I have a problem with people who try to pass off their unsolicited opinions as gospel. You know that popular saying – opinions are like assholes…everybody has one? Well it’s true, and cousin Godfrey is certainly no exception to that rule. I wouldn’t give a rat’s ass if he shared his opinion with his special friends in his club, or with colleagues on those chartered plane rides to exotic locales. I wouldn’t even care if he expressed his thoughts aloud in his bathroom. But why on earth does cousin Godfrey feel that his self-proclaimed genius needs to be shared with all and sundry; that his political views wield some sort of influence in the grand scheme of things.

Apart from his obvious god-complex, I have another basic problem with cousin Godfrey. He writes about the previous administration as if he were no part of it. He writes about corruption and greed and hustling and bad decisions as if he were just a political observer during the whole thing, a bluebird perched on a branch looking on. I think the dear fellow needs a reality check. Perhaps somebody needs to remind him about the attempted foreign affairs construction fiasco, a move so blatantly shady that the former Prime Minister was forced to step in and put a stop to it.

Perhaps somebody needs to remind Mr. selective amnesia that he was a part and parcel of everything that was perceived as corrupt in the previous administration. Perhaps somebody needs to remind this arrogant fellow that it is because of him and people like him that the PUP was kicked to the curb, battered and beaten in a horrific showing at the polls.

I am absolutely disgusted and appalled that cousin Godfrey has the audacity to wax political on matters which are obviously way beyond him. I mean, look at his political record. To say that his political career was nipped in the bud would be charitable. To say that despite pouring great big wads of cash into his political constituency he was soundly rejected would be the truth. Cousin Godfrey is a failed politician, and that’s the long and short of it, the be all and end all. Don’t take my word for it, because I’m just a humble political observer and my opinion is certainly not gospel – but just look at his very, very short and unremarkable political foray and you will see for yourself.

Poor cousin Godfrey is suffering from a very severe case of sour grapes. Coupled with that, it is heartbreakingly obvious that he is absolutely terrified of fading into political oblivion; of vanishing into the pond of political failures without a splash or even a ripple.

And it’s only getting worse. He failed at politics. Then he proclaimed himself a political genius for some completely unfathomable reason or the other and re-fashioned himself as a campaign wunderkind…and he failed at that. Cousin Godfrey has nowhere else to go. He certainly should have no place in this new PUP, painstakingly rebuilt after he and people like himself did their best to wreck it.

Cousin Godfrey writes well. I will give him that. But he also writes absolute rubbish. I have likened him to Dean Barrow before and I can do so again. Like Barrow, Smith is all glitter and no substance. Unlike Barrow who at least for this moment holds high office, Smith is a nobody – a star that burned brightly but was extinguished in a second. He is an intellectual giant…but being book-smart while lacking even an iota of common sense or any sense at all is a bitch, isn’t it?

In 2008, the PUP was for all intents and purposes done. Now, just three years later, the Party is poised to step back into Belmopan. And the man who is a failure on record now presumes to dispense political wisdom (insert snicker) and offer his views on the man who has stood the test of time and took on the job of rebuilding the Party from the rubble.

Cousin Godfrey is yearning for attention, crying out for someone to take notice of him. He is afraid of being alone; of being shunned. But can’t he see that he is already far past that point.

Michael Rudon is a seasoned writer.  He is the former editor of the BELIZE TIMES, and is currently the News Editor and Director at CTV-3 News in Orange Walk Town.

With that out of the way I need to get something else off my manly, muscular chest. I don’t think that putting this out there will make me a popular person, but since I don’t really give much of a damn about that, here goes. I am convinced that Dean Oliver is a monumental flop as a leader; something of a con artist savant; a liar; a despot and dictator and a megalomaniac fool who doesn’t give a damn about anything or anybody – it’s his way or the highway and he makes no apologies about it. And he gets away with it day after day after day.

So what does that say about us?

Dean Oliver now is the Dean Oliver of three days ago and three weeks ago and three months ago and three years ago. He hasn’t changed. He was an arrogant, condescending prick then and he is an arrogant, condescending prick now. But as I put fingers to keyboard he is still the maximum leader, still running things, still living a life of opulence and wealth, while more Belizeans sink below the poverty line every day. Nothing has changed with the affairs of Dean Oliver. Anybody with the last name Barrow continues to live high off the hog – unapologetically, brazenly and without one iota of shame.

So what does that say about us?

Dean Oliver paid his ex-wife with millions of dollars of our money, and when we timidly brought it up he explained that his wife was the smartest, most ‘brilliantest,’ most incorruptible attorney in Belize, the only one not on Lord Ashcroft’s or the PUP’s payroll. And we took that shaft without a whimper. Dean Oliver gifted his estranged, neglected, ex-convict, deportee, foul-mouthed, gangster-rapper son with a diplomatic post of Music Ambassador to Belize, telling us that he should be a role-model to all our children. We took that shaft without a murmur. His newly ‘pimped out diplomat’ son then promptly moved to Israel and claimed that land as his new home. When we dared to mention that to Dean Oliver, he dismissed our queries out of hand. And we took that shaft without a grimace.

So what does that say about us?

Dean Oliver’s nephew, already anointed with an appointment as Commissioner of the PUC, was awarded with a major concession of over a million acres in Belize to explore for oil, though he is not an oil prospector and has none of the qualifications or skills or resources to explore for oil. We asked Dean about that and he jumped in our faces with a cockamamie ‘how dare you besmirch my good name’ spiel and ‘everybody knows that my integrity is beyond reproach’ rant and we all cowered back and said – beg pardon, Massa Dean. Now it has been revealed, as was speculated, that he was merely fronting for foreign interests…and we all seem afraid to even bring up the subject with Dean Oliver again.

So what does that say about us?

Dean Oliver and the UDP made 21 pledges to Belizeans…21 ironclad commitments, a tryst with the Belizean people who placed their confidence in them and took them at their word. In three years, much more than halfway through the first and last term of the UDP, just how many of those commitments have been kept? Does anybody care to hazard a guess? Seriously, it’s ridiculous. Dean Oliver has not kept more than three of those commitments and two of those only in part. He seems to have acquired a severe case of selective amnesia as far as the rest are concerned. Whenever some brave soul dares to aim a careful query his way, Dean pulls excuses out of every orifice of his body and when those excuses don’t gel, he goes back to old faithful and blames the PUP. And we all roll over and play deaf, dumb and blind.

So what does that say about us?

Dean Barrow stood tall on his white steed, raised his sword of right and might to the sky and proclaimed that he would smote down corruption left and right. Ha, what a joke. That sure as hell hasn’t happened. He promised that he would not raise GST…then he raised GST. He promised that he would lower the cost of fuel…now the cost of fuel is the highest it has ever been. He promised that he would create 5000 new jobs…the unemployment rate is the highest it has been in recent memory. He promised development and economic stability…businesses are closing their doors every day and the newspapers are filled with homes and land being taken away from Belizeans. He promised that the cost of living would go down…he promised a new state of the art forensic/DNA testing facility…he promised a strengthened Police Department and DPP’s Office…he promised less crime…he promised a stronger, more independent Judiciary…he promised to listen to the unions and social partners…he promised a Senate with real power. We can go on and on. And not one of those promises has been kept. And we keep taking shaft after shaft after shaft with no Vaseline and no apology.

So what does that say about us?

Is Dean Barrow a stupid man? Yes, I think I’ll defer to Forrest Gump on his point that stupid is as stupid does. Are we even stupider than he is? Yes, I believe we are. There’s no other explanation for all of us being meek as lambs, licking Dean’s hands while he leads us to the slaughter.

Dean Barrow at his press conference on Wednesday reminded me of that girl. No makeup or short skirt, thank the good Lord, but he was just as enthusiastically engaged in selling dreams and making promises he could not and would not keep – promises he had no intention of keeping. And just like that girl, Dean Oliver was acting on a false premise. He believed that he had something we wanted, something we needed, something we would not be able to resist.

I’m not sure why I’m still able to be surprised by this man who is a prime minister and leader of the nation in name only. I know he is a megalomaniac and his arrogance is beyond belief, his ego monumental. I know that he lies with the greatest of ease. I know that he is disingenuous and false and petty. I know that he manipulates people and events like a modern day Svengali – hell…he makes Svengali look like a penny-ante magician doing parlour tricks. And even knowing all that, Dean Oliver continues to amaze and astound and confound me.

I sat here and watched our brilliant, bold leader stare into the cameras with all sincerity and state that he had absolutely nothing to do with his nephew receiving a major concession to prospect for oil in Belize. Did I say ‘major concession?’ – I meant a stupendously gargantuan concession, some million-plus acres worth…the largest single block in Belize. Take the blatant nepotism aside – there’s this little thing about the area encompassing 14 protected areas, but Dean Barrow doesn’t care. He fluttered his eyelashes and claimed that he had no idea that there were protected areas in the block. Yeah right! Take the blatant nepotism aside – there’s also this little fact that Dean Barrow’s nephew knows nothing about oil exploration and possesses none of the resources or wherewithal which would qualify him for such a concession. But Dean Barrow doesn’t care – he thinks there’s nothing wrong with that.

And then here comes the kicker. Dean Oliver decided to get up in everybody’s face because they even dared to question him about this little million plus acre concession/nephew thing. I don’t deal in hanky panky…said he. My integrity is not to be questioned, said the fellow, glaring at all and sundry. I don’t give preference to any member of my family, he asserted…nobody with the last name Barrow will benefit from my position. And as he did his best ‘bembe’ impression, all the little UDP minions in the crowd cheered and writhed in orgasmic frenzy. What a bunch of idiots! How easily some of us lose sight of what is real!

That same man who claims that his good name is not to be besmirched made his ex-convict, gangster/rapper foul-mouthed son the music ambassador of Belize with all the diplomatic perks. Moses Jamal Shyne Ben-David Leviy something or the other had no qualifications other than the fact that one of his many names is Barrow. Oh, and then there’s the fact that a couple weeks after being gifted with ambassadorship he headed off to Israel where he now lives full-time. No preference to family my ass.

And there’s Lois with her millions in taxpayer funds, diplomatic posting and position on several lucrative boards; and Kim with her diplomatic post and taxpayer funded luxury suite; and Anwar with his lucrative post at BTL and Deanne with her ‘preferred GOB attorney VIP status’ and other perks; and Sista B with all those cleaning contracts all over the place. Did I mention – no preference to family my ass?

The thing is that we know all this. None of this is news to anybody. And so many of us still sit bobbing our heads and taking it like good little Belizeans. So many of us are bending over so we can continue to get the shaft; rolling over and playing dead.

I wrote a long time ago that it is time for politicians to get the sense, to know what it is to be afraid. My position on that hasn’t changed.

At least when I fell for the story that she was a virgin I can blame it on the alcohol. But we have no excuse for continuing to accept Dean Oliver’s nonsense whenever he chooses to shove it down our throats.

I’ve been thinking about taking the pen off the paper, closing the old reliable laptop, shutting up shop, bidding this column a fond adieu and taking a political hiatus, so to speak. I won’t get into the reasons at this point, but let’s just say it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while now.  If you’re reading this it means I’ve postponed that move for another week but we’ll see what happens down the line.  So if you don’t like what I write I don’t give a damn; if you don’t care one way or the other…well that’s fine too.  But if you are a faithful reader for one reason or the other, here’s another column of my reflections…sometimes sober, sometimes not!

I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about my absolute favourite person, Dean Oliver Barrow. In fact, I think it’s fair to say that nobody thinks about that fellow quite as much as I do. The thing is…it confounds the hell out of me how that man has been allowed to get away with as much as he has. I’ve been around politics for a long time now and right off can’t think of anybody who has been quite as slimy, oily, disingenuous, arrogant and just plain liad as Dean Oliver. I’ll be the first to say that there also hasn’t been anybody who speaks with such eloquence, has such panache, such dramatic flair and charisma.  Damn, that boy could sell ice to Eskimos and that’s no exaggeration.  But Christ, does he have to lie so much?

Check out this cruise tourism fiasco.  Because it is a fiasco and a royal mess!  Out of the blue tender operators who service cruise ships are told that in a matter of days they won’t be needed anymore.  These local operators have millions invested in the industryand employ over 100 Belizeans. When they learned that they were about to be discarded like old rubbish, they were up in arms and the situation looked to get out of control very, very fast.  So up jumps Dean Oliver like the proverbial black Moses!  He promises to lead these local tender operators out of the murky waters of insolvency and into the clear seas of secure livelihoods and prosperity.  He will do it just for them, says this hale fellow well met.  He will go to Miami personally to speak to those dratted tyrants and instruct them to let our poor local people be.

So off he went to Miami while tender operators bit their figurative nails and pondered their futures.  But they believed him, took him at his word.  They must have thought that a man who talks so pretty must have something up his sleeve.  And back came Dean Oliver…all smiles and sincerity.  He patted himself on the back till his hands must have pained him to no end.  He proclaimed to all and sundry that he had done it – he had proven his greatness and worth.  His newspaper proclaimed – Another Industry Saved!  Tender operators and their employees and tourism stakeholders breathed a sigh of relief.  Dean Oliver was saluted like the hero he said he was.  Until we learned that it was all a LIE – a bright, big, beautiful shiny lie, but still a lie.

As I write this, tender operators are still in negotiations with cruise operators, struggling to save their livelihoods. After getting the requisite media acclamation, Dean Oliver departed the stage with nary a murmur and left the local operators to paddle their own boats…to sink or swim. Despite his own hype and all the hype in his propaganda newspaper, the reality is that Barrow did absolutely NOTHING for tender operators. Hell, I’m sure I could be excused for thinking that the Miami excursion served no other purpose than as a shopping trip for Kim. At least she got something out of it because we sure didn’t.

And this is just one example of Dean Oliver’s disingenuousness, incompetence, neglect and sliminess. And nobody has said anything. It’s like with the fuel thing. About two years ago Mr. Barrow said that if fuel went past the $7 mark he would reduce government’s take to keep it at that point. And then fuel went to $8 and he promised again. And then fuel went to $9 and he promised again. And then $10 and now nearly $11 and you know what Dean Oliver did?  He made the same promise again.  WTF!

For as long as I continue writing this column I will encourage Belizean people to let Dean Oliver get the sense, no matter what it takes. If he is allowed to get away with murder, then he will – over and over and over again. How much more of this can we take?  If I may borrow the title of one of my favourite Jack Nicholson movies – something’s gotta give.

The social fabric in Belize has been ripped all to hell and back, and that’s not a political accusation or condemnation. It’s just the way it is. Things are way different now than they used to be, in our homes and on our streets and in our communities. Ask anybody. It didn’t happen overnight or even over the passage of a few years. And it’s not a positive change, not by a long shot. We’re not in a good place right now.

I remember driving with my dad almost a year ago and having a conversation about the ‘change.’ Back then sexual promiscuity among our very young was the talk of the town after the release and circulation of some local pornographic videos. There was one in particular which was shot in a classroom out west. One female child in school uniform was performing a variety of sexual acts on a young boy while their friends cheered and jeered, offered lewd suggestions and took photos and videos. I don’t think either of them was older than 12 years of age, although the young girl performed with as much gusto and acumen as most porn stars. Listen…I like sex just as much as the next person and probably more than most, but that video was appalling. And I wondered how these kids and in particular this girl child had gotten to that point…what type of future lay in store for them?

The body of a 12 year old girl was fished out of the sea near the Haulover Bridge, leaving a family stricken by grief and a community wary and angry. There have been hushed whispers claiming the re-emergence of Jack, or a new Jack, though Police have been close-mouthed about the murder. The news prompted another conversation with my dad during a drive down to the city, and this time we were joined in the conversation by callers to Love FM who threw in their two cents about the murder and about parenting. Because parenting, or lack thereof, is one of the reasons why we are where we are today. Of that there can be no doubt.

But what makes a parent a good parent? Now that is the question. According to my dad, to be a good parent in today’s time would probably require a roomful of degrees in psychology, the patience of Job and the wisdom of Solomon. But even that is not a given. A few months ago the fools at the UDP Guardian took one of their usual jabs at me, putting forth their assertion that despite having great parents who are paragons of virtue I am messed up. They weren’t that far off the mark.

But with that said, how do we fix this mess? How can we work to restore morals and good values in our communities? How can we build strength of character in our youths? How can we mend the rips and tears in our social fabric? Because we have to…there’s no two ways about it.

I don’t have all the answers, but this talk about parenting and morals and values and providing examples to our children took me down another path, and I make no apology for that. I started thinking about the leader of our nation Dean Oliver Barrow and his son what’s his face…no, not the one who has benefitted from his father’s largesse here at home, but the other one – the hit and run son. I didn’t feel like doing the research to find out exactly what he is calling himself now, and frankly, I don’t much care, but there is a point that needs to be made here.

I was reading an interview in some rap magazine the other day and there was an interview with Dean Barrow’s son. Even looking past the fact that every other word was an expletive, his message wasn’t very inspirational – well at least to me since I’m not a thug and have no aspirations to gangster-hood. I don’t feel like slapping women or exploiting them or shooting the Police or anybody else for that matter or dealing dope. If I did want to do any of those things Dean Barrow’s son would be my mentor, my idol. I would look to him for guidance. But I don’t, so I don’t.  That is how he lives his life. That is his message. That is what his music is all about.

At a time when our children need a role model more than ever before, Dean Oliver Barrow gave them his son, a convicted felon, a man who served time in prison for a violent crime. At a time when our streets are filled with young thugs looking to make their bones, our prime minister offered his son as an example. He stood proudly and proclaimed – ‘this is my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased.’ We were informed that this semi-literate, foul mouthed, violence-advocating, common street thug should be an example to all our children all across this nation. And then we wonder why we are the way we are.

No, I don’t have all the answers when it comes to repairing the social fabric, but I do know that the confused convicted felon is not one of those answers. He is the farthest things from what our children need right now and that is a fact. When Dean Oliver foists his son on us and then plays stupid when we cry foul, it makes me wonder if he is at all serious about repairing what ails us.

I have been strongly advised that in this last column I should make every effort to be nice. I’ve been told that right about now I should be overwhelmed by warm feelings, overcome by joy and filled with inner peace. Supposedly all these ‘happy happy joy joy’ feelings should be reflected in a column which will inspire Belizeans to join hands and sing Kumbaya and be happy. I understand that I’m even supposed to be nice to Dean Oliver. Imagine that. Just for this last column I’m not allowed to call him a jackass or to make reference to his balls (or lack thereof) or even to call him a megalomaniac, twisted, arrogant, misguided, petty, dictatorial mini-Mugabe.

So they want me to be nice and sweet and warm and cheery and chirpy. To paraphrase a little yellow bird from one of my favourite cartoons – they don’t know me very well, do they?

I don’t like Dean Oliver Barrow. I didn’t like him last year and I didn’t like him last week and I didn’t like him yesterday. I don’t like him today and I sure as hell won’t like him tomorrow. I’m sorry if that offends the idiots over on that side or the nice people over on our side. Actually I’m not sorry at all – it is what it is. I have spent a large portion of this year listening to our prime minister spout the most ridiculous bits of rubbish and make completely outlandish decisions. I have seen our prime minister make promises with one breath and break them with the next. I have witnessed our prime minister tampering with our institutions as if they were only pawns to be moved at his whim and fancy. I have observed him treat our jewel like a stage on which he is the star and I have observed him treat our jewel like his own personal fiefdom. I have stood by while our prime minister made his gangster-rapper, convicted felon, foul-mouthed hoodlum son the music ambassador of Belize, stating that he should be an example to all the children of the nation. I have noted the affections lavished on Lois by the prime minister to the tune of millions of taxpayer dollars and lucrative postings. And I have watched our prime minister turn the members of his family into millionaires through the most bizarre examples of nepotism I have ever seen.

And through all that, I have watched our people suffer. I have watched our people starve. I have seen 43% of our people fall below the poverty line even as another 15% of their neighbours exist on that line. I have seen an unprecedented number of school-age children drop out of school because they simply cannot afford education under this UDP. I have seen many of those children on the streets begging for a dollar so they can buy food to feed their brothers and sisters at home. I have seen unemployment soar as businesses have been forced to close their doors. I have seen violent crime scale unprecedented heights – the news just last night reported three more murders.

So on one hand I see our prime minister talking so pretty and living so large and on the other I see the glaring results of neglect. On one hand I see the prime minister and his family members enjoying the sweets and on the other I see poor Belizeans who are fighting a daily struggle to make ends meet. On one hand I see Lois cashing a half-million dollar voucher and on the other I

see the sanitation worker who makes $150 a week out of a job because the UDP City Council will not pay them. On one hand I see the prime minister’s wife shopping for fancy gifts in Miami and on the other I see the many Belizeans who will barely be able to put food on their tables, much less buy gifts for their children.

For the Barrow family this was a great year and this Christmas will be a glorious one with friends like Dom Perignon, Cristal and Moet stopping by. But for many Belizeans there will be no presents under the tree, no eyes lighting up on Christmas morning, no ham and turkey and cranberry and all the goodies. Many Belizeans will go hungry this Christmas.

And they tell me I should be nice to our prime minister. Not damned likely.

Somebody, God bless his soul, came up with the perfect billboard featuring our prime minister and his royal family. That is what they are, apparently…the royal family. The billboards didn’t last long in the city before the prime minister ordered that they be taken down. I understand that he was very offended and considered it a personal insult. Maybe the prime minister isn’t as dense as I thought. The billboard was meant to be offensive and was meant as a personal insult. And it’s only the beginning.

I’d wish our prime minister and his family a merry Christmas, but then I’d probably gag. Let me just say that I wish them many things, but nothing that is suitable for publication here. See…I tried to be nice!

I know this is the season to be jolly but I’m just not feeling it. Right about now I couldn’t care less about jingling any bells or roasting chestnuts over an open fire. That’s somebody else’s reality and certainly not ours. Generally towards the end of the year I’m more maudlin than merry but this year I’m just plain frustrated and pissed off at politicians in general. I have never seen this level of suffering in my small nation; this level of dejection; this level of desperation and bitterness and anger and frustration and misery and disillusionment. What I have seen before is this level of apathy. That’s how we are. Politicians slap us in the face and we turn the other cheek. Then they slap us on the other cheek and we bend over so they can kick us in the ass. When the bugle is sounded we shake off that lethargy so we can parade down the street or jump up in rallies dressed in the color of the day waving the flag of the day shouting the political chant of the day.

And then the cycle starts all over again.

I was discussing politics with a stranger just last week and he basically said the same thing. The UDP will get voted out when the general elections are called. Nobody seems to doubt that. But then what can we expect? What do we have to look forward to? I am a supporter of the PUP at this particular time so it grieves me to admit that while I believe things will be different this time experience has taught us to be very cynical. But damn, when did we all become the timid sheepdogs jumping through hoops, rolling over and playing dead on the instructions of the politicians?

Because this is my column I’m allowed quite a bit of license so let me say this. I don’t pander to idiots from any side of the political divide. I’m no Juliet or Fonso or Joe who will bend down and kiss Dean Oliver’s grubby feet just because he is the boss. I don’t sing for my supper and that’s a good thing because I can’t sing worth shit. Back in the good old bad days of the previous administration Father of the Nation George Price used to say that no man is bigger than the Party. I always thought that a better wording would be that no man or Party is bigger than the country. Like I said I am a supporter of the PUP at this particular time because I believe in Johnny Briceño’s leadership but if you cut me I don’t bleed blue. Understand?

We can’t continue to do the same thing over and over again and expect different results. That’s just crazy. We all so dearly love to bitch and moan but nobody ever does anything else. We bitch and moan and get slapped and turn the other cheek and get kicked in the ass and shout the Party cry to the highest heaven and then bitch and moan and…okay I’m sure you get the picture here.

I was looking at some footage of the UDP Orange Walk East Convention where people lined up in red shirts they were paid to wear to receive money for their votes. It was sickening. No wonder politicians take us for idiots. Nobody in the UDP big boys’ camp bothered to try and disguise the fact that they were paying money for votes.

Nobody in the UDP is bashful about doing the things that they are doing. They flaunt it in our faces. The pseudo mayor of Belize City does whatever the hell she wants to do. UDP ministers do whatever the hell they want to do. The Prime Minister does whatever the hell he wants to do. They don’t care. We’re easy, see, and we’ll just take it like good little sheep.

Our politicians need to start learning the concept of fear. Trust me when I say that fear is the greatest motivator. We’ve been far too soft for far too long. Over the weekend the faux mayor donned her Donna Karan and got her hair and nails ‘did’ for the parade through the city. What we should have done is made good use of a couple dozen eggs and a few rotten tomatoes. Maybe a few hundred of us could have blocked the street. Maybe we should start emptying garbage at the entrance to her seafront mansion on the Northern Highway. We need to put some healthy fear into this moron so that she thinks twice before treating residents of Belize City the way she has.

From the lowest UDP politician all the way up to the Prime Minister – all of them must be taught the concept of fear. They need to be afraid that if they make a wrong move a couple hundred Belizeans will be knocking on their doors. The Prime Minister should be very afraid that 275 jobless Belizeans will be camping out in front of his Seashore Drive mansion tonight.

It won’t be easy. It won’t be nice. It won’t be pleasant. It could get very messy. But nothing worthwhile ever came easy. If we don’t make the move then we can’t get upset when the politicians continue to do what they’ve done to us for so long. Then I guess that old saying will be true – we do get the politicians that we deserve.

Belize’s very own home-styled tin-pot dictator is acting up again, feeling his oats and swinging his mighty rod to and fro, so to speak. This time he has a new target – the media and that little thing we tend to call freedom of the press. Cause see, like my buddy Boots loves to say – don’t be fooled by the noise at the market…be sure to check your change. This isn’t about Channel 5 or about Great Belize Productions. This isn’t even really about Lord Ashcroft or about our little black Moses battling the mighty white devil. That’s all the noise in the market. What this is really all about is sending a clear message to the media in Belize.

What Mr. Barrow is telling our media is that they must tread lightly when it comes to coverage of news which reflects negatively on his motley crew. Don’t be dissing the baldhead and the bozo bunch, you hear. And yeah, Channel 5 might be the target of this first warning, but it’s a warning for everybody. It’s a warning for my friends at Love and at Krem…at Plus Television and Reporter and Amandala and every other media house large and small in this nation. Well except for us here at the Belize Times cause Mr. Barrow knows exactly where he can put his censorship when it comes to us.

I remember back in the good/bad old days when the PUP was in power. Some people will probably think I should just let sleeping dogs lie, but it is what it is. The media was merciless. There was no quarter given in what was a general blood-letting. I used to watch the then Prime Minister and wonder how he could stand there day after day as the media hounds pawed and sniffed and tore at him viciously. It wasn’t a pleasant experience. Maybe it was a necessary exercise, but pleasant it certainly wasn’t. But with all that, there was not one day when the PUP government sanctioned or punished or severed ties or attempted to stifle any member of the media. See, freedom of the press is supposed to be a sacred thing. In fact it was under the PUP administration that freedom of the press took greater meaning…took wings.

But it’s not like that with Mr. Barrow. I’ve been one who consistently clowns our leader for his lack of balls…Zenaida said it, not me. But fun and joke aside, the truth is that Dean Oliver has a pair of great big monstrous balls. That’s not in and of itself a bad thing. In fact it could be a wonderful thing. But Dean O’s problem is that even his great big monstrous balls are overshadowed and eclipsed by his gargantuan, monumental, gigantic, vast, massive ego. So big, big ego plus big, big balls equals big, big problem! And that is where we are right now.

Channel 5’s news reporting has been sticking in the Prime Minister’s craw for some time now. Not because of any bad reporting or wrong reporting or even biased reporting. The thing is that Channel 5’s reporters are tenacious and are backed up by resources which allow them to dig deep and dig long. Like with this immigration thing recently which was a huge stinking mess and still is. Mr. Barrow came out smelling really bad. See, he said that after investigations they had arrested the six culprits and that was it…done deal, end of story, moving on. But Channel 5 did not move on like some of the others. The resulting revelations of collusion with the issuing of illegal visas going all the way to the top tiers of government made Mr. Barrow look like a fool, and a blind, incompetent fool at that. Even more than that, he was made to look like a liar…like he was covering up things, hiding things from the Belizean public.

And that is only one story in a long series of things which have made Mr. Barrow and the UDP look very bad. This next thing with Mr. Castro is shaping up into another royal mess. Our Prime Minister thought that he could have kicked Castro to the back bench, closed his mouth and moved on. But it shouldn’t work that way. If Castro was involved in illegalities he needs to face the full force of the law just like anyone of us would have. If Channel 5 continues to dig those things will come out…in fact they’re already coming out. Mr. Barrow is looking really bad again. His ego couldn’t allow this consistent pummeling and his balls stepped in.

I don’t need to fight Channel 5’s battles for them…they are perfectly willing and able to deal with Mr. Barrow on any level he chooses. But this is not a good thing. It’s not the way to go. The Prime Minister is making a big mistake and setting a bad precedent. Who will be next? Will Mr. Barrow cut all ties with the Reporter or Amandala whenever they report something which makes him look bad? Methinks you should rethink this one, Dean Oliver.

I got into a slight argument with a good friend last week when he attempted to convince me that Dean Oliver is a consummate parliamentarian. Taking into consideration the fact that I can’t stand the fellow and feel that he is a dismal leader and cold, unfeeling man I took immediate umbrage but then had occasion to recant my spirited opinion. See, my friend explained that he was not referring to the character of our prime minister but to his antics in parliament, where granted he is a master of the spoken word. There are very few representatives who can match the sheer genius of Dean Oliver when the cameras start rolling and the microphones are turned on in the House. Every gesture, every word, every grimace and facial contortion; every frown, every pause, every somber or jocular moment; every second of every minute which Dean Oliver spends in the House of Representatives is spent on a stage.

I’m not sure if that is reason enough for condemnation of my favourite prime minister. I think that for a very long time now the sessions in the House have become the stuff of stand-up comedy shows. There was a time when I felt offended by that since I think that representing the people is serious business, in fact the most serious business and it should be carried out with sober, responsible wisdom and judgment. But with very few exceptions, our representatives seem to believe that those hours spent in the House are more about cracking the most hilarious jokes and throwing the most painful insults which can garner the most slamming on tables and jeering. It’s become all about sound bites guaranteed to impress the listening audience during the day and the viewing public glued to the nightly news. Hell, those little things called facts don’t really matter much in the House anymore and why should they since the House is a forum where anybody can basically get away with saying anything without legal repercussions. But hey, it is what it is, baby.

So yeah, Dean Oliver gets a pass this time for his performance in the House. I’ll even go so far as to acknowledge that in the circus which passes for regular meetings of the House he is the head clown and a drama queen without equal.

But here is where I have a problem. See, Dean Oliver doesn’t limit his performances to the House of Representatives. If he did I could live with it. I still wouldn’t like him and I still think he is bogus but I could live with it. Nobody’s perfect. But for Dean Oliver, the whole world’s a stage. His performance in the House is no different from his performance as a leader and as the prime minister of this nation. When he is dealing with the critical issues facing the nation, he treats them the exact same way he treats anything else which comes up in the House. He pontificates, postures and pops out the obligatory sound bites and then moves on.

Who cares about the stagnant, backward-moving economy…or about all the businesses closing down or the crime which keeps escalating or tourism which is going to hell or corruption which is rampant in government? Who cares about the wreck of the city’s streets or the overgrown bush or the clogged, filthy drains or the missing money at City Hall or the dilapidated parks and playgrounds or the garbage strewn over Belize City? Who cares that Belize City is no more the vibrant hub of the nation but is now an eyesore and cesspool thanks to the UDP? Who cares that our judicial system is in a mess with every right-thinking individual convinced that the prime minister is tampering with this sacrosanct entity?

Not Dean Oliver for sure. He answers any query or concern or condemnation with the usual intellectual, insubstantial bogus bullshit and moves on. That can work in the House of Representatives but it’s not working for us out here, is it? We don’t need sound bites and witty repartee. We know that Dean Oliver is an intelligent man. We know that he can spout rhetorical flourishes with the best of them. We know that he is a superb actor and dramatist. We know that he has a gift for fabulous turns of phrase and uses many, many words that other normal people have never heard.

The crew at the Guardian gets offended every time I bash Dean Oliver a bit. They apparently have a sacred duty to propound the greatness of that near-deity and expound on his munificence at every turn. But it’s not about that, buddies. As far as I’m concerned, I’d be a lot happier with a man who didn’t talk quite so pretty but who actually worked for the people. If Dean Oliver never props his spectacles on his nose again or even casts his eyes heavenward that is fine with me. But please, Dean Oliver, could you do some work for the people? Could you help all those who are starving out here? Can you do something about crime so that our people aren’t being gunned down every single day? Could you do something about the economy so that our businesses aren’t being forced to close down? We don’t need you to talk about it or praise yourself for what you intend to do but which never gets done. Just get it done, please!