On the government's coat of arms should be a finger raised in the universal rude gesture.
Thursday, 20 February 2025
The Finger
Wednesday, 19 February 2025
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.
Thursday, 13 February 2025
Dudu or Death
Dear Honourable Dudu
Monday, 10 February 2025
The Unquiet American
An American called Jason Hinkle has popped out of the backwoods or swamps recently, probably sipping at a jar of moonshine, as he praises Julius Malema. Of course, if you were here, mate, your pampered ass (trying to use terms you'll understand) would be singing a different tune. Julius has interesting thoughts about you, based on your complexion.