Over the past week or so, there has been a hue and cry about the City of Cape Town’s proposed new corporate image. The complaints have roamed up and down the indignation spectrum from “I wasn’t consulted!” to “What a waste of resources!”
I didn’t really pay too much attention to the issue, because although I may not be a professional beverage container meteorologist, I can recognise a storm in a teacup when I see one.
However, it was pointed out to me that the new logo has more than a passing resemblance to an image from the underbelly of the early days of the internet and now I simply can’t unsee it.
If you don’t know what I’m talking about, consider yourself fortunate.
Politics in this country is a bit of a farce. Hardly a day goes by without some sector of the seething electorate angrily burning tyres and throwing bits of masonry or excrement to demonstrate their unhappiness with the performance of their elected officials. Fair enough, but the problem arises when the very same unhappy protesters vote the very same underperformers back into office despite their obvious inability to do the job properly. Somehow, the dots remain unconnected. It’s almost as if the entire country goes on a massive tequila bender immediately prior to an election. Sadly, the hangover lasts for five years.
It’s vaguely reminiscent of one of those reality shows where the losers are always utterly shocked to discover that the other competitors are motivated by self-interest. I’d be happier if we dropped all pretence and simply ran the elections like a sadistic weekly talent show. I’m no expert on constitutional law, but I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to fit the existing framework to a media-friendly format.
I envisage a stage full of hopefuls, each having to demonstrate their political prowess to the audience (and viewers at home) via a series of humiliating tasks. Next, they would be strapped to a polygraph and have to face a gauntlet of disdainful journalists. People tuning in could text their vote to the studio, stipulating the voltage setting on the electro-shock machine for each untrue answer given:
“Oh come now Jacob, I think we both know that isn’t true”
“No, no, not the red buttonnnnnnnnaaaaaaaaarrgh!!!!!”
In the final elimination round, the participants would have to bid on the salary they would accept, with the lowest offer securing the portfolio in question.
It may not be democracy in its strictest form, but I firmly believe this is what people would want.
Coincidence? I wonder. Has anyone actually ever seen them in the same place at the same time? Maybe the boss is doing this to troll me. I certainly wouldn’t put it past him.
Oh, hang on – now that I think about it, I have seen them together – at a billion soul-crushing meetings last year. I must have blocked the memory. Can’t imagine why.
This depressingly stupid scenario recurs every couple of months. After a couple of days, the client returns from gun-running or whatever shameful activity requires him to remain incommunicado and life returns to normal.
My boss seems to be the only one who hasn’t noticed the pattern.