With Bra Gee
Who am I? Someone once said that history is a chronicle of how human beings never learn. Well, something to that effect and I sure as hell cannot tell you who it was who said it. For I have not wasted my prime behind a desk trying to glean arcane knowledge from some dusty tomes.
No sir, I am uneducated and highly proud of the fact. Why should I not boast about my lack of academic accomplishment when I now lord it over those foolish little men and women who thought that life’s mysteries would be solved by a piece of paper?
Have I not been raised to the heavens with my Grade Seven certificate while they remain mere civil servants with all their degrees? Tohudzasa magredhi seven magirajuweti achinanzvira miromo. Have I not always managed to hook Ben 10s and right now have landed myself a fresh new lover/husband, even if he is just my gofer, which is more than I can say for many of these educated females in their cheap suits and sensible shoes? So I will terrorise them to my heart’s content.
To get back to the point of history and learning, one of the men who fell in my area is finding out just how tough the world can be when the rug is pulled from underneath your feet after years of living like a king while you treat everyone else as so much dung not even fit to soil the soles of your handmade Italian leather shoes.
We all know that the man has lost everything including his right to the name that we have always known him by. Now he is struggling to find fees to pay for all those children he has been fathering with the sweet young things who could not resist the twin aphrodisiacs of money and power. For they certainly did not fall for this guy’s looks, I promise you.
Now he spends time saying nasty things about the party and trying to remain relevant as I seat in the chair that he never thought he would vacate. Not even in his worst nightmare did he imagine that the cool breezes of the mountains could turn into an inferno fanned by yours truly with the utmost glee to rival that of Macbeth’s witches.
Now I am mistress of all I survey and I am hell bent on proving that anything men can do, women can do better. So I am personally going after any little thing he may have grabbed and taking it for myself, after all, I too have a new love interest to please.
And I am grabbing more. In the few months that I have been in office, I have caused more havoc than the hated one ever managed to achieve over three decades. From brewing kachasu to ruling, I can assure you that heaven is place on earth. Bring on more war paint to hide the signs of age on my face because this girl is on fire!
More brain, less noise
What is it with people that they must always go where the wind leads them? It is especially sad when those acting like horn bills are our legislators. Do you ever get the feeling that some of the noise makers in our august houses have no original thought and must rely on others to find something to talk about?
At the usual place we are astounded by how everyone is now talking about children and sex, children and marriage and the devil’s dozen. Why have they been quiet all along if they were seeing all these children having sex?
They were busy telling us about the girls who use leaves and cow dung for their monthlies. The same girls that we have never quite been able to track down so that they can give us a practical demonstration of the said cow dung technology.
We therefore want to applaud the legislators who raise issues from their constituencies and get us all educated when the ministers explain themselves like the schools audit tax. Speaking of which, we thank whoever it was who got the ministers to take this whole circus seriously and actually turn up prepared to answer the questions asked. May we suggest that someone comes up with questions for Mr Bhaleti on the Cuthbert Dube issue and the white haired one to explain how Mahachi of the genetically modified birth certificate still remains in office?
Bits and pieces
This week we bring you a brand new section where share our thoughts on various topical issues. We will not bore you with the details but just flick through all those other interesting developments that we normally leave out in the interest of controlling our verbosity. So let us get into it.
Get pregnant, girl
We advise all parents of daughters to make sure that their female offspring produces a grandchild before she goes out looking for a husband. Yes, you heard us right. Just look at the three top lobola prices paid over the past few years including the very recent one and you will see that mvana dzinodhura. Research has convinced us that rich men are willing to pay more for women who have already proved that they can conceive and deliver heirs rather than risk paying all those thousands for a lemon who may never enable them to be called fathers.
And anyway we all know that a woman claiming to be a virgin at 20 something either bought some Chinese soap or some herbs in the street. So stop telling us how the poor guy was overcharged because he is a foreigner.
After all we are giving him a woman who has been getting the essential experience from an age that would exonerate the beleaguered Prosecutor General and we all know that you can never overcharge experience.
The dirty dozen
There is a reason why speech writers are highly paid professionals. Their job is to make sure that important people say what they mean to say. It does not matter what you intended to say. All that matters is what people perceive you to have said and when your own words say what we think you said, then you must have said it.
Night of the vendors
We think that maybe the Government is going about the vendor issue all wrong.
Why don’t they engage the men of miracles to hold a joint Night of the Vendors where all vendors are assured of emerging from the session forever freed from the shackles of vendor-ship?
But maybe not, seeing as all these nights of rubbish have brought no discernible result as yet although some of them are going into their nth editions.
What is the point of going all over Facebook to call yourself a big shot then it turns out that people have to bring the Messenger of Court to attach your chattels because you cannot afford to pay for services rendered?
Has the pool of civil service funds dried up after the courts allowed you to walk away with your ill-gotten gains?
Then we really cannot go away without saying something about the stories of corruption and every other vice that are being quietly buried, lest some very big mountains come tumbling.
Yes, we hear that superiors in some places are deciding to fluff the prosecution of juniors caught with their hands in the cookie jar because if convicted in a court of law the said juniors would open files that would make the superior get a sentence of more years than Gumbura.
Please someone tell that disowned bitter politician that his ravings and rantings would have made more impact if he had made his claims while he was still in the house.
Now it just sounds like a whole load of sour grapes coming from a man who knows that he has nothing left to lose except a very young wife.
Last Call: Money, money, money
Don’t ever let anyone lie to you that money does not matter.
“When I was young I thought that money was the most important thing in the world; now that I am old I know that it is” — Oscar Wilde
Till next week, bottoms up!
- Facebook: Bra Gee, Email: email@example.com, Twitter: @brageesbar