While you and Shwa were worrying about the price of bread, Brown Mogotsi was staging his own one-man, open-air theatre of the absurd in Vosloorus.
A high-speed chase… against himself? A man, a red car and a gun, locked in a deadly quarrel.
It’s not a criminal act, it’s a metaphor. We’re told genius is often misunderstood.
Perhaps Mogotsi isn’t a menace, but a misunderstood auteur. He saw a flaw in his own vehicular performance – a scratch, a rattling hubcap, and an unacceptable lapse in aesthetic perfection – and took corrective action with the finality of a true artist. He wasn’t shooting at a car; he was executing a flawed idea.
This is the untold story of our national psyche. We’re no longer just violent; we’ve graduated to performative, self-directed violence. Then don’t open a police case.
This wasn’t an attempted murder; it was a preview. And frankly, it’s more compelling than most of what’s on television.
