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MUCKRAKER

WHAT gets you into trouble are not the words but their meaning.
Take for instance what happened in Mafube one afternoon, some eons ago. Little Thabo was up to his usual tomfoolery again when a pissed Muckraker said: ke tla ofa ‘M’ao.
Boom! That’s how the thunderous blow from Thabo landed on Muckraker’s head, knocking her into a gully. Thabo didn’t get his mother but he made sure Muckraker saw stars as she lay there. Thabo started being an idiot again some days later Muckraker chose her words carefully. “O tla bona khaitseli ea malomao,” Muckraker said, confident she had passed the message without attracting Thabo’s wrath.
How wrong she was. Boom! Boom! Boom! An enraged Thabo came upon Muckraker like a tonne of bricks. A swollen lip and a black eye were Muckraker’s rewards for trying to be clever. Despite being a bit slow, Thabo had caught the message faster than Muckraker had anticipated. She had hoped by the time the lights come on in Thabo’s encephalon she will be home enjoying papa ka lipu. It’s not the words but the meaning.
On reflection Muckraker thinks she should have just gone for the more biting insults like: O tla bona ntsetse! If you are going to be beaten for an insult let it be for a stinging one that really roils the heart.
If you are going to eat a dog, let it be bulldog. Never be punished for eating an emaciated and flea-infested village stray.

Those lessons came racing back to Muckraker’s mind when a local newspaper alleged that the government launched a one-player lottery for Lieutenant General Tlali Kamoli.
Do I see your face light up in disbelief?
Well, remember it’s not the words but their meaning that matters. The paper didn’t actually say the government had started lotto lottery for the general. Rather, it said government had offered the general between M40 million and M55 million to vamoose from the army.
But when you look at those vulgar figures it is as clear as the contours on Uncle Tom’s face that the paper is saying there is a government-funded Kamoli lottery in the offing.
All the general does to hit the jackpot is to say four magical words: “Yes, I leave now!”
And bingo, he will be an instant millionaire.
It was a fantastically sensational story based on faceless sources, some of whom Muckraker suspects the reporter does not even remember.
You see, when you thrive on Facebook rumours, bar-talk, street gossip and shebeen murmurings you end up confused about the source of your information.
Hence it did not take long for the newspaper to start backpedalling from the sensational piece. It was “Mews (not news) without fact or flavour” all the way.
We are sorry Ntate Kamoli, they said with a long face and perhaps a drop of one or two tears.
Kamoli and government had found a way to grip the newspaper by the balls (if there are any balls). Kamoli in particular might have started rubbing his hands in glee after seeing that story, one he knew the paper could not prove even if they hired a PI.
After all, this is a newspaper that has made its vocation to insult him at every chance. After calling him obscene names they were now accusing him of winning a rigged lottery.
Phew! Muckraker will confess that she does not mind if the General is allowed to go.
Yet that doesn’t mean people should go around publishing one-legged stories based on unsubstantiated figures. The irony here is that the newspaper got the story correct until it tried to be sophisticated by sneaking in those X-rated figures. It was a poor attempt at taking the story forward.
Without those thumb-sucked numbers the story would have stood on all four, thus saving the newspaper the nuisance of having to grovel to Kamoli.
Methinks this is a lesson to all journalists with an insatiable libido for peddling figures whose meaning they don’t understand.

The rule of thumb is that when you use a speculative figure you must base it on something or someone. Since the newspaper will fight tooth and nail to protect its sources, and rightly so, we can only assume that the sources who flogged the M40 million and M55 million figures knew what they were talking about.
On that one Muckraker cannot say more lest she be accused of insinuating that the sources are actually non-existent.
What she can however stand on is the dubious nature of the figures.
Those figures are not based on anything other than the reporter’s day dreams. Let’s do the simple arithmetic. Here all journalists who have built a Chinese Wall between themselves and Mathematics must listen carefully for Muckraker is not going to dish out this lesson again.
As commander of the army Kamoli earns around M400 000 per year. Now, if the government is going to pay him for M40 million it means they are paying him as if she would have worked for 100 years from now. By that time he would be 152 years old. Kamoli might be loathed but he is sure not immortal.
If we go by the M55 million figure it means he will be getting a salary equivalent to 137 years. That means he will be paid as if he would have worked until he is 189 years old. That doesn’t make sense at all unless you are high on something illegal, just mad or plain stupid.

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Readers of local newspapers, including thepost, must be having running tummies from seeing too many headlines with “D-Day” in them.
“D-Day for Likuena”, “D-Day for Lesotho”, “D-Day for Bantu” and “D-Day for blah,blah”.
Our newspapers are now obsessed with “D-Day”.
By now the readers are wondering what D-Day really means. Muckraker was getting confused too until she checked. D-Day simply means a day on which something important is going to happen or is expected to happen. Well, that is what it should mean but it has to be used sparingly lest we go mad from reading D-Day in headlines.
In any case, it is pointless to be calling every day a D-Day as if other days are not important. Historically, D-Day is the day (6 June 1944) in the Second World War on which Allied forces invaded northern France by means of beach landings in Normandy.
Muckraker is beginning to think given the obsessive use of D-Day our newspapers now think the D means delivery or doom. If that is the case then we need deliverance from D-Day headlines before we are doomed.
For now just know that a D-Day headline is a clear sign that the subeditor had experienced a dearth in creativity. It’s an indication of laziness. In most cases it is a sign of dishonesty: that is to say a newspaper is making a meal out of nothing.

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Muckraker

Jackals are hunting

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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

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Muckraker

Pressing the Knorx Stereo

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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”.

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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.

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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?

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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.

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Muckraker

The mouth

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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.

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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.

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“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?

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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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