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TGIF columns are in order by date from the most recent.

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​Minshall’s Angel v Moscow Mitch

TRINIDAD’S MINSH, Peter Minshall, the original masman, christened President Barack Obama “an angel” in his first term and, while Minsh has never got a Carnival King at all wrong, he clearly didn’t get President Obama completely right: you do not gain the White House without being at least a devil of a dealmaker.

Barack Obama was and remains far from perfect.
But the darkest, seamiest, most distressing and frightening aspect of Barack Obama’s character would be as a shining light in the soul of the fat ignorant rogue mountebank miscreant charlatan racist misogynist moron who replaced him.
Fat Nixon is the lowest life form I’ve ever seen occupy high office; in the natural order, the farthest a pasty fat slug like him would ever get would be the underside of a rock in your garden. (Come on, BC, don’t hold back, let your readers really know how you feel about Trump.) Fat Nixon is the benchmark for corrupt wannabe dictators. On the day after he sidestepped the Mueller Report (through the machinations of a corrupt puppet he installed to do his bidding as Fake AG), he tried to bully the Ukrainian President, the way he tries to bully everyone, to do whatever he wants. Trump makes even his Svengali and principal love interest, Vladimir Putin, look like a saint, in comparison.
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​All O’ We is Meg Family

ANY Trinidadian could have warned Meghan Markle that, though she was a drop-dead gorgeous beauty who could have married into even the most bigoted white Bajan clan, it was only a matter of time, after she married into the British Royal Family that she would be reduced, by the type of Englishman who voted Brexit, to an “uppity n-word”.

Normally, I wouldn’t waste thought, breath or 800 words on the most expensive tourist trap in England. The Windsors and their German-French extended family might be invaluable to the same ignorant Brit who put sentiment ahead of sense in the Brexit “debate” (you can’t have a debate over something when only one side actually has evidence-based logical reasons for its position) but, to me, they’ve never been worth the trouble it’s took to keep them going.
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​Dangerously Safe

YOU DON’T know whether to tap Fat Nixon in the head for possibly starting World War III (and certainly ramping up Islamist terrorist attacks globally) by ordering the killing of that Iranian mofo or to send him a thank you note for doing something no Trini government could do in nearly 60 years of Independence: making Trinidad & Tobago the eighth-safest place in the world to live, ahead of even Barbados (which comes in right behind, at number nine).

Not even Double-G in his first glorious year could pull that off.

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​Crystal (Meth) Ball

TO WRITE a startlingly original newspaper column, you’ve got to copy ideas wholesale and, in 1999, I stole a great one from the Miami Herald’s Robert Steinback who, every January, wrote a column making predictions for the coming year and assessing the accuracy of his predictions the year before.

Robert’s soothsaying was serious, because he lived in what was the world’s leading liberal democracy until Russian bots & Facebook installed in the Oval Office the kind of illiterate buffoon normally found only in Third World dictatorships. In Trinidad, where our saviour of democracy would be a cross between spaghetti Western Clint Eastwood and green-screen action star Liam Neeson , I simply couldn’t be entirely serious; like Trinidad itself. Some predictions, then, are meant to make you laugh, while others would make anyone with any sense weep, the eternal Trinidadian conundrum being distinguishing fantasy from reality.
Since 2011, when I thought of the skullduggery at its root, I have stunned readers with the accuracy of the previous year’s first prediction, as you will now see:
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