A Prime Minister’s to-do list

I meant to post my to-do list for today at the end of the previous entry. Here it is:

1. Call Jerry Narace and blast his a** (pardon my French) for putting that extra zero on the invitation for the dinner and screwing up the whole thing. And for hiring Michelle Khan as event planner. Also show him some of the sarcastic and hurtful things bloggers have been writing about the affair. Suggest to him Hazel’s idea of holding a fundraising “breakfuss” (hehehe) instead.

2. Find out from Lenny Saith why “Coolie Block”, “Cancadee Settlement”, “Cuche” and “Lower Fishing Pond” are listed as legitimate locations on the Google Maps map of Trinidad, while “St. Ann’s”, “Diego Martin”, “Laventille” and other PNM strongholds are not. And it’s “Centeno”, not “Centento”.

3. Get hold of one of the proposed “condom ATMs” for testing purposes.

4. Find out who’s behind Barbados Free Press and make sure a blog like this never gets created in this country.

5. Friend more people on Facebook.

Budget debate, and why people aren’t friending me on Facebook

I’ll be taking a rest from blogging this weekend. I’m completely exhausted after yesterday’s budget debate. Why did Dookeran have to go and form his own damn party? In the old days I only had to come up with one set of fake statistics to counter Kamla’s ridiculous claims; now I have to answer Dooks too. I told Christine S that sooner or later somebody was going to point fingers at Monteil’s involvement in the Waterfront project. Of course it would be Kamla. And Dooks is saying we’re heading for a repeat of 1990.

In which I discover Facebook

I’ve fired my son Brian as my IT advisor. The boy knows nothing about computers, judging by the fact that Hazel got in here again today, and also those two comments from somebody called jamaicangirl2007 (which means Jamaicans are blogging too. This thing is more widespread that I thought. . . hmm).

So I called up Lenny Saith and told him to send somebody over from the Ministry. He told me all of his good people were tied up, but that he had some time on his hands so he’d come over himself. He got here in about two minutes. How he managed that with all the traffic between Abercromby Street and Whitehall I don’t know. Anyway, Lenny fixed me up so that the blog is secure again, and he also told me that if I really want to be safe and secure, I should set up an account on this thing called Facebook.

It shoulda been a $100,000 breakfuss

Darling, I ent no internet newbie, and too besides I learn fast (I am the minister of what–? oho). I could access any damn blog of yours anytime I want, not to mention your Amazon, PayPal and Flickr accounts, assuming you ever figure out what those are. So you could just forget about trying to keep me out of this blog. Till death do us part, remember?

Furthermore: you don’t realise the blimp didn’t just come with infra-red goggles, but also a special telescope that registers the heat signatures of–look, nevermind, you wouldn’t understand, but suffice it to say I spotted Miss S behind the tree last night, and if I tell you some of the other things I have spotted our honourable Cabinet colleagues doing around town you would have to fall on your knees and pray.

Hu’s to blame?

Christine S just called me from her car, which is apparently parked right now in La Fantasie Road, behind a big tree out so Hazel won’t be able to see her with those infra-red goggles she claims she has.

Christine says that when she entered the Chinese workers’ shed this evening for her game of mahjongg, they told her the foreman had seized the mahjongg tiles that morning and force-fed them to one of the welders. She says that, according to the information she was able to squeeze out of the single worker who understands some primary school-level English, they believe the directive might have come from “velly high up” (her words, not mine).

She’s also concerned that news of the force-feeding episode gets out to the press, and that we’ll be accused of colluding with a country that doesn’t respect human rights! (Damn, the woman thinks of everything). I made sure and agreed emphatically with everything she said. I can’t afford to alienate Christine. Or at least not before she helps me with my speech for the $100,000-a-plate dinner.

How corrupt was my Valley

Needless to say, it wasn’t only Hu Jintao that got a phone call from me this morning (I’m pleased to report that mahjongg-playing is now prohibited at all Chinese-run construction sites in foreign countries) – my son Brian got one as well. When the latter finally answered his phone, I was sure I could hear the sound of horse racing commentary in the background. “Don’t tell me you’re in a betting pool!” I said. “Of course not, Dad. I happen to be watching “Seabiscuit”. Can I call you back?” “No you can’t!” I said. “How did your damn mother get access to my blog?” He then went into a long and convoluted explanation about keystroke-copying and other things that went way over my head. “So then you’re saying you’re mother’s a – a – what do they call them? A hacker?” “Oh please, Dad. I’ll call you later.”

Looking for cut-tail

Doo-doo, you really thought you could keep this blog secret from me? Who controls the mouse in this family? I’m surprised you could even turn on the computer by yourself.

By the way, I saw you and “Chrissy” perfectly clearly from the TV room window using those special infra-red goggles that came with the last blimp. And you know what else came with the blimp? A tiny little microphone that could pin into your lapel, so small you wouldn’t know it was there. And it broadcasts straight into the headset in my command centre–er, I mean, walk-in closet. So you better watch yourself with that Madame Minister.

It’s a good thing this blog is secure and the general populace of sweet T&T can’t read it. Imagine if they found out the father of the nation, the man who supposed to lead them down the road to Vision 2020 (or whatever the latest crap catch-phrase is), didn’t know till last night what a blog is?

Now if you’ll excuse me I have a gmail chat date–er, appointment–with JJ–um, the Hon. Attorney General.

Between me and me

Christine dropped by last night to discuss the feedback on the budget and to check out the latest developments at the Diplomatic Centre (and also, I later discovered, to play mahjongg with some of the Chinese workers! But more about that later. Let us just say Hu Jintao’s getting a call from me in the morning. This wasn’t part of the deal).

As we were exploring the golden-domed gazebo and trying to figure out what date to call elections, she turned to me and said in that sultry voice of hers, “Patos, you know what you could do with – a good blog.” “Not here, Chrissy,” I said, giggling. “Hazel can see us from the TV room window.” Christine replied with one those long steupses of the kind she lets out any time Ken Valley starts talking in Cabinet. “I find for a man who want to be a pastor when he retires you have a real dutty mind,” she said. “I mean one of them things on the internet. All the politicians have them these days. Hillary Clinton has one and Obama has one has one and John Edwards have about a hundred. Portia and Bruce and them putting their TV ads and debates on YouTube – next thing you know they going to get a blog too and start putting us in the shade.”