ihavewrites@yahoo.com

Hail Mastrofski, messiah

“The transformation has begun,” boasted the full-colour, full-page advertisement, paid for with my money and without my permission by the Ministry of National Insecurities.

Once again the nation is besieged with the promise of much from a minister who has delivered none.

We are being asked to believe that some theory, not yet tried here, would somehow remove the dead bodies that litter our roadsides, springing up like wildflowers. We are once again on an operation—a word my father always equated with a belly ache that produced diarrhoea.

Anaconda was deficient; its greatest success was in the off-shoot Anaculture executed (a good word to use here) by the Culture Ministry under Joan Yuille-Williams (a go-getter we ought to consider for national security minister—like the Government, I’m willing to try anything!).

We have had LEAP, but apparently we did not look before, and so, that fell into a deep chasm.

Advertising borrows the language of war—we wage campaigns, target audiences, etc, a principle which has somehow deceived Mr Joseph et al, as they employ advertisements and launches as principal weapons of warfare in our fight against crime.

Anaconda; fix-me-first; fix police first; the Giuliani crime plan; Eye in The Sky and now the mastermind, Mastrofski, touted as the ultimate solution to T&T’s crime ills.

I could see him now, riding on a foal as the people lay palm branches before him—Hail!

Meanwhile, the average person (read “I”), now lives under the threat of being kidnapped, robbed or raped, if you are lucky, since murder seems a wide open option for the deviant.

Daily gun killings and kidnappings scoff at the paucity of the offerings of our crime plans.

I am cynical, but I can be easily won over if Mr Joseph stumbles on some sincerity about the State’s inability to stem the tidal wave of crime.

Forget the PR; save the advertising dollar; I know how to forgive and start again...just say you do not know what you’re doing and see how much sympathy and support you could elicit.

Drumming up some debts…

The expression took a turn this week in Andhra Pradesh, India, when tax defaulters woke up to find that the city authorities hired drummers to play non-stop outside their homes.

They do not stop until you pay.

However, you will have an opportunity to be presented with an explanation when you hear the cacophony and open your door!

To me, that beats every “Advertisement for Whereabouts,” especially when the creditor already knows your whereabouts!

No H2Ope from Wasa

Wasa’s CEO receiving pipe and more pipe is of little significance in a week where so many were left without the H20 Flow.

Animal trivia

Hope you saw this one.

How do you turn a goat into a mule?

Make it swallow a handful of narcotics.

That’s what they found out in Iran last week, as several sheep and goats were found to be carrying drugs in their stomachs.

A two-story house

The first story is about the family that built the house and then migrated, leaving it empty for ten years.

Then the second family, story number two, bought it and renovated it before it burnt to the ground.

A two-storey house has two levels.

The Living dead

Seven people were killed before this gunman took his own life.

The shootings took place at a Sheraton Hotel during a meeting of the Living Church of God of North Carolina.

The gunman was a church member who obviously believed a day with the Lord was better than life!

Chickens in the SEAs

This Sesame Street song always got my attention, as a pig strummed and sang the words:

“Well there are chickens in the trees/ There are chickens in the trees/Won’t you listen to me please/There are chickens in the trees.”

And chickens have done strange things: we had a hen that crowed–once—after that my father said “bad omen” and we clucked all the way to the dining table.

Last week, parents decided to keep their “chickens” away from Belmont RC, except for those Standard Five boys who were writing the SEA exams.

The newspaper (No, not us!) did not “indentify” the author of the story, but we assume that it is someone of mixed heritage, ie, a bit of human mixed with too much KFC or an indentured servant without a national ID.

Cursing England

When this English city decides to return the Cursing Stone replica I can only hope that other cities would follow suit.

They blessed the cursed stone when they installed it, but many misfortunes followed and they are now doubtful about their investiture.

Take Cleopatra’s Needle sitting on the embankment of the River Thames in London for example.

Would they be kind enough to return it to Cleopatra’s people?

The history of this obelisk coming to London spanned almost 80 years and now it sits among other “pseudo Egyptian touches on the embankment.”

As well, while we are at it, can we regain the crown jewels?

We could facilitate the process by sending a list of raped countries to the Queen.

A gem

And do you know that Elizabeth is not expected to be among the 30 witnesses at her son’s Charles’ wedding to his Consort?

Fit, fat, flop

After declaring my poundage proudly, and advising friends to talk about my hair and not my weight, up come scientists to tell me that fat and fit is a formula for flop; that I could die faster than all the people who see my mass before my tress.

Ankrah Kankah

If Cheryl does not have the physique of a beauty queen, chastise the judges, don’t punish her!