iran, (or some other friendly country equally motivated by a raging thirst for justice, world peace and the brotherhood of man), could help with the financing. I mention that only because I have heard that Iran is generous and well disposed towards us. No surprises there. We are both countries hard at work to right past wrongs committed against women and other historically disadvantaged persons. Kindred spirits you might call us, except in the matter of consumption of spirits.

South Africans will be delighted to know that, in the beloved country, are several other parties deserving of a place among the heroes of corruption, betrayal, lying and other black, oops, (sorry, SAHRC), colourful  political arts.

Here's a bit of 'he pushed me first' schoolboy nonsense between the DA and Action SA from X:

Action SA: "Lying is an art form with the DA.

The ANC today supported an ActionSA amendment to REMOVE the VAT hike and give South Africans income tax relief." 

DA:  "ActionSA has done a deal with the ANC to pass a 1% VAT hike over the next 2 years, making life more expensive.

The DA condemns this sell-out tactic by ActionSA, which has worked with the ANC to adopt the Budget and has condemned South Africans to a higher cost of living"

Is it any wonder that the opposition has been as effective as a perforated condom?

We are beyond the eleventh hour, on the way to failed state hell and the best our opposition parties can give us is "woof, woof, woof". 

"Under the spreading chestnut tree,

I sold you and you sold me"

George Orwell: Nineteen Eighty-Four.

Guys, the truth will out sooner rather than later. How you waste our time and hope.

I have to say that Herman Mashaba started out sounding like the kind of positive, forward - looking politician South Africa so badly needs. Lately, his bitter, victim - like bleatings have him sounding more EFF / ANC / MK than the old ActionSA. It's like watching a noble Tussaud wax work melt into a pathetic caricature.

But, to the point: well done, ANC, well done!

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Comedian Sues Political Parties

A stand-up comedian is suing a large number of politicians and political parties. They are, he accuses, unfairly drawing audiences away from stand-up comedy, using the most reprehensible, underhand tactics.

They are not members of the Entertainers' Guild. They have never paid a cent in membership dues. They perform under the guise of making political speeches. As there is no apparent charge (see the next sentence), the competition is grossly unfair to professional comedians. To make matters worse, they are heavily, no, entirely, subsidized by taxpayers. And they are packing in the eager, laughing crowds in stadiums and halls around the country.

He cited the  politicians' joke that there has been no expropriation without compensation to date and alarmists should stop exaggerating. One may give crack dealers automatic weapons, he said, but until they have been used, there is no cause for alarm. Besides, all that's required is an assurance that the weapons are only for recreational purposes  - shooting cans in the bush. That is a poor analogy -  insulting too. Crack dealers have very little integrity. But they do have a teeny bit. whereas the average South African politician.... Actually there are very few average South African politicians. The majority are well below average. Mostly a cadre of 30% graduates of real world politics. But our best and brightest comedians cannot compete with the material churned out by the shy but brilliant speech writers.

Talking of integrity, look at how Ms Baleka Mbete cracked up an international audience during her Al Jazeera interview. Who can top the piece about the politician who went from gaol to head up the party's integrity committee. The tags just kept flowing.

 "I don't believe he was guilty".

"The judge did, but then again, he's just a judge". 

In a sort of reverse Monopoly gambit, the gentleman went straight from gaol, bypassed 'Begin', and probably collected a bit  more than R200.

It's hard to beat the one about the discovery of hazenile in South Africa, announced at an international mining conference. The only deposits are to be found in an April Fool spoof article in a mining magazine. 

The 'Red Pig' helicopter story almost tops the Wakanda - like hazenile discovery. With the same level of care and attention to detail, it was announced from some government basement that a parliamentary group would be visiting an airforce base to inspect the Rooivark helicopter, a marvel of South African ingenuity. That one fairly crackled with wit and humour. While many maintain that it was a typing error or worse, I stubbornly and hopefully cling to the belief that South Africa quietly built a helicopter vastly superior to the Rooivalk. It would certainly give the grunts on the ground much reassurance.

When a performer starts his routine with something like  "The highly ethical and fastest-growing political Party in Africa, uMkhonto WeSizwe, under the magnificent leadership of His Excellency President Jacob Zuma...", he has the audience in the palm of his hand, while they simultaneously roll in the aisles like EFF politicians at a municipal or parliamentary punch up. By the time he gets to such gems as "The Moses of today, His Excellency President Jacob Zuma. Under divine leadership,  President Zuma continues to fight enemies here and abroad for the economic freedom of ordinary South Africans...",  the need for ambulances and medical practitioners has become urgent. Yes, I can see where the complainant is coming from. Who can hope to compete with the piercing wit, the immortal one - liners, punchlines that devastate like a George Foreman roundhouse? 

South Africans, why do you complain? Our bellies may not be full but where else in the world has a nation been fed such an extravagant buffet of belly laughs? And that, said our claimant, is but the top of the tip of the rapidly melting iceberg.

When the claim succeeds, said our man, moneys will go to a fund for struggling artists (as opposed to struggle artists, of whom we have a plentiful but seemingly useless abundance).

I believe that he has a strong - to - open - and- shut case.

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The Mar-a-Largo Candidate

Explaining what makes Vladimir Putin a cruel, vicious dictator is as redundant as explaining what makes Count Dracula a  vampire.

Nonetheless, some of my friends, (including a famous Honourable Daughter),  see him as the modern equivalent of the Great White Father Across the Sea. So, for them, here are a few subtle hints.

It is common cause that anyone brave or foolish enough to speak against the Frowning One quickly ends up in the place - where - one - does - not - pass - begin nor receive R200.

His political opponents seem to routinely end up in the same place, or dead, or all of the above. 

A small detail that seems to have escaped the attention of that philosopher - statesman, Donald Trump, is that Vladimir is the cruel aggressor and invader in the Ukraine Special Operation. 

He ticks all the duck detection boxes, as applied to bullies, tyrants and dictators.

He looks like one, talks like one, walks like one. Ergo, he is one.

Of course the proof of the pudding is, as always, in the eating and it would be enlightening for the Great White Father worshippers to spend some time in Russia and shoot their mouths off with gay abandon. 

If Russia is indeed the forerunner of the Brave New World, then many economic and political refugees have not noticed. They do not exactly crowd the ships and planes to get there.  Many people express the desire to move to the great Satan,  the USA. There may be some who would give anything to move to the Big Cabbage, Moscow. I have not come across anyone who does. Perhaps you have. 

What is wrong with Donald? What does Donald Trump see that makes him worship  at Putin's throne? It seems as if he would willingly burn down Ukraine to please Vladimir. On that note,  let's make a prediction, namely that given all the leeway, this bugger (Trump), will burn the whole world down. The world needs leaders with compassion, character, competence and cool heads. The USA has gone for gigantic ego, hot heads, dubious character and bluster. That's not exactly a recipe for healing chicken soup for the world. So back to the question of why Trump's heart beats rapidly at the thought of Putin. Some possibilities.

Perhaps Trump is not as smart as he's reputed to be. Or he may be street smart, which doesn't always mean wise. 

Could Putin have something on him? Did he perhaps have a meaningful relationship with, say, a Russian actress?

Does he simply admire the man because he's always wanted to be a dictator himself when he grows up?

Is there perhaps a Brokeback Mountain thing going on here in plain sight of the whole world?

Here's my theory in the form of a short story. 

A masseuse  in an up market, elegant  massage parlour leaves her client to disrobe in the cubicle while she makes an urgent call. 

"Comrade,  the orange - haired man is here. Shall I now use the special lotion that you gave me?"

"Excellent. Yes, go ahead". 

"Is it true, comrade, that the lotion will release nanobots through his skin". 

"Da, comrade. These will make their way to the relevant part of the brain and every time he hears the word 'Putin', he will go into the ecstasy that a spaniel goes into when the master shows up"

For Manchurian Candidate, substitute Mar-a-Largo Candidate. 

That very afternoon, Trump's secretary pops into his office.

"I'm done for the day, sir, and if it's okay with you, I'd like to put in an extra day's leave after Thanksgiving."

"Thank you Stella. Of course you may".

He pauses. A blankness, like a veil, falls over his face.  His eyes glaze over. He mutters the words "put in". 

"Are you alright sir?"

He gives himself a shake. 

"Yes, yes. I'm fine. You go off and enjoy yourself". 

As the secretary's footsteps echo down the corridor, he picks up his telephone.

"Vladimir", he says.  "What do you need me for? You know that I'm yours to command."

"Ah, Donald, my good and faithful friend," says the heavily accented voice at the other end. Yes, there is this thing with Ukraine...."

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Hello Darkness, My Old Friend

 Is Mr De Ruiter  back at Eskom? 

That's the only explanation for this new plunge into accustomed darkness. After all, if memory serves, the ANC and friends dubbed him the prince of darkness, blaming him for our power troubles. I recall Mr Mbalula calling him a racist and a 'right wing', both of which characteristics are bound to destroy any power utility. The 'right wing' thing put me off my favourite KFC offering for months.

And things were going so smoothly before the national elections. Cynical South Africans read all sorts of nasty things into the coincidental timing. Of course it's coincidental. These things happen. Have you not noticed an increase in acts of generosity, visibility and church attendance by politicians around election season? Just part of the mystical rhythm of life - like the seasons.

No sooner had we voted in municipal elections than the lights all went out in Massachusetts. A fitting metaphor, perhaps.  Now repeated after national elections. Could it be that the universe is  telling us something, fellow South Africans?

There's a more prosaic explanation, namely that  past performance is usually a reliable indicator for future performance. Ah, but we are slow to learn. So caught up are we in airy revolutions, gorging on racial hatred, resentment, the joys of victimhood and the other pastimes that make South Africa a 'green and pleasant land', that commonsense and the plain truth elude us. The ANC can neither do the barest basics expected of a government, nor just tell the truth about what the devil is really going on. Still, so many windmills to tilt at, so little time.

There is really only one revolution that matters. Liberation from the tyranny of group think,  useless slogans, clichès and the lies and manipulation that cover a multitude of politicians' sins. In the confessional, these would include:

Broken promises, 

Commitment to incompetence and buffoonery,

Lies by commission and omission, 

Corruption and winking at corruption,

A mystifying lack of humility that never acknowledges the failures, the lack of knowledge and / or ability that shine as brightly as the Durban sunshine,

Failure to lay out a vision and a strategy that South Africans can get behind,

Promoting division, resentment and racism,

And, as the advertisers say, there's more.

There's much careless talk of treason following Afriforum's activities in the United States.

But what about the list above? How's that for a concerted, diligent and already partially successful attempt to destroy the country?

Bend it any way you wish but a government that, over decades, cannot keep the lights on, nor address the issue coherently and intelligently is not worthy of the name.

But, vote on, dear fellow South Africans. That, too, is part of the mystical rhythm of life in the beloved country.

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Ramaphosa Goes to Washington

Encouraged by the  courteous, constructive discussions between Zelensky and the top men in Washington, Ramaphosa arrives at the Oval Office. 

Bouyed up by optimism, he wears a smile and has been careful to wear his best suit (out of respect for the sanctity of his surrounds). 

Trump: Welcome to Washington,  Mr Ramaposer. How was your voyage from South Sudan?

Ramaphosa: South Africa. And we flew.

Trump: That's what I meant.

Vance: South Sudan, South Africa. It's all Africa, isn't it?

Ramaphosa (frostily): Mr Vance, have you ever been to South Africa?

Vance: No, but I've watched YouTube videos. 

Trump: Mr Ramaposer, I'll be frank. We are unhappy about your attacks on the mighty dollar. You can't have it both ways: accepting our aid and attacking our currency.

Ramaphosa: That's not true. I personally kept billions of dollars under my....awkward pause.

Trump: We've given you billions in aid. Never once have you thanked us.

Ramaphosa: You've taken billions in gold, diamonds and other minerals from us and paid peanuts. Never once have you thanked us.

Trump: I don't like your tone, Mr Ramaposer.  You disrespect the Oval Office. (Wagging a finger). Don't bite the hand that feeds you.

Vance chimes in. And you didn't wipe your shoes properly when you came in.

Ramaphos: ,  I find your comments patronizing and I'm insulted by the racist undertones. Would you be speaking like this to a European head of state?

Trump: You should have seen the going over we gave Zelensky. 

 Trump and Vance exchange glances and chuckle.

Trump: I'm offended by the racism slur. Some of my best friends are African Americans -  and Mexicans. But you should be a lot more careful about the company you keep if you're serious about having a positive relationship with the great USA. 

Ramaphosa (Huffily): We are a sovereign state. We won't be dictated to about our relationships.

Trump, red in the face:  Sovereign state! You're nothing but a shi....

Trump's stabbing forefinger connects with Ramaphosa's eye, just as the latter leans forward to fire off an angry retort. Ramaphosa swats the finger away. A shoving match gets underway.

"How dare you assault POTUS in the Oval Office!" Vance yells, crossing himself.

Heads bump and, in a reflex action, Ramaphosa shoots out a left jab. Trump reels, then headbutts Ramaphosa. Both men fall to the floor, clutching their heads. Vance gets in a couple of kicks to Ramaphosa's ribs. Secret service agents run up, guns drawn.

Trump rises unsteadily, hands raised to still the pandemonium and get the agents to back off.

"Ha, ha. Just a bit of robust diplomacy,  folks",  he says, helping Ramaphosa to his feet. 

"Of course, you fake news people will blow this out of all proportion. Thank goodness for real news channels like Fox." 

Fox journalists nod vigorously while erasing some footage.

"If we world leaders can't be honest with one another, what's the world coming to? Eh, Ramaposer?"

Ramaphosa nods shakily, dusting himself off and adjusting his tie.

Trump: Well, that was a fruitful exchange, wasn't it? Now, Mr Ramaposer, about AGOA....

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The Finger

On the government's coat of arms should be a finger raised in the universal rude gesture. 

I brought an elderly lady from an old age home to the nearby state hospital. They call it a hospital but it looks like a squat in a thoroughly disreputable neighbourhood.

She spent an entire day, mostly waiting.  A specialist, due in the afternoon, had not arrived by 8pm. I asked a doctor to find out when this would happen, as I would have to wheel her back to the old age home in the dark, through unsafe streets. 

"She is coming," the doctor told me, supposedly having called the specialist.

He just didn't say which day, month or year. 

It is far better to give the finger to weary, dispirited patients, than to lie. Lying is clearly not covered by the Hippocratic oath. At 9 pm, it's decided that the patient should spend the night. That decision could have been made much earlier, if anyone gave a fig. Ah, but then we are just South African citizens, not ANC royalty, friends or family. 

The next morning, I roll up, confident that all has been done. How stupid I am. 2 pm on this second day and all that has been done for the patient is to make her sit and wait, in a twilight zone where all communication has died a painful death. Drawing out the misery is a uniquely South African service skill.  State departments have honed it to a fine art. I speak to two sets of medical practitioners. One, like a good South African politician, makes a promise, then disappears forever. The other reports back that the doctor will follow up. Now where did I hear that before?

This government poison has seeped into business as well. Not for the first time, I queued at the only Capitec ATM out of three, that was still functioning. As in a Monty Python movie, the dreaded 'Out of Service' message proudly flashed on at the exact moment that I stepped up. Capitec, it's a fascinating business model that you have, sticking a couple of dead ATMs next to the sole living one.

Netflix has playing an intriguing game with a friend of mine, kicking him out at delightfully irregular intervals. And Netflix blithely continues, seeing no need for apologies or explanations that make sense to a rational human being. 

We are drowning in execrable service. And gulping down the stuff as we go. Have you been allowing this to happen to you - monkey business as usual? You shouldn't.

I am sure that there are some fine, compassionate, competent people somewhere in the swamp that our country has become.

We just didn't meet them on this occasion.

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None So Blind

"The ANC parliamentary caucus has expressed its "strongest condemnation of the rampant fraud and corruption uncovered at Eskom". | @gerbjan.  Thus reported one of our news agencies, with a straight face.

ANC jokes are so tiresome. Marching against crime, pontificating about the basic human rights of people in other countries (to water, safety etc.), eternally self-correcting and self-renewing, creating mythical Tintswalos, seeing Apartheid, a sinister, Bigfoot - like creature,  in every fumble, blunder and self-inflicted disaster. 

If you are going to lie, try to be consistent. Your minister of darkness, very early on in his stellar dance-and-tell career, said that technology, not corruption, was at the root of Eskom's problems. De Ruiter was reviled for daring to suggest that something was rotten, not only in Eskom but in the upper echelon as well.

The ANC is not alone. The people ultimately responsible for the steaming mess at the bottom of our pit toilet are the voters. Imagine voting in the fox to guard the henhouse, year in and year out, blood and feathers on his grinning jaws. 

If reason and commonsense were allowed under our tattered border fence as readily as illegal immigrants are, the ANC, EFF, MK and their bedfellows (or fellow bedwetters) would have been discarded at the polls a long time ago. Show me one positive thing that these merchants of misery and mischief have done for South Africa. Show me one thing that they have touched that has not turned instantly to excrement. Show me what thirty years of ANC rule, many years of EFF prancing and yapping and MK's directionless dancing and singing have achieved for you, fellow South African. Our politicians love the word 'fokol'. One can see why.

If you ask me for proof of non-performance, incompetence, buffoonery and indifference, then you clearly have not read or watched the news for thirty years. You have gone about your daily business with eyes tight shut. I cannot help you, Rip van Winkle. Go back to sleep.

I write this at a state hospital. It's a drab, dingy place, the overall appearance and atmosphere better suited to one of the more notorious prisons. Walls and floors are cracked and peeling. 

Tired, bewildered patients shuffle from station to station, while staff shuffle papers endlessly. One would think that the business of this hospital is paper, not patients. Medical and clerical staff are generally brusque, sometimes impatient and sometimes seemingly angry at the world. 

"Go here. Go there," sums up most of the communication from the angels of mercy. A nurse set up a drip for the person I was accompanying.

"What happens next? Where do we go to?" I asked, trying to avoid the black hole of bewilderment that tends to follow each stage of treatment.

Her reply did wonders for my confidence in our medical practitioners:

"I don't know. I'm just following the doctor's orders." 

"We too," I said. "If we just knew what they were!"

And our jocular president spoke, during a State of the Nation Address, of a state hospital that was better than private hospitals. 

Again, if you're going to lie, try to steer clear of science fiction and fantasy. (I just mention this apropos of nothing).

"How dare you? Who are you to tell us how to vote? It's our democratic right!"

I know of a guy who, in a show of extremely foolish bravado, drank a bottle of vodka, neat and in almost one go. It killed him. But it was his democratic right.

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Dudu or Death

Dear Honourable Dudu 

Thanks to you, I now know what it takes to be an honourable member. That was a fine piece of oratory, your tweets advising Floyd to eff off. I now have full confidence that you will address repo rate issues with gusto and finesse. I can clearly see that your deployment to parliament was a wise choice indeed, based on the fine qualities that we sometimes get a glimpse of from your thought-provoking tweets. The latest, of course, being a particularly choice example.

Your transparency is commendable. We see the soiled laundry.

I do not know what led to the falling out. You must have been sorely provoked, as we all know what a model of restraint, forbearance and reason you are. Floyd must have done something really bad. He did once put a chokehold on an impertinent journalist, so nothing would surprise. 

There were outpouring of support for you both. The most heartwarming of them all came from Apostle Deza:

"We’re NOT Confused Nor Misled. We are fully behind Duduzile. It’s Dudu OR Death! 😭😭😭🙌🏾 #HandsOffDudu Hands Off ✊🏾

Apostle Deza"

Such a ring to that: "Dudu OR death!" It's the sort of ringing battle cry you'd expect to hear in an epic like 'Lord of the Rings' or 'The Charge of the Light Brigade'. I strongly suggest that you adopt it as an MK war cry. I bet it would scare the living daylights out of anyone foolish enough to oppose you.

I scrolled through the thoughtful comments on X, casting more light on this family disagreement. Dear reader, a stroll down this lane will show you how strongly grounded the MK Party is in principle and sound problem-solving and conflict handling skills. They will never be shaken.

'Floyd is a factionalist he tried that in the EFF and CIC Julius Malema ended it, Commander Dudu never be shaken by this useless SG

#HandsOffDudu'

'We are still not confused. We are protecting our Sister Duduzile Zuma Sambudla from the Man who singlehandedly collapsed the VBS Bank. The only bank owned by Africans.'

'VBS Fraud Floyd Shivambu is a problem - he's a sexist and a chauvinist.

#HandsOffDudu

Proud African'

'He did bites Julius Malema so many  times, fortunately Julius Malema is immune to snake 🐍 venom and he wanted to sell the EFF to Rupert and failed.

Today he's seen biting everyone who's disagree with him in the Mkp .

Unfortunately he touched the wrong one !

#HandsOffDudu

Kate'

'They Will Expel Me Tomorrow…It Is Well With My Soul

OKSALAYO FLOYD IS USELESS!!!

#WeSeeYou

Duduzile'

'What I know is that Comrade Dudu can't betray her Father. She discovered something about mahonisi evil plans.

Battalion 54'

It is a little confusing. Floyd was going to add great value to MK, with his sound ideology and superior logic, according to such expert commentators as the respected Kim Heller. What happened to the sweet nothings that used to pass between Dudu, Floyd and Julius? As I place great value on the analytical skills of the Comrade commentators above, I again come to the reluctant conclusion that Floyd did Something Bad.

It's also surprising that, after denials and indignation, some of the comrades are asserting quite openly that Floyd did Something Not Quite Right at the VBS Bank. Begs another question: why, then, did you welcome him like a long-lost brother at MK?

All a bit messy, but I'm confident that wise heads, of which there is clearly no shortage in the mighty MK Party, will prevail. Any fears that one may have are laid to rest by this tweet:

'MK Party is strong than ever my Lord, don't worry about The EFF gossiping lies about Brother Floyd and Dudu

Coastland 24'

Yes, the proof  that the MK Party is 'strong than ever', is self-evident in these exchanges. 

Dudu OR Death!

Yours in the struggle against sexists, chauvinists, factionalists and other counter- revolutionary types.

Richard

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