Saturday, 15 March 2014

"Die Son" Newspaper - the oracle of all wisdom

 



 
"Die Son" Newspaper - the oracle of all wisdom
15 March 2014

The daily, “Die Son” newspaper – the oracle of all wisdom.

Or perhaps not so much.

It’s not really a newspaper as such, as it doesn’t really carry any actual factual events.  No real account of what happened. 

Instead, I think what they do is this – they take a snippet of truth, and then look for inventive ways in which to bend it.  To alter it.  To change its shape and form.  And thus, they might take something current, like the Oscar Pistorius trial – but rather than focus on the nitty gritty court details, or the horror of the crime, they’ll take the angle of some or other obscure person.  Someone not really tied to the event at all.  And thus, their portrayal of the event might be from the perspective of the nurse in the hospital, that glimpsed the body, and has revealed some hard to believe detail.  A detail that has somehow managed to escape the scrutiny of forensic specialists, investigators, the entire South Africa police force, and the like.

I believe they have a policy of unchecked resources.  If you phone them with a tip-off for a story, or even just relay a story to them, they’ll run with it.  No need to check accuracy.  No need to verify.  Or even look for substantiation for your take on events.  No need even for a second person to confirm your report.  For them, if you say so, it’s a go.  Cause why would you lie…

I have never bought a copy of “Die Son”.  Nor have I ever read one.  But I’ve glimpsed the odd one.  Perhaps while having my car done.  Or standing in the queue at the shops.  A guy that worked for my uncle, use to read one religiously, and his copy always lay around whenever I popped in there.  His head always bent forward.  Engrossed in it and most often filled with gross because of it.  Every so often a low chuckle escaping him.  Or an exclamation of disbelief.

It’s partly gutter press.  Sensationalism.  Most of its stories are too unbelievable for words.  And thus, it’s possibly partly a comic take on current events.  A tongue in cheek swipe at a newspaper.

I don’t think one can call it a tabloid as such.  As it doesn’t really do stories on celebrities per se.  Instead, their focus, is on the everyday person.  The man or woman on the street.  People like you.  People like me.

Or possibly not.  Because I’ve never claimed to have been abducted by aliens.  Or have intercourse with a ghost.  Nor have I seen a person with three heads.  Or experienced communications with one of our country’s forefathers – Paul Kruger.

Things like that just don’t happen to me.  Call my existence sheltered.  Call me grounded.  Call me sane.

However, I’m exposed to “Die Son” every single day.  When I’m out and about, driving in my car.  Lamp posts herald the daily headlines.  In bold print. 

And it often brings a smile to my lips.  Or a burst of laughter too. 

A part of its charm, is the language it uses.  The combination of Afrikaans and English.  The slang it resorts too. 

Much of it is dubious.  And open to intentional misinterpretation – for scandal purposes solely.  I’m assuming to garner more views.  A larger audience.

And I somehow think it works.

A personal favourite, from a few years ago, was this one:

“Vrou kla haar koek is muf”.

Which translated to English means, “Woman complains her cake is mouldy”.  Which the story could actually be about.  But because of the exact choice of words, it infers that a woman has complained that her vejayjay is mouldy.

Yip, “Die Son”.  It’s an oracle all right.

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Such a pity that the wisdom and psychic powers of the Sangoma, could not him from being shot fifteen times...

All righty then! This one claims that a ghost was seen in a pot plant. Interesting.
Yip, this one states, that dog meat was braaied or barbequed for lunch. Gruesome!

Girl nearly lost her tongue

This one leaves me speechless. The horror of the attack, is one thing - namely being bitten on the vajayjay by a dog. Horrendous in itself. However it's the descriptive language, that really robs me of my breath.

A sore penis is apparently too much for a nurse. And who can blame her - it would be too much for me too. But the word, "Tottie" is about as grim and eeeuuuwww as it gets.

Sisters having a full on fisty cuffs fight at church

 
Now this one is interesting. On paper, in black, white, yellow and red, in correctly translated Afrikaans, it means - "Man dies when he pulled a wire". However, do not be fooled in thinking that this is an electrocution of sorts. These word, rather imply that he was pulling his own wire - if you catch my drift.

Someone claiming a ghost waved at them - wondering if there was alcohol or hallucinogenic drugs involved

Women fired over her language - I'm assuming foul language, if not foul play. And not necessarily grammar errors either.

How lovely, cause few things are greater than a nudist church team building experience???

Woman wants to sure over big hole. Though I'm assuming that the big hole is her bottom?

Now there's a word you don't hear often - Skoert!


The mix of languages is delightful. The way the people speak, is the way the paper writes it. I love it! And what two languages are mixed better than Afrikaans and English? I smaak it stukkend!

 
 

1 comment:

  1. Genade....so sheltered in Tulbagh. We only have about 12 lamppoles!
    But Katie spends some of her hard earned cash every week on Die Son - got to be something in it!

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