2009-10-07 08:59

And for once, I can relate to the little fatso. ET's return, as reported in a full-page, exclusive interview in the Mail & Guardian (of all papers) is fantastic news. I don't think I've been so amused by politics since that time I drunkenly started a new South African braai with an old South African flag.

Malema and Terre'Blanche are two sides of the same coin, minted in the currency of Stupid. Both take their ideologies to such illogical extremes, with such cheap-suited showmanship and carnival bluster, that they've become the best thing to have ever happened to their enemies.

Malema plays directly into the hands of his racist opponents by pulling out the "race card" so often that it's actually become more difficult to discuss genuine racial issues without sounding a bit like Malema. The race card is valuable, damn it - and he's wearing it out. Somebody should explain to the little hobgoblin that if he brings race into everything, the end result may be that nobody can bring race into anything.

Similarly, Terre'Blanche is a veritable gift to the left wing, and like his ANCYL counterpart, worth his considerable weight in entertainment value alone. Despite his powerlessness, the man is fascinatingly arrogant, playing both the victim and the aggressor in the same breath for a support-base of deluded cosplay losers with more arm fat than common sense. How he can talk about "freedom" from "black oppression" and forming a whites-only republic (apparently without black labourers) and still keep a straight face is as mystifying as it is hilarious.

It's all about image, you see. When the Irish Republican Army wanted the world to hear their cause, they diverted our attention away from their terrorist attacks and gave us Gerry Adams, a soft-spoken, bespectacled intellectual who used the charm of a snake-oil salesman to become a media darling of the late '80's, despite his tacit approval of blowing up schoolchildren. Back home, the impotent white right have given us pseudo-swastikas, khaki parades and spittle-fuelled speeches. Their meetings look like a cross between a costume drama and a pub crawl. They're easy to mock.

I was sad when they went, and after a short media buzz, I'll be sad to see the AWB go again, as invariably they must. The AWB simply have no future. It's hard to imagine that anyone under the age of 25 who owns a pair of shoes would ever want to join them. Sure, there are always those that do, but they're not the cool kids. They're not hot either, for that matter. They just are, like wax mannequins gathering dust in an apartheid museum. Have you noticed how every posed photograph of AWB members looks like it was taken in the late 1800s? Not exactly zeitgeist material.

Besides, the entire history of the AWB practically spells FAIL, to coin an interweb phrase. You think I'm wrong? Challenge accepted! To wit:

F is for first formed in '73
By a former cop poet, now on DVD
He shags skinny journos and falls off his horse
A natural leader for Nazis, of course

A's for the A-word. "Apartheid!" they cheer
Is how God would have wanted it, if he were here
In Bop, Kempton and Venters' they fought for their cause
You'd think God's chosen people could win a few wars

I is for interviews, always a hit
With British TV guys who make them look shit
First came Nick Broomfield, then came Theroux
The last time they'll talk to a communist Jew

L is for liberty from the black man
And woman as well, let's be clear as we can
So please take Orania, to show you we care
We'll weld the place shut when the last one gets there

And there you have it - easily the most unpoetic poem in the multiverse. Bok van Blerk, feel free to set that to music, if you want. It's sure to be a hit at the next gat party.

Twit me at @Chrismcevoy_
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