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Rodriguez, along with many older people, often lamented the loss of newspaper culture, while secretly feeling guilty that he no longer had the time to read them.

 

So, he booked an hour off work, and set out into the heart of Cape Town to buy an Argus. This was harder than he thought. There wasn't a CNA to be found anywhere these days, and none of the cafes seemed to stock newspapers anymore. He had to go to a homeless shelter where they were sold as blankets to get one.

 

"Fourteen rand? Are you getik?!" In his day a paper cost a rand, while fourteen rand could by you a meal, and if you went to the right sort of places, a beer too.

 

Begrudgingly, he paid and made off with his find. "No wonder no one reads any more. You must be a bloody Rocketfeller just to own a bloody paper."

 

A prominent casualty in the War on the Poor, aka Official DA Policy, were the benches that used to dot the Grand Parade and other places in town. He perched precariously on a concrete.... something or other and set out to read.

 

And instantly regretted it. Government propaganda, celebrity sleaze and vacuous filler prieces. No wonder everyone was always on their facebooks. He resolved that he would buy one of those. Just as soon as he finished this piece about the dude from Horrible Housekeepers.

Done