I am becoming increasingly gatvol of the pseudo Marxist claptrap spouted by the great and the not-so-good.
It is usually a precursor of the smoke and mirrors used to fool the masses into believing that the upper echelons of the Tripe-Artheid Alliance actually give a flying fart for them and the real difficulties that they face on a daily basis.
We hear Comrade this, Comrade that, and hear and read impenetrable and recursively unreadable policy papers filled with phrases and concepts last used in the London School of Economics in the 1970s. Most members of the Alliance wouldn’t recognise a true Marxist construct if it bit them on the leg. Ask one of them to define dialectic materialism and they would choke on their Johnny Walker Blue Label as they climb into their luxury imported sedan.
The actuality is that of Soviet Russia where the efforts of the huddled and repressed masses were used to fuel the luxury lifestyles of the Politburo and associated hangers-on. After all a senior ANC official said that he didn’t join the struggle to remain poor. The senior ranks of the ANC have embraced this concept with keen vigour. In the words of one version of the old anthem, “You can stuff the Red Flag up your arse, I’ve got the foreman’s job at last”.
Champagne Socialists the lot of them.
The current ANC is not seen as the heirs to a principled body which removed the previous dispensation, but more as an entree to opportunities for self-enrichment and self-preservation.
As a prime example of the current fashion for spending hours speaking, but saying nothing of substance, one only has to read Zuma’s speech to the apparatchiks at the ANC Policy Conference.
This speech is nothing but a load of old hows-yer-father and toss-pottery.
Comrade, if you are a true Marxist working selflessly and tirelessly for the good of the people, all well and good, otherwise I will present my sainted buttocks for you to kiss as a sign of true repentance.