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with Blakka Ellis
Hey, guess what! Crazy comedic engagement and interactive amusement will be happening in New Kingston on a weekly basis again, as Club Riddim rolls out their special Friday-evening entertainment experience: 'The Ity & Fancy Cat After-work Jam', every Friday, starting this week.
But hold on, stop. That's not that what I intended to talk about! In fact, I had no idea what I wanted to talk about. But then I got a note from my friend Shorna-Kay Richards at the Jamaican High Commission in South Africa, saying: "Blakka, bwoy, I'm dreaming of Jamaican Christmas songs, sorrel and cake and the season just start! And tomorrow's article in THE STAR - is it on elections, or on whey Christmus breeze ah blow?"
So I decided to talk about both, starting with Christmas. Is there anybody around who still remembers (or cares) about what this holiday really means? I think there are still a few of us. But we're probably facing extinction.
From where I sit, it certainly seems like this special season is rapidly losing purpose and reason. Most people, it seems, don't give two hoots about the first syllable; dem just ready fi di 'mas'. So Christmas has almost totally become the ultimate commercial orgy and a lavish annual end-of-year homage to liquor and lunacy. And look yah nuh, it start!
Yes friends and peoples, November suddenly turn 'round di corner, and December just walk inna di circle lickle while ago, and braps, the Jamaican air's already ignited with excitement and di atmosphere ah flare wid di promise of bashment. And, of course, 2012 will be more than a little different.
Fi real peeps; PM Andrew Holness has announced December 29 as the date for general elections. So, this will be a December to remember and a Christmas to savour, because this year, we'll be mixing our yuletide with our 'fool-side' and injecting the Christmas exhilaration with political confusion.
It nuh look too good to me at all! Mek ah tell unnu a story. A couple years ago, I was on a panel conducting an interview with a young miss applying for a secretarial position. Well, when the applicant walked into the interview room the entire panel looked at her bosom then looked at each other with a mixture of discomfort and amusement.
We couldn't concentrate on the questions we intended to ask until one of us gently informed the young aspirant that she had a big piece of toilet paper stuck between her breasts in her (inappropriately low cleavage) blouse. She was totally embarrassed as she explained that the tissue is to absorb sweat because interviews make her nervous and when she's nervous she perspires and pees a lot.
As I scribbled the letters TMI on my note-pad, I imagined the other two panellists doing the same. Of course, the tissue between her breasts was actually the smallest of her blunders, so she didn't get the job.
Well, this election date and I have a serious issue. It reminds me of that piece of tissue. The election date just squeeze in so, it just irreverently jook up between di nice-nice Christmas Day and New Year's Day. It spoil the face of the holiday season to me. It just swell up ugly like one hellava pus-filled boil between the eyes.
With the extra push of the Christmas breeze fuelling the fire of our election enthusiasm and partisan zeal, I'm just fervently hoping that people respect the process, and don't insert the element of badness into our season of gladness and madness.
