Whistle and Cock Blowers: Just Do it!

Whistle and Cock Blowers: Just Do it!

By: Montle Moorosi



For some reason a lot of journalists think that they’re private detectives, Humphrey Bogart’s with champagne glass formats instead of shots of whiskey. They see themselves as these archaeologists or seekers of truth and even as martyrs or soldiers in their war on words, “were just playing our parts”. Connie Bogart Chung. Then when they retire from journalism the first they do is write a detective novel in some idyllic run down shack by the sea, or end up running the D.A. and Cape Town.

“Ja I’m writing an article about how air conditioners are racist because they don’t take the black man’s tropic equatorial genetic make up into consideration” -Journalist

The ANC hates journalists, and I can see why. Journalists have really bad taste, and I’m not talking about making up facts and stories like I do or putting pictures of dead naked white men on the cover of tabloid newspapers, journalists are in bad taste because they are lousy if not sloppy dressers and although they know a lot of big words like “contrived”, “personal hygiene” is the only word they have never stumbled across or “followed a lead into”. Most of them are actually way too smart to be doing journalism and often studied things like financial accounting and are just either trying to piss of their parents or suffering from the final stages of chronic bourgeois guilt. And of course some of them just did way too much Quaaludes in the 70’s and had orgies with IFP operatives in burnt train carriages and never really came back from it all. In school they learn to sleep on their stomach’s everyday and they have their left bottom ribs removed so they can suck their own cocks to the sound of the lecturer saying “FOURTH ESTATE”. And did I mention that they also want everything for free? Fuck it, I mean if you wanted to do a story about me because you found out my vagina was actually a singing piece of calamari I’d want at least R1000 you cheap motherfucker.


Anton Harber

If only Habermas, Foucault and all those other bores had realised what they were doing talking about public spheres and places of “rationale debate” what kind of evil cacophony they were composing with a crude ensemble made up of “objectivity” on the shoe string bass, “who, why, when, where” on the tin can drum and Deborah Patta on the vocals singing a maskandi version of Strange fruit. The media industry is something like the Tower of Babel. I remember when the Black Journalist forum was started and only black journalists were allowed to join. The uproar this incident caused made no sense to me at the time and it still doesn’t. White journalists were mad because they weren’t allowed to join the black journalist forum. Now first all why do journalists even need a forum? Isn’t it clear that what they need is Dettol and some life coaching seminars? The black journalists wanted a forum where they could discuss “black journalism” what that is I don’t know, but I’m assuming it means very long stories about jazz, hair products and sickle cell disease. What’s more retarded is that the white journalists were crying like bitches to be a part of this, writing about Zuma’s used condoms or the beauty of wicker furniture (let alone owning the media) wasn’t enough for them. It was like a child with Down syndrome crying and begging in the mall screaming at the mother “mama, I want elephantiasis”.

But you know what, it’s a democracy! Woo hoo! So I guess they wont be made into bars of soap anytime soon, nor will their heads be shrunken and be used as paper weights like God intended them to be. But what I still don’t understand is the ever present or “effervescent” hygiene problem this class of workforce are inflicted by, I mean, they aren’t construction workers or abortionists. I am told that Mail and Guardian journalists are some of the best paid in South Africa second to the Sunday independent, yet the founder and now current head of Journalism at Wits, Anton Harber smells like those tiny smelly balls you get at the back of your throat after a heavy night of drinking or a bout of hay fever. And his suits look like they were stolen from a morgue in Helsinki. A very rich man. Maybe sometimes eating sushi out of a woman’s ass is a way of preventing yourself from having delusions of grandeur that you’re an “everyday hero” as opposed to the not so sad reality that you’re a rich motherfucker with a small cock. Money can buy you a bigger cock and a bigger house. Like the 12 yr old Chinese kid making shoes said “Just Do It”.