“Who the cap fit, let them wear it, said I throw me corn, me no call no fowl”, Bob Marley said it best. But no, there must be a few old fowls who cannot and will not let the corn go to waste. I want to thank God, my mom and yes, that washed-up senior citizen politician whose sad and failed political aspirations, provokes, and gnaws at him daily. But don’t agree with me too fast because I am recognizing him with gratitude and excitement. The jokes came flooding into my horizontal brain so succinctly, that I couldn’t resist grabbing my packet of colourful paint brushes to create this mural of a response. Let me try one this more time, this is NOT a political jab.
Interpretation is a jacked-up situation! It’s like being in a boxing ring and before the bell signals the start of the fight, a punch has made contact with one’s head so severely, that the next minute, one is out like a light. The confusion that will exist will be nothing short of tottering intoxication. Now because I am backslidden and a trying-to-be-reformed Christian, I might be off with the referencing of the good book. But if my memory hasn’t begun to fail me, I believe that the bible speaks of being a man once and a child twice. Therefore, I am going to go out on a limb and say that this expired Politian is experiencing childlike interpretation issues at present. Afterall, he, being an SMC alumnus, would have patrimonially given him that proverbial unfair advantage. I was always under the impression that those who had the SMC and SJC marks would never lose their English interpretation abilities for the rest of their lives. Now hold up, all you SMC and SJC alumni don’t come for me because when I played house as a little girl, I attended SJC in my head. Please for jokes sake, just recognize the comedic banter for what it is, just that. Now back to interpretation, slash misinterpretation.
You see, our Fair Helen has become so malignantly infected with bias, indifference, deliberate misunderstanding, and brain deficient interpretation, that the metastasis is practically irreversible. We have created tables where intelligent and purpose-filled ideas and criticism cannot flourish. We now have only two limited and restricted categories of instruction. Everything inside of the belly of Helen is either political or personal. There is no room for anything of added value; criticism cannot be constructive, nor add moral enhancement, and it certainly cannot be to teach and to learn. We have created tables of subterfuge. Please note I said “WE”, both political parties included.
In my last piece I wanted to highlight some actions that left a lot to be desired by some big honchos. Nevertheless, if it was understood and correctly interpreted, blind readers would have seen the kudos which was also given to the actions of those in the same party who had chosen to concede and offer their congratulatory messages to the incoming party. I guess that small detail was not noticed because the Town Cryer used his jaundiced, lassie-eyes to read my words and pop-off at the mouth aimlessly. So, this time, I will point out two things that those with redeye can feel the burn from the eye-drops of criticism. Let us all wait with burning ears to hear the Town Cryer choke.
I was afraid and perturbed when one of the new female government entrants, the one from Choiseul, made some troubling remarks. She didn’t blink or think twice to let the people of Choiseul know that her opponent, although having beaten her at the poles, was going to be powerless, since her government had won. What a woman! But lo and behold, to my satisfaction, the current Prime Minister rode in on his new pony and slapped her with the order of submitting an immediate apology. Afterall, he did well to distance himself from that sort of foolish talk which was one of the deadly poisons drunk by his previous opponent, the B-doctrine. What a smart man and one who immediately exhibited Boss Moves. Actions that the last PM could not display for a minute, hence the reason why his subordinates were all over the Sah-van doing and saying what they wanted without reprimand, correction, or appraisal.
In addition, I was not happy when the host of “Can I Help You” decided to help us with the intricacies of one of the ex-minister’s uncle’s tomb. Afterall, family preferences and expressions of mourning their loved ones, are their personal prerogatives. These are the attacks we need to call out as foul. As a new minister with the word honourable before his name, he need not engage in that sort of low-blow, mud fight attacks. What is good for the goose, is always good for the gander. Because shortly before elections, he, that same helper was lamenting that some Guy had brought his deceased mother into his political nonsense. Therefore, if we’re speaking about respecting the dead, let us respect All of the dead. They know nothing and cannot defend their positions. Now, I wonder what is the current position of the Town Cryer after expressing my positions on these public sins?
I will say this, you see, old age should wear the crown of dignity and experience and not be clothed in the beggarly garments of want and acknowledgement. It is truly pitiful to hear someone who was a Black Power Fire Brand be reduced to a sycophantic, incoherent collector of crumbs from his political master’s table. Stunting and supporting entitlement and inequality. But alas, life’s like that. Thus have the mighty men fallen!!
And now, in the end, I decree and declare loudly that I Am an Operative!! I am an operative of an independent mind and spirit. Beholden to no earthly Master but my Jesus, yes, I too, do believe. I am therefore clothed in the rainbow colours of my independence. Shades of Red, Yellow, Green, Blue and every color in the pack. Don’t get me started on colours like olive and blue-black because I can make combinations until infinity. Therefore, take this response with love, I promise you, this again, was not a Political Jab. And now, I continue in my quiet space!!