As time takes its toll and as life exacts its price, I find that I sometimes lisp.
As time takes its toll and as life exacts its price, I find that I sometimes lisp.
And this ailment comes on just when I thought that I would have thumthing profound to thay about how mithtaken and how ungodly Branville McCartney hath become now that he hath [ok, felix, we get the lisp thing] dedicated himself fulltime to that herculean task of ridding the Bahamas of all those black people and a sprinkling of people wearing skins colored otherwise/ this just happens to be the time when I get a letter from somewhere – only God knows – that seems to so very heaven-sent. The letter I have received has to do with love and an offer of love from someone who could be as close as a heartbeat/ her name is Olga A.
And even as I try to focus on Olga’s love-offer, some other irrelevancies intrude/ with names like Branville, Tommy, Fred, Allyson and the Wire, Bernard, Perry, Paul, Obie, Jerome Fitzgerald, Brave and the Corncob, Laura, Hubert, Brent and the rich people they serve and the poor people they fleece.
What I’m trying to say is that I would like to take a break from the foolishness, the greed, the venality, the naked ambition, the hate, the selfishness, the sinfulness, the nastiness and some of the foolishness that parades as public policy in this nasty and truly messed up place.
And so, as I woke up this morning burdened with the thought of how I would fill this bone-white sheet, I was happy as a bird as I took note of what Olga A. had to say to me about love, sweet love.
Now that you are with me – so to speak – listen in as Olga A. coos:
First, Olga cooed, Good day, my beloved Felix…
And then she sighs: It is the things in common that make relationships enjoyable, but it is the little differences that make them interesting.
[at this, my heart races, flips and hurts].
And then the divine Olga A. tells me [here I suspect from the bottom of her heart] Honey, I am here to find you and happiness that no one else could ever feel.
“I am here to find love I have never known before.
“I want you to touch my heart in the way that makes me stay with you forever…” So there you have it again, that heart thing, Olga A. wants her dearest Felix to touch her heart.
While I am this heart thing, a thought intrudes and the thought that intrudes tells me that Conville Brown also routinely touches hearts.
Oh dear!
Well, okay, I know that when Olga A. talks about her heart and my heart that she is not doing so in a Convillean kind of way. I know that!
And so, please listen in as Olga A. tells me what she wants more than anything else in the world.
My dearest Olga tells me in her last words, “I want you be my guiding light because I am lost in this fast-moving life and I need your love most of all…”
And for the clincher in her love-message, the sweetest Miss Olga A. begs me to believe her when she says, “I will be the best for you, the dearest friend and the sweetest lover…”
She signs off, Sincerely yourth, Olga A.
How very sexy, Olga A. has a lisp.
But now that I have told you about some of what is not happening in my love life, please believe me when I tell you that this country of mine – this land of my birth – has reached such a low point in its degeneration that I now despair for my children, their children and all those other people like the family on Peter Street whose son, brother, child and neighbor was recently beaten by the police.
I despair for a government that has in it ministers like Branville Mccartney, Tommy Turnquest and others who bring so very little to the Table. I despair for a man like Hubert Ingraham who is apparently obliged to put up with this stuff.
And God knows I am truly sorry for the men and women who are members of a once great Progressive Liberal Party, this because I am absolutely convinced that Hubert A. Ingraham is dead-set on burying the remnants of this once – great party and in the same breath, I can tell you – without a word of lie on my lips- that I am convinced that if Perry Gladstone Christie prevails in his party’s leadership contest, he will go on to get a royal cut-ass at the hands of Mr. Ingraham.
While I hope and pray that the obstetrician-gynecologist will win, I fear that the mortician and his helper know very well what they are about in these vulture times.
And while I am at it, please believe me when I tell you that I was somewhat concerned when I learned from my ailing and now perfectly geriatric parents that they heard and saw some brave soul or the other confessing that he had put corn cobs – one after the delicious other- to some very good and hygienic use once other family members had – as I suspect – eaten the corn.
When I heard that, I said to myself, roll over Booker T. with all your stuff about up from slavery and listen to the man with the corn cob.
And then you have a Tommy T. who has now learned that poor people like Maxo Tido does have a right – as a poor man – to appeal his death sentence.
And now you have in Branville Mc Cartney who would want pastors and other religious to help him get the message across that hospitality does not matter and that they should help him persuade human persons in fear of death and hunger in Haiti, to pack their bags, take one last visit to Church, say good-bye to the Bahamas and then take their chances with Death.
Lord, God Almighty, is there no shame in this place?
Lord, God Almighty, does the man not know that the Christian is enjoined by the word of the living God to shelter the homeless, feed the hungry and care for the dying.
Lord, God Almighty, does this man with the perfectly Haitian name and looks not understand that there is another and better way to deal with these creatures that are His and His alone?
And for sure, what part of the word does Tommy Turnquest not understand when the commandment says, Thou Shalt Not Kill?
What I’m trying to say is that these rich brothers and sisters of mine in both the Progressive Liberal Party and the Free National Movement are simply and perhaps literally out to lunch.
Our nation deserves better.
But since better will not come anytime soon. And since the contest is on between Bernard, the obstetrician/gynecologist and Perry the pall-bearer and coffin-builder, I have decided to moan, groan and pine for my latest heart-throb, the sweet Miss Olga A. and her sexy signature words, sincerely – yourth.
To repeat, my sweetness greeted me as if she was the love of my life:
Good day: It is the things in common that make relationships enjoyable, but it is the little differences that make them interesting.
Honey, I am here to find you and happiness that no one else could ever feel. I am here to find love I have never known before.
I want you to touch my heart in the way that makes me stay with you forever. I want you be my guiding light because I am lost in this fast-moving life.
And I need your love most of all.
I will be the best for you, the dearest friend and the sweetest lover.
My sweetest Olga A. I too am yourth.
So there, I now lisp.
