This is an exciting time to be a South African, I tell ye.
This is an exciting time to be a South African, I tell ye.
No sooner had I spent two days out of the country when someone SMSed me with the news that Bro T - you know the pipe-smoking, Internet-obsessed one ? - was receiving some below-the-belt punches from the shaven-headed, kanga-loving one. You know mos who I'm talking about.
Besides the excitement of the duel between the two political elephants of our times, things can get quite scary at the same time, hence I will refrain from mentioning people by name. In that way, I can at least deny I was referring to either of them.
I mean how many pipe-smoking men who love to trawl the Net do you know out there? A zillion of them, I hear you say.
And for the love of me, show me which red-blooded, virile man out there doesn't drool at the sight of a kanga, especially if it frames the body of a nubile woman.
But I digress.
The thing I really wanted to talk about is the sound of musical chairs that are starting to rattle as politicians, from cabinet ministers to lowly ward councillors, begin to reposition themselves in line with the possible winner of the Great Limpopo ANC conference.
With provincial results showing Mshini wam' in the lead, a whole lot of ANC bootlickers have started prostrating themselves before the one with the Big Gun.
Barely a week ago, they thought the Zuluboy was an ogre not to be trusted with the young daughters of his friends, let alone the sophisticated levers of a country as complex as our's.
The urbane, pipe-smoking, Yeats-quoting sophisticate currently at the helm could do no wrong.
And voila, a week later, the selfsame career politicians have done an about-turn. I used to believe that prostitution was the worst form of self-debasement, but this is worse.
But maybe I shouldn't be so fast in my condemnation. I mean, who wants to be stuck with a loser? Failure is contagious. It rubs off onto those who come in contact with you.
As I'm writing this, the carpetbaggers of South African politics are relearning the lyrics of U'leth 'u mshini wam line by line in preparation for the new regime declaring it a new national anthem.
Learn the lyrics, learn the chorus and each stanza, fellow compatriots, for in that song lies the economic survival of thee.
I can just imagine current sitting premiers who used to stoke the embers of the pipe-smoking one.
Your time is up. If I were you, I would loot the coffers of the treasury before my black ass is kicked out of office.
Playing musical chairs with elephantine elegance
This is an exciting time to be a South African, I tell ye.
This is an exciting time to be a South African, I tell ye.
No sooner had I spent two days out of the country when someone SMSed me with the news that Bro T - you know the pipe-smoking, Internet-obsessed one ? - was receiving some below-the-belt punches from the shaven-headed, kanga-loving one. You know mos who I'm talking about.
Besides the excitement of the duel between the two political elephants of our times, things can get quite scary at the same time, hence I will refrain from mentioning people by name. In that way, I can at least deny I was referring to either of them.
I mean how many pipe-smoking men who love to trawl the Net do you know out there? A zillion of them, I hear you say.
And for the love of me, show me which red-blooded, virile man out there doesn't drool at the sight of a kanga, especially if it frames the body of a nubile woman.
But I digress.
The thing I really wanted to talk about is the sound of musical chairs that are starting to rattle as politicians, from cabinet ministers to lowly ward councillors, begin to reposition themselves in line with the possible winner of the Great Limpopo ANC conference.
With provincial results showing Mshini wam' in the lead, a whole lot of ANC bootlickers have started prostrating themselves before the one with the Big Gun.
Barely a week ago, they thought the Zuluboy was an ogre not to be trusted with the young daughters of his friends, let alone the sophisticated levers of a country as complex as our's.
The urbane, pipe-smoking, Yeats-quoting sophisticate currently at the helm could do no wrong.
And voila, a week later, the selfsame career politicians have done an about-turn. I used to believe that prostitution was the worst form of self-debasement, but this is worse.
But maybe I shouldn't be so fast in my condemnation. I mean, who wants to be stuck with a loser? Failure is contagious. It rubs off onto those who come in contact with you.
As I'm writing this, the carpetbaggers of South African politics are relearning the lyrics of U'leth 'u mshini wam line by line in preparation for the new regime declaring it a new national anthem.
Learn the lyrics, learn the chorus and each stanza, fellow compatriots, for in that song lies the economic survival of thee.
I can just imagine current sitting premiers who used to stoke the embers of the pipe-smoking one.
Your time is up. If I were you, I would loot the coffers of the treasury before my black ass is kicked out of office.