The wash-up of the election over the Causeway has carried
much of interest. So much so indeed that a subscription to Malaysiakini had
been needed as the Straits Times, ABC online and the other coverage had
been so thin. A wonderful result of course that brought much relief. The great
Fiend, possible murderer, thief and imposter defeated; great hopes he would duly
be brought to justice, put away for the remainder of his years. The witch wife
Rosmah with him and numbers of the chief hangers-on and toadies. You couldn’t
get them all, where would be the end of it? where would you house the legions?
In the commentary the case of South Africa was mentioned, their Truth and Reconciliation
compromise. A certain number of miscreants could be used as examples; otherwise
the populace needed to be settled and some sense of normality restored.
Hopefully a fair portion of the loot could be recovered, the State coffers were
certainly in need. One of the inside stories from the final days of the
campaign was particularly interesting. Out on the stump in the last stretch of
rallies the Opposition strategists had realised that in fact not only could
they come close, but against all odds actually win the contest outright. The
indications were all one way. In the outer realms no-one was crediting the
possibility, including jailed Anwar, PM-in-waiting, among them. Central Command
seemed to have twigged however and the decision was made to keep mum on the
matter, not let on, to play along with expectations. If Najib and his cronies
were to be apprised of likelihoods what might be their recourse? Security Service
and military intervention? provocations staged, marshal law proclaimed for
public safety and see what might be swung over days and weeks? Clearly, as
Anwar came to reveal following phone calls from Najib on the night of the
count, the latter had not seen the revolt coming and had been utterly
shattered. As the days have elapsed this has been borne out by the lack of
preparation for the possible eventuality: docs, loot, incriminating evidence
all left in nooks and crannies across the various properties associated with
Najib and his clan. When the trends began to clearly emerge in the count
directives had been issued to telecos to take down live results on the pretext
of securing public order. Three hours later the directive was rescinded. Some
of the Comments on the news items were as interesting as the reportage itself.
As the Birkin Hermes bags in the various colours were
gathered, the high-end watches, jewelry and the dosh, one commentator suggested
that a travelling roadshow was in order; the public needed to be educated, made
to see with their own eyes and comprehend the truth. Despite the so-called
tsunami against the government, despite all the abundant evidence of gross
maladministration and corruption, 36% of the electorate had given the criminals
their vote; that in itself needed to be addressed. Didn’t they display Imelda’s
shoes and take them around the slums to show the rakyat? (Possibly
not enough done in that regard judging by the political resurgence of the
Marcos family and Imelda herself.) The ROS (Registrar Of Societies), which
had used some kind of pretext to prevent the registration of Mahathir’s party
and the display of his picture on posters and advertising material, suddenly a
couple of days after the outcome, Hey presto! unasked and off their own bat,
advice all was in order, fine and dandy—the new PM and his party duly
acknowledged and all shipshape. The point was the powers did not need to run to
every bureaucratic head issuing one directive after another: venal toadies,
suckholes and worms were always ready to anticipate every whim of rulers. It
would be impossible to bring all to account. Through the course one Singaporean
cosmetic surgeon was quick to insert a canny defense of his profession. Seems
the man had undertaken some work for the Witch Rosmah. Possibly it had been
remedial work, follow-up correction after earlier defective surgery over the
years. The man’s point was that Rosmah had become a poster girl for what not to
do in cosmetic surgery. Too much botox, too much filler and sculpting here and
there, something else and something else again. The woman had become a fright;
a figure of ridicule for the profession. Chap professed he could not understand
the course that had been taken by the amateur medicos involved. The end result
now was terrible botching, a grievous hatchet job; the former beauty ruined
irredeemably. Poor Ros. had no control over her facial muscles — her dour
frozen owl visage was inadvertent and unintentional; smiles were painful and
caused migraines that led to tummy upsets; Rosmah’s forehead was in danger of
collapse, her chin crumbling, the stiffened pouches beneath her eyes made
blinking an ordeal and might eventually prevent closing of the eyes entirely.
In prison where access to proper attention would be limited serious
repercussions were expected. With best practice in Singapore, nothing of this
sort could occur; only experienced, accredited professionals could be trusted
with such procedures. Business as usual on the Little Red Dot for discerning
customers who could have full confidence. The politics and fear over public
order? Forget all that for this healer. Most recently rearguard PR from the
lawyers in the Fiend’s den: pics of Najib breaking fast with his aged mum;
revelations of the grandchildren’s baby clothes being taken with the designer
bags and then chocolates filched from the fridge. Cause for outrage.
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