The names Vladimir Putin and Volodymyr Zelensky are especially hard for us to pronounce. Our most enduring contact with Europeans was with the group led by a queen whose language of communication was English.
Putin sounds suspiciously English and of the two he’s the one whose name we remember easily. Men (especially those who are presidents) have a nauseating habit of involving the whole world when they have an argument or disagreement. Why don’t they meet man to man and slug it out like real men used to do without increasing the price of fuel and cooking oil? Thanks to these two Eastern Europeans I now exclusively eat boiled food and oil-fried food is now a delicacy reserved for Sunday meals.
The economy has everyone feeling some certain level of stress and sadly there’s not much anyone can do. We are all broke including the rich neighbour and even friends with three jets.
Our once eight Gigabyte stomachs have now shrunk to a few bytes to adjust to available fodder. At this point we need fish. The government and old adage proponents should no longer teach us how to fish. The maxim give a man a fish and he will eat for one day, teach him how to fish and he will have food for a lifetime has no place in today’s debilitating economy.
Besides, teaching a man how to fish will only result in that man boring you with endless fishing stories and pictures on Facebook holding fishing rods and some unlucky fish. Pictures on Facebook are what most of us live for these days though. What else can we do, really? We must validate ourselves in these tough ages and pictures are a perfect outlet. But they too have their own issues.
How many of you have inboxed beauties on Facebook only to find that outside the glare of Facebook filters they look like your aunt gone wrong? My imaginary therapist says that when I’m feeling sour, morose, or just plain old slaughterous, that I should write down my feelings and share them with complete strangers on the Internet.
Apparently this is very good therapy for stressed individuals as well. Obviously some believe the Internet, on the contrary, could potentially push the Stress Metre a few readings up. People are too feeble to handle mild annoyances these days and believe the Internet is toxic. Facebook has been especially singled out for stick.
However, I’m not going to believe anyone who says that something is toxic unless they’re carrying a Geiger counter or any counter of sorts that could scientifically prove that the toxic levels are registering high readings. Where else can we go really besides Facebook? Instagram is very expensive because it needs serious wardrobes (not malfunctioning ones) and that needs a stash of dough.
Instagram also means you have to drive to Supermalls and that needs fuel. There is a real danger that you might get stranded at a Supermall because while you were busy taking pictures for Instagram in a restaurant, fuel prices might have increased and you find now you cannot afford the fuel back to your abode. Forget leisure spots outside town.
If your fuel levels are challenged to shuttle between your home and the Supermall, there is absolutely no way you will be doing that very long trip to outskirts like Manyana and Thamaga.
Fuel to these used-to-be-nearby villages now costs as much as fuel to Mahalapye used to cost. In a funny mathematical way, which I cannot explain to readers of this column (whose Maths competence is suspect), the distance has now increased 10 fold! (For comments, feedback and insults email [email protected])
