More Short Boys And Rats

More Short Boys And Rats
Tuesday, June 6th, 2017

Dear Fellow South Africans

I thought we should take a break from the wearying and frustrating topic of what passes for politics in South Africa. Often it’s more like a very badly written farce that requires not just suspension, but jettisoning of disbelief. I will postpone my planned paean of praise for JZ until the next weekend. That is, assuming he is still around by then. I do hope that there will be some form of recognition from him or generous supporters in the Saxonwold environs (I choose Saxonwold at random) for my modest efforts to showcase his many talents and leadership skills. (I could do with some new Winter clothes).

Let us discuss a matter close to all our hearts, stomachs and wallets – money and how to make more of it. In these difficult times, with mansions in Dubai costing a kidney and a liver, sushi and KFC denting budgets and flights from Waterkloof gnawing into treasury funds, we all desperately need relief. This is aside from the comic relief provided by the likes of Kelly Finance Minister Des van Rooyen, ‘I coulda been a contender’ Hlaudi Motsoening, ‘Shebeen King’ Brian Molefe and others who entertain us so royally.

That is why I am grateful to a Mr Hadebe for his testimonial in one of our respected dailies, sharing how short boys deposited a substantial sum of money into his savings account, courtesy of one of the many philanthropist – doctors, professors and prophets brightening the lives of South Africans. For those South Africans not yet aware of how our economy really operates, let me recap from Short Boys And Rats. For a piddling investment of R200, one of the learned professionals mentioned earlier will dispatch a troop of short boys or rats to deliver eye-popping sums of money to you. Of course, the banks, economists, assorted capitalist running dogs, as well as the Illuminati would not have you know this, as their sole objective is to keep you chained in financial bondage. Thank goodness for our free press and the gallant professors and other professionals. It does not surprise me but still irks that none of these patriotic, economic warriors (I think ‘Freedom Fighters’ is already taken) have been appropriately recognized. Surely a couple of Nobel prizes would not be too much to ask.

Back to you, Mr Hadebe. I congratulate you on your wise choice of short boys, as this would cause less of a stir in the banking halls than a troop of rats. (There are unkind folk who aver that the banking business is already rat – infested). I tried to picture the scene as your short boys did the transaction. A teller notices that the next customer is standing rather far off, when a hand, seemingly out of nowhere, raps on her counter. She peers over to see a gentleman of somewhat different stature to most of her customers. (Please note that I choose my words carefully, as I am anxious to avoid scores of tweets, like those directed at Helen, demanding that I appear before the Human Rights Commission. I assume that short boys have the same rights as the rest of us. After all, we are governed by caring, righteous legislators). The teller is about to apologize for not having seen the gentleman when she notices a frown gathering on his stern features. Folklore has it that these gentlemen are rather sensitive about their unique stature. A tip for you, dear reader, as I am sure that there will be a deluge of requests for this service (thank you, again, Mr Hadebe). The polite response, according to an Afrikaans poem, goes something like: “Ek het jou doer van ver af gesien, van die blou berg vandaan” (I saw you from afar off, from the blue hill / mountain). The teller, being well trained, responds appropriately and the gentleman’s bushy brows relax into a smooth line. In a voice like Gwede Mantashe’s he proclaims: “We are here to make a deposit for Mr Hadebe, account number 03565665 to the sum of two hundred thousand rands and forty-five cents. I am Short Boy One and my colleagues are Short Boy 2 and Short Boy 3”. He points out two similarly statured gentlemen, also manfully wrestling with bulging briefcases.

Banking and making money have just become as much fun as watching Springbok rugby..oops, Proteas cricket. Dear reader, another tip: perhaps call ahead to your branch to prepare them, so as to avoid any embarrassing incidents. Mr Hadebe and the learned folk, I salute you. You are making a difference. Have you considered consulting with Mr Gigaba, our new finance minister? I think he would welcome all the help he can get.

Yours in the crusade for economic emancipation. Julius, you pinched our original name but all is forgiven and the invitation to martial arts lessons still stands (Open Letter to Julius Malema).

Richard

Days Of Our Lives

Days Of Our Lives
March 11th, 2020 by richardjmann

Like our noted philosopher, Dr Ace (honorary doctorate in philosophy from Turkish university with unpronounceable name - Dr Ace, not me), I contemplated life’s mysteries as I waited in the tranquil surrounds of Johannesburg’s Park Station. 
Which came first: the chicken - hearted politicians or the egg on our  national face ?  What are the origins of the expression ‘Rapio ergo sum - I loot therefore I am’? If a once-thriving African economy falls and no-one sees it fall, did it really fall? Did anyone ever bring Mr Zuma’s mshini?

These and other fundamental life questions rattled around my head as I patiently awaited my visitors bussing it from Durban. Time and distance are viewed slightly differently in South Africa. If a bus company says that the Durban bus will arrive in Johannesburg at 17H00, that means any time from 17H00 to 00H00. It could also mean precisely 17H00 but on any day other than the designated one. On this occasion, it was not entirely the fault of the bus company - just largely. The bus had been stopped at a weighbridge and the driver fined for overload. Now any bus company with an ounce of sense would know that people leave Durban heavier than when they arrived. It’s the bunny chows.
Luggage was transferred to another bus but no, said the weighbridge guru, it’s the passengers. I could have told them that. Some passengers were then transferred to another bus and then things turned bizarre. ‘I want them back,’ said the weighbridge person, as their new bus rapidly disappeared in the vast Gauteng spaces. Whatever for? To hold as court exhibits? To lecture on the importance of moderation when consuming bunnies? I had no idea that taking prisoners was part of a weighbridge person’s duties. I can see them at tea:

 ”How many did you get today?”
“Forty off the Penguin bus.”
  ”Want to throw them a biscuit?”
”Nah, let them suffer. That’ll teach them.”

‘Just now’ in South Africa can mean anything from the next five minutes to a day. Fortunately, ‘now now’ is more precise - anything from the next five minutes to the next hour. An ANC promise could be meant for this lifetime or the next (time is on their side, according to the prophecy by Jayzed). Distances receive the same generous treatment. In Johannesburg, I’ve been told that a place is within walking distance but not that it’s two days of walking. Five minutes for an Uber taxi has the kind of elasticity that allows it to stretch to half an hour - if you’re lucky.

I do have to go and will return just now to continue this conversation -  I promised a friend in inKandla that I would call him now now.

Tips for the blogger gratefully accepted 

Capitec Bank, South Africa  

1378565477

O Tichmann 

+27 833970723

First Appeal

First Appeal
Tuesday, March 17th, 2020

To the ten blog readers out there 

I know that this blog probably helps you sleep on insomnia nights. 

I have a book published on Kindle, that does the same job - faster. It’s called The Scuffle Continues. It costs about the same as what I’m told a JMPD (municipal traffic officers) facilitation fee costs, just four US dollars. Of course, I don’t believe that stuff about our City’s Finest. 

The book is excellent as a missile when someone annoys you. Also as a placemat. Oh, and you can read it too.My mugshot is perfect for scaring the kids into obedience. Oops, sorry. I forgot it’s electronic. You could throw your android.

If you buy my book, one or more of the following will happen to you within the next 4 565 days:

You will receive good news via Facebook and / or Twitter.
You will receive a promotion at work or somewhere else.
A tall, dark, handsome stranger will sweep you off your feet - probably a streetsweeper. It could also be a short, sallow-complexioned person, but hey, we can’t have it all all the  time, can we? (Unless you’re a VBS preferred customer or connected to our generous ruling elite).
You will win the lotto, sportstake and fahfee.
An invitation to China will arrive in the post.
Your immune system will resist the Corona virus, ebola and athlete’s foot.
I will graduate from magwinyas (Joburg’s oil-rich answer to the bagel) to toasted sandwiches.

I can assure you that at least one of the above is true.

This is my first gentle appeal. The second will have a delightful personal touch. Some very polite, stylishly dressed young men with Bronx/ Brooklyn/ Italian accents will pop in for tea. My friend, the Don, tells me that this business approach is generally well received and many customers are dead happy with it.
The first 10 000 readers to buy the book can join me for a refreshing libation at the Saxonworld Shebeen. Please bring proof of purchase, proof of residence, an affidavit of some sort and a testimonial from a trusted source (ruling out politicians and lawyers) or your parole officer.

So, in the words of Clint, please make my day.

Yours in the struggle to sell at least one damned copy.

Richard

Trump Card

Trump Card

Saturday, June 10th, 2017

Dear Mr Trump

Your nation has always been generous with aid to our continent, though I have heard that you have a slightly different approach. Be that as it may, I feel it my patriotic duty to reach across the oceans to offer you assistance in return, in these troubled times in your presidency.

Our own president is a survivalist whose breathtaking skills make Bear Gryllis look like a bumbling beginner. I have contacted him to request that he extend an invitation to you so that you can share ideas and tactics over a cup of rooibos and perhaps some ox tripe from the Inkandla herd. After all, you do have much in common with our beloved first citizen.

 Like him, you are surrounded on every side by envious souls who misunderstand and misinterpret your every action. You both have incredible foot-mouth coordination and have enlivened the deadly dull political arena with comedy routines that would have them on their feet in any theatre in the world. You are living proof of the truth of the saying that any American child can become president. He or she does not even need to grow up first. He is proof that any one – hit song and dance man / woman can become president in South Africa. Incidentally, I am delighted that you still use your signature phrase – ‘You’re fired’. In fact, I understand that you did so recently to a troublesome employee. 

Our chaps have learnt that political survival is about showbiz, smoke and mirrors. Such concepts as service delivery are the dry, dead – leaves stuff of the dreams of colonialist hangers-on (the reactionary swine). After all, what does it matter if I have no running water, when I can be royally entertained by JZ’s giggling moon dance through the political minefield or Brian’s dazzling deals that make the legend of the sale of London Bridge look like a grocery store transaction. 

We are considering replacing presidential elections with a political version of ‘Pop Idols’. You are both men of the people – if we can but track those people down. I could go on but let that suffice for now and to business.

How can we help you? An illustration, Mr Trump: I have a good friend, who, in his bachelor days was often caught in flagrante delicto by his girlfriend on her lightning visits. He would turn to me afterwards and utter these immortal words in a tone of injured innocence: “Why does she keep hurting herself this way. She knows that she will catch me with someone else if she turns up like this.” There is a deliciously bizarre, Martian logic to this. Our politicians have elevated this to Botticelli - like art. It translates something like: ‘How dare you catch me doing something wrong;. As you know, Mr Trump, righteous indignation is a highly effective weapon in political discourse. Our lot have discovered unrighteous indignation and deploy it like the B-2 of political debate. Our previous public protector was often a target of that sort of carpet bombing. This may explain the low profile of our current incumbent.

Our lot also have an arsenal of irresistible SAM missile – type phrases that are fired off with gay and straight abandon at any and every opportunity. These include ‘apartheid legacy, third force, unafrican, white monopoly capital’ and others, all of which can blow any attackers out of the sunny South African skies. Mr Trump, please feel free to use any of these. For you, we are happy to waive copyright rules. May I suggest some additional ones to ward off the vampires who suggest that Russia – how shall I put this delicately – gave you some useful encouragement during the elections. My own favourite would be: ‘Get real. What you get out of elections is what you Putin.’ I suggest that you work out some lively dance steps to tunes such as ‘That’s What Friends Are For’ and ‘With A Little Help From My Friends’. An old spiritual such as ‘Nobody Knows The Trouble I’ve Seen’ would probably go down a treat in some quarters. Our own president was carried into parliament on sound waves of his signature tune, ‘umShini Wami’. It will always be useful to explain difficult things away by referring to ‘Obama legacy’ or ‘Clinton legacy’. Works here. Just a note: the Russians have always been interested in helping other countries hold free and fair elections as we saw during the Soviet era. Bully for them, I say. Perhaps this is way some of our comrades still cling to their doctrine with such affection even though that particular comrades marathon ran its dreary course some time ago.

A brief digression before I sign off, sir. I caught you many years ago on  a business leadership telecast where you shared a memorable life lesson. It went along the lines that one should never forget an injury but pursue the offender until the score is paid in full. I may be the only person in the world who gets why you want to build that wall to keep out the neighbours. It’s for the Alamo, isn’t it?

I look forward to the intellectual, tactical and strategic discussions you will have with our own Socrates of a first citizen.

God bless America and her gallant ally, South Africa.

Yours in the pursuit of realpolitik.

Richard

Roving Reporter

Roving Reporter
Thursday, April 2nd, 2020

Dear Dr Ace

We need to meet with the utmost urgency. Until we do, please, whatever you do, do not put the Range Rovers to work in the fields.

I read a most peculiar and alarming news item to the effect that you signed for tractors, but, in fact, what was delivered, was a mini - fleet of Range Rovers. I have taken steps to verify this story but my contacts at The ever - reliable Daily Sun are stretched, with zombies, tokoloshes and witches apparently using our current troubles to maximize their mischief making. I am fully aware, awake and sensitive to how fake news is allegedly manufactured and manipulated by George Soros, the Stellenbosch Mafia, the Illuminati, the Rothschilds, Anton Rupert, the WMC press, various reactionary forces and their bots, trolls, running dogs and puppets. (I am, at present, looking into the activities of one Chester Missing, of whom I have heard much).

Sir, if this is true, then I believe it is as easily explained as the Pierneef painting saga (logically laid out in ‘The Big Picture’).

I will bring brochures, models, videos and, if possible, an actual working model from John Deere to help you clearly distinguish between tractors and Range Rovers.

Till then, sir, I must repeat my earlier warning. Range Rovers are hardy, versatile vehicles. They are popular worlwide and one often sees them in action movies, pursuing, pursued, blown apart by drones etc. One thing they cannot do is plough fields. Please do keep them locked up (or down) until we have had an opportunity to chat.

Yours in the struggle to acquire appropriate equipment and vehicles.

Richard

Helen's Troy

Helen’s Troy
Saturday, June 17th, 2017

Helen’s Troy

Dear Helen

Is it something about the name? I don’t think anyone was actually killed for you but your party lost some blood. Many swords were drawn and wielded far on the ringing plains of windy Cape Town. And beyond. Your opponents also had a wooden horse - your tweet. Really, Helen. That was like saying that home invasions have some benefits. One meets interesting, new people - with guns. It’s been said that righteous indignation is a weapon politicians love to use. Even the unrighteous wield it gleefully. Many of our worthy politicians live in the flimsiest of glass houses but they throw bricks with the best of them. You may not have launched a thousand ships but several times that many tweets. I did, however find some support for your contention that colonialism was not entirely without benefits. It was in the gloomy depths of the Germiston public library that I unearthed the diary of Sir Herbert Huddlefoot of the Fifth. I have quoted excerpts below.

Thursday, 15 January 1879

Pleasant afternoon over drinks with that government wallah, Smithers. Does go on a bit about the local help though. Complained about a fellow going off to a funeral. Would have understood if it was his own he said. Not saying he’d approve but wouldn’t mind so much. Never sure whether Smithers is joking or not. Says he was forced to have a fellow flogged for asking impertinent, seditious questions about wages. Chap expired. Rum business but the natives need a firm, guiding hand. Else they’ll be demanding something like some form of self – determination next. Heaven forbid, this is a crown possession.

Must say that life in the colony not without some benefits. Good weather, good sport. Grass a little coarse but still good for a chukka or two. Some of the colonials do a decent steak on an open fire. Can barely speak the language of Shakespeare though. One shudders. Clearly, Her Majesty’s beneficent rule will bring some decent education of a rudimentary sort. Fit them better for their place in the order of things.

Plenty of local labour for Her Majesty’s work here. After all, labour makes free. Just need some persuasion and a smidgeon of training. Take old Simeon. Couldn’t speak a word of English or write his own name. Mixes a good gin and tonic now. Benefits of benevolent British rule. Makes one glad to be an Englishman. Progress and Christianity to the farthest corners of the Empire. After all, God is an Englishman, isn’t He. Any fool reading the King James can see that.

Well, off tomorrow to quell that little rebellion. Firm hand, as i said. Must take my golf clubs. Can’t see the action lasting that long. No, afraid this one won’t be lighting up the pages of the history books. What’s the name of the wretched spot again – something like I Sandwana.

Dear Helen, from what I have seen and read, you are that rare species of politician, practical, effective, conscientious. You did do a sharp foot - mouth shuffle this time, though. Happens to the best of us. And the worst. Best to quietly remove the offending member, I think.

Yours in the struggle for political correctness.

Richard

Time Of Testing

Time of Testing
Friday, May 22nd, 2020

Dear Cabinet Ministers

Nothing like a crisis to hold a mirror up to society. Show virtue her own face etc.

As we are already testing widely, it should not be too difficult to slip in a few more revealing tests. These would probably confirm what we think we know; that Covid is but one threat, and not even the greatest one, to our survival as a nation.

For all councillors I suggest a variation on the ‘inkblot’ test. This would involve presenting the participants with a series of inkblots resembling food parcels. Their responses would determine who needs therapy and how urgently. Unkind people may say that we don’t have the facilities to cope with that South African pandemic.

Shop owners, subjected to similar tests, would be asked to name the first amount that springs to mind on being shown various brands of cigarettes. It would be interesting and revealing to see how far above 100% profit they are willing to soar.

On that sour note, by what bizarre twist of logic did you arrive at the notion that millions of smokers and drinkers would abstain at the stroke of a pen? The amount of scheming and plotting to lay hands on both makes the plotters in ‘Game Of Thrones’ look like bumbling beginners. Dear ministers, if you had set out to develop a brilliant campaign to promote those two products, you could not have done better. Mr Cele might be right about alcohol and crime but we’re certainly seeing a new wave of criminal activity. Ironic.

Dear ministers, you have lots on your minds, I’m sure, so let’s pause here - for now.

Yours in the struggle for rational, logical solutions.

Richard