At last, Ring The Alarm!

Election officials got the ball rolling tonight when they were dispatched island wide to post notices of the February 21 polling and Nomination Day, which will be next Wednesday. Here officers Haskell Drakes and Everton Henry paste a notice on the door of the District “A” Police Station.

Barbadians will choose the thirty politicians that will serve as their masters for the next five years, on Thursday, February 21, 2013. That date decided on two years ago by Prime Master  Prime Minister Freundel Stuart, is exactly one month after Bajans celebrated Errol Barrow Day and one week after the popular Valentine’s Day. The message, clearer than a glass of E.S.A.F White Rum at a moonlight picnic, is unmistakable.

At Last, Are We There Yet? No, Not Quite.

Like an asteroid hurtling towards earth threatening to wipe-out life on the planet, the much-anticipated and eagerly awaited, some say long overdue, elections, finds the current Government engaged in last-ditch efforts to alter its course and avert certain doom. This is both amusing and bemusing to a people forced to endure, arguably, but barely so, the worst Government Barbados has ever seen.

No Room For You Sir!

The missing moon startled me as soon as I stepped outside. I checked the time on the phone, 4:49. Earlier, a peek at the new day, revealed a beautiful full moon bathing the early morn with glorious moonlight. Now, in the hour it had taken me to get ready for work, the bewitchingly beautiful moon had vanished.

My eyes raced to the eastern horizon fearing that the sun, making his usual grand entrance, had again chased her away, but the stars signalled that he was not yet ready to display his brilliance. Hoping to catch one last glimpse of the silver beauty before the sun arrived, I frantically searched behind every tree and under every cloud without success.

Encounters Of The Worst Kind – Politicians And Children

Politicians in their quest to impress, only cause confusion and bewilderment, eventually resulting in much distress to those who still believe in the tooth fairy and enchanted mushrooms.
People who only practice what to preach to the masses, tell children they must work hard and stay focused. These young impressionable children are then encouraged to see these honourable people and their honourable profession, as goals attainable only by hard work and dedication. The teachers, well aware of the fact that politicians have long grown tired of working hard and are only focused on remaining in positions, where they are not required to actually work for a salary, do nothing to protect the minds of their innocent charges from the devastating savagery of these modern Barbarians.

Five Is Enough… Oh, Sorry… Eight Is Enough, Five Is Not.

From the time I was a boy I have heard people speak about taking a six for nine but I have never heard anything about mistaking the number five for any other number. Five years are five years and five years was always five years until this DLP administration came to office. Now we are hearing that five years does not start from the date of the election victory, it starts from the first sitting of parliament. I went to school long but not regular and even then it was only in August so you should appreciate that I am struggling to grasp the finer details of this farce.

Political Puppetry – Pandering for Votes in 2013

There are a few things we considered worse than politicians publicly presenting pensioners with title deeds. Drinking a glass of sour horse’s milk while suffering from a cold was one candidate. Parasites posing prettily with unsuspecting hosts was another instance. However,  finding a picture of a parasite posing prettily with an unsuspecting host, is not as easy as finding one with politicians posing prettily with unsuspecting pawns constituents. Nevertheless we still conclude that, from the photographic evidence available at this time, pictures of  politicians publicly presenting pensioners with conveyances are much more nauseating, than drinking a glass of sour horse’s milk.

Christmas in Barbados

As the radio stations continue their merciless assault, torturing you with advertisement every other minute, you stand on a crowded Bridgetown pavement peering into a window.

Inside merchants are having a hard time keeping the shelves stocked. People are running around like ants in a flooded nest, snatching up the latest new and improved imported junk. Christmas lights and trees, ceramic ornaments, tinsel and wreaths, the holly and the ivy. Santa Clauses and Rudolphs. Reindeer horns and elves hats. Name it and they will buy it.