Most people have that secret fantasy, guys mainly I think, of jetting off to Las Vegas for a weekend of wild debauchery with a group of friends, like in the movie “The Hangover” , or spending time on a desert island with their favourite celebrity etc - thing is, they are wise enough to keep it to themselves, they know damn well that their girlfiends/husbands/wives would never allow such nonsense. They certainly wouldn’t dare call it a “plan”.
My point is; let’s call things as they really are: they are dreams and these kind of wild dreams as we know should remain just that, dreams, fantasy in any case is always better than reality - someone should tell this to the Pope of Acronyms, is it Trevor? Or that person with a mop of white hair simply known as “Minister in The President’s Office? the RDP (Reconstruction and Development Plan) should become the RDD (Reconstruction and Development Dream), the NGP (New Growth Plan) should become the NGD (New Growth Dream) and the NDP should become the NDD (New Development Dream), taking the “New” out of regurgitated ideas would also go quite a long way towards reality.
Earlier in the week I read the headline “Zuma Does Not Read” ,very untrue, though he battles with each word, Zuma reads, paying little attention to coma’s and full stops, he reads nonetheless. - it would have been more accurate to say ‘Zuma Reads Horribly and Only what He wants to read”.
So the young lady in front of me at the supermarket is thumbing through a gossip magazine, her eyes lingering slowly over a topless picture of the actor Zac Effron,, “ah what a shame, almost died from a drug overdose” she turns around and says to me, I take one look at the picture and say “Well, people with six-packs are most likely on drugs, so why the surprise?” jealousy starting to seep into every vein, another misleading story.
Back to the Presidency, it’s Monday morning, the huge swinging solid oak doors leading into the study-room in Pretoria are swung open: in it stands our President in front of a mirror fiddling with his cufflinks, the room is top to bottom real oak, rich and dark-wooded, gold-coated for each doorknob and handle, the carpet is red with a floral design, in the centre sits a big redwood table, on the table are scattered every newspaper you can think of, on a chair at the able sits that self same Minister I mentioned earlier, Minister in the Presidents Office. The morning’s sunbeam casts a golden glow through the window and half of the room., our President steals admiring glances of himself reflected in the mirror, he lets out a quiet giggle, the tailor from Lenasia kneels down on one knee taking measurements, five or six straight pins between his teeth - “What do the people say today?” he asks the Minister, the Minister’s usual reply being “Aah, the people are happy, the Republic and Every Minister is prospering my President” and today the Minister adds ..“ As for the E-tolls, the people simply love, love, love them, not a single dissenting murmur is to be heard in the Republic, rest assured my President”
“Very well, very well, says he President, at any rate, we will govern until Jesus returns” ..and with that the President strides into his waiting limousine, the traffic cops flash their lights and speed off into the distance…the driver asks.. “Spy tapes?” ‘oh! they are blank Ha! Ha! Ha! ” comes the reply.
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