Dear comrades, pretenders in ZANU PF, and long-suffering countrymen, I rise from the grave once more to dispense some timeless truths and political insights.

Why? Because the circus is still in town, and someone needs to narrate the absurdity with proper flair.

We’ve tried gold. We’ve tried platinum. We’ve tried chrome. Even our so-called forever diamonds couldn’t rescue this crumbling economy.

Command Agriculture, the almighty savior of hunger, fizzled out like a damp matchstick. And let’s not forget the quail egg debacle a culinary revolution that turned out to be just another yolk (pun intended).

Now, after years of running out of ideas faster than our central bank runs out of forex, the venerable Finance Minister, Mthuli Ncube, has unveiled a groundbreaking strategy: taxing chicken and chips.

Yes, comrades, in a country where people can barely afford a meal, the government’s best idea is to tax fast food into an economic miracle. Talk about eating your way out of poverty, literally.

The Energy of Incompetence

Ah, Ruka Chivende, our esteemed president and accidental comedian.

His reign is a symphony of confusion, incompetence, and the kind of poverty that makes even ghosts like me feel sorry for the living.

Remember the New Parliament building?

The glittering palace I negotiated with the Chinese in exchange for our national resources?

Chivende now parades it as his triumph, though even the lights there couldn’t bear to stay on.

When the power went out during Ncube’s budget presentation, it was a poetic moment.

The opposition couldn’t resist: “Apt metaphor!” they shouted. And truly, it was a perfect symbol of a nation groping in the dark, both literally and figuratively.

Let’s be honest: the 18-hour blackouts aren’t just about Kariba Dam’s dwindling water levels.

They’re about a government that can’t think beyond coal and hydropower.

The drought may be natural, but the failure to diversify energy sources is pure ZANU PF genius.

Wicknell Chivayo, the poster boy for squandered resources, is laughing all the way to the bank while the rest of us stumble around with candles.

Betting on Poverty

When you’ve reduced your population to betting slips for survival, what do you do next?

Tax the winnings, of course.

In a country where betting is the only booming industry thanks to mass unemployment, Mthuli Ncube has decided to squeeze blood from that stone too.

Let’s not forget the irony: even the security services, who are supposed to protect the regime, were caught up in the betting craze until a blanket ban was imposed.

But for ordinary Zimbabweans clinging to hope through Mwos (betting), 2025 promises new depths of desperation.

Prosperity, ZANU PF style, is taxing the poor into oblivion while calling it “economic recovery.”

Democracy, the New Enemy

Meanwhile, ZANU PF continues its regional export of chaos.

Namibia is the latest victim of our ruling party’s “revolutionary” outreach, where autocracy is the gospel, and democracy is heresy.

SADC, it seems, is ZANU PF’s personal playground for preserving mediocrity.

Nelson Chamisa, the young preacher with dreams of reform, is out here peddling hope like a street vendor. But hope alone doesn’t win elections or battles against a regime that plays dirty, rewrites rules, and owns the referees.

Blame Nature, Not Us

Let’s clear the air on the ZESA crisis.

It’s not ZANU PF’s fault that Kariba’s water levels are low.

It’s also not ZANU PF’s fault that the sun sets every day, or that gravity exists.

True, they’ve had decades to explore alternative energy sources, but who has time for that when there’s so much looting to be done?

If anything, Zimbabweans should be grateful: we’re pioneering a new kind of energy policy, one powered entirely by excuses and blame.

A Rebound into Chaos

Zimbabwe is on a “rebound,” all right, a rebound into confusion, poverty, and farce.

Ruka Chivende might argue that his leadership is taking us somewhere, but from where I’m standing (or lying, rather), it’s clear that the only direction is downward.

In my time, at least, we dressed up our failures with a bit of finesse.

This current lot? They don’t even bother.

But alas, asante sana, my dear Zimbabweans. The more things change, the more they remain the same.