Don’t Need No Water Let the Muthaf*cka Burn

Recently there’s been quite a big number of young men losing their balls in my neighbourhood that it has become quite a task to update the Lost Balls register which I have been managing since 2000. They are now getting loony by the minute. It has become like a mortuary in Baghdad, they no longer count the heads but the bodies – bloated and limbs missing.

The point behind this post is the number of boys going loony and later messing society up because they get wild and horny. First we thought it was due to illicit drugs – well we thought so even though we have used drugs ourselves and we are still sane enough to spot a mad man from a psychiatrist. So, finally after exhausting marijuana, valium, cocaine, heroin, ecstasy, alcohol, mushrooms, mandrax, smack and friends we decided to put the blame on witches. Yeah, the ones celebrated on Harry Porter.

Since we ceased vigilante activity our neighbourhood has become quite a hive of witchcraft activity. There are more witches per square kilometre than shebeens. People at Zone One have gone loony, same as Zone Two and MaGraskop. We are not even going to mention Bafaladi, Dichochwaneng, GaBhani, Thabakgolo, Colombia, Kingston, Madjembeni, Mathule, Mandela Village, RDP, Violetbank, GaRelane, GaBereta, Mphenyatsatsi and Masakeng.

The blame finally falls on the plethora of witches who are roaming our streets and skies at night without any anti-witchcraft spaceship gun attempting to bring them down. They have upgraded from using loaves of bread, which makes it tricky these days since Albany sells them sliced and have resorted to broom sticks, cellphones and pot lids.

Now we were having a chat and some guy said we need to initiate an impromptu witch-hunt at least four times a year. All of us go to Mbuzini in many buses to a mngoma (witchdoctor) who will pick the witches amongst us and we expel them from our environs and incinerate their covens. Some guy said we will not succeed in a court of law because witch-hunting is a crime.

I reasoned that we will argue that the aim of the witch-hunting is not to assassinate people’s characters but what we will be doing is basically – in computer language a virus scan. We are only running the scan to target Drive C (community) and scan for viruses (witches), Trojans (tokoloshes), worms (evil spirits) and other bugs (covens).

After our Mbuzini virus scan the mngoma will ask us what to do with the people who have been identified as lethal to society. The mngoma will give us options – DELETE (REMOVE AND INCINERATE A COVEN), QUARANTINE (CHASE FROM THE VILLAGE) and IGNORE (ACT LIKE THE POPE).

In our case we shall choose DELETE, and chase the motherf*ckers out of our hood. And we might burn the house and yell in the tradition of American protest “don’t want no water let the muthafucka burn”

All Hail The King



As you can see on our poll on the side bar most visitors of this blog have prophecied that the Afrikan National Congress will emerge as the winner in last week's elections. It was foregone the minute food parcels, old age pension and social grants entered the fray as electioneering fodder.

Quite frankly that was bad politicking. I obvioulsy wouldn't have loved it if some cocky campaigner came to my hypertensioned granny and told her that she would lose her pension if she didn't vote ANC because my granny has been getting pension even when the Boers were the bosses. So, before they were kicked out of power they came to my granny and told her that if she doesn't keep them in power they will take away the pension. 15-years later she's still here and they are in Orania. So, these stupid sods who intimidate our grannies with threats of lost pensions must think twice - someday my granny will still be here and they will be dead.

Okay, the reason behind this post is to congratulate Uncle Jacob Gedleyihlekisa Zuma as he prepares to ascend the hottest seat in South Afrikan politiks. It will be a seat hotter than Deborah Patta's one on 3rd Degree because he's going in almost alone. Some of those usual suspects who have every intention of uprooting the double header are remaining outside - you can count them, Tokyo Sexwale and Matthews Phosa. Come to think of Tokyo (the capital of Japan), who for a reason known to him and Mugabe does not want to use his other angelic name of Gabriel; he ran for president of the ANC against Thabo Mbeki and JZ and he now wants all of us to be convinced that he does not harbour presidential ambitions? Nigga please!

However from May 9th Uncle JZ will be the man in the West Wing, which made me feel pity for Uncle Kgalema when he was voting because not only was he voting the Double Head into office he was also voting himself out. And now the Nkandla Mafia (borrowed from Mail&Guardian) is coming. The machine gun is now fully in JZ's hands. And Aunt Helen (Zille) has retreated to her small Volkstaat called Wes Kaap where she will comfortably pee outside (oops, she's a woman she can't pee outside like some of us with Willies). Sorry Aunt.

May 9, is the day to diarise as all the supporters, including the Sopranos, Msholozi's own Biker Boys will be ushering him into Die Unie Gebou. And who said dreams can't come true? All Hail the King from Enkandla! Halala Msholozi Halala! Now let's deliver services and cut the bullshit.

National Scar Day? You must be Kidding

Some people just don't know how to f*ck and shut the f*ck up. They will be howling about it for the next six months, especially if the guy they screwed happens to appear frequently on television or in the newspapers. I will qualify my use of such crude language by telling you a very short interesting story (not a f*cking story).

Once upon a time in Mpumalanga was a girl that I liked. She was petite with that innocense that is dangerous when you are dealing with politicians. I use politicians because if someone can seduce 100 000 people, who the fuck do you think you are when left one-on-one with him in a room. He'll strip the kanga off your curvesous butt in a second and later plead culture.

So this girl that I liked happened to land a cushy job with a mayor - for real. She became his PA, which in some circles is defined as a sperm dish. So, if the mayor was going to China or Tibet she would be the chick arranging his meetings and stressing him and the driver of the cavalcade to rush to the next meeting. The thing about this girl was that she was not really as smart as some of the PAs I know. She was the type that would be charmed by a Butt Simpson tie on a Jeep shirt.

To cut a long story short - suspisions that the mayor was screwing started making rounds. You know when ghetto people want charges to stick on you they'll even use superglue on Teflon. So, this girl never really got to face a Truth Commission but she sold off the story in a conversation we had the other day. We were watching television in the corridor of some glitzy hotel waiting to be allocated our rooms. The show was from Reality TV and about scars. There was this sod who had scars all over he should have been nicknamed Scarbody, since calling him Scarface would have meant demeaning his trophies.

Then the PA chick just goes, 'you know, my boss also has so many scars on his lower back and belly which he says were inflicted when some assassins attempted to kill him five years ago. They are bloody scary'. You should have seen us suspisious beings exchanging glances and asking her what the occassion was? 'Uh-uh'. So we tried to help her out, 'Was it on National Scar Day whereby everybody shows somebody their scars?'. She looked at us with gross stupidity written all over her face.

It could have beena scoop for Riot Hlatswayo and Daily Sun but for us - well, we always knew the guy spend his cold nights stuck between those thighs, we just didn't know his body was an artwork - hahahaha.

Fare Thee Well, ex-Comrade Bob

One of the people I love to hate is Zimbabwean president Robert Mugabe. I hate him because his stubbornness has displaced millions of people. When a bird builds a nest it does so with the purpose of living in it, raising its offspring and one day dismantling it as it exodes for greener pastures. No bird ever builds a nest with the belief that some bigger bird will come and mess it up, let alone a human being coming to cut down the tree at which the nest is situated.

So, the reason why I dislike ex-Comrade Bob is that he caused the meltdown that has engulfed Zim for the past fourteen years. He has done so because he is power hungry. He needs all the power he can master to shrug off an investigation into the Gukurahundzvi of the 1980s whereby tens of thousands of isiNdebele speaking Zimbabweans were massacared for political expediency. Of course beloved Britain went on to confer a doctorate on Bob after that, showing that they don't give two farts about the lives of darkies.

But then I have also been wondering that; without the massacres that took place would the situation have been different? Like, would Mugabe have found it easy to hand over the reigns of power to someone more pragmatic? I hear from my intelligence sources that there's a dossier thicker than the one the NPA had on Jacob Zuma profiling the atrocities of the Mugabe regime and pinpointing the perpetrators in the Zim Central Intelligence Organisation, Zim Army, Police, Paramilitary and other security apparatus.

They say it's somewhere in Harare, waiting for the day the Mugabe jet flies out of Zim and never to return and then mass arrests will start. Of course the army generals will threaten a coup forgetting that it's the corporals who have to fight. The corporals, according to information I have, have lost appetite for violence. So, if Charles Taylor was never handed over to the ICJ by Nigeria two years ago, Uncle Bob would have retreated to Morningside (Sandton) and found asylum in the comfort of other dictators hiding in this leafy part of town.

Thus, before I tell you more politics than cornflakes here's a funny thought I had as I put on extra jerseys to combat the cold. What would happen if seasons were as stubborn as Mugabe? If when it's time for Summer to come Spring just decides to hang on a little bit longer and the rains pour down throught out the festive season? Wouldn't we complain? I guess we will. So, for my beloved-hated Uncle Robert, why can't he just act like Winter when Spring comes; just fade and allow others to show they can do better - maybe the same goes for the ANC - maybe not, hahaha!

PANDEMONIUM

Lora Croft and Xena

The truth is we are in the most interesting state of politics ever. 1994 election, history was made and no South African can forget that but this, this is the climax of politics. It depend how you take it, it’s either you laugh out loud or become sad about the state of our politics. For example, we’ve got a presidential candidate who trots under heavy cloud of corruption allegation, befriending convicted fraudsters, parties that have just been formed out of anger rather than principles, no less than six months claiming not only to win the election but to run the country successfully, with no reputation, history or strong leadership. Very comical, I mean, Christian parties claiming to run a country of so much cultural diversity and strong tradition in the name of Jesus; with minority white parties who reek of racism and failed dismally from the past election since 1994 but still think they can acquire some parliament seats, God forbid. We’ve got bishops running campaigns, political leaders seeking attention or spiritual intervention from churches; parties that lost their mission, vision and mandates but they still want to hold on in the name of struggle and history, how pathetic.

On that note I want to take off my hat for the ladies of politics on the fore front, Patricia De Lille of Independent Democrats and Helen Zille of Democratic Alliance. After I saw their fury on the nullification of Mr. Zuma’s charges and Mr. Shaik’s parole, I respected their involvement respectively. In an orgasmic confusion of political stature we are in these ladies in particular are up there stirring up the cauldron. They come like women super heroes, Lara Croft and Xena, in a male dominated industry, turning heads with their sense of style and fashion; making headlines by swimming with the sharks in terms of exposing and facing corruption leaders. Whether they are right or wrong it matters not the fact is, these ladies are braver than most of their male counterparts. I caught a glimpse of the two ladies on SABC prime time news, one in a blue classy made suit and the other in red, ganging up against the decision was made by the NPA. I smiled in solo when I watched them, thinking, it’s a pity they’ve got different political policies and views they can make a great team. How many of us remember that Mrs. Zille as an apartheid activist working for the Rand Daily Mail, she exposed the truth behind the death of Steve Biko and as for Patricia she was and still is in the investigation of the controversial arms deal that saw Mr. Yengeni charged and convicted. Don’t you just love it that inside this pandemonium of, Julius Malema, Zwezima Vavi, Leonard McCarthy, Bulelani Ngcuka, Jackie Selebi, Jecob Zuma, Bantu Holomisa, Shilowa and Lekota we have these two lovely, although controversial, ladies that brace politics with grace, dignity and confidence. We need more like them in Mzansi.

Lehlogonolo

The Man of The Easter Moment

What does Jesus, Tupac and Emenem have in common?

They have all said the word BITCH. Yes, even Christ himself said it. One day a woman, in the book of Matthew 15:26 (American Standard Version), went to him, asking for him to heal her daughter.

21 And Jesus went out thence, and withdrew into the parts of Tyre and Sidon.

22 And behold, a Canaanitish woman came out from those borders, and cried, saying, Have mercy on me, O Lord, thou son of David; my daughter is grievously vexed with a demon.

23 But he answered her not a word. And his disciples came and besought him, saying, Send her away; for she crieth after us.

24 But he answered and said, I was not sent but unto the lost sheep of the house of Israel.

25 But she came and worshipped him, saying, Lord, help me.

26 And he answered and said, It is not meet to take the children's bread and cast it to the dogs.

27 But she said, Yea, Lord: for even the dogs eat of the crumbs which fall from their masters' table.

28 Then Jesus answered and said unto her, O woman, great is thy faith: be it done unto thee even as thou wilt. And her daughter was healed from that hour.

Yeah, folk, Jesus was referring to the woman and her sick daughter as dogs. Now, if I should qualify my English A symbol, I remember being taught in primary that a female dog is actually called a bitch. So, in proper English, Jesus was saying “It is not meet to take the children's bread and cast it to the bitches. But she said, Yea, Lord: for even the bitches eat of the crumbs which fall from their masters' table.”

So, yeah, that's your lesson for this Easter, or am I wrong teacher?

Check Mate - JZ vs Mbeki - Round One

Everybody has been on JZ’s case since he caught his but I think I should actually come to the defence of uGedleyihlekisa’s demeanor. See, I met Umsholozi once and his nemesis Thabo Mbeki twice.

The first time I met Mbeki was in 1999 and he was in a good mood until some people booed then Limpopo premier Ngoako Ramatlhodi and agitated Mbeki. He drifted from protocol, grabbed the mike from Collins Chabane and went on to address us in isiXhosa -exclusively. He was very angry and shaken (not stirred) and not yet a president but deputizing Nelson Mandela. JZ was still in KZN borrowing money from Shabir Shaik.

Then I met JZ in 2006 prior to Polokwane when he was no longer president of the country but a Trojan Horse of the ANC. He exuded warmth even though he never afforded us an interview, just like his nemesis. He came with a huge entourage of bodyguards and yes-men. He however sang his customary song which this blog is named after.

Then I met Mbeki again two years ago before Polokwane. It was two months before the policy conference and he was stressed, even looking older than 62. He exuded warmth but also didn’t want to speak to the media.

These were two men who played their cards close to their chests since they knew what is it they were going to be asked. The stakes were high. These were two men fighting a war through phone tapping and sending skanks to drop it (kanga) like it’s hot and later assassinate each’s characters. These were two men answering to no one but their own dark demons, one allegedly using the NPA to fight his proxy war while the other used the NIA. These were two men playing a mental chess game that only them understood, a game that ended with a check-mate on April 6.

However the Msholozi who spoke to journalists at a Durban hotel after the charges were finally withdrawn was different from the charismatic Msholozi I met three years ago at the same venue that I met Mbeki. It was a rather relaxed, however cocky JZ. He had this don’t-give-a-damn attitude about him. He was no longer the ‘truly’ smiling warm Zuma who can charm an HIV positive woman out of a kanga. It saw a JZ driven by covert revenge and all-out retribution, a JZ who was playing his cards very close to his chest.

Zulu king Shaka adviced his amabutho ‘never to leave an enemy behind’ and ‘the child of a snake is a snake’. I doubt if JZ was sincere or just selling us a dummy – which we didn’t buy.

Say What........

Kanti vele this your boi JZ is getting away with it huh??

The DA leader was spitting fire this morning on Morning Live.......

Democrats Emeritus

Guys I've done did it. Yesterday I wrote a 2500-word short story about the events surrounding African National Congress (ANC) president Jacob Zuma since 2002. It's a crazy short story about a place called Rainbow Republic. There's a character named Constitution, who serves as a supporting actor in the belly of revolution. It's about two democrats, comrade bred by the same revolution – a revolution to stay on board of the speeding gravy train.

The story came as an idea I thought should be sold to one of the starving novelists in our country, but something struck me. I don't have to wait for nobody. I had to write it on a 2 and a half hour trip home. By the time I got home, there was the story.

I have deliberately left out many descriptive details for the sake of failing avoiding having to live up to the Jeffery Archer stature in fictitious literature. However, believe you me the storyline will blow your mind.

Democrats Emeritus

(In the belly of revolution, a short story by Tshwarelo eseng Mogakane)

Soon to hit your blog!

Are you Hustling or Unemployed?

Recently I have observed a very worrying trend amongst Black youth. They go to school, drop out or pass, come back and register a Close Corporation, fill supplier database forms and then buy newspapers everyday searching for small-time jobs that they can do for government departments. Then a year goes by and they ain’t getting no jobs. The following year it’s the same routine. When SARS sends them Tax Return forms they just cancel and send back because they are not making money. They always complain about corruption in the issuing of tenders as if incase they were in the shoes of those Supply Chain bureaucrats they would be giving tenders for free.

Tupac Shakur once asked, ‘what’s the sense of working hard if I ain’t never getting paid/ i'm hustling?’ There was a time that this line used to speak to me in a personal sense and I felt Tupac was playing the man and not the ball.

Then the youth under review when asked what are they busy with always respond, ‘I’m a hustler’ or better to use a verb, ‘I’m hustling’. They then reckon you won’t ask questions further because it’s sometimes embarrassing to probe the size of another man’s penis, especially when it’s too minute. I have decided that from now on I’m going to ask, ‘what is the nature of your hustle? How long have you been hustling?’

This is because many young people lie to themselves and their parents that they are hustling while they are not doing shit but wake up in the morning and behave busy when they are busy waiting for a repeat of Generations and Isidingo on SABC1 and for mommy dearest to go to work so they can sneak in their high school girlfriend for a quick bonk during the break. Occasionally they put their CK1s in a brown envelope, extort taxi fare from their moms and go to town to hang and come back later to justify why they should be given dinner.

Young people need to ask themselves if their situation dictates that they are unemployed or hustling because as everybody knows unemployment is a big factor today if one is unemployed they should stand up and be counted. They need to help government when it audits unemployed youth. The figure of unemployed youth currently stands at 73% but everyday I see unemployed youth masquerading behind hustling while they spend hours gulping the poison at 606 Tavern and Valencia Pub.

Hustling actually means your hustle has a name and it has a potential to make you. I have seen young men with demo tapes and books full of lyrics running the streets under the pretence of pushing the hustle. For the life of me I’m tempted to say, ‘get a JOB mchana and stop effing around’. That smile that you bring to your Mama’s face at hearing you swear at the world will disappear once you turn 30 and start betting horses. She tolerates your Lotto betting tendencies because she thinks it’s a game.

I think it’s crucial that youth should understand that not all of them will be gifted with the hustler spirit, which is like a demon (idlozi), either you have it or you don’t and you won’t get it because you want it. Either you are a hustler or you are not - period.

Before you start accusing me of behaving like some authority, which I am ask yourself these questions;
1. Are you over 25 while you have never held a paycheque in my hands?
2. Do you actually have a businessplan with the financials done on Excel?
3. What would you do if someone gave you a million today?
4. At what age do you plan to retire?
5. Do you have skills and References? Are you employable? If you wanted to work for someone now would they take you like a bullet?

If your answer to question one was YES, please go and train to be a security guard.
If your answer to question two was NO, then join the ANC and get a municipal job.
If your response has got something to do with buying a German sedan do yourself a favour and play the Lotto religiously.
If your answer was somewhere under 40 then you are on the right track – hustle on.
If you answer is dodgy, then get a check the Classifieds.

I know people will shout that soprano Sibongile Khumalo started singing seriously when she was 32, but remember she was working all along. Some will say the Manhattans cracked it when they were already aging. True, they were holding down JOBS between rehearsals. The Dogg Pound’s Dat Nigga Daz once rapped, ‘I’m trying to get PAID and get a JOB/ mom wants a nigga out the house/ and I ain’t getting no younger/ I’m only getting older/ I’m only thinking about what my mother told me/ now I’m a Dogg Pound gangsta for life/ matter of fact is I can get paid twice/ down the strip I pull a heist/ jack, i'm robbing muthafuckas that's real”

So, young man ask yourself this question and be frank with yourself because it’s only with yourself that you need to be frank, are you unemployed or hustling? Otherwise go out and work, since you’ll be thirty with your CC still as broke as your black ass.

A reply from Chris Brown

Thanx 4 being my b-i-tch

Thanx 4 being my b-i-tch
Self-marked with vows of unconditional allegiance
From our meeting 2 tha mortal parting
As our love at 1st sight suddenly dissolves into your last breath
Your weak heart screaming in holy silence
You, my one and only punching bag
Thanx a million fists

Thanx 4 being my b-i-tch
Without you my snake-leather shoe would only have air 2 kick
My foul mouth would have no face to spit at
Plastering your bio-oil moisturised skin with h-i-v + saliva
Redecorating your features with carefully/carelessly-laced bruises
My one and only punching bag
Thanx a million fists

Thanx 4 being my punked-up sacrificial b-i-tch
4 letting me break your firm limbs from your exquisite body
Welcoming my unjustified insults in your gracious ears
Contorting your spirit into a frog’s
Smudging the walls of respect with your blood
My one and only punching bag
Thanx a million fists

Thanx 4 being my self-less b-i-tch
4 tha late night kisses and make-up felatio
Without your considerate care my tantrums would go wasted
My manhood disqualified
And my daily apologies unaccepted
Dankie 4 your neck
Had I strangled another I’d be up 4 attempted murder
Facing fifteen 4 rape
Dankie 4 letting me waste your time with false promises
You are stuck with me, 4 if you go; bathobatlareng?
You, my one and only sexy opponent
Dankie 4 tha million faked orgasms

Dankie, 4 being my b-i-tch, etcetera, etcetera
4 I shall be your guide dog until you find your grave
-4kof Satan

The Chris Brown Fight club (Domestic Violence)

There was time were every teenage girl wanted to be in Rihanna’s shoes; young, talented, beautiful, wealthy, a killer anorexic body and R&B Chris for a boyfriend, who wont be envious. The buttons were pushed and every thing took a wrong turn, I wonder if she stills every girl’s dream. Well, like they say, ‘there’s a devil in every one of us’ I guess it was about time the devil manifested in the innocent singing sensational Chris’s behavior. He literally did what Mike did to Robin Givens, what my uncle did to my aunt, what my brother-in-law did to my sister but for him the world had to speak. Violence is disgusting, but against women its triple disgusting, its devilish, immoral, absurd, senseless to put bluntly its fucked up, bullshit. I’m on the verge of crying here, my aunt spent three months in hospital with a broken rib because my stupid uncle decided to defuse his testosterone steam on her. The dude married her for Christ’ sake, he confessed in front of hundreds, in front of God that he will love and protect her. How did we come here, why did we start the fight club…should we open more wrestling federation competition for men like Chris, my uncle and your next door neighbor?

According to POWA (people opposing woman abuse), between 19.6% and 28. 4% of women in Mzansi get physically abused by their spouse’s everyday. That’s ridiculous. Because of these, the government has implemented a program called 16 days of activism campaign against women abuse, for dicks like us to keep it in our conscious. Do we really need special campaigns to remind us that women are beautiful and special? Yes, just like us there are not perfect, no one is but whose decision is it to perfect the imperfect? I get pissed every time I hear stories such as Chris and Rihanna’s but when it happens close to home, its a shit different story. Men beats women, we see them everyday, we hear such stories and as individuals ‘ons doen niks’ about them, just like Pac said about Aids ‘we ignorant to it, until it happens to you’. Do we have to wait until that happens, until my aunt, my sister, your cousin, your teacher is buried? Just like hundreds of women out there my sister forgave her husband, Rihanna forgave Chris I guess we can justify violence. I mean forgiveness is biblical, religious… I’d love to see the day Iraq would forgive the Bushes.

I wrote this piece with anger and anguish, after I had an interesting discussion with my intelligent younger brother prior to our aunt being hospitalized, he said in his word “maybe it is in every man’s ability to come to a point where you want to strike or punch your partner” I didn’t understand what he said and I still don’t, and I now doubt his intelligence but if that time comes cant you go outside smoke a blunt, run a kilometer, find a punching bag, write a rhyme or scream to the atmosphere, go bungee jumping, fly a kite do something… I’m angry at myself.

Lehlogonolo

Blue Blood in my Veins

There are things that crack me up because they are funny. There are those that jest me simply because they are rendered by clue-less folks. This weekend City Press Pulse indulged my funny side. The kinky photogenic one with David Genaro (Jamie Bartlett) and his two naked mistresses Lucilla (KB Motsilanyane) and Diphuka (Tshepi Mashego) on the cover.


Tshepi gives us a little background, ‘I come from a very small conservative family and I’m the black sheep in the family because I decided to go perform on stage…’, let’s pause right there. I empathise with her because really the Mashego folks don’t understand that there’s life outside of working for the public service as clerks, teachers and nurses.

But then journalist Thato Mokhou, either by default or sub-editing omissions whereby close quotes go missing writes ‘SHE BELONGS TO A ROYAL FAMILY IN MPUMALANGA’. Oh Senhor Mokhou pause right there, we need to do research before we qualify some royal claims.

Collectively we Mapulana top echelon are called Bana Ba Tau Sehlano (Five Children of the Lion). It’s Mashego, Malele, Chilwane, Mogane and Mashile. So for anyone to claim that Tshepi is of royal blood is to insinuate that she’s either a niece my nephew or cousin, a claim that must be verified through DNA testing given that all Mashego’s inherit kingdoms when the head of the clan dies. And which I doubt the results will come back positive for someone born in Pitoli.

Otherwise it will insinuate that all the Mashegos you know, in entertainment (Peter Mashigo), politics, media (Mojalefa Mashego) sports (Katlego Mashego), civil society, and the public service are all royalty. Hahahaha, I ain’t never seen blue blood in my veins – and I’m the barometre.

Y Magazine Is Dead - The Death Certificate

PS*

I have received inspiring feedback on this piece from Kojo Baffoe (now editor of Blaque magazine) and Anonymous which helped me shape it (the original Y Mag is Dead - An Eulogy and Obituary feature) further. It's always welcome when as writers and commentators we see the need to feed off each other and highlight some discrepancies with any picture that might be projected to the public. I once again should emphasize that this is not an attack on any person but a tongue in cheek eulogy of YMag. I'm indeed saddened by its impending demise and before anyone accuses me of aspiring to open my own mag, please a blog is doing it for now because it never gets stuck on the shelves. Like Anonymous said, I would have loved to have a mag but I don't have the resources to do it, that's why I'm publishing 'a free blog' because blogs are free everywhere. However I used to have a website that I was paying for, which I abandoned due to lack of immediacy and my IT disabilities (I can't programme). And it's not about lack of money but information, since we don't have to bring into a review issues of money. There's an organisation called MDDA (Media Development and Diversity Agency), which does not fund creation of blogs but mags. I do empathise with the reasons communicated to me for the demise of such a beautiful brand.
And to Bra Kojo, thanks for the feedback. Let's remember that the first thing Paul Wolfowitz did when he got to the World Bank was to transfer his girlfriend to the State Department, to put to rest any suspisions of nepotism in the future. Maybe our editor friends should do the same to protect the reputations of his writer friends. I love Kojo's writings and this is not meant as an attack on his personality. The same way I love Napo's acting and writing.
One luv comrades. Let's grow together.

This is an except taken from a post I wrote a few years ago which ruffled too many feathers. Go read for yourself on Kasiekulture and read the actual obituary on the same Kasiekulture blog.

The Secret Msholozi Tapes


I don't know if I'm the only one who actually thinks that African National Congress President Jacob Zuma is calling a bluff when he claims to have tapes that implicate former Directorate of Special Operations (Scorpions) boss Leonard McCarthy and former president Thabo Mbeki in a political conspiracy to put him in prison and throw away the key.

Worse still, that he has evidence that suggests that even Mbeki took a huge bite on the Arms Deal procurement kickbacks. I happen to think that Umsholozi, our beloved president-in-waiting wants the National Prosecutions Authority to say, "wait a minute, we can't prosecute Mbeki and end up exposing our country's security arrangement to the outside world. We can't risk having sensitive information making its way into court and being on the public domain, so let's let Msholozi go".


Now you see, Zuma is actually calling a bluff. He doesn't have a fucking tape. Even if he has one or two the people on them are voice artists who are pretending to be Mbeki and McCarthy and not the real characters. That's why he introduced them as part of his presentations and not evidence which would be subject to testing by experts. Maybe I'm the one who's bluffing, but


I've been friends of the intelligence community long enough to know that the best Zuma could do is to contest the charges put infront of him, instead o trying to blackmail prosecutors with non-existent evidence of collussion since everybody who has read Andrew Fenstein's book After the Party will tell you that the ANC's 1999 election campaigns were bankrolled on arms deal dosh. Which says the whole ANC, including the folks who left to form COPE are all tainted by that blood money

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