My X, Your Doos: An Elections 2014 Opinion

Folks, it’s that time once again! That time when you receive strange texts in the middle of the night or during your midday office “self appreciation” session, Election 2014. That time when your phone rings or vibrates, or does what ever new thing that smart phones do that has their owners gushing over them so much on social media. It’s the season to be wooed into voting for a change, for a difference, for the same shit on the back of a different guilt trip, for a chance to be given a house, clean water, and not too much load shedding, for a stop to the crime but most importantly voting for your future in the hands of a group of people who have as much a chance as a fart in a stiff breeze of making true on their promises. You see when your suitors are covered in soot, there doesn’t seem to be a difference in which you vote for – depending on who you ask that is.

So we here at Running Wolf’s Rant, as we are inclined to do every now and again, will attempt to simplify all the contenders for you. Tell you exactly what we think and feel about those who are jockeying for your vote that sets them up in cushy lifestyles while you have to contend with the bill from SANRAL for a vehicle that happens to be a taxi from Eersterust that you’ve never EVER owned – let alone benefited from its day’s cash-up. We are by no means presuming to say we know what’s best for you, but we hope to clarify a few things – set a few falsehoods aside (and perhaps create new ones) before you cast your vote in the 2014 Election.

Unless you’ve been stuck under a rock for the past 15 months you’ll be aware that this here great Republic is headed to the polls once again. We are attempting to exorcise our democratically enshrined rights to cast our ballots in selecting a President that coincidentally has already been decided during our respective parties’ elective conferences. Essentially we are going to a buffet and trying out new things that form part of an already set course. There are no problems there – a meal is a meal, right? Right? Well…

The messages have been everywhere. The Independent Electoral Commission which is independently helmed by medium-to-high ranking officials of the ruling party has been up and about telling people the important of the X in the doos (we mean “box”). There has been some mudslinging in the press an on social media, and throwing of bricks in reality. Many people have been reminded of the past, and others have been warned of the possibility of there being no future. Dances were danced, conspiracies and plots foiled, leather jackets were sold and the Barack Obama’s speaking style has been borrowed. Lest we forget that the beret is now back in fashion, and it’s not back in black in the way we’d feared most with the Beatniks, but it has come back in a way we never thought comedically possible – in red and on the shiny pip of our favorite political castaway since Kortbroek crossed the floor, Juju Malema.

Our President has made veiled comments in his native tongue pertaining to the leader of the official opposition, and said leader has called our President a pussy for not wanting to debate her. Is she not aware of Zulu customs and tradition? President Zulu…pardon, Zuma does not debate. Maybe it’s because he fears being taken out of context, or perhaps he does not acknowledge her as a person he needs to spend any amount of time with. After all he does have a rather impressive harem if he’s in need of the company of women. But perhaps somebody should have told him what they say about once you go white. What do they say about going white? Your credit is right?! We digress.

Back to the matter at hand. The average South African is sick and tired of being sick and tired of their ineffectual government. The average South African is tired of seeing serious shirking of duty and responsibility being reduced to laughable gaffes that are purported to being the results of a system that is working hard to deliver on promises made two decades ago. The average South African has had just about enough of an average government that rewards itself spectacularly for its fails and abject disinterest in the face of unrelenting poverty and rising unemployment. But hey, they are not to blame. It’s not their fault.

So as we face the final day of voter registration and the looming day of getting one’s thumb inked, let us look at the contenders and what it is that they are really saying. We might as well adopt a WWE-esque approach to this one. All the contenders occupy a different corner in the squared circle.

In the corner on the right side (our right) clad in red and misinformed entitlement we have the out-of-their-depth EFF. They are fighting to turn the country into Russia of some 24 years ago. Good luck with that, you EFFing wallys.

In the corner next to them clad in confusion and a short-lived marriage to one of the heavyweights we have Agang SA. They started off well-intentioned and somehow managed to screw the pooch in a most glorious manner. With all the brains at the helm of this once social movement, one would have thought that ill-advised marriages of convenience would be off the table even if they are blessed and sanctioned by the ancestors. I guess some ancestors maintain their sense of humour and sadism long after they’ve been interred. The leader of this party has become the laughing stock and has been subject of political inside jokes. All those brains and very little in the way of foresight to show for it. Maybe Oscar Wilde was correct in saying never trust a woman who wears mauve, whatever her age may be, and the leader of this party has been seen in mauve two-piece business suits hoisting her well connected fist up in the air.

While on the subject of trust and Oscar Wilde, he also said that one should never trust a woman over 35 who is fond of pink and I’m sure there’s something pink in the “naughty goods” drawer in the bedroom of this woman. Not that we are reducing her to a warped sexual fantasy – for heavens no! But in the furthest corner to the left we have the DA. Wearing blue and the colours of hope and non-corruption, they are the “Official Opposition”. They boast a record of exceptional vocabulary throughout the upper echelons of the organisation, and espouse the highest levels of integrity and denounce corruption in all its forms. Their dancing skills that somehow translate to “street cred” are in need of improvement – and fast. They are the proud holders of the record of holding onto a province that boasts arguably the best city in the country and on the African continent. Hell, the city is among the best in the world if you ask the UN. Surely that must get under the craw of the contender they are the “Official Opposition” to – the ANC.

Speaking of the ANC; the reigning champions, the undisputed masters of this here Republic, the bringers of freedom and the FIFA World Cup, the purveyors of democracy, the Lords of the Dance and the manor, champions of the cause of the poor, and the most unfortunate cases of miscommunication and misquoting. They are in the corner closest to us, and clad in gold, green and black – the colours of the Jamaican flag were too enticing to pass up. The ANC are like that kid who grew up being told by his parents that he is “special” so much so that he started believing it too much. This kid also happened to be the only one with a ball on the playing field so the other kids have to play by the rules that he makes – sometimes on the spot if things are not going his way. Low and behold should he lose. He loses his shit and takes his ball home but not before reminding the other kids just how “special” he is and the other kids should be honoured to be in his venerable presence. Maybe, perhaps, possibly once upon a time this boy was destined for great things but time has turned all those hopes into nothing but haggard memories of the past.

Special mention should be afforded to COPE who managed to do everything but during their internal power struggles. It was something on an MDC that took place there, although we would believe that many would agree with us in saying that Mbazima Shilowa’s cosmetic shortcomings are the closest to Morgan Tsvangirai than his one time comrade Terror Lekota. COPE finds themselves outside of the ring and the general discourse, but being a small bit player could be of use to the other parties. We smell another marriage of convenience.

The three (and a half) contenders are all vying for your votes. They will promise you the water from the moon, and make you afraid of the other. They will try and guilt you into voting for them and tell you that you deserve better. Of course you deserve better. Better than what you’re receiving now – unless you happen to be 22, from Limpopo and your mother handed you a R 7.7 million tender to feed kids. Maybe you’re fine the way things are – we’re not talking to you. You can move right along at a rapid pace and don’t look back.

Politics is a dirty game, and the our vote is about the only equalizer. We read that the ruling party is moonlighting as an escort agency delivering ladies of the night in broad daylight to townships where people are voting for them. But without houses how are people meant to enjoy happy endings in private? They threw all the bricks at DA supporters, remember? This might not be a Banana Republic, but we do sure see a lot of monkeys about!

Disclaimer: Let it be noted that the views expressed on the piece of heavily opinionated writing are not meant to offend anybody, but if you are offended then we take no responsibility for your butt hurt – chin up and soldier on. And it should also be accepted that if upon reading this piece you feel disinclined to cast your vote, then you’re just retarded. Viva!

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