Michelle Obama Exercises her Constitutional Right to Bare Arms

The big news in America last week? While President Obama divided opinion on his Iraq pull-out plan, First Lady Michelle Obama divided it even more divisively by baring her arms on four days out of seven. That's right - weak pun alert - that part of America that cares about these things is up in arms over Michelle Obama's bare arms. The First Arms are the star of her first official portrait, pictured above, the Arms appeared applauding wildly at her husband's non-state of the union address, the Arms would have dazzled Stevie Wonder had he not been blind, and the Arms made an appearance at two other social events. Such limb exposure, some feel, is not quite appropriate in a first Lady, especially for the more formal occasions. I see nothing wrong with this myself. Readers of this blog know that I love Michelle Obama and her sense of style, but this must be said: not only has she the most incredibly-toned arms that are not Madonna's, she must be singularly impervious to the occasional inclemency of the elements. All this shoulder exposure in the bleakness of winter inspires the fear of poor Mr. Woodhouse on beholding Emma's portrait of Harriet Smith "with only a little ... over her shoulders ... it makes one think she must catch cold."

This past week was absolutely incredible at work, I was busier than a one-armed paperhanger, or, as my good friend Stephen King would say, busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest. Away from work, all sorts of crazily good things happened. I have been asked to write a long essay for the Guardian's Saturday Review, I am very excited about it. I have also written the complete first draft of a short story that was commissioned by Amnesty International to appear in an anthology of work celebrating the 60th anniversary of the Declaration of Human Rights. More details as the book gets closer to publication. I have also managed to book beautiful venues for my Geneva and Harare book launches. More on that soon.

And speaking of books ...

This week, I read Brian Chikwava's debut novel Harare North. It is a funny, highly original and entertaining story. Congratulations to Brian, I am sure this book will do very well indeed. It is a shame that Non-Zimbabweans will not get his eclectic references to Zimbabwean pop culture including the songs of Paul Matavire and the more absurd Shona and Ndebele proverbs and children's games. I would have loved to give a more detailed review of this book, in fact, I am aching to, but I have to restrain myself. The last time that I reviewed a book by a Zimbabwean writer, the author's irate publisher/editor/agent descended on me because I had not given a glowing review, but had instead praised the novel in question while recognising its flaws. My intelligence was questioned and all sorts of unpleasantness ensued. I have been wary about reviewing books since then.

Meanwhile, over at the madhouse ...

Those who read my old column at the Zimbabwe Times will remember that I predicted that Arthur Mutambara would be the Clown Prince of the new administration. I am highly entertained by his pomposity - his elevation to higher office has not found him dropping his habit of talking of himself in the third person, to the contrary, it has only added a mouthful of syllables. And what a mouthful it is. In a recent press statement, he kept calling himself "The Deputy Prime Minister of the Republic of Zimbabwe Professor A.G.O. Mutambara ..." (Note the emphasis on republic, people, just so that you don't confuse it with that other Zimbabwe, you know, the Sultanate of Zimbabwe). In the same week, the other two "Principals" also issued their own statements on government policy. So now you have the Prime Minister, President and one of the Deputy Prime Ministers each giving their own statements. I can't wait for the Other Deputy Prime Minister of the Republic of Zimbabwe, the Honourable Thokozani Khupe, to also throw herself into the mix.

Hold on, Republic of Zimbabwe, we are in for a bumpy ride.

Or, as my other old friend, Joe Gargery, would say: what larks!