7de Laan and a bit of Latin

It is the height of privilege to enjoy the benefits during apartheid and now, under the new dispensation to still enjoy all the benefits PLUS blame everything that is wrong on other people*

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Drewan Baird. Oudtshoorn. 13 October 2013. 21h15. Said historical fiction author EL Doctorow, “There is no longer any such thing as fiction or non-fiction; there is only narrative.”

I have never viewed a 7de Laan episode and I admit to having misgivings about those who tune in.

While I’m at it, I also frown on “reality programs”– be it cakes of wedding dresses considered by people who appear to think cakes and wedding dresses are important.

The thing is… I am not at all interested in private lives.

I couldn’t give a pea about the doingses of anybody outside of public responsibility.

A senior DA functionary once started to tell me, finally admitting his error, of the private sexual preferences of an appointee of his I had happened to criticize for inability in office.

I halted him forthwith.

I recall telling him that I did not care whether this appointee went to a church or a brothel when he closes his office door in the afternoon. All I demanded was that he delivered on his job.

Take Joost van der Westhuizen.

I am only interested in Joost’s rugby knowledge. It makes no difference to me whether he sleeps around in tattered jocks.

Same with Steve Hofmeyr. I love Pampoen and if he knows an old flame Biblically afterwards it is none of my business.

I am currently being threatened with revelations about my past… things I have already discussed on my blogs years ago and things that were published in major newspapers. I wrote about it on this blog in early 2009. “Revelations”. Ye gods and faeries. Some people… And then, of course, there’s always the untold other side; the slant; the overtures; the bias; the malice.

I have been writing and commenting on local politics since 2008. I have nurtured a network of informants and confidants that is the envy of my peers, associates, and detractors alike.

I know things about people.

The very worst of politicians and municipal functionaries and journalists and pillars in business and industry and agriculture and tourism from Hessequa to Kannaland and Bitou, including all seven of the Eden District municipalities, and the Marks Building, reach me regularly and without fail.

I have never used this information. Save in the case of one Mayor that donnered his companion and then marched against violence against women.

There is a major difference between a public representative and an ordinary citizen.

I shall never be anything but an ordinary citizen – I shall never seek office. The very concept of representing others, and woe be told, having “disciples”, abhor and appal me.

What I know?

O boy.

Cheating husbands. Directors sleeping with staff. Kiddy porn. Diamonds. Lifting cash. Fraud covered up and quickly fixed only when muckraked. Pay-offs. Lies. Drugs. Prostitution. Even accounts of human trafficking have reached me. Dishonored contracts. Remuneration and commission withheld and bills ignored in the knowledge that the injured has no means to recourse. The list continues.

Who shall toss the first stone, Jesus once famously asked. And a crowd dissipated.

So I now ask: Who will be first to cast a stone… and unleash a tsunami of ill willed exposure that will make Lisbon 1755 and Krakatoa 1833 look like capillary waves?

Ignore this caveat at your peril.

Yet, I probably won’t sink to the level of the simple minded. I have factual reporting on my side. Nothing I am doing, or have been doing, can change the facts.

Ye gods and faeries, local news vendors all but ignore the prima facie fraud on Oudtshoorn’s ratepaters in the amount of several million by all but one of the DA Caucus and a lawyer ostensibly acting for them, and some metacarpophalangeal joints are pointed in my general direction!?

The ipso facto deception of Council resulting in an inability to approve Oudtshoorn’s budget and scuttle service delivery goes virtually unnoticed, and some metacarpophalangeal joints are pointed in my general direction!?

Political functionaries lie to weak minded councillors to abandon the only decent paying jobs they’ll ever gain in an illegal attempt to have themselves installed in those jobs, and some metacarpophalangeal joints are pointed in my general direction!?

In argumentation there is a form known as tu quoque: a logical fallacy that deflects criticism by accusing someone of doing comparable acts – from the Latin for ‘you also’.

Tu quoque. It is the last resort of the most decadent, ineffective, pathetic, useless, wet, yellow, effete protagonist imaginable.

So. Careful.

Take me on about my reporting and my opinion on what I report. No holds barred.

Nothing I may do or may have done impacts on my current commentary on the Oudtshoorn and local and provincial politics.

By the way, if you happen not to “like” my views or my style, don’t read, for God’s sake! It is as easy as that. Nobody is forcing O!O upon you – I do not even send out notifications of new stories anymore. If you are irritated by O!O it is solely a function of your own doing.

* 2012. Wilna Adriaanse. ‘n Klein lewe. Tafelberg. Cape Town. 215.

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2 thoughts on “7de Laan and a bit of Latin

  1. Sterkte Drewan
    By my begrafnis soek ek darem erkenning as n getroue Blou Bul ondersteuner !

  2. Drewan, I enjoyed your views on Drewan Baird.
    I really did.
    As I am not important enough for any , even, single cell minded individual to explore or adore,
    I sincerely hope that at my funeral NOTHING should be said.
    I don’t want anyone to lie about me
    and I certainly do not wish them to tell the truth about me

    Both versions would be as embarrising as oom PW was with uncle Allan Hendrikse swimming in Port Elizabeth’s “sleg blankes” pardon “slegs blankes” beachfront waters
    Vertel dit nou oor. CAN YOU more,
    You give the coloureds trimatical powers and they strip and go bathing for all to see.
    Then it was oom PW’s turn to strip and be GE-EMBARRISEERD by the leader of the Labour party.

    And the end, history teaches us, nobody really cares, really.
    What a pity…
    HE WHO MINDS DOES NOT MATTER
    HE WHO MATTERS DOES NOT MIND.

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