Muckraker
Hello ‘Dr’ ‘Mme!
Published
6 years agoon
By
The Post
WOMEN know the irritation that comes with spending thousands on a genuine Gucci handbag and then see some clown storming a party with some fake Gucci bag picked up at a stall in the bus stop area for M100.
But before getting excited let’s all admit that we all have some fake things in our wardrobes.
And now that the yellowbone of a man who speaks through the nose while managing our national finances is throwing spanners in the works we should expect more fake things in government offices.
The good Dr says there will be no salary increment for civil servants this year. That’s just being mean. He also plans to cut international trips and chop per diems. That’s witchery.
So we should not be shocked when the government offices are flooded with fake socks and fake underwear. Also, brace for an avalanche of fake ‘sick notes’, as public servants use every trick in the book to duck work.
Dr Majoro is now facing 47 000 people who are faking commitment to their work while grumbling and insulting the ground on which he walks.
He must know that all those smiling subordinates at the Finance Ministry have anger in their hearts. They wish he would just choke on an ice cream.
It must have been June 1990 or somewhere thereabouts when Muckraker’s long lost aunty landed in Mafube from London. Among her gifts was a pair of Adidas sports shoes that little Muckraker promptly wore to school the next day.
Classmates and teachers were shocked that this little girl whose panty had holes was now stepping into the school yard in such opulent style.
A few rascals turned green with envy for two reasons: Some could not believe that Muckraker could be wearing such expensive shoes while others were jealous that her little cracked heels were enjoying the comfort of such pricey soles.
And as usually happens in this country full of copycats, it wasn’t long before other students harassed and haunted their parents for similar shoes. Soon half the school had similar shoes or something that resembled them.
Furious that the imitators were thieving her shine, little Muckraker moaned to her aunt about the injustice. The aunt’s response to the laments was simply: “Open your eyes little one. Their shoes are not the same as yours. Open your eyes.”
The next day Muckraker looked at most of the shoes closely and was pleasantly surprised because none of them were Adidas. Most were Abidas while a few, probably made by the most unimaginative counterfeiters, were abbibbas.
The aunt would later explain that all those shoes, apart from mine, were fong kongs that looked like genuine stuff. With time Muckraker learned that there were actually fong kongs of Fong kongs of Fong kongs. Imitations of imitations of the imitations to the imitations.
Boom! Oh boom! Now Muckraker knew that not all that glitters is gold.
If the Abidas was the fong kong of Adidas then abbibbas was the fake of Abidas.
Today, decades later, it’s her turn to put your heart at ease like her aunt did. My people let your heart not be troubled by fakes of fake things. Envy not that which is not the real Maccoy. Phew!
Let’s not pretend to be confused for there is no riddle here. We are talking about the small matter of honorary degrees. It’s time to kill this silly debate about honorary and real degrees.
Read this slowly so you don’t get it twisted. Muckraker is not hostile to honorary degrees. Her problem is that those who hold them like to pretend that they are real degrees.
Here are the distinctions. A real degree is earned while an honorary degree is given. You read for a real degree and you are nominated for an honorary one. You cannot mention your honorary degree when you say ‘I beg to apply’.
There are those who have been claiming that an honorary degree can be bought. They are right. There is a
flourishing market for honorary degrees. For a few thousands of Maloti you can append the ‘Dr’ title to your name. In the past three weeks Muckraker has been offered five honorary degrees for prices ranging from M20 000 to M100 000.
Again, she is not saying all honorary degrees are bought. Nada! The point is just to illustrate how easy it is to get an honorary title. These distinctions matter because they go right to the core of the integrity of the education system.
An owl does not become a chicken just because it finds itself in a flock of chickens.
Now that we are clear on the differences it is time to move on to the rules of an honorary degree. The first rule is that those who have been given honorary degrees shall not pretend that they have earned real degrees.
The simple point being that if you have an honorary degree you should never pretend to be in the same class as Professor Sejanamane or Professor Mahao or Dr Ntsike or even Dr Fako.
You can hobnob with them but you are not one of them.
So when holders of real Doctorates speak you are not allowed to answer as if you are their peer.
This is for your own good because you might just expose yourself as the ignoramus that you are.
The second rule is that no matter how tempting it is there is no justification for holders of honorary doctorates to prefix their name with the ‘Dr’ title.
While it is not taboo doing so makes you look desperate, if not silly. The logic here is that you should never deliberately create confusion over that which is earned and what is given.
That is to say those with honorary degrees should never seek to steal the thunder of those who have real degrees. That is why the late Nelson Mandela never called himself ‘Dr’ despite having numerous doctoral degrees. He knew it takes years of reading and research to be called a ‘Dr’.
He was aware that unlike honorary doctorates real doctorates do not grow on trees.
It’s not surprising that neither Uncle Tom nor Size Two call themselves ‘Dr’.
It is only those bootlickers around them who insist on calling them with that title.
Sadly such brownnosers have the audacity to insist on other people calling Uncle Tom and Size Two ‘Dr’. It is pathetic but understandable because we live in a country where flattery can get you far up the ladder.
The long education on honorary degrees brings us to the current brouhaha about the First Lady’s honorary doctorate from some little known church college.
When the news started trending, Muckraker dismissed it as some fake and nasty rumour meant to poke fun at the esteemed First Lady.
It turned out that this was real news and there were pictures of the stunning sister in a red gown and a hood.
Holy dung!
Those who died before this event missed out on a spectacle to behold.
The wondrous wonder was supposed to be wonderful but it has turned sour sooner than we can say ‘Dr Mme…”
It is not that the sister hasn’t done some wonderful things or that she did not deserve the honour.
The shock was in the timing.
First, the sister is only a few years in this charitable business but is already being pampered with accolades.
Second, the sister is still too young to be receiving honorary doctorates.
She still has the energy and time to earn her own real doctorate degree by reading.
But Muckraker would not judge her too harshly because it is possible that someone somewhere instigated the whole thing. She obviously did not nominate herself.
She is incapable of such deceit. Someone who wanted to curry favour with her took it upon themselves to nominate her.
It takes guts to roam the internet until you come across the Divinity College Consortium’s website because it is not known for anything. It is just a nonentity of a tertiary institution.
And therein lies the trouble with this honorary degree. If it was from a prestigious institution no one will be finding it curious and funny. What makes an honorary degree credible is the stature of the person honoured and the university honouring.
If the institution is lousy people will laugh at the recipient. It works in reverse as well.
So the person who initiated this honorary doctorate for the First Lady should be hiding in shame because they chose a crummy college to give the honour.
The result is that what should be celebrated is being ridiculed.
The only solace is that she can still get another honorary doctorate because there is no limit to how many you can have. The other source of comfort is that she can start the process of getting a real doctorate. Go girl!
Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuu!
muckraker.post@gmail.com
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Cheeseman’s recording of the conversation might border on the criminal but that doesn’t matter to those who have been looking for a stick to spank Molelle.
They have been waiting for this moment and are seizing it with both hands.
You can hear the excitement in their voices as they discuss Molelle’s impending downfall. Knorx’s misery has triggered a collective orgasm.
Watch them now as they hunt in packs like jackals.
Even those who sang Molelle’s praises a few weeks ago are queuing to lynch him.
We are masters at kicking those who have fallen from grace.
The Law Society of Lesotho has been startled from years of slumber to race out of its bed with a long sjambok in hand.
They have written a letter to Uncle Sam pretending to have discovered, through a “whistleblower”, that Molelle was appointed the DCEO boss without being admitted as a legal practitioner in Lesotho.
It’s unclear why they needed a ‘whistleblower’ to discover something in their records for years. Muckraker suspects they always knew but were either too timid to say or waiting for this moment.
They are saying it now to give the impression that they sneaked in a kick when Molelle was being spanked out of office. It’s a desperate scramble for relevance.
By claiming that they didn’t know Molelle was appointed the DG without being admitted as a legal practitioner the law society is exposing itself as a proudly incompetent organisation.
That much is clear from their brazen admission that they needed a ‘whistleblower’ to whisper to them something on their notice board or drawer.
Muckraker is amused by the battalion pretending to be irritated by what Molelle’s mouth said about Bro Richard, Sister Majara and Uncle Sam. They are borrowing offence as if it’s them who were labelled idiots or satane.
Bro Richard, Sister Majara and Uncle Sam are capable of getting irritated on their own without prodding and instigation from self-hired mourners, chancers and bootlickers.
Molelle himself knows what is supposed to happen in the next few days.
He can only extricate himself from this mess by proving that the audio clips were manufactured and his voice is either AI-generated or from someone who can expertly imitate him.
Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuu!
muckraker.post@gmail.com
As she listened to Mollele’s audio clips Muckraker could hear a man devoted to waffling his way to an abrupt end to his tenure as the DCEO boss.
Cheeseman only had to keep poking him with cunning instigations. It was as if Cheeseman knew which buttons to press for Knorx’s stereo to keep playing his songs. And he wasn’t using a remote control. He was right there pressing the brown Tempest. Muckraker is unsure if Cheeseman danced to the Knorx hits but is certain he enjoyed himself.
Press: “Satane”. Press: “Idiots”. Press: “This case”.
Press: “Oh, yes that case”. Press: “The DPP this and that”. Press: “Blah, blah, blah and blah”.
Cheeseman was playing Knorx like DJ Boots on the decks.
At some point you hear that Cheeseman was no longer playing his favourite hits but requests from people who had given him a list of songs before he met Knorx.
Cheeseman’s motive for recording their conversation doesn’t matter now.
It matters now who got the audio clips, snitched and leaked. It all boils down to what he said and to whom he said it.
Molelle would still have been in trouble even if he had been heard saying those words while in his shower. He put himself in that position by allowing his mouth to go wild.
He should have kept those thoughts locked in his mind until uttering them had no consequences for him. They are words you only mention as history: “Eish, I used to work with devils and idiots”.
Muckraker is not saying he should have never said those words now. Of course, he could have driven out of Maseru to find a mountain to tell those things.
If a molisana had secretly recorded his chat with the mountain, Knorx would have said what he tells his ancestors is his business. He could have also claimed he would have gone bonkers if he had not told someone or something about his bosses.
Many have a boss they believe to be a moron or evil. Yet they keep their mouth shut about such truths to keep the job and the peace. The smart ones know it is their job to cover up the idiocy of their bosses.
That is how they earn their keep and promotions. Otherwise, what is the point of an idiot boss keeping a smart employee who doesn’t know how to protect them from their idiocy?
It is your job to protect your boss from his idiocy. And you have no business discussing your boss’ idiocy, especially with his enemies. Venture into such reckless discussions and you will be jobless with your smartness.
WE start the year with a little story of the dangers of a reckless mouth. Muckraker will write it as if you are listening to your granny’s tsomo. The point of it all will be revealed before the kettle boils.
So here goes.
Some two centuries ago, Czar Nicholas I, the ruler of Russia, faced a rebellion from some renegades who demanded democracy and other things. Qoi!
The Czar reacted with a brutal crackdown that included the chopping of heads.
Kondraty Ryleyev, one of the rebels, was caught and sentenced to death by hanging. On the day of his hanging, the trapdoor opened but the rope around Ryleyev’s neck broke.
In those days, a rope breaking during an execution was considered a miracle which compelled the authorities to pardon the convict and spare the convict’s life.
With rope broken Ryleyev, thinking he had been saved, stood up, looked at the crowd that had gathered to witness his execution and shouted: “You see, in Russia they don’t know how to do anything properly, even to make rope”. A messenger was sent to the Palace for the Czar to sign Ryleyev’s pardon.
The disappointed Czar was about to sign the pardon when he asked the messenger: “Did Ryleyev say anything about this miracle?”
“Sir, he said that in Russia they don’t even know how to make rope,” the messenger replied.
“In that case let us prove the contrary,” said the Czar as he tore up the pardon.
Ryleyev was hanged the next day and the rope held tight until he kicked the bucket.
Muckraker read that story from Robert Greene’s 48 Laws of Power. The anecdote accompanies Law 4: “Always say less than necessary”.
Ryleyev would have lived to see another day if only he kept his tongue on a short leash.
Did Muckraker hear you say qoi?
The story is not about what happened to a reckless mouth in Russia two centuries ago but what is happening to Knorx Molelle because of his mouth.
Muckraker’s grandfather used to say the three things that get a man in trouble are the mouth, the hands and the ‘member’. The hand does things to things and people. The mouth says things. And the ‘member’…we all know the David story. Molelle is a victim of his mouth.
Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuu!
muckraker.post@gmail.com
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