Here. Piggy. Piggy.
Well, the "sinking ship" analogy was made by your opponent Peter Fakhourie. I thought that it was vulgar of Peter to call you a “fool, ediat, duppy, punk”. I mean, I don't think you're stupid at all, just misguided (if not desperate) in your attempt to find a new, reliable source of income that doesn't require you to go outdoors unless you really really want to.
Or, heaven forbid, you were trying to upstage your ex-husband/the mother of your ex-husband's new child by gaining a position of political power?
You must know that any action taken from a negative position has counterproductive results, because you project the emotional tone of the negative situation you're presently trying to avoid into all your future activities.
And here is the evidence of this fundamental philosophy of life, played out for the world to see.
Upstaged again, and in a much more profound manner, than the tribulations you were trying to overcome in the first place. The past 3 months have overshadowed the combined scandals of your airport fight, divorce, custody battle and subsequent steel hamburger concubineship. It's still 2007. I'm amazed that you've managed to destroy what's left of your dignity in such a short space of time.
Notice all those words that have been written about you. Check the adjectives, nouns and verbs written around your name. What are the connotations, and how can you make them go away? You'll have to perform one hundred good, press-worthy acts, and pray that bloggers out there will take notice, and write about your many good deeds. That may force these pages into oblivion.
It seems that you'll be handing out some chickens in South East St. Ann after all, and with minimum press attention. Maybe you'll finally learn that giving away something for nothing is what an altruistic spirit is supposed to embody.
This has been quite the reversal of fortune, I would say. If you hadn't jumped into this sinking ship, looking for a junior ministership to top up your monthly grooming/wardrobe expenses, you would have had a 3-month head start in finding the last man alive stupid enough to sign over his personal fortune to you in a pre-nuptial agreement.
Alright, I was reaching there, but you can hardly blame me for wanting to capitalise on your misfortunes.
You should try going offshore to further your personal and career ambitions (something tells me there's an overlap with these two). Oh, but you've thought of that already. You may have to trade being on Jamaican telly with living comfortably in obscurity.
How about a change of method? Let's remove the automatic press coverage you get thanks to your 14-year-old pageant title. Do you stand out on your own personal merits if you are some place where no-one recognises you?
If you can't think of anything, try moving to Mauritania. Wrap yourself from head to toe in black chiffon and cotton. Live in a commune with other women. Share a shower and toilet. Eat couscous and rice with your fingers. Prepare meals for men who are building real schools. Learn a language other than English. Stay there for an indefinite period. Get people to trust you, and like you for who you are. It might help you to build what us non-socialite folk call "character".
Who knows, your Prince might just find you.