I write about what I write about

I believe I have elevated the art of stating the obvious to new dizzy heights. And I’m not about to disappoint. So I’ll regale you with this revelation: I write about what I write about.

Now you might think that this is an unnecessary thing to point out. I forgive you. After all, you are not privy to my inbox. The reason I publicly display my email address is precisely so that my readers can email me their responses. Whether they tell me that I have the intellect of a fruit-fly-on-crack or they’re letting me know that I am more divine than the entire choir of seraphims in heaven (“Say, do you enjoy fellatio?”) I value all emails.

I often receive suggestions on topics I should tackle, 99% of which I ignore because I think Die Beeld has got that whole Joost angle covered and The Sunday Times’s Juliusphilia is enough to satisfy the Juliusphilic among us. Sometimes I steer clear of certain subjects because of my impressive ignorance on the matter. I’m thinking topics such as why people in the Middle East seem to have a penchant for hurling missiles over borders and generally sommer blowing kak up. Oft-times I don’t write about things because the honest truth is, I am just not sufficiently moved by them. This is why I have nothing to say about the Dalai Lama other than to point out that our Foreign Affairs has done more for the Dalai Lama’s cause by refusing him entry than if they had allowed him to come through. Nice one Mam’ Dlamini-Zuma.

I’ll tell you what baffles me though. People who email me to tell me what I should be writing about instead of what I do write about. One of you wrote me a 1 675-word academic paper on why I waste this space writing “nonsensical, whimsical articles” and how you believe that this betrayed “petty bourgeois complacency” on my part especially at this “critical juncture in the social transformation” of this nation. I had to read the wordy harangue twice to get the gist of what this reader was saying and I think he was making two points:

1. You write a load of unimportant, pointless crap.
2. Stop it and start writing about matters of national importance.

I wrote him a two-sentence response (and I quote verbatim): “You’re correct — I do write a load of crap, but I could have told you that myself. I do, however, regret to inform you that I will continue to write about what I write about.” Someone close to me says the response betrayed an immature defensiveness. Possibly. But I live by the motto, “It is better to say nothing than to be mean”. And if I had written one more word I would have had to be mean. And I just don’t roll like that when it comes to consumers of my work. I reserve all my prickish tendencies for my friends. After all, what are friends for if not to take one’s abuse?

But that’s not even my point. Accusing me of writing a load of hallucinatory ramblings is a bit like cornering Mugabe and accusing him of having a penchant for farms. I think both Bob and I know this about ourselves. And asking me to write about “matters of national importance” is a lot like harassing Sachin Tendulkar for not taking enough wickets for India. Both Sachin and I might dabble in bowling/political analysis respectively but these are hardly our core competencies. Anyone who wants to use my political analysis as their guiding bible is treading on very treacherous ground. My political views are extremely dangerous. Please take them too seriously at your own risk.

For starters, I don’t even believe that our leaders should be elected. Do you seriously want me to contaminate public space with that kind of counter-revolutionary nonsense? Do you honestly want to listen to the views of a guy who believes that we should turn the general Bergville/Drakensberg area into a huge Green Light District and get a vibrant Weed Tourism industry going in the Ensangwini area? Yes? What about a guy who thinks that, not only should prostitution be legalised, it should be encouraged? The cross-eyed, 157kg dude with halitosis and sweaty palms who was in front of you at the bank today — who’s going to take his edge off? You? You? I didn’t think so. Do we really want millions of our fellow countrymen driving around our roads with their edge still on them? So why not leave the edge-removal to the professionals legally?

I don’t think anybody wants me to go on. I believe I’ve made my point. I think I will continue writing about glass-eating retards and how I want to rub Somizi Mhlongo’s nuts fornicateyouverymuch.

I think my next offering will be about individuals who wear ridiculous hats and end up inadvertently looking like Willy Madisha with a razor at Moria.

Why? For no other reason other than the fact that this is just how I roll.

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