What's The Issue?

This is a direct quote. One evening I was chatting with a thought-provoking character, or I could have been sitting really close to the mirror. Come to think of it our glasses would have still clinked so I probably would never have known.

In my minds eye it was an orange and brown burger joint that functioned mainly as a bar. But the issues we casually flicked about were luminous crimson in contrast. Jacob will face the nation and so he has agreed to pay back the money. Now, do you think Julius will keep quiet. I don't think so. What is the state of our nation Mr. President? How do we avoid junk status? Remember in 1974 the Rand was 0.68 to the US Dollar? That was just 42 years ago. But leave that. There is tragedy a foot and just over the hill from us Boko Haram are burning women and children alive. Further North the Americans and Euopeans continue to fuel a mammoth onslaught on Syria and the Middle East.

Will our president exit this election and leave our country rudderless? Heading straight for the rocks? The deep rich crimson colour of our conversation turned and my politically inspired companion spread his questions towards the moral high ground. America can have a nuclear arms space program but Kim Jong Il can't even have their own satellite system?

What to do? I asked the shadowed character, not much light in his corner. "Put the whitey to work." He said, let him do what he does best, let him farm like the boer only can, let him run the finances and let him get the best dollar for our diamonds and gold." "And then?" I ventured as an encouragement, "And then there would be big fat tax bills being paid and we could triple the Government grant and the black man will be riding the white like his bongolo."

I laughed at the absurdity of it and then pondered at its plausibility. He had solutions for all the conflicts and we became entangled on how to wrench the free world from the chokehold of the oil barons and their enslaving banking system?

It had been a long evening and it was going to be much longer. The stanch of old oil, smoke, urine, sweat, stale beer spills and toilet freshener were working overtime on my puke button. "The war continues to rage in the Ukraine, politicians doing their jobs, feeding our brothers and sisters into their war machine to churn their lives into even more cash for someone who couldn't spend his all if he lived forever," he mumbled.