Do unto others, then run! My good friend Arthur Neptune lives by this motto and many a time I chuckle at such accurate and profound stupidity. The flags are being nailed on the lamp poles, colourful stickers are magically appearing on automobiles, and little old ladies in the village next door are changing their drapes to be politically correct. I lick my index finger and hold it to the wind. Yes there is a stupid breeze coming from the south.
Why would a journalist call a politician a liar? Why would a politician reciprocate? Only these two egotistical political mavericks will ever know. This week with much amazement I listened as Rick Wayne asked for an apology from Choice TV for a political ad that aired on their station. The Man of Steel was offended that a partial statement was edited and made palatable, if only to the mealy bugs, with a yellow liar stamp on it. The nitty gritty of the discourse was the usual rubbish where Claudius Francis, president of the St Lucia senate, and Rick Wayne, journalist extraordinaire, went at it about some Arabs coming to St Lucia with St Lucian passports. Who said what, how, why, where, when, was the same coloured political baloney that we have come to expect from Rick and of course from Claudius.
Let’s take a moment to rub the paint off the clown’s face; first to Mr. World. Here’s a man who started off writing against Compton, then turned around and became Compton’s press secretary. Then writing against him, then fighting against him. I never got the sense that he was a Julian Hunte puppet but he brought his version of the truth to light right up until 1997, fighting the torch and all it stood for. In the process this journalist, who has uncovered more scandals than perhaps any other in the region, made the fatal correspondent’s error and removed his cloak of ink and went on a political platform. The rest, as he would say, was pure hypocrisy.
There were umpteen well-written stories about Kenny Anthony being a compassionate leader, a celebration of change and a chorus well-scripted in red ink; but good things never last. Rick cannot keep quiet. Sorry, I meant Rick cannot be silenced. Sorry, spell check. Rick cannot conform or play ball. He is a journalist at heart and a man mandated by God himself to tell the truth (if only Rick’s truth). The Kenny/Rick love affair ended faster than it started and the two became sworn enemies. Although I suspect behind closed doors they have a good laugh at us mere mortals. As we moved from the Walkman phase to the iPod generation Rick’s attacks on Dr. Anthony never slowed. Funnily enough, when and if Kenny ever turns the screws on Rick, he does so by remote and subtly. This time around, the silly – sorry the stupid season (damn spell check again) – promises to pit two men well past their prime at loggerheads. One has the Red Army, the other has a Star.
Like a good general the leader of the Labour Party has a legion of followers, some grammatically-challenged ones like Frank Charles; Ninja Turtles like “Germina Hippolyte.” Then there is the lieutenant of insult, the low-blow minister and the senator of all that is politically correct, Dr. honorable, sir, esquire, Claudius Francis. A man who is never, ever incorrect about anything, ever. I am an avid listener to Straight Up; in fact I try recording everything that he says to fact check it and either I am a lousy researcher or Sir Francis has never, ever been wrong about anything, ever! I struggled to write this sentence; one, because I realize what I just wrote is probably a bigger lie than 100 million dollars immediate injection. And I struggled because I know Mr. Truth is probably going to attack me the same way he mutilates Clinton Reynolds. But thankfully mar maylay bom sec.
I say it serves Rick right that “de party” chose one slip he made over so many truths he has told to label him a yellow liar.
But Claudius and company, remember, do unto others then run! Since this is the accepted standard from politicians to journalist I am pleased to inform that the collection of untruths told by “de party” and the truth mongers will be splashed in Untold Stories fashion for the elucidation of the undecided voters.
It is sad, embarrassing and downright disgusting that after 37 years of self-governance we cannot discuss issues for the betterment of our country. We wallow in gutter politics, chicken, rum and free t-shirts. We swallow the echoed yellow and red rhetoric, we stain our fingers, we complain two years into the next term and we repeat the cycle five years later. Tis the season to think before you dip, St Lucia.
It’s bologna not baloney.