The scene is an air conditioned office……but the bloody air con ain’t working, so we, yes we, the panel, are sweating like goats being led to a slaughter house. You, the audience, are busy wondering what the panel is for, but wonder no more, coz we are interviewers! The subject going to walk in thru that door has been haharing reading all sorts of crap, sijui “don’t show up too late for the interview”, “carry a copy of yo Cv just in case”, “be smart, but not too smart”……while we, the panel, were downing pints like Owen falls dam downs water!
As we are chilling, we are handed some papers to “guide us” with the process, and I feel sorry for this ka job seeker, nga he is going to haha! So, here is how it went, never mind the chap wanted to be a pump attendant, this “guideline” was to be strictly adhered to, so here goes;
1 – Little punk, tell us about yourself;
Well, am Darius, am from Kanungu, Rushengye village Runahaka parish (ah heck, that’s what I rememba, they probably aren’t like that) . I obtained a certificate in Uganda Certificate of Education and a driving permit. I am a quick thinker and take keen in learning.
2 – Alright bugger, what is your greatest strength?
You mean like carrying things?
No punk, where do you work best?
Haaaaa, I don’t think I understand that one.
3 – Fine, slow chap, What are your 3 most important career accomplishments?
As a driver, I used to overtake all the cars on the road. Then also, I used to get my boss there on time….but that’s all.
4 – Ok, why would you like to work for us?
Anyway I lost the other driver job. The boss took the car and got accident, so now I have no work so that's why I want to work for you…..
5 – What is your opinion about our organization?
They told me that you have some jobs.
6 – What personal non-job related goals have you set for yourself?
Ok I want to be rich, like Jim Muhwwezi of Kanungu, but you see I have to start slowly.
7 – Is there anything you like to tell us about yourself that we may have overlooked?
Anti you know I don’t steal. I cannot cheat customers, that one you didn’t know.
8 – Do you have any question about the position?
Can I work only at night?
9 – What are the things that motivate you most?
If the salary is good!
10 – Finally, little punk, how do you feel about your career progress so far?
Ok I can drive, so so far its so good. But if you give me this job, I will be happy.
Well, am still considering the lump, at least he’s honest!
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Friday, August 13, 2010
The Weed Smoker's Movement!!
We can’t run away from it, yep, we “aethists” too. There is a spiritual side to life, coz there’s this stuff we just don’t understand, and aren’t supposed to, its called faith.
Trailblazers of the early age took it upon themselves to create “religion”, a state of mind where we believe in whatever we are told. Christians, muslims, Jesuits, Hindus, name it, all came up with their own thinking, although these are loosely based on a savior chap that showed up from the heavens. The hardest “faith” however has to be “rastafari”!
Most people however have misunderstood the entire concept, and are out to ruin it, most especially idiots like Bobi Swine and his motley crew of jejune hangers on! These immature bastards think smoking weed and wearing dreadlocks makes them “rastas”, they need a shot of “reality” slithered into their drunken veins. So here is the real “rasta” faith!
First off, its not called “rastafarism”, coz it’s not a religion, but a way of life, a movement (not Ofwono Opondo’s crap though), an ideology! The term Rastafari is taken from Ras Tafari, the title of Haile Selassie 1, whom the proponets of this movement thought was the son of God (Jah) re-incarnated. See they prophesied that a son of the big one would show up on our wretched premises in the original birthplace of mankind referred to as Zion, also known as Africa.
Ras is Ahmaric (Ethiopian language) for Head or King. Haile Selasie was named “Tafari”, which is Ahmaric for a King’s name, as if Pope John Paul or Pope Benedict, a pre-regnal given name to Ethiopian Kings. This chap was crowned at the exact same time the Rasta’s believed a King was returning to earth, hence Rastafarians, the chaps that believe in Ras Tafari.
The Rastafaris do not believe in the morally corrupt western ways of doing shit, a term referred to as “Babylon”, ways of the world. Ok, they smoke a few leaves here and there but that’s only because nature gave us these. In a few words of Katt Williams, weed is good shit! It’s just a plant, it comes out of the earth on its own. However, aspirin is a concoction of deadly chemicals. U swallow 20 of them, and that will sure be yo last headache! Pop Idol winner Fantasia tried this shit last week and is now apologizing to her fans “al be a better person, no more suicide attempts”.
But with weed, u just get happy, hungry and sleepy! Why it’s illegal and asprin isn’t…….
Rastas also believe that Jah, in the form of the Holy Spirit, lives in us humans., and it is for this reason that they refer to themselves as “I and I”, actually “I” is used instead of “we” and is used to identify the equality amongst all people.
Generally rastas assert that their own bodies are true temples of the holy spirit so theres no need to build churches and stuff. However, why they douse their temples with grass fumes still beats the oblongata.
Patois, a Jamaican form of speak, is misused as rastafari language. There is no rastafari language, just that the chaps that invented it (Rastafarians) happen to live in Jamaica, whose “English” is known as patois, and some of their words are;
“a go” going to: e.g me a go tell him!
“bashment”: a party, dance session
“battybwoy”: a gay chap
“bumbaclut”: The heaviest curse word.
“big tings a gwan”: good shit is goin on.
“cease and sekkle”: Stop everya’ting and relax.
“evryating crisp”: All’s well.
“wa’ gwan star”: What’s happening my friend.
“mi a fi”: I am goin to.
“horn”: to cheat on yo loved one.
“hornin”: Commit adultery.
“hot stepper”: fugitive from jail.
“i-rey”: excellent, cool.
“pun”: with
So next time you hear those pretenders from “fire in the base crew” posing on you mbu they are rastas, just know that they are saying some bullshit like:
“wag wan star, mi a fi go hornin pun Martha evryating crisp butty bway…” Just know he aint making sense.
One love….and big ups from jah!
Trailblazers of the early age took it upon themselves to create “religion”, a state of mind where we believe in whatever we are told. Christians, muslims, Jesuits, Hindus, name it, all came up with their own thinking, although these are loosely based on a savior chap that showed up from the heavens. The hardest “faith” however has to be “rastafari”!
Most people however have misunderstood the entire concept, and are out to ruin it, most especially idiots like Bobi Swine and his motley crew of jejune hangers on! These immature bastards think smoking weed and wearing dreadlocks makes them “rastas”, they need a shot of “reality” slithered into their drunken veins. So here is the real “rasta” faith!
First off, its not called “rastafarism”, coz it’s not a religion, but a way of life, a movement (not Ofwono Opondo’s crap though), an ideology! The term Rastafari is taken from Ras Tafari, the title of Haile Selassie 1, whom the proponets of this movement thought was the son of God (Jah) re-incarnated. See they prophesied that a son of the big one would show up on our wretched premises in the original birthplace of mankind referred to as Zion, also known as Africa.
Ras is Ahmaric (Ethiopian language) for Head or King. Haile Selasie was named “Tafari”, which is Ahmaric for a King’s name, as if Pope John Paul or Pope Benedict, a pre-regnal given name to Ethiopian Kings. This chap was crowned at the exact same time the Rasta’s believed a King was returning to earth, hence Rastafarians, the chaps that believe in Ras Tafari.
The Rastafaris do not believe in the morally corrupt western ways of doing shit, a term referred to as “Babylon”, ways of the world. Ok, they smoke a few leaves here and there but that’s only because nature gave us these. In a few words of Katt Williams, weed is good shit! It’s just a plant, it comes out of the earth on its own. However, aspirin is a concoction of deadly chemicals. U swallow 20 of them, and that will sure be yo last headache! Pop Idol winner Fantasia tried this shit last week and is now apologizing to her fans “al be a better person, no more suicide attempts”.
But with weed, u just get happy, hungry and sleepy! Why it’s illegal and asprin isn’t…….
Rastas also believe that Jah, in the form of the Holy Spirit, lives in us humans., and it is for this reason that they refer to themselves as “I and I”, actually “I” is used instead of “we” and is used to identify the equality amongst all people.
Generally rastas assert that their own bodies are true temples of the holy spirit so theres no need to build churches and stuff. However, why they douse their temples with grass fumes still beats the oblongata.
Patois, a Jamaican form of speak, is misused as rastafari language. There is no rastafari language, just that the chaps that invented it (Rastafarians) happen to live in Jamaica, whose “English” is known as patois, and some of their words are;
“a go” going to: e.g me a go tell him!
“bashment”: a party, dance session
“battybwoy”: a gay chap
“bumbaclut”: The heaviest curse word.
“big tings a gwan”: good shit is goin on.
“cease and sekkle”: Stop everya’ting and relax.
“evryating crisp”: All’s well.
“wa’ gwan star”: What’s happening my friend.
“mi a fi”: I am goin to.
“horn”: to cheat on yo loved one.
“hornin”: Commit adultery.
“hot stepper”: fugitive from jail.
“i-rey”: excellent, cool.
“pun”: with
So next time you hear those pretenders from “fire in the base crew” posing on you mbu they are rastas, just know that they are saying some bullshit like:
“wag wan star, mi a fi go hornin pun Martha evryating crisp butty bway…” Just know he aint making sense.
One love….and big ups from jah!
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
The extremes of personal hygiene!!
I was watching an old Kevin Spacey movie, K-PAX, where he claimed he had fallen in from another planet. He was immediately hauled off to a “Psychiatric facility”. He asked “you think am mad?”, and Doc was like “no no no, we don’t use that word anymore, we say “ill”. Talk about political correctness! A woman isn’t fat, she is big-boned! But that’s for another day.
In this “illness facility”, there was a guy that felt that “everyone stinks”, so he just couldn’t live in the outside world. This got me thinking, it’s very easy to get this disease, coz here’s the list of the stinkest persons that live around us!
Taxi conductors: These goons emit a stench that would put a conglomerate of rotten eggs and sulphuric acid to shame! The saddest bit of all this is that u have to get into physical contact with these skunks as they slide over that door and let you squeeze your way under their rotting arm pits to your dusty seat. The first whiff of air you breathe in that has been in contact with the surrounding areas of the arm pit is strong enough to knock your lungs into an asthmatic attack, never mind you had never gotten asthma before.
House girls: Looks like these wenches from the village spend entire hours plotting how to kidnap the boss’s kids, and forget to hit the showers. These very useful persons reek of a stench that beats that from a sewer truck that is emptying the sewage tank in the backyard! When they mop the corridor, the area stays smelly of arm pit for almost 25 minutes, u be calling that chick that is coming home begging her to wait abit, so she doesn’t think you smell like a security guard that has just returned from night duty!
Bar Waitresses: Like their cousins the house girls, these chicks seem to work all night and drop dead on their beds as soon as they reach their cribs, then they wake up at exactly 4.30 pm, splash water on their faces and hit the streets coz reporting time for work is 4.45pm. These chicks serve you pints and leave a trail of that smell of a familiar emission of fermented arm pit sweat! Only a cold pint can treat this disease.
Pump attendants: With all the money they make after cheating customers, one would expect these thieves to at least be decent in public, but no. On top of being smelly, they also add a twist to the stench, a deadly combo of sweat, fuel and used engine oil! Luckily, their girlfriends are waitresses, so no one complains!
On the contrary, there are persons that are too clean! Pastor Sematimba is the best example. This guy even calls the chaps at Johnson’s Powder and gives their R & D teams tips on what their next best seller should be;
“chi kati chi kati, this is Se Se Se ma-timba on the mic….sorry, on the phone. Is this Johnson’s powder company….man y’all dudes need to sort me out. Is there a powder that I can use while am showering? What y’all cats need to do, is come up with this powder that is also soap, u see, am addicted to cleanliness, I should be diagnosed “ill” y’all”
I don’t know if its nice, but guys that use strong perfumes piss me the hell off, and most of them are…..corporates. They be going for training in Dubai and buy a shelf of perfumes and give some of us sinutic characters sleepless days….and nights when we are at bars. A simple deodorant will do!
End of today’s sermon on “world cleanliness day”.
In this “illness facility”, there was a guy that felt that “everyone stinks”, so he just couldn’t live in the outside world. This got me thinking, it’s very easy to get this disease, coz here’s the list of the stinkest persons that live around us!
Taxi conductors: These goons emit a stench that would put a conglomerate of rotten eggs and sulphuric acid to shame! The saddest bit of all this is that u have to get into physical contact with these skunks as they slide over that door and let you squeeze your way under their rotting arm pits to your dusty seat. The first whiff of air you breathe in that has been in contact with the surrounding areas of the arm pit is strong enough to knock your lungs into an asthmatic attack, never mind you had never gotten asthma before.
House girls: Looks like these wenches from the village spend entire hours plotting how to kidnap the boss’s kids, and forget to hit the showers. These very useful persons reek of a stench that beats that from a sewer truck that is emptying the sewage tank in the backyard! When they mop the corridor, the area stays smelly of arm pit for almost 25 minutes, u be calling that chick that is coming home begging her to wait abit, so she doesn’t think you smell like a security guard that has just returned from night duty!
Bar Waitresses: Like their cousins the house girls, these chicks seem to work all night and drop dead on their beds as soon as they reach their cribs, then they wake up at exactly 4.30 pm, splash water on their faces and hit the streets coz reporting time for work is 4.45pm. These chicks serve you pints and leave a trail of that smell of a familiar emission of fermented arm pit sweat! Only a cold pint can treat this disease.
Pump attendants: With all the money they make after cheating customers, one would expect these thieves to at least be decent in public, but no. On top of being smelly, they also add a twist to the stench, a deadly combo of sweat, fuel and used engine oil! Luckily, their girlfriends are waitresses, so no one complains!
On the contrary, there are persons that are too clean! Pastor Sematimba is the best example. This guy even calls the chaps at Johnson’s Powder and gives their R & D teams tips on what their next best seller should be;
“chi kati chi kati, this is Se Se Se ma-timba on the mic….sorry, on the phone. Is this Johnson’s powder company….man y’all dudes need to sort me out. Is there a powder that I can use while am showering? What y’all cats need to do, is come up with this powder that is also soap, u see, am addicted to cleanliness, I should be diagnosed “ill” y’all”
I don’t know if its nice, but guys that use strong perfumes piss me the hell off, and most of them are…..corporates. They be going for training in Dubai and buy a shelf of perfumes and give some of us sinutic characters sleepless days….and nights when we are at bars. A simple deodorant will do!
End of today’s sermon on “world cleanliness day”.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
The goings on.............
Life, she can be unfair. Apparently the Bududa chaps, yep, them of the landslide, and this was no election landslide, but some hard core earth movements (not NRM either) that destroyed all their shit, are in a rather weird situation. They are selling relief items organized for them “in order to make ends meet”. Once you read this, you would assume that chaps have been sending them high heeled shoes and petty-coats, those funny under wears for chicks in the 70’s, so it would be perfectly understandable to sell these and get…say, food!
But no, not these guys. They are selling food……wait for it….wait for it……to buy firewood!!! What gives? Now u have the firewood, what the hell are you going to cook? It’s like selling yo car to buy fuel! Edisa Natseli,46, a mother of 6 “explained” that she sells a kilo of maize flour at 400 bucks while a bowl of beans goes for 600 bucks which can fetch her 6 pieces of firewood! Well, that’s life for ya!
In more interesting pages, Naomi Campbell, that chick that hits her housemaids with million dollar cell phones has been in the spotlight for accepting what every chick would die for – diamonds!
A quick recap! The year was 1997, a certain war lord named Charles Taylor that had been in an endless war settled for an election convened to end all this reckless flight of bullets. In his campaigns, he didn’t mince words, never bought bullshit soap for broke villagers and never even thought about rigging…no no, this guy just walked around in his campaign bus telling chaps “ya’ll punks don’t tick my name on that ballot paper, am getting my rag tag army and heading back to wherever the hell I have been and continue mayhem as usual”. Liberians feared, and voted for him.
He was immediately summoned by the God Human him-u-selef, Nelson Mandela to “come share a pint with some hot chicks, as congs for this election landslide”. He fell in, no one says no to God….sori, Mandela.
Mr Madiba took these guys to open a new railway system, replacing that old hack that looked like Uganda’s current subway, and after that, they went for a lavish dinner at his home just to show how African politicians do it. The invited chicks include phone thrower Naomi Campbell and an actress Mia Farrow, whose movies I have no idea about. At the dinner, Charles Taylor was smitten by Naomi Campbell, he probably wished she would throw her phone – number to him, but she jammed!
He immediately made a call to General Suicide of the Sierra Leone rebels in charge of minerals, assuring him to send whatever diamonds he had just mined to SA ASAP!! Of course he would be issued a carton of anti-tank landmines and an assortment of Rambo guns in return.
As soon as Western Union had delivered these “dirty looking stones”, Mr Taylor summoned his PGB boys and asked them to deliver these precious ones to that precious chick upstairs. They obeyed!
They woke this cat-walking bitch up in the middle of the night and delivered the “gift”. She was over joyed and run to Ms Farrow’s room and exclaimed “looky here bitches…….Charles Taylor has given me diamonds, now suck on that!!”
However, this Campbell person has denied all this shit. She says she got the stones alright, but never to know who had sent them. Ms Farrow, who is still probably “sucking on it”, insists she said “they were from Taylor”, but the question is, who really gives a hoot? Just jail the punk up for selling arms for diamonds and get it over with. Or maybe they should summon all his girlfriends too to explain the source of their bling bling.
So this cancels buying of diamonds as gifts to super ballistic chicks, look at the shit it can put u in! (that’s my lame excuse)
But no, not these guys. They are selling food……wait for it….wait for it……to buy firewood!!! What gives? Now u have the firewood, what the hell are you going to cook? It’s like selling yo car to buy fuel! Edisa Natseli,46, a mother of 6 “explained” that she sells a kilo of maize flour at 400 bucks while a bowl of beans goes for 600 bucks which can fetch her 6 pieces of firewood! Well, that’s life for ya!
In more interesting pages, Naomi Campbell, that chick that hits her housemaids with million dollar cell phones has been in the spotlight for accepting what every chick would die for – diamonds!
A quick recap! The year was 1997, a certain war lord named Charles Taylor that had been in an endless war settled for an election convened to end all this reckless flight of bullets. In his campaigns, he didn’t mince words, never bought bullshit soap for broke villagers and never even thought about rigging…no no, this guy just walked around in his campaign bus telling chaps “ya’ll punks don’t tick my name on that ballot paper, am getting my rag tag army and heading back to wherever the hell I have been and continue mayhem as usual”. Liberians feared, and voted for him.
He was immediately summoned by the God Human him-u-selef, Nelson Mandela to “come share a pint with some hot chicks, as congs for this election landslide”. He fell in, no one says no to God….sori, Mandela.
Mr Madiba took these guys to open a new railway system, replacing that old hack that looked like Uganda’s current subway, and after that, they went for a lavish dinner at his home just to show how African politicians do it. The invited chicks include phone thrower Naomi Campbell and an actress Mia Farrow, whose movies I have no idea about. At the dinner, Charles Taylor was smitten by Naomi Campbell, he probably wished she would throw her phone – number to him, but she jammed!
He immediately made a call to General Suicide of the Sierra Leone rebels in charge of minerals, assuring him to send whatever diamonds he had just mined to SA ASAP!! Of course he would be issued a carton of anti-tank landmines and an assortment of Rambo guns in return.
As soon as Western Union had delivered these “dirty looking stones”, Mr Taylor summoned his PGB boys and asked them to deliver these precious ones to that precious chick upstairs. They obeyed!
They woke this cat-walking bitch up in the middle of the night and delivered the “gift”. She was over joyed and run to Ms Farrow’s room and exclaimed “looky here bitches…….Charles Taylor has given me diamonds, now suck on that!!”
However, this Campbell person has denied all this shit. She says she got the stones alright, but never to know who had sent them. Ms Farrow, who is still probably “sucking on it”, insists she said “they were from Taylor”, but the question is, who really gives a hoot? Just jail the punk up for selling arms for diamonds and get it over with. Or maybe they should summon all his girlfriends too to explain the source of their bling bling.
So this cancels buying of diamonds as gifts to super ballistic chicks, look at the shit it can put u in! (that’s my lame excuse)
Monday, August 9, 2010
Post No. 200!!
This is the 200th post, no wonder I have lost my writing mojo! I first checked under the kitchen sink, wapi, just some young roaches lounging on “a day at the beach”. Then I checked under the cushions of the couch, only to find some lose 50 bucks coins! What about???!!
I started spewing out nonsense in around Aug ’08, so this makes it 100 a year. If one had a “word checker” and scanned through this blog, he would be hit with such profanities he / she may beg to sign out before the timer at the café has even closed.
Words like “bullshit, punk, lumpen, pumpkin and Budo fellas” make my day. I am the guy Satan warned you about in Revelations, the prophet of doom and the rebel without a cause, the guy nature sent to piss everyone off!
Now that we are done with the introductions, let’s randomly type some shit so the blog dashboard can finally show “200 posts”
I've been thinking, what the hell (there go more curse words) do musicians want from us? We be there chilling for a song and the bastards (again!!! Woo hoo) are asking us questions? How are we supposed to answer these chaps? Pur example….
Culture club: Do you really want to hurt me? Do you really want to make me cry?
Yes bitch, I want to grind you with an axe and steal yo girlfriend (make u cry like a little sissy piglet!). Unfortunately my song with the reply couldn’t get to culture club so this is the farthest I can take this reply. Howsomever, this song may not have been written so we can reply to it, but rather, for the lousy chicks at Kibubura Girls High school to use it to send as “deds” to their farmer boy friends across at Kinyasano Boys Day and Boarding, somthn’ of the sorts:
Dear Kapere,
As the pen dangles perpendicular to the writing pad lying here on my desk, I am only thinking about your smile. You are the executive prime minister of my heart, and I love you more than cabbages! So why is it that you did not mic mac me a reply after I clearly asked you to read, relax, rewind and reply my last letter that was zoomed to your humble abode? I feel broken in the heart like Maama Proscovia’s cooking pot!! Prease prease, don’t let me down.
Deds: Do you really want to hurt me?? Do you really want to make me cry – by hen sink!
Song Question numero deaux: Why don’t we fall in love? – Amerie.
Ok!!
Song question 3: Why does it hurt so bad? – Whitney and Cece.
Well whitney, I talked to “Gad” yesterday, he said that the punk Adam went and ate some shit he wasn’t ‘pposed to, so we were sent down here to haha! Shit will be tight, if u are a celeb and u fuck up, be sure to catch it on “have you hahad”, in the New Vision.
Song question 4: Who let the dogs out? – The bahima men….no no, the Baha Men.
Well, I have no clue. The dogs are out? How many? Shouldn’t we call some KCC environmental chaps to check out this thing? Ah what the heck, al figure out who let these dogs out in a bit!
Well there are several ways to answer these songs, just like there are several ways to skin a rat. The ultimate question however is, why on earth would anyone be skinning a rat? We have enuff districts already!
With this aimless, pointless and useless compilation of words, I declare post number 200 done!
That’s all folks!
I started spewing out nonsense in around Aug ’08, so this makes it 100 a year. If one had a “word checker” and scanned through this blog, he would be hit with such profanities he / she may beg to sign out before the timer at the café has even closed.
Words like “bullshit, punk, lumpen, pumpkin and Budo fellas” make my day. I am the guy Satan warned you about in Revelations, the prophet of doom and the rebel without a cause, the guy nature sent to piss everyone off!
Now that we are done with the introductions, let’s randomly type some shit so the blog dashboard can finally show “200 posts”
I've been thinking, what the hell (there go more curse words) do musicians want from us? We be there chilling for a song and the bastards (again!!! Woo hoo) are asking us questions? How are we supposed to answer these chaps? Pur example….
Culture club: Do you really want to hurt me? Do you really want to make me cry?
Yes bitch, I want to grind you with an axe and steal yo girlfriend (make u cry like a little sissy piglet!). Unfortunately my song with the reply couldn’t get to culture club so this is the farthest I can take this reply. Howsomever, this song may not have been written so we can reply to it, but rather, for the lousy chicks at Kibubura Girls High school to use it to send as “deds” to their farmer boy friends across at Kinyasano Boys Day and Boarding, somthn’ of the sorts:
Dear Kapere,
As the pen dangles perpendicular to the writing pad lying here on my desk, I am only thinking about your smile. You are the executive prime minister of my heart, and I love you more than cabbages! So why is it that you did not mic mac me a reply after I clearly asked you to read, relax, rewind and reply my last letter that was zoomed to your humble abode? I feel broken in the heart like Maama Proscovia’s cooking pot!! Prease prease, don’t let me down.
Deds: Do you really want to hurt me?? Do you really want to make me cry – by hen sink!
Song Question numero deaux: Why don’t we fall in love? – Amerie.
Ok!!
Song question 3: Why does it hurt so bad? – Whitney and Cece.
Well whitney, I talked to “Gad” yesterday, he said that the punk Adam went and ate some shit he wasn’t ‘pposed to, so we were sent down here to haha! Shit will be tight, if u are a celeb and u fuck up, be sure to catch it on “have you hahad”, in the New Vision.
Song question 4: Who let the dogs out? – The bahima men….no no, the Baha Men.
Well, I have no clue. The dogs are out? How many? Shouldn’t we call some KCC environmental chaps to check out this thing? Ah what the heck, al figure out who let these dogs out in a bit!
Well there are several ways to answer these songs, just like there are several ways to skin a rat. The ultimate question however is, why on earth would anyone be skinning a rat? We have enuff districts already!
With this aimless, pointless and useless compilation of words, I declare post number 200 done!
That’s all folks!
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Back to school....!!
The scene is Machakos Primary School, it’s the mid-eighties and Mrs Mburugu is drilling into our tiny nuts these stories, they are known as nursery rhymes, but not quite rhymy after all, if you think about it! Why the hell did she first wait for us to leave nursery to teach us this stuff anyway?
First there was this little punk Jack and his horny girlfriend Jill. Apparently they went up a hill to fetch water and came tumbling down like Jamwa’s career! Who fetches water up a hill??? Most water, at least on earth, flows down the hills, at the valley. So unless Jack and Jill were busy doing bad manners and lost footing……or something to that effect, there is no other explanation.
Then there was this short character Humpty Dumpty who sat on the 1 billion shilling campus wall, then he had a great fall, prompting the Finance Director of the University to declare, like a normal Ugandan, that he will not resign, just because a wall came tumbling down. And what the hell was Humpty doing up there anyway?
Cinderella: These are the stories that make u want to bitch slap the chaps in charge of the syllabus! So this chick was just there chilling, unhappy as usual and talking to her cat, then a fairy showed up and asked her to bring a pumpkin and 7 mice which she splashed with her magic wand and voila, a horse carriage to take the damsel to the local prom. What crap! There are no fairies. You work. You get paid. You save. You buy a freakin’ carriage! Then u get to live happily ever after.
Rapunzel: This bitch was locked up in a tower with no windows, doors or stairs to the top floor. Wonder how they built it! They should lock up these IPC chicks that be demonstrating all the freakin time in these towers, and pray their hair never grows……unlike Rapunzel. Her tormentor, the witch, would ask her to throw down her long hair, which she would grip like an RDC on Government funds, then climb up the wall. Apparently some prince pulled a fast one and got himself up there, then as usual……they lived happily ever after! Someone should look for these guys just to be sure the ever after was that ballistic!
Snow white and the seven short bastards. In this story, a beautiful chick is awakened from a deep sleep by the kiss of an enchanted prince. All these stories had a suffering chick and a so called ballistic prince. In our days, we are woken up by alarm clocks and noisy neighbours.
The three little pigs: A big bad wolf moves around blowing down pig’s structures. We now call these rioters!
And finally, that jam from the sound of music, remixed for all ye alcoholics anonymous; This remix was done in the ol’ skool days of Y?N-Vee when we used to call money “dough”, here goes;
Dough, with which, I buy my beer
Ray, the guy I buy it from
Me, the guy, I buy it for
Far, the distance to the bar
So, I think al have that beer
La, the punk that steals that beer
Tea, no thanks another beer
That will bring us back to dough…dough….dough…dough!
Now that’s what the kids should be learning!
First there was this little punk Jack and his horny girlfriend Jill. Apparently they went up a hill to fetch water and came tumbling down like Jamwa’s career! Who fetches water up a hill??? Most water, at least on earth, flows down the hills, at the valley. So unless Jack and Jill were busy doing bad manners and lost footing……or something to that effect, there is no other explanation.
Then there was this short character Humpty Dumpty who sat on the 1 billion shilling campus wall, then he had a great fall, prompting the Finance Director of the University to declare, like a normal Ugandan, that he will not resign, just because a wall came tumbling down. And what the hell was Humpty doing up there anyway?
Cinderella: These are the stories that make u want to bitch slap the chaps in charge of the syllabus! So this chick was just there chilling, unhappy as usual and talking to her cat, then a fairy showed up and asked her to bring a pumpkin and 7 mice which she splashed with her magic wand and voila, a horse carriage to take the damsel to the local prom. What crap! There are no fairies. You work. You get paid. You save. You buy a freakin’ carriage! Then u get to live happily ever after.
Rapunzel: This bitch was locked up in a tower with no windows, doors or stairs to the top floor. Wonder how they built it! They should lock up these IPC chicks that be demonstrating all the freakin time in these towers, and pray their hair never grows……unlike Rapunzel. Her tormentor, the witch, would ask her to throw down her long hair, which she would grip like an RDC on Government funds, then climb up the wall. Apparently some prince pulled a fast one and got himself up there, then as usual……they lived happily ever after! Someone should look for these guys just to be sure the ever after was that ballistic!
Snow white and the seven short bastards. In this story, a beautiful chick is awakened from a deep sleep by the kiss of an enchanted prince. All these stories had a suffering chick and a so called ballistic prince. In our days, we are woken up by alarm clocks and noisy neighbours.
The three little pigs: A big bad wolf moves around blowing down pig’s structures. We now call these rioters!
And finally, that jam from the sound of music, remixed for all ye alcoholics anonymous; This remix was done in the ol’ skool days of Y?N-Vee when we used to call money “dough”, here goes;
Dough, with which, I buy my beer
Ray, the guy I buy it from
Me, the guy, I buy it for
Far, the distance to the bar
So, I think al have that beer
La, the punk that steals that beer
Tea, no thanks another beer
That will bring us back to dough…dough….dough…dough!
Now that’s what the kids should be learning!
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Agony Aunt!!
This is today’s agony Aunt letter as stolen from some email forward;
Dear Miriam,
The other day I set off for work, leaving my husband in the house watching TV as usual.
I hadn’t gone a hundred meters down the road when my engine conked out screeched to a halt, so i walked back home.
I walked back home to get my husbands help. When I got home, I found him in the bedroom. I couldn’t believe my eyes, he was parading in front of the mirror dressed in my underwear and high heeled shoes, and he was wearing my make up.
I am 32, my husband 34 and we have been married 12 years. When I confronted him, he tried to make out that he had dressed up in my lingerie because he couldn’t find his own underwear. But when I asked him about the makeup, he broke down and admitted that he has been wearing them for 6 months. I told him it had to stop or I would leave him.
He was made redundant from his home and says it has made him depressed so he finds solace in trying to be me. Ever since I gave him the ultimatum, he has become increasingly distanced and I don’t feel I can go through this anymore. Please, can you help?
Martha.
Miriam says……..Martha, a car stalling after being driven a short distance can be caused by a variety of faults in the engine. Start by checking there is no debris in the fuel line. If it is clear, check the jubilee line holding the vacuum pipes onto the inlet fold. If none of these helps, it could be that the fuel pump is faulty causing low delivery pressure to the carburetor chamber. Hope that helped.
Now if that’s not Agony Aunt, then I don’t know what people want!
Dear Miriam,
The other day I set off for work, leaving my husband in the house watching TV as usual.
I hadn’t gone a hundred meters down the road when my engine conked out screeched to a halt, so i walked back home.
I walked back home to get my husbands help. When I got home, I found him in the bedroom. I couldn’t believe my eyes, he was parading in front of the mirror dressed in my underwear and high heeled shoes, and he was wearing my make up.
I am 32, my husband 34 and we have been married 12 years. When I confronted him, he tried to make out that he had dressed up in my lingerie because he couldn’t find his own underwear. But when I asked him about the makeup, he broke down and admitted that he has been wearing them for 6 months. I told him it had to stop or I would leave him.
He was made redundant from his home and says it has made him depressed so he finds solace in trying to be me. Ever since I gave him the ultimatum, he has become increasingly distanced and I don’t feel I can go through this anymore. Please, can you help?
Martha.
Miriam says……..Martha, a car stalling after being driven a short distance can be caused by a variety of faults in the engine. Start by checking there is no debris in the fuel line. If it is clear, check the jubilee line holding the vacuum pipes onto the inlet fold. If none of these helps, it could be that the fuel pump is faulty causing low delivery pressure to the carburetor chamber. Hope that helped.
Now if that’s not Agony Aunt, then I don’t know what people want!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)