Inaugural Jives

Hi, there. It is not often that I ask for forgiveness even before I have sinned. And this, I suspect, could be one of those rare occasions. The reason is simple: I am an incurably forgetful person. In fact, I have, in the past, even forgotten to die on more occasions than one. Oh, my Goodness! I even forgot to introduce myself. You see what I mean? My name is …, wait a minute. I hope I have not forgotten who I am. No, this time I have not. I am HumourDaemon. Did I hear you scream “that name rings a bell”? Sure! I was a time keeper in my primary school days.

My lateness in posting this item today has not been due to forgetfulness, though. Actually, I have been held back by my friend’s wife (my friend-in-law?) who had been complaining to me all day her husband had never taken her out since they got married. Poor woman! He couldn’t have taken her out, anyway. He is my very good friend and I know him inside out: he doesn’t go out with married women! You see, I was only being honest with her in deference to my mentor who had laboured to make me embrace honesty as the best policy. And I have held on to that maxim most tenaciously until our politicians proved to me beyond all reasonable and unreasonable doubts that honesty is not the best politics.

Let me confess that is not the reason I am not a player on that field. I just am not interested in the game, not because I have any skeleton in my cupboard – in fact, if you got to my bunker, you would see my cupboard is so small it cannot accommodate a skeleton. The problem is when the idea was first sold to me, I quickly dashed to my medical doctor friend who conducted a very comprehensive blood test on me and he certified, medically, that there was no politics in my blood. Even my friend’s wife wondered why I refused to venture into that business. “If I were in your shoes, …” she had started. Unfortunately for her, my shoes were too large for her feet. “No, HumourDaemon, what I mean is if you asked me, I would advise you should be talking instead of writing.” And that is why I will never ask her.

Characteristically, I forgot to demand from her why she herself was not canvassing for our votes. Someone like me would be prepared to high heavens to vote for her even as president. It does not matter some people still contend a woman’s place is in the kitchen. All we need do, in that case, is to go for a constitutional amendment that will take into consideration the possibility of a woman president and consequently make provisions for a kitchen department in the office of the president. I would rather root for her to become president than for me to become councilor. No, I can never be a successful politician. For example, I do not possess the mastery of poli-tricks of Johnbull, the student politician. Listen to him and his mates in class:

Hitler: Our class captain is too slow, incapable, unintelligent, lazy, unfair and insensitive to the plight of our less-privileged mates. I feel we should remove him and appoint someone else.

Henry: I agree with you totally. We should remove him, and fast too.

Johnbull: I am going to report you both to the class teacher.

Hitler and Henry: Why? For what?

Johnbull (to the class teacher): Sir, Hitler and Henry are trying to spread rumours capable of causing disaffection in the class.

You see what I mean? If I had been Johnbull, I would have gone to the class teacher to “misjive” that Hitler and Henry were hatching a plot, in fact planning a coup-de-tat to oust the class captain, I mean contemplating treasonable felony.
In the same vein, I, in politics, would only commit political treason against myself if I ever had to deal with even a child’s play of a tricky situation. For example, suppose I was caught pulling my secretary’s underwear, I would only commit political suicide by going straightaway to confess to fornication or adultery when all I had to do was to admit to an “inappropriate relationship.” I would receive just S1,000 from government contractors and confess to taking a bribe when my opposite number would receive S10,000,000 and admit to receiving only a “political donation.”

By now, I am sure even my biggest enemy would have seen why I should stay away from the tricky game of politics (poli-tricks?), why I should be writing instead of talking. And that, it is great delight, I can do on Writing.Com without having to perform any rite. And, although I am not Wright, I believe I will be right if I write. I don’t even mind waiting for you to take your turn: I have no problem with waiting, I once did an holiday job as a Waiter. I am very much aware that is not your cup of tea, but neither is it my own glass of coffee. And please don’t bother asking me for what actually I do for a living. What everybody else does for that purpose, of course: I breathe for a living. You don’t give a damn? Sorry, I don’t take a damn either, so even if you give I won’t take. However, I do take a ham, jam or even a ram, and these, I believe, you give.

Thanks for “listening” to my inaugural jives. HumourDaemon has spoken … sorry, written.