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Muckraker

Raffle in the cabinet

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SOME pseudo political analysts are sweating buckets to decipher why Mr Softie abruptly reshuffled Cabinet last week.
Never has a battalion of bearded men devoted so much energy on such a futile task.

There is no logic behind the reshuffle. Nor was there any analysis of the competencies of those kicked out or shoved to other ministries. It might have been just the prime minister playing eeny, meeny, miny, moe with the ministers. More like a raffle.

Peddling the ideal of some lucid method behind those dismissals and reassignments is like hawking warm water in the bus stop area. Just mumbo-jumbo conveying zero meaning.

The only sensible explanation for this reshuffle is that Mr Softie was tired of being a boring prime minister and wanted to give us something to chuckle about. Something to cheer up Basotho sick and tired of his depressing lockdown speeches that always sound like repeats of Cyril’s “My fellow South Africans…” monologues.

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Given the comical nature of his appointments, he might have succeeded in tickling us. It’s not entirely side-splitting but it will do just fine under these dreary circumstances.
Hooray! Like Mr Bean, Mr Softie has made us laugh without saying a word.

There is something amusing about the thought of sister Rantšo scrambling to clear her desk after Mr Softie said ‘get lost now!’. Imagine the sister dashing for the elevator or down the stairs, clutching her blanket and molamu.

Remember she once stormed an RCL (Retarded Congress of Lesotho) meeting brandishing a stick to bludgeon some traitors she accused of plotting her demise.
Eyewitnesses say Rantšo was waving her molamu while threatening to put the renegades into a coma if they insisted on putting a full-stop to her political career.

The police intervened to stop her from breaking bones but Muckraker suspects she was relieved more than her intended victims. There was no way that stick would have lasted a few seconds in her hand.
Someone must have told her that she has to be agile to use that stick on anyone, including herself.

Reason seems to have prevailed after she realised that once she loses the stick, she will have to do a Usain Bolt out of that hall. Sometimes all it takes to avoid a disaster is the wisdom to accept your limitations. Rantšo knew that running was not one of her strengths. When you have dololo speed you have to keep the peace.

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She should, however, not be bitter about her dismissal because it was long overdue. She wasn’t cut for the incessant brawls with trade unions. As such, she should profusely thank Mr Softie for putting her out of her misery.
Rantšo could also have grown weary of pinching herself to confirm if she is indeed a minister in the coalition.

It was a miracle that her RCL had a cabinet position. Rantšo thought it was a gift from the ancestors. Some people opined that it was unfair. Muckraker only saw criminality in the whole affair. Fraud doesn’t come this naked.
The evidence is clear. Her party, if at all it exists in any other form beyond the name, has fewer members than some stokvels or burial societies. Its members barely fill Pitso Ground or one bay at Setsoto Stadium.

The RCL was thus a hobo in the government. There are many vagrants in the coalition government but Keke’s party was their headmaster. The commissioner of the vagabonds in government.
Muckraker suspects that after receiving her marching orders Rantšo could have said: “Finally, someone has come back to their senses. I don’t belong here”.

The sister will now be a backbencher but don’t hold your breath because she will continue sleeping on the job.
Parliament officials are advised to equip her seat with a blanket and a pillow to make her journey to dreamland always memorable.

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Nka! Ichuuuuuuuuuuu!

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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.

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

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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”.

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.

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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.

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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