Where Have All The Taxes Gone?

To the tune of 'Where Have All The Flowers Gone?

'Where have all the taxes gone? Long time passing? 

Where have all the taxes gone? Long time ago? 

Where have all the taxes gone? 

To the struggle they have gone When will we ever learn? 

 When will we ever learn? 

 Where have all the heroes gone? Long time passing? 

Where have all the heroes gone? Long time ago? 

Where have all the heroes gone? Gone to cadres everyone  When will we ever learn? 

 When will we ever learn?

 Where have all the cadres gone? Long time passing? 

Where have all the cadres gone? Long time ago? 

Where have all the cadres gone? Gone to tenders everyone

 When will we ever learn?

 When will we ever learn? 

 Where have all the tenders gone? Long time passing?

 Where have all the tenders gone? Long time ago? 

Where have all the tenders gone? Gone to bling bling everyone 

 When will we ever learn? 

 When will we ever learn? 

 Where has all the bling bling gone? Long time passing? 

Where has all the bling bling gone? Long time ago? 

Where has all the bling bling gone? Hawks are asking everyone 

 When will we ever learn? 

 When will we ever learn? 

 Where have all the Guptas gone...

Taxing You

To the tune of Every Breath You Take: 

 Every cent you make, a percent we'll take 

 Everything you try, we'll be standing by

 We'll be taxing you 

 Everything you eat, every bit of meat 

 Every sip of beer and all your gear We'll be taxing you 

 Oh can't you see  

You belong to me 

 Cradle to the grave 

 You're a willing slave 

 Every claim you make, each expense you fake 

 Every chance you take, make no mistake 

 We'll be watching you 

 Since your first pay, 

 You have made our day 

 And a slice we'll take

 Till your cake we break

 Every cent you earn, every way you turn

 You've just got to learn, long as skies are blue

 That's what we do 

 We'll be taxing you 

 And we'll be your friend, to the very end 

 We've got debts to pay, tenders gone astray 

 We'll be taxing you

Dear Santa

Dear Santa

There are those who argue that you do not exist. The same was said of state capture and the gangster state. I am, therefore, hedging my bets. Keeping options open.

I understand that good behaviour is a prerequisite for service delivery. That's not how it works in our country. I think it all depends on where you live, which party runs the municipality and what summits of corruption and incompetence they have already scaled unscathed.

Nevertheless, to comply with your requirements, here's my report card. I believe that my behaviour has been exemplary by standards modelled on those of the politicians I emulate. I have been good throughout lockdown, maintaining social distancing from SARS, SAPS and other potentially risky contacts. I have receipts for all cigarettes purchased on the black market. No illegal liquor traversed my gullet. Just legally home - brewed stuff, incorporating pineapples, raisins and other healthy ingredients. All low-alcohol content. I think the blinding headaches were from stress occasioned by news reports.

If you can swing it, I'd like a small tender or a cadre-type appointment for Christmas. Preferably both. In any order. For the kids, some ANC and EFF action figures would be really nice. You know the type you squeeze and an interesting substance dribbles out, each time they squeak? I really like the kids' toys to be realistic. 

I do know that ANC action figures are rare but please try. 

 Yours in the quest for Christmas cheer.

 Richard

Tips for the blogger gratefully accepted 

Capitec Bank, South Africa  

1378565477

O Tichmann 

+27 833970723

Degrees Of Separation

Dear Mr Steenhuisen

 Now that you occupy a bottom - scorching seat at our national political table, it's important that we settle this matter. 

 You were once made fun of over post - matric qualifications. I too, suffered similar indignities. Worse, it was rumoured that the signatures on my matric certificate closely resembled my own elegant flourish. I am therefore in your corner, sir. I offer this advice. 

I ignored the juvenile stuff on social media. Girded up my loins, stiffened my upper lip and relevant sinews and paid the price. R500 for a first degree, purchased at the Germiston taxi rank. A further R1000 for a masters - on production of a first certificate, of course. Academic standards must be maintained. 

 Of course, success is sweetest purchased with blood, sweat, tears and other glandular secretions. I recommend our cutting edge solution (we cut the edges off long-winded texts). We have modelled our college on the highly successful version that produced scholars, poets, generals and other people of substance in happier times of old. One needed to answer only two questions in order to graduate. The examination was often conducted from horseback (I don't have a horse but can borrow a neighbour's bakkie). 

We have contracted the three year degree to six months. Why waste years in musty classrooms? The prime contribution of many 'educated' people on our continent has been to support demagogues, buffoons and thugs in speeding us down the excrement- coated slide to ruin. 

 Tuition fees? We accept EFTs but prefer brown envelopes and filled black garbage bags, in line with custom and practice. You will enjoy our Politics 101 course. Some of the modules: 

 Cultural Significance Of Braais And Food Parcels In Election Campaigns

 Power Of Populist Prattle 

Marching For Power And Profit

 The Concepts Of Elasticity, Fluidity And Malleability As Applied To Language And Conduct In South African Politics 

 State Capture Simplified 

 Some may question our approach to tertiary education. Let me point out that Newton made a significant discovery while happily munching on an apple and being clobbered by another. Archimedes did likewise in the midst of a relaxing bath. Our own former president spoke of the power of the shower. The pillars of a sound education are good nutrition and good hygiene. Let's not muddle and mystify simple basics. 

 We look forward to hearing from you. 

 Yours in the struggle for relevant education.

 Richard

Tips for the blogger gratefully accepted 

Capitec Bank, South Africa  

1378565477

O Tichmann 

+27 833970723

Radical Pillaging

Dear Crooked Politicians And Public Servants 

As Secretary General of TABA (Theft And Burglary Association), I write to you now more in sorrow than in anger. You ignored our heartfelt plea for moderation. To quote Kenneth Kaunda, we came in the spirit of give and take and now we come in the spirit of take (something to that effect). Those words will surely resonate with you. 

You have besmirched and brought into disrepute our noble profession. Our reputation and brand are in tatters. Putting the slightest spin on the words of the Danish prince: 'They clepe us hogs and with swinish phrase soil our addition'.

Not only do you rob rich, poor and utterly destitute indiscriminately but you indulge in the vilest of anti-competitive behaviour. We do not pretend to be anything but what we are: proud carriers of the traditions of Robin Of Locksley, Ned Kelly and other patron saints. You, hyenas in sheep's clothing, hide behind positions, titles and unsavoury alliances. You are also guilty of the worst form of insider trading, which we frown upon. Come out of the closet, we say. 

Even the mafia, whom we despise, have a code of honour. "Never was so much stolen from so many by so few", to quote some English chap. We have declared you a kind of South African ronin, bandits without boundaries (with apologies to the ronin, who had principles).

Let it be known that we have struck you off the roll of professional thieves and burglars. Further, expect correspondence from our legal counsel. A class action lawsuit wiil follow should you not cease and desist. And also stop your nonsense.

 Yours in disgust. 

 Peter Pompies

 Secretary General TABA

Tips for the blogger gratefully accepted 

Capitec Bank, South Africa  

1378565477

O Tichmann 

+27 833970723

Game Of Clowns

It was the worst of times, as was once written. Confusion and fear followed plague, battering the land like a fearsome winter storm. 

The Wildings, in disarray after the onslaught of the armies of King Ram Pozaar, were defiant still. Lord MacGushla, charged with treason, had chosen trial by combat and was still breathing fire and slaughter while protesting his innocence. Lord Nayous, his faithful companion, rode forth daily, clad in full armour, in a fearsome show of strength. Alongside marched his fiercely loyal troops. The land trembled for he was a fine, warlike figure of a man. No longer young in years, the warrior's heart beat yet within his breast. Upon the graves of his ancestors he swore that justice would prevail. 

In the marketplaces the word went forth that this alliance went after a new religion. A strange god named Welthanpower. Lord Zumair, in a fit of anger, left the courts of the king for his castle in the eastern hills. It was whispered abroad that the Night Watch were to lay siege to his castle. The nation held its breath.

 The legend of the White Walkers was again on many lips. But from the central plains poured forth a new army, the Red Walkers and they spread across the land like the flood. According to legend, Lord Malma, Commander In Chief, saw in a vision upon a mountain the future laid bare and spoke thus to his armies: "I have been to the mountain top and I have seen the promised land. And it is ours". Defeated at Castle Brackenfell, they cared nothing but uttered curses and threats against the Night Watch. As for Lord Chella, commander of the Night Watch, he held his peace and bade his men stand fast. 

And as allegiances crumbled and reformed and the very air turned cold with threats, oaths and curses, the people knew not which way to turn. 

Thus, in the southern lands, is played the Game Of Clowns.

Tips for the blogger gratefully accepted 

Capitec Bank, South Africa  

1378565477

O Tichmann 

+27 833970723

Close Encounters SA

Dear Fellow South Africans

 I am often plagued by ominous dreams peopled by Ground Forces, ANC luminaries, municipal councillors and other scary figures.

 Last night's was the mother of nightmares. I had had a nutritious fishcake supper and spent the day on some light reading by assorted ANC and EFF thinkers. I cannot attribute the dream to any disturbances to psyche or digestive system. 

 I was aboard an alien spacecraft in the sleek, aerodynamic shape of a Joburg street legwinya. A massive screen displayed images and video of South Africa. The aliens, pleasant enough in demeanour and appearance, were dressed in Star Trek type attire. A Ms Hofmeyr lookalike pressed a coke into my hand. "Have no fear, Earthling", she said. "We are on a fact finding mission and merely seek your help in confirming a few things". 

 I relaxed to the extent that one can relax on an alien spacecraft. Footage of potholes, speeding taxis and mounds of rubbish in downtown Joburg appeared. "This is your world class city?" I shifted uncomfortably and thought that I heard a suppressed snigger but aliens don't snigger ( I think). 

Crystal clear footage followed. Taxi operators were punching, kicking and slashing opponents. "Your cutting edge business model," she commented, with what might have been a smirk, except that aliens don't smirk either. 

 Footage of Brackenfell, Senekal and various EFF gatherings followed. "Some of these people are your legislators?" The aliens were leaning forward with inscrutable expressions and a strange gleam in their eyes. Footage of a punchup in parliament followed. "Ah, and here they are legislating", said the Ms Hofmeyr lookalike. This time, the chortling was unmistakable. 

 I covered my embarrassment as best I could while the footage switched to Mr Zuma dancing outside a courtroom, enjoying a hearty laugh in the house and striding from the commission venue. "You elected this man to lead. Hmm. A talented dancer. We can see why you elected him twice". The aliens nearest me had the good grace to try to look solemn but the rest had discarded any pretence. A Judge Zondo lookalike had tears streaming down his face as he rocked with laughter. 

 Oh, the horror. 

I was shown footage of parliamentary debates, failed projects, crumbling infrastructure and more. Several politicians were depicted, speaking against corruption and trundling out promises. All restraint forgotten, the aliens hooted and roared with laughter until I could stand it no more. Our various ethics and integrity bodies sent them into frightening paroxsyisms of mirth. 

Mercifully, we eventually hovered over a deserted Free State dairy farm. An alien resembling some actor I couldn't place, said "We'll be back" and I was deposited on good South African soil. 

 I earnestly plead for assistance from an expert dream interpreter and a good psychologist. Pro bono, of course. 

 Yours in the struggle against apocalyptic nightmares.

 Richard

Tips for the blogger gratefully accepted 

Capitec Bank, South Africa  

1378565477

O Tichmann 

+27 833970723