There are two standout features of a SONA (State of the Nation) address. 

The first is the outlandish and expensive garb of the ANC members, predominately.  Who could ever forget the wholly unsuitable yellow confection that one lady MP had poured herself into in and pulled poses for the cameras like it was the red carpet at the Oscars?  And then, of course, there was Lucy Gigaba, newly minted head of Pubic Enterprises, who took time off from videoing himself masturbating to nattily strut the catwalk looking like a debonair pilot flashing tons of pearly whites in a Peter Stuyvesant advert.  These are Marie Antoinette moments.

In recent years, these displays of self-aggrandisement and self-deception have been toned down but the self-aggrandisement and self-deception of the address and promises have not.  If things go according to script tonight, the Precedent will cherry pick some minor achievements and statistics to show that the government actually works for you.  He will then proceed to make vague promises about improving our lot and will unflinchingly look straight into the heart of the video camera while he claims that the government will clamp down on corruption – pinky promise.

With SA reeling under the impact of two years of Covid and four years of Zondo, Squirrel will have a tough time trying to hide his nuts.  Nevertheless, he will, and I predict that, once stripped of its banal rhetoric, tonight’s address will be same old, same old.  I will not be listening and all I can say is –

SONA SE MOER!

The ANC was founded on 8 January 1912 and since 1994 it has celebrated this event in an expensive masturbatory orgy of self-indulgence as befitting our newly-minted champagne Socialists.

After nearly 50 years of negotiation with the intransigent White minority, the events surrounding Sharpeville in 1960 forced the ANC to adopt a militant approach to bring about change by making the country ungovernable using military action as well as civil disobedience and violence.  The intervening years also saw the ANC move from a purely African organisation to one that accommodated all races.

The struggle violence didn’t stop with the negotiations to bring about a new dawn but actually intensified – this time the targets being threats like the IFP, a brother black organisation. 

Violence became the new normal for the new South Africa and the ANC, like doting and indulgent parents, allowed its lackeys to continue to express themselves violently and destructively whenever they were dissatisfied with their lot.  The ANC (and by extension, the country) is now reaping the whirlwind of this indulgence, where violence has become acceptable political and economic discourse and councillors, amongst others, are regularly mowed down in order for others to feed at the lucrative but foetid trough of corruption.

Along the way, the ANC has gone back to its roots by having lost just about all its white members.  Those that remain are regarded as house mlungu or useful idiots and the few coloureds and Indians left are tolerated in its pretence of multiracialism.  It has become a party of Black people for Black people and is all about the struggle for factional political power and, hence, financial advantage.

A luta continua (the struggle continues), a rallying cry for liberation organisations, and its humorous translation, a looter continues, have never been more apt for the ANC.

2020 is going to go down in history as the year that Walt went woke.  Fresh from announcing that they will be seeking a new approach to the seven dwarves of Snow White, Stella McCartney was asked to reimagine Minnie Mouse.  The result is a not quite gender-neutral Minnie but, nevertheless, a manly and assertive Minnie in a power pants suit.  They did keep the bows and their polka dots to show that they hasn’t totally lost touch with their feminine side. 

They are busy running the rule through all of their creations looking for any hint of racism, subliminal or overt, and cultural appropriation.  I wonder when they are going to drop all their animal characters when they realise that animals have feelings too.  For instance, you can’t responsibly just go around portraying bulldogs as being gruff, fierce and not too bright while French poodles are snooty and superior.

Once upon a time in the mythical country of the Western Cape …

DA toad, Albert Fritz, MEC for Community Safety in the Western Cape, has found himself in a bit of a hole.  It seems as though he jumped at the chance of pressing his suit (and other parts, I presume) on younger staff members, or so the allegations go.  Why this particularly repulsive man would imagine that young females would find him attractive is beyond comprehension.  In a slap in the face with a wet flipper, Premier Winde suspended him on the 23^rd of January and he is also the possible subject of a police investigation.  It looks like a sticky end is in the offing.

For those who believe in happy fairy tale endings, this is a happy one, just not a fairy tale one. 

No, he didn’t become a Prince.  The position of sleazeball Prince who kissed the girls and made them cry is currently taken by Prince Andrew.  Locally however, the sleazeball position is filled by Truman Prince, erstwhile Mayor of Beaufort West who trawled for young girls down the main drag (well the only drag) of Beaufort West in his 4×4 bakkie in the early 2000s.

My cynical little snails covered all the bases.  For the record, he was first pushed by the Western Cape Premier, Alan Winde, on the 1^st of March when he declared that the toad was not ‘fit and proper’ to hold a position within his executive council.  In other words, he was slimy.  He was relieved of his throne in his own little cesspool and told to leave his pad.  Facing further party disciplinary action, our wannabe prince realised that the water was getting too hot so he jumped later that day before he was fritzed.

And they all lived happily ever after – sort of.