Once upon a time not so long ago they had unabashedly referred to themselves—they and their sorry satellites—as “lesser evils.” By normal standards, a damning acknowledgement. For what after all are evils great and small, if not, well, twin evils up to no good. Then again, this being the Rock of Sages, our ears are naturally tuned to hear only what we choose to hear.
It matters not that some of the citizenry are accoutered en rouge, while others, symbolic torches held high, rant and rave in the color of cowardice. Okay, the color of grapefruit.
We should all be concerned that evil stalks the land that gave us birth, evinced by blatant wall-to-wall nepotism, calculated lies from all sides, and a demonstrated contempt for what’s left of the popular intelligence.
More proof of the above was on public display Wednesday evening on DBS’ Newsmaker Jive and on Choice TV’s Hot Mutton Issue. (Forgive me if I’ve gotten the show names wrong!)
In the first place there was Ms Jadia JnPierre casually killing ‘em softly with her siren songs, her anesthetizing bag-ah-sugar smile reminiscent of Sparrow’s legendary ode to split-teeth.
On several occasions I formed the impression on Wednesday evening that our peripatetic prime minister’s press secretary was actually interviewing herself. You know, in the style of Marcel Proust. (I am definitely not referring to the recent royal visitor of the same first name!)
I sat mesmerized in my favorite living-room chair as Jadia offered her tongue-in-cheek defenses of bad manners on the part of some of her red-robed brethren; gazed in wonder at her made-for-TV HIB hairdo. And yes, marveled at the way someone out of view grunted in orgasmic appreciation of her every witty twist of reality.
The near mute host nodded affirmatively even as his captivating guest sought to make her case against what she pointedly described as a hostile press altogether deserving of all it has lately been receiving from her affronted, silently long-suffering party colleagues.
“No one is above criticism!” was her sing-song rationale. “Not even the media. And if you carry on like a politician, then you should expect to be treated like a politician.” (Now where have we heard that one before?)
I admit it: I was slack-jawed when Jadia leaned slightly forward in her chair to hit for six a full-toss question about her boss’ promised “better days.” Give the girl her designer jacket for her masterly response. For at least five minutes (it may have been longer) she went on about free computers for every school child, gifts of $500 for their grateful mommies, the 250 STEP jobs, NICE . . . punctuating each delivery with “that’s better days.”
It was no easy matter deciding whether the neatly corn-rowed press secretary in her little black jacket and matching black-and-white designer blouse that somehow brought to mind stores not local was actually serious. Or whether she simply was socking it to nonbelievers and other members of the Kenny-can-do-nothing-right fraternity.
I wondered, too, whether Jadia had come up with that marvelous stuff all by her well-endowed self. Quite deftly she had coated “better days” with a golden glow that must’ve dazzled even Allen Chastanet, not to say his House stand-in.
After all, “the blueprint” had never mentioned work for the unemployed masses, at any rate, work other than STEP and its close relatives. So, if during the last two years or so the road to Bois Patat had received a surface make-over; if Taiwanese funds were now housed in the Consolidated Fund; if SLP consultants had replaced UWP hacks at public expense; if since January 2012 there had been no serious natural disasters, well, what the hell else was all of that if not “better days?”
Jadia was truly cookin’ with gas when in tones most touching she recalled a recent sojourn in Vieux Fort with the prime minister when he was not “suited up for state business” and had on “his pants and blue shirt.” On the obviously unforgettable occasion Jadia and her boss had crossed the road when abruptly he’d turned around and returned to their starting point.
Why? According to his companion on the occasion the prime minister from the corner of his eye had spied some kids in their school uniforms and simply could not resist having a word with them.
Challenging the studio camera’s gaze, the bespectacled Ms JnPierre rhapsodized about Kenny Anthony—The Man. “He loves kids,” said the mother in Jadia, smiling from ear to there, “and they just love him back. Vieux Fort kids, in particular.”
The prime minister-in-mufti had asked the little children how they had enjoyed their first day in school, told them how nice they looked and how absolutely happy he was to see them. He may also have asked what they had for breakfast, although to be fair, his press secretary kept that tidbit between them.
By Jadia’s impeccable assessment, the prime minister was an inspiration to the young everywhere! In her sweet sweet telling, this was the one-of-a-kind man the opposition was seeking to paint in the frightening colors of a green-eyed monster.
Also by Jadia’s measure, the press had aided and abetted the character assassination. Certain talk-show hosts were guilty of perpetuating the egregious opposition
falsehood that Saint Lucia’s prime minister was other than a saint unblemished, pure to the core. Which explained why Jadia’s party was now seriously considering the establishment communications systems under its direct control—why GIS, RSL and NTN are undergoing strategic character modifications!
Jadia’s classic response to another full-toss, this time from a cagey caller who wanted to know if the ever-faithful Jadia truly believed her boss incapable of wrongdoing. Moreover, if she should (heaven forbid!) discover him with his pants at his ankles, so to speak, how would she react?
“Thank you caller. I’m so pleased, I’m so happy you asked that question,” the PM’s press secretary gushed. “You see, the Labour Party has in place mechanisms that allow us to address and resolve our
internal problems privately.” You could almost hear Rameau fiddling softly in the background.
Jadia assured the caller and the viewing nation that “that is why we don’t have to come out to complain to the media.” Which of course was a lady’s way of saying Ubaldus Raymond was nothing but an unpatriotic and prevaricating ingrate hell-bent on washing his party’s dirty laundry in William Peter Boulevard!
Jadia closed the show
with yet another assurance, this time that no one stood between her and her boss. She had full and direct access to him, anytime, anywhere. Perchance something was bothering her, all she had to do was knock on the prime minister’s door and her normal equilibrium would instantly be restored.
Love her or hate her, you cannot deny that on Wednesday evening the beguiling Jadia JnPierre-Emmanuel did precisely as was expected of her, at any rate by the man who hired her in the first place. Which is not to say she necessarily believes all she said about certain headline-making foul mouths that deserve to remain anonymous. Public relations have little to do with the image-maker’s personal convictions!
Did I mention that almost all of Jadia’s callers on Wednesday evening seemed to be reading their congratulations on a job well done as if from the same script? Then again, wha’ wrong widdat? It’s all part of the job for which the lady is well paid!
Meanwhile, over at Choice TV the night’s special guest was wrestling with questions for which he had few believable answers. Over and over he was reduced to acknowledging he had done no special preparation for Wednesday’s appearance. For which Timothy Poleon will doubtless be blamed, since he insisted on proof supportive of his guest’s sometimes numbing responses, especially when referring to ALBA. For the most part Claudius Preville failed effectively to handle his Jadia-enchanted callers.
For his final words the economist and keynote speaker at the UWP’s most recent convention the economist regretted he had not been allowed the opportunity to talk about the unemployment situation, the dismal state of the economy and other national problems.
Yeah, right!
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