I m not given to generalisations. They re often concocted from a narrow base of opinionated london s

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September 18, 2012 - Columns , Dan Roodt - Tagged: affirmative action , apartheid , BEE , boycott , Daily Maverick , Dan Roodt , EE , Justin MacCarthy , PRAAG , racism , TBWA/Hunt Lascaris , Woolworths - no comments
The london street style Daily Maverick should rebaptise itself as The Cute Conformist , for that is really what it is, a bunch of people who sound like your average ANC propagandist on the SABC, except they think they are cute.
One such very cute conformist writing for that cyber rag is a certain london street style Justin MacCarthy. I had never heard of him, until someone mentioned that he had accused me of producing a rant against Woolworths. MacCarthy is given to clichés, so probably everyone london street style who does not agree with him, is guilty of ranting .
However, one of the commentators on his piece states that MacCarthy is actually the MD of TBWA/Hunt Lascaris who happens to be the lead advertising agency for… You guessed it: Woolworths. How mercenary, how venal! If this is the quality of people Woolworths actually pay to do their PR for them, I am getting more and more confident that we are going to bring the PC Cape firm to its knees with our current campaign.
Judging from his profile on The Daily Maverick, alias The Cute Conformist, MacCarthy also lives in Durban. Yes, that hot and humid place in KZN, the area where they speak Zulu. I have some memories of Durban and petty ethnic insults that seem to sprout amid the tropical verdancy in that Indian Ocean City as Mbeki referred to it during the World Conference Against Racism that yours truly proudly attended. I was one of about five whites among the multicultural multitude. I saw the ANC wasting a few hundred million rand to produce hot air, amid general disorganisation, non-functioning interpretation systems (with all the equipment lying around) while Jews and Palestinians screamed at each other.
Talking of petty ethnic banter london street style in Durban, that is about the sum total of the stupendously brilliant adman Justin MacCarthy s intellectual repertoire. Not only does he fulminate – london street style or rant , to bring it back to his set of platitudes – against Afrikaners, london street style but also against white English-speaking South Africans (Wessas). In fact, his tedious sermon of an article bears the long-winded title: Moaning Myrtle and Mrs Woolworths: Why white English speaking South Africans are failing our country.
MacCarthy s penchant for cliché and the unexamined idée reçue is complemented by his urge to entertain us on his autobiography. Therefore in the first paragraph he lurches london street style into confessing that he is actually a foreigner, an uitlander . Again, london street style I seem to recall Mbeki declaring at some point: Never again will you be uitlanders, addressing himself to some undefined leftist and presumably white alcholic or drug-crazed populace with a stated allegiance to Great Britain and its creation, the ANC, like the uitlanders of old. However, Justin MacCarthy uses the word buitelander , which lacks the historical reference to the people who caused the Anglo-Boer War. The most hilarious part of his preaching which I am going to quote at length here, as I am sure it will amuse you too, is that he is not given to generalisations . Apparently he was at Wits, that bush college in Jan Smuts Avenue which I also attended in days gone by. However, An Introduction to Logic in Philosophy 1 was oviously not one of the courses he took:
When I first came to South Africa, I thought racism belonged to white Afrikaners of a certain ilk. How disappointing, then, to find that the selective blindness plaguing the country is not only frighteningly widespread, but that even a new generation of white people feels as entitled as ever.
I ve followed the furore in a frappuccino over the Woolworths boycott with a great deal of interest these past few weeks. When the story broke I admit I was quite dismissive and thought it would be over by the time I d finished london street style my double espresso. I was wrong. Not to inflate the issue with any greater import than it deserves, but it got under my skin and irritated me like a mozzie in my ear. In fact, I find the entire matter not only distasteful but quite alarming. It s actually revealed an issue of much greater proportion than I imagined and one of critical national importance.
I m not given to generalisations. They re often concocted from a narrow base of opinionated london street style observation london street style and therefore dangerous. However, I am making an exception here, and using several, whi