Blowing In The Wind

Dear Dudu

You have been rather quiet. Those inspirational messages that you used to post, full of good cheer and serene benevolence towards all men, have not graced the twittersphere lately.

(Please note that 'men' is my pronoun for men, women, smaller persons and the undecided - all protocol observed, or something).

The Durban wind was howling like a demented soul last night. I don't know why, but it brought to mind your frequent. eloquent musings on Twitter.  I recall how you reached a record low, juxtaposing a picture of a well-known person against that of an ape. I assume that you were not sued because that was mean-spirited, low and vulgar enough to be considered truly beneath contempt.

So much better when you tweeted about family breakfasts with your excellent father. Heartwarming stuff. Good to read that you have stimulating discussions at the breakfast table. You mentioned one such about blowpipes or blowjobs - something along those lines. I assumed  that this is similar to archery but using older, indigenous weapons. Not having participated in or watched this particular sport, I consulted Dr Google. I was a little taken aback at what appeared. Also disappointed that Dr Google had no further information. This is perhaps a sport known only to a small group of enthusiasts?  Probably people with an interest in the weaponry of indigenous peoples  (tribes of the Amazon etc.).

I imagine that you have thrown your full support behind your father's efforts in his new role as chairperson of some acronym. The new job is probably as demanding as his previous one. What was it again? Oh, yes president and Excellency. This could explain why we've not seen tweets with the usual celebrations of dubious, obscure victories, paeans of praise for dubious, obscure persons or vitriolic, upper-case laden attacks on an assortment of foes. Please keep up the good work, whatever it is.

While I'm quite curious about the blowpipe / blowjob concept, I'm content that the 'answer is blowing in the wind'.

I wish you joy and satisfaction in your new-found interests.

Yours in the struggle to find fun, stimulating pastimes for the whole family.

Richard 

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O Tichmann 

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Hatman, The Dark Crusader

A shadow among the shadows, he surveyed the surviving streetlights from the balcony of his five star hotel room. Loadshedding had just ended.

What evil was being perpetrated even now down in those dark streets and alleyways? Rape, murder, robbery? No rest for a crusader. He fingered the brim of his fedora, one of his favourites, bought in a Grey Street store. No, now Dr Yusaf Dadoo Street. Yes, name changes  - the proud symbols of the peace  and prosperity that came with democracy and his Party. He flinched at a volley of gunshots from the street below. Well, he corrected himself, the peace and prosperity still to come.

More gunshots, running footsteps and yells drifted up to  him. Let the police handle it, he thought. He had a far more important mission on his hands. He remembered the mass rapes, the armed robberies, the assassinations... Always, he'd been on the scene. There were people calling for his head. Claiming that he was failing at his crime-fighting job. 

What did they know? There are only so many speeches that one man can make at the funerals of celebrities. Only so many exhausting business class flights that one man can take. Only so many hats that one man can wear. But he'd always been there at the post-crime scenes, dispensing wisdom, threats, wisecracks, promises. Oh, he'd done his part in the grim struggle against rampant, violent crime in South Africa. His flashes of wit, his homespun wisdom would be writ large in the annals of crime-fighting. 

Who could forget the revelations about tattoos, alcohol, zama zamas and pretty girls? The epiphany about population growth and crime? Dramatic clashes with insolent activists?

The wailing of police sirens broke into his reverie.  Hmm, an hour after the first shots. They were getting better.

He tugged at his hatbrim.

'Robbin', he called.

Robbin appeared silently, munching on a Streetwise Two.

'Get the Hatmobile. We've got an important speech to tavern owners to go to'

Robbin sped away, the sound of munching accompanying his quiet footsteps.

'Boy's getting fat', he thought. 'Too much KFC.'

He tilted his hat and squared his shoulders.

'The show must go on.'

The Daf.., oops, Dark Crusader glided away into the night.

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The Cele Conundrum

 Dear Mr Cele 

More people  = more crime. So obvious.

Why did we not pick this up earlier?Thank goodness for your beautiful mind.

Population growth, you pointed out, is a prime reason for your failu...., I mean, difficulties in the struggle against rampant crime. Ah, then China and India must be drowning in rape and murder, I thought. Not that simple, as you explained. China has a policeman on every corner, quoth you. That's a lot of corners and a helluva lot of coppers.

We do fall within the UN recommendation for police officer to citizens ratio. I suppose that's irrelevant though, when there's crime on every corner. Let's not talk about police quality  as I'm sure that our KFC-crunching officers compare with the best. Apart from that, the UN are not God, Ms Mbete once pointed out. It is interesting that we fare better than Mother Russia as regards the ratio. That's probably why their criminals are running amok internationally.

These nuggets from your thorough research and fertile, analytical mind will be invaluable to our police on the beat in some corners of the land. You will be pleased to know that a very experienced friend of mine agrees with you. He was being mugged for the fourth time when he asked his assailants why they were beating him when they already had his wallet. 

"Population growth, bruh", growled one of the villains, sinking a fist into his midsection.

"By golly", he thought, just before passing out. "Mr Cele was right".

And that was a comfort.

No doubt you will be in iinternational demand to lecture on the Cele Conundrum. I imagine that Joe Biden has already called:

"Mr Ramaposer, we'd love to have your Mr Sele over to lecture the FBI. By the way, those war games with the Reds....."

You've done your homework, sir. Alcohol, tattoos and now unprotected sex - the three horsemen of the near-collapse.

We now await your inevitably,  equally dazzling tactics and strategies to defeat the curse of crime.

Yours in the struggle against population growth-driven crime.

Richard   

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O Tichmann 

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Gum Control

Dear Mr Lesufi 

You have ascended from Ghostbuster- like hunting down of racists and racism at schools, to the dizzy heights of philosopher-premier. 

As is customary, promises trotted out like proud lipizzaners at their showground best. 

Then a celebrity was horribly assassinated. With the agility of a seasoned politician, without passing Begin, or collecting R200, you leapt to a solution to end all solutions. Gun control. This one must have flashed upon you like sheet lightning across the Gauteng skies. Sir, you made Einstein look somewhat pedestrian and Edison less than lightbulb bright.

Of course.  Let the law abiding citizens hand in their licensed guns and the murderous villains are sure to follow suit. How could they do otherwise? Mr Lesufi wishes it so. What a plan! Incandescent in its brilliance,  stunning in its simplicity. Why didn't I think of that? I feel so stupid.

So taken was I with the idea that it inhabited my dreams. I saw the brutal criminals beating their Ak 47s into ploughshares, lions and escaped tigers lying down with lambs. Angelic music  filled the air. I awoke with a smile on my lips, a song in my heart. 'To DreamThe Impossible Dream' I think it was. 

Sir, you take your place at the tables of the immortals in the Valhalla of Ideas To Remember. Before you, go the other greats: gigantic flag monuments, multi, multi-million rand sports sponsorships. All the MSAGA ideas (Make South Africa Great Again).

Had you been there at the right time, you could probably have prevented the second world war with similar, logical, practical insights. One imagines a shamefaced Adolf handing over his weapons:

"Entschuldigen Sie bitte. Es tut mir Leid."

Tweaking a line from a song: what would we do without your smart minds?

Yours in the struggle for gum control.

Richard 

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The People's Party Protests

 Dear EFF Comrades 

I read your righteously indignant statement regarding your treatment at the State Of The Nation Address. You alluded to (to put it delicately) a right bollocking by assorted security people.

I was, in the words of the Woke Ones, literally shaking. (I've tried figuratively shaking but it doesn't work that well). When I'd stopped shaking, with laughter, I tried to make some sense of it.

This incident  was  as distasteful  as the one in which a chap could be heard shouting, during  a Pan African parliamentary session:

".. I will f*ck you up outside, I will kill you outside, I will kill you..."

I can't remember who the fellow was. You might. From a practical perspective, is there any point in f...ing someone up first if the ultimate goal is to kill? Surely a wasteful expenditure of energy or some really dark, warped drive.

I also can't recall when parliament went into shebeen brawl mode. A friend says that it started when a specific party decided that decorum, rules and standards were not for them, the Supreme, Chosen Voice of the People.

He refused to elaborate (still wondering who). The problem, said he, is that the people's problems and suffering are now the stuff of juvenile posturing, clowning and jesting. He cited the infamous debate about the meaning of the word 'fokol' (of which, said party had extensive knowledge and experience).

 

"What they need",  he said, "Is a thorough sjambokking to concentrate the minds".

I was shocked. I reminded him about the respect due to parliament and parliamentarians, the need for restraint and constructive dialogue.

"In my considered opinion",  I added. "A light sjambokking would suffice."

Two questions for the Chosen Party Who May Do Whatever Pleases Them:

1. Once the line is crossed, where is the next line? Shootouts and lynching in parliament?

2. Should we ever become as angry with you as you are with much of humankind, does the same malleability of rules and standards apply?

A thought: should you ever rule....., sorry, fit of laugh..., I mean, coughing. Should you ever rule, when all that you have taught and shown people to do is skop, skiet and donner, then expect them to do no less during your reign. Ask those who go before.

Yours in the struggle for pow..., sorry peace, justice and prosperity.

Richard 

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O Tichmann 

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State Of Kakistan

 Dear Mr  President 

I did not watch your doubtlessly inspired and exciting state of the nation address. What could you possibly say about this major train wreck to persuade anyone with some sense that the train is still on track?

I went in for a different fictional series, on the telly at the same time. 'Kakistan Chronicles' is funnier than 'Yes Minister' and 'Yes Prime Minister'.  It does go over the top somewhat but you'll be used to that. It's a very dark comedy,  I recommend it, though you may be shocked at some of the all-too-familiar scenes and themes. It does come with a 'graphic, senseless violence and nonsensical language' warning.  

A very brief synopsis for your enjoyment. The country of Kakistan is blessed with scenic beauty and mineral wealth. The  most inept, corrupt and clueless clutch of politicians ever seen on one planet frolics around the country, 

Some priceless comic moments. A minister proposes erecting a hideously expensive peace monument in the midst of horrific unemployment and poverty. Another does an even more expensive sponsorship deal with a football club in another country. This is supposed to promote tourism. Unfortunately, ecoli and other nasties outnumber humans on the coast. Electricity flickers on and off like faulty neon. Yet another flies into Geneva but, like Clinton, denies intimate contact with Switzerland. There are many more uproariously funny moments but I shan't spoil the series for you, sir.

"Why doesn't he sack the whole bloody useless lot?" asks one of the characters in the series.

"No testicular fortitude", replies another.

"Hamlet syndrome", says another. "Walks around muttering 'To be or not to be' instead of doing something useful".

"Hamlet, at least, killed the crooked king in the end. This one would probably have kissed him".

Opposition politicians in the series fade into the background like extras. The exception is a firebrand revolutionary of sorts. He has some of the funniest lines in threats and insults. Also great dress sense. He spends a lot of time in the series marching his followers up and down, like the Noble Duke of York. With as much success.

As I said, sir, it's a little overwrought and sometimes challenges willing suspension of disbelief quite severely. Nothing like our gritty reality.

On that note, some tweets mocked Mr Malema for supposedly running away from the security people. Bloody agents spreading fake news, I'd say.  Mr Malema

once reportedly spoke of a revolutionary as a walking, killing machine. If he did indeed run away, it would only be to avoid the temptation to kill someone.

I left off watching the series at the point where the president, like you, was about to address the nation. That should be a hoot.

Yours in the struggle for inspiration.

Richard 

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Cool Your Spurs, SA Tourism

 Dear Mr Themba Khumalo

I understand your fierce defence of the brilliant Tottenham Hotspur  sponsorship idea. Some are dismissing it as an unnecessary extravagance. People don't understand the mesmerizing effect of tourism advertisements around the sports grounds. 

Recently, I was watching a brilliant Sharks winning try at  King's Park against a hopelessly outmatched Stormers side.

I was distracted by a stunning advertisement for a major bank. As in a trance, I immediately opened an account from my cellphone. (Had to close it later, as I had no money but I'm sure you get the point).

I imagine that similar scenes will be played out at Tottenham matches.

'Ere Ernie. Did you see what that stupid git of a referee just did?'

'Ang about Erbet. Just bookin meself a Kruger tour in South Africa.'

'Where's that then? Near Liverpool?'

'Africa, Erbet, Africa. Didn't you see that stunning advert? They got lions, elephants, tigers and them striped 'orses'.

'Brillo, mate! 'Ere, book us one too, 

while yere about it.'

The potential is staggering.

It's understandable that you were incensed at the person who leaked the plans to the media. 

That is a horrific thing, to disclose secret, sacred tourism plans. More serious than Don Trump storing top secret documents in his sock drawer. Next they'll be splashing our nuclear secrets all over social media.

It behooves you though, as acting tourism CEO (with top secret clearance), to handle these things calmly and with restraint. You apparently said that the leaker should be isolated. That's so pathetic. Whatever happened to good, old fashioned horsewhipping?  And public hanging? Next you'll be bowing to taxpayer pressure to disclose what you're doing with their taxes. Whatever for? Does Putin go around explaining himself? Or that Kim Something Rocket Boy?

You folks are getting disturbingly soft. Stalin would never have tolerated such nonsense.

What if Zimbabwe stole a march on us and sponsored Bayern-Munich? Those millions of tourists would be gawking at Mnangagwa's Zimbabwe ruins. Instead of enjoying candle lit dinners (and breakfasts and lunches) in our fine restaurants. Durban's pristine waters would be overlooked. Local criminals and foreign investors from neighbouring countries would miss opportunities.

Get those ads out there, sir. Let's have  those millions of soccer hoolig.., sorry, lovers, swarming over our borders, like the investors.

Yours in the struggle for stunningly innovative tourism initiatives.

Richard 

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Capitec Bank, South Africa  

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O Tichmann 

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