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Herself argue herself
Last night, with irony the Mighty Spoiler, composer of Magistrate Try Himself might have admired, the Prime Minister debated herself on state-owned TV. CNMG stands for “Caribbean New Media Group,” but its approach is as old as the hills, or at least as old as Jimmy Bain, the Goebbels-like T&T Television head who, in the 1970s, allowed only representatives of Eric Williams’ People’s National Movement to appear on what he saw as “government” and not “state” media.
Last night’s one-woman “debate,” really 90 minutes of free primetime publicity for the UNC political leader, was the finale of an extended farce in which the only politician who might have helped voters, ILP leader Jack Warner, was excluded ab initio (indeed in limine) and Opposition Leader Keith Rowley was gradually marginalised by the attrition of debate dates being miscommunicated through either mischief or incompetence that would have made slapstick look polished. (With finesse, Kamla even pretended to demand two green rooms, one for herself and the other for appearances, like the old man who told his dentist he had two teeth, “one for style and one for cavity.”)
Last night, then, our Kamla—whom I still like, since I understand her personality warp over the last year is simply what happens to any figurehead when any cabal or cartel, Mafia or Medellin, wants to keep its monopoly—reaped a huge personal benefit from happening to be prime minister.
At least theoretically.
The great danger of manipulating public resources for private gain is that people just might see through you. The men misleading Kamla might have persuaded her she looked statesmanlike last evening but anyone without a stack of yellow T-shirts in their cupboard would have seen it for what it was: PR being spoon-fed by a moderator trying not to appear as partisan as the whole exercise. For the independent thinker, last night might have been pure, if bitter, comedy. (PNM supporters must have fumed, though, not to have the same power to abuse.)
But imagine how much funnier it could have been if they’d allowed me—or David Bratt, Kevin Baldeosingh, Sunity Maharaj, Raffique Shah or anyone not automatically voting or thinking “Indian”—to take part, alongside the moderator/sycophant. It might have gone a little something like this:
CTV 8 pm. Fade in. National anthem plays over video of a body-double with magnificent breasts, stunning abs and badly photo-shopped, oversized head of Kamla Persad-Bissessar, in a red, white and black bikini rescuing babies from flood waters littered with balisier leaves, to show it is a PNM flood. Fade to studio, where Kamla, backlit, arms raised Jesus-like, stands alone, on ten-metre high pedestal. Gazing up adoringly from an armchair below, is Brian It-Have-No-Cojones, president of AIM (Association of Indian Media), hired for the night at a fee too large to fit on this page. Next to him, on a rough wooden stool borrowed from the rum-shop across Maraval Road, is BC Pires.
First five minutes is video of a Chinese woman, a Portuguese child and an old, toothless Rastaman singing, “Kam-il-la/ We voting for Kam-il-la!” Next three minutes is Kadijah Ameen twerking in red, white and black quarter-cup bra and G-string, maybe a quick shot of Nicole Dyer-Griffith in old UNC polo shirt and white poom-poom shorts—you got to use whatever strengths you can fake. Fade national anthem, fade in to Brian No-Cojones.
Brian No-C: Prime Minister, would you agree you are the most perfect prime minister and the most beautiful and also the most courageous and we would be idiots not to re-elect you?
Kamla: Yes, Allan Karim-Job, as long as I am your prime minister, you have nothing to fear from real prison breakouts or imaginary Muslimeen uprisings. And, of course (tosses head, shaking $5K hairstyle designed to fall perfectly in place) Keith Rowley can’t do this!
BC: You weren’t ashamed to use the prison break for personal grandstanding? You’re not embarrassed to use this fake debate like how you abused Parliament to invent mauvais langue to try to stigmatise Keith Rowley? As a woman, you didn’t cringe when your party twisted the sin of rape for political mileage?
Kamla: Keith Rowley has no plans! That is why we have a website called, www.NoNegroes.com. Sorry, NoRowley.com.
Brian No-C: Prime Minister, don’t study he! He not even really white, like me. All white-thinking, black-hating patriots are grateful you are protecting the nation from rampant Negroes. We’ve come too far to go black now.
Kamla: Thank you, Ronald Waist-High-Outside-Off-Stump-Bowler, but remember Rowley has no budget whereas I have real plans to give you all state houses like I give myself state airtime. If you don’t get a house before Monday, September 7, vote me in and you will get it on Tuesday, September 8.
BC: You’re not worried a decent woman like yourself is being manipulated into such indecency?
Kamla: Is there no one who will rid me of this turbulent BC Priest?
Hordes of yellow-shirted AIM rent-a-mob-ists swarm studio, snatch up Brian No-Cojones and carry him out, shouting for bull pistles too loud for Brian’s cry of, “Wrong white man! And he not really white, like me!” to be heard.
Kamla, to camera, smiling prettily: As long as I am prime minister, you have nothing to fear. Except getting your house before we spend the money on our new programmes, CrimeSport and Gi’WayContractFast-Fast.
- BC Pires is celebrating Emancipation at the Country Club tomorrow night with the Africans, Indians, douglas and white boys of Jaundis-I, jointpop and Dax Catar. Email your ironies to him at [email protected]. Thanks to Kevin B for the Allan Karimjob joke.
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