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(Obeah) Man of Letters

ANYTIME Trinidad threatens to out-Trinidad itself – like when the entire executive hierarchy, President, Prime Minister, Chief Justice, Commissioner of Police, go away on holiday, but the bandits and murderers work overtime at home – I feel like evading Trinidadian reality for a little while; kind of like everyone who copes with life’s challenges through ganja, rum or beating their children, except that comedy doesn’t do permanent damage.

On days like this, I go into my “mails-bag” and bring out some of the letters to the editor which, somehow, never got printed in the newspapers: I feel I have a duty to publicize them, partly because they reflect significant opinion on local and international matters, but mainly because I made them all up myself.

Sir

Anyone who doubts our brilliance need only consider that we took the Caribbean Premier League finals away from Trinidad, where every match sells out and the atmosphere is mind-blowing, and gave them to St Kitts, where you can always get a seat, because the ground wouldn’t be filled even if the whole population attended, and match day excitement comes close to stamp-collecting.

The West Indies Cricket Board

Fiddling About

While the Great House Burns

Sir

In Trini, when I shoot people, police want to kill me. Every time I rape, them woman’ family looking to rape me back. When I bandit, everybody want to hang me. To put down a little work in Trinidad, I have to thief a Nines or a stupid little kiss-me-arse .32 from a next bad man. But as I land in the Middle East, them new gang leader give me the most high-power gun free, with endless tracer bullet, so I could watch my shot, like in video game. When I murder and rape here, I’s get promotion. And it ent even have any real Syrian like in Queen Street to watch me bad. Give me a Koran and a AK and keep your roti and Carnival, yes.

I’sa Treeneek Hunt

Shooting Infidel Like Peas

To the Glory of God

Sir

Believe me, I’m going to build a wall on the border and the Mexicans are going to pay for it. Trust me, I’m going to send all American troops stationed in the Middle East to Sandals on vacation, and the Taliban is going to pay for it. Listen to me, I’m going to ban falafel in the USA and Subway is going to pay for it. Basically, I’m going to do whatever the firetruck pops into my feeble head and America and the rest of the world is going to pay for it.

Don Donald

Riding to the White House

On the back of White Male Stupidity

Sir

Man-a-say! Oonoo never see all them weird round red mark on all them hathlete’ bwoy body in Rio in them Holympics games-them? Oonoo never haxe yourself, “Ah-wha’ them red spot is?” Well, oonoo lucky today, because HE-SPN Caribbean-them get smart ‘nuff to ‘ire one-two Jamaican sports commentator to hexpound ‘pon the television on these Holympics, and the man is one o’ them, so me could tell you: them round mark is duppy bite. Booyaka!

A Jamaican Colour Commentator

ESPN Olympics Team

Real Local Colour

Sir

I’m just saying, right mate, that ESPN is better off, yeah, hiring a kind of a Trini-Brit, yeah? We’re more understandable, yeah, and Americans are total suckers for anything sounding vaguely like a British accent. Also, I’m more knowledgeable about sports medicine and thing: them red marks is not obeah, them is zika musky-toe bite.

Shaka Hislop

Getting It Right

Somewhere Between London, Laventille & LA

Sir

It have nothing – which gymnast going to the Olympics, which political party more corrupt, which beach to go to on the weekend, who to buy bread or doubles or fried chicken from – that we cannot collectively immediately reduce to race and make absurdly prejudiced judgements about.

Trinidad & Tobago

The Rainbow Nation

My Ass

Sir

Just check out my styles: solid white box plastic shades; fitted jacket tighter than a rum jumbie in a steelband Jouve morning; white socks starring under my ankle-breezer, bamcee-squeezer pants, like Michael Jackson on Thriller album cover. You ent see I could left Trinidad anytime I want and become a big star on American TV? Excepting it wouldn’t be hosting a crime hunting show, just one about gay fashion.

Ian Alleyne

CNCLGBT 3

I Run Around This Town

Sir

Trini does vote every five years or sooner/ And the new-old government does get honeymoon-uh/ But each honeymoon does get shorter and shorter/ Even when Opposition have Government in court-uh / The court of public opinion does get five years to retire/ When they come back, the new-old government does get fire/ Don’t wait five years now, take in front, oui/ And tell them haul they mother country.

The Mighty Patriot

In a Rumshop

But Hoping for a National Award of Cash

Sir

All insane acts being committed in My name – bombing abortion clinics, shooting people in rock concerts and gay clubs, driving dump trucks over children – I wish those religious idiots would just stop their holy crap,

God

Eating Bacon

Regretting Having Created Belief

Sir

Anyone still doubting our brilliance need only consider that we ended the domestic season by sacking Darren Sammy as T/20 captain and replacing him with Carlos Braithwaite. In one move, we punish a bad Negro for criticizing his masters publicly, and seed even more dissension in the player ranks by replacing an old, beloved captain with an almost brand new player just starting forming relationships on the team. It’s icing on the cake for us that putting Braithwaite under this kind of pressure will ensure he cracks up and allow us to fire him, too, and demonstrate yet again who is boss. We have 400 years’ practice of whipping them into shape.

The West Indies Cricket Board

Putting Fires Out with Champagne

The Not So Great House

BC Pires is more of an astringent than a stringer

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