Apologies and a statement to Mr Ali Bongo Ondimba

Apologies for yesterdays soggy post. I have debated with myself whether to delete that post and forces not within my control convinced me otherwise. When I say forces I do not mean anything sinister; let me amplify given recent regressions so we can maintain appearances.

When you want to move a rock and you use a spade you have yourself to blame. I am of the opinion that a lorryload of data cannot solve the world's problems. I am categorically of the opinion that cynics rule because their judgment is rarely clouded. It is because of this that I have to say yesterdays sentimental piece was out of order.That said; let us go directly to the person of Mtukufu rais Ali Ben Ondimba a.k.a Ali Ben of the poor peoples republic of Gabon.

You are a dictator sir. Respectfully let me say again. You is a dictator. In fact you is a Baboonctator. If you do not know what that is check my earlier posts. Ali, you suck the joy of life out of a people just for the joy of riding a Bugatti. I know Bugattis are nice and really fast but let us agree they are for people who deserve them. Like movie stars, dishonest businessmen and the KGB. Inheritance works for cows and personal effects. Not whole countries. Shame on France for going along with it. Gabon is richer in natural resources than most western European nations and yet has approximately 200 seedy individuals masquerading as Academia in its one university. Heh!

Rumors abound of ritual killings and deep routed corruption. Funny little groups scaring the people with sordid rituals and weird dances in the night. The ruler of the illiterate must stand up to be ridiculed. In no way does putting a whole people at the mercy of hungry mercenaries and corporates qualify as a a valiant democratic act. The sycophants will say it, the parrots will repeat it and the traitors will enforce it but no day will it be true. Remember that people reserve the highest amount of violation for the king when he looses his power. The same mercenaries backing him will soon get another suitor. Pray that he is more benevolent than the former colonial master Bongo Ondimba Sr.

I have examined a fellow called Moubamba. Yes. Moubamba, the one they also call Ben Bruno. Yes! I see you nodding. That guy who was establishing an embargo against his own stomach. He failed in his efforts at restraining himself from food and had to be rushed from the gates of the Gabonese parliament to a well known medical location. All because he thinks Gabon must see the stinging light of change. If we had 16 Moubambas in Gabon. We would be home free.

I suddenly feel the bad vibe emanating from the person of Bin Ondimba overwhelming me. Let me go start planning on how to get him to wash his armpits.

Read more

A reprimand to the self.

As I checked into the Heartbreak motel the other day, I could not help but wonder why I was not at home sleeping. It is a basic necessity at times to remember one's place. I am reminded of a place I was in years back as a freshman in a third world university. A very cold place. Where it matters not if your intentions are alright but if you are up to the task of playing the piper. Or at least paying the piper.

All this sounds melancholic and to say the truth psycho-sad. I guess along the way trying to get somewhere we become what we loathe. You wake up in the morning thinking you smell just right. Then in the afternoon you realize that the grime of living never lets you pass off for the real thing. I guess dreams are for those who are asleep. And nightmares are for those chasing dreams. Maybe it is all a dream.

Desire makes everything worse by whetting the mouth of a fool. I am a fool; let me say, and I have been a fool. For no reason at all apart from a daily titillation from what we perceive as perfect; we fold and forget that stoics and cynics have no place in the reality of dreamers.

If I was responsible for the past I would step in and slay the dragons that would torment the mistress. I would be a friend and I would be a keeper. Maybe that is the reason I am a fool. Why else would one think of traveling in time. This is not Star Trek and nothing happens if you wish on a star. If I could do things different I would need skills I doubt I have but it does not stop me from wishing I could start it over.

Maybe it is through pain that nature gets its kicks. Otherwise why would you light a little fire that grows into an inferno. Questions they say, are for those who can answer. Life they say, is for those who want to live. And love they lie, is for those who can love. There is no love, just a jumble of stereotypical perceptions and good luck.

If I was to pray, I would pray for good luck. Good luck and a way to avoid living like a fool. Right now all I can pray for are some keys to the exit door of the heartbreak motel. Or a fellow resident to ease the transition into the abysmal realm ruled by the chairman of the lonely hearts club.

Read more

Dissapointment.

On Facebook we have sick people. We have sick people that are sick in the head, people whose hearts are sick, funny sick people with sick brains and stupid sick people who are not funny at all.
Then we have have the ailing ranks of headless chickens. Cluck cluck cluck they go, on the keyboard! Does Facebook have a disclaiming disclaimer? If they do not they are in trouble. Some of the daftness in this part of the world borders on criminal.
On facebook we also have individuals with real ailments. Infectious diseases like clinical schizophrenia and useless philosophies like Stupidism. I vote with former President for life Daniel Toroititch arap Moi on one issue. The issue of the foreign press and entertainment. In America the difference between a nitwit and a fool is largely obscured by other considerations like libel,personal injury or just plain idiotic lawyers. Here we just lap up everything like some species of the canine kind. If it is cool when Lara Croft says it in a movie it is because of the gajilzillions of Yen that have been spent to make her pretty and sound pretty. Not very cool when you use it as a status update.

In parliament we have cooked potatoes in suits. French fries in black suits, badly boiled mashed potatoes in blue suits, roasted tarts in mini suits and the ever present rotten potato in a new suit.
I suspect that if you as much as suggest to the rotten potatoes that they may be beyond use by date you will earn yourself a beatdown. The 'state machinery' protects this cabal of pestering rats like a Marabou stork defends its lunch of fetid torch batteries.
I was reading on Facebook,(yes you can read on facebook!)and I trawl by this guy Ole Kina. The guy wants so bad to be the next President of the whole republic that he has started campaigning early, too early. Too early and too far away from the real voters in far away grassroots Kenya. Let me give MR KINA a number, if all of Kenya's 100,000 facebookers voted for MR KINA he would not win. Even if they told all their friends and their friends told their friend's friends.
That is the problem with politics, every Tom, Onyango and Vincent thinks they have what it takes. They think that all it takes is quick picture with Obama and a Facebook profile. Well let me break it to them gently, IT IS NOT THAT FOCKIN SIMPLE. Idiotas!

I think being a sarcastic, narcissistic, complaining b++ch of a country is not working and we need to grow some bollocks. Let us start first with evicting all politicians from office.
But first we need to find a vaccine for teargas. Any takers?

Read more

Wacko Mr.Jacko

People In London Should Not Eat Rice: PILSNER. Or drink rice wine. Musicians over forty should not take barbiturates even if they are very famous because it may cause one undesirable side-effect. Death.

The good Doctor just wanted to help. Yeah right! Someone should help him! Now the king is dead or like Elvis Presley pretending to be dead and we have that good doctor to thank for it.

The whole week all I have heard is everyone give their can of beans about what happened. Well let me spill the lama beans right here. That guy was the most mistreated kid since time immemorial. He was dealing with haggard narcissistic promoters from the day he first sung. It is a pity that he was never allowed to grow up. Everyone figured he was good with Bubbles as long as Bubbles could not talk or tell him who was stealing what from his coffers. All the warning signs were there from the start.

Pepsi burnt him and then paid millions to have him repaired. Jesus Kristo, that poor boy walked around looking like Yellowman's ghostly cousin. I think Pepsi should give all of us a freebie for loss of entertainer, because they started it.

He was a bit bonkers before, with all those rumours that he liked to think he could one day look like Diana Rose, or was is just malicious wags and their poisoned pens? But I never figured him for a crack head. Now, come to think of it, he must have been startin' something on the Thriller tour. His presence and antics in Manila,Philippines changed Filipinos' lives forever. Some still believe he is amongst them. Those daft people.

I wonder if he left a manual of his dance moves.

Read more

This days

I am flabbergasted by the apparent juxtaposition of ideals and propaganda on the body politic vis a vis the rapid extermination of ideal and moral standing in so far as it is necessary to maintain the progression to higher ideals.

That statement does not make sense. I am finding that many things do not make sense. In a cute kind of US state department kind of way. Example: There has been an action that can be classified as aggressive but we cannot state at this time wether or not it was on Al Quaeda but we can say conclusively that the aims of that mission were reached though the extent of that success is yet to be established.OK. I think that is why journalists have to get degrees. Just to understand the implied meanings. The zit could have just said: We sent a deadly unmaned jet fighter into Al Quaeda territory and bombed the sh*t out of them. Alot of them are dead.Finito.

Academicians do not and will never make sense. They are too busy trying to walk the middle line. Or too busy finding new ways of sounding knowledgeable without making sense.

According to Prison Break, the whole world is controlled by 'The company'. Yet Freemasons pride themselves with spreading the rumor that they control the world. According to scientists not allowed at scientific conferences; It is also controlled from Nibiru, a distant planet filled with giants. Some individuals of doubtful psycho-profile have been heard whispering that it is all planned from the helm of a large extraterrestrial vessel with green coloured individuals suspected to be alive. Another individual who has at times been placed on government watchlists for trying to behave like a cultist says it is all in the tent of the living god. I forgot to ask if there is a tent for the dead god. Maybe he sleeps outside.

In this era when lambs eat pork chops and shepherds are known to lie among the flock, it is always good to know if the shepherd has a condom. If God worked for a Wall street venture capitalist he has by now moved on to a better venture. This particular project is possibly a white elephant. After being hijacked by the Illuminati, ruled by the pope, experimented on by ungodly aliens, looted by 'the company' and desecrated by the Masons I think this vessel has run out of 'journey mercies'. Maybe.

Christians, or the newer version that refer to themselves endearingly as Xtians have a way with words. They say in the beginning was the word. Muslims have an even better way of putting it though i will avoid paraphrasing. The penalty for misquoting a certain holy book I have heard is neither a good or healthy thing. Especially to persons who can be said to be of a none Islamic leaning. Buddhists are most of the time sleeping or pretending to sleep. I have tried meditation and I think there is still one more scam to be unearthed, it involves crossing your legs(If you can) and going to sleep. The Hindu faith is therapeutic. You can be angry at one god and switch gods any day. 6000 gods and more still being born. Members of the bovine species are gods so no need to go on pilgrimage to an exotic location at a high cost in this global economic recession. Your cattle Boma is it.

In the beginning, there was a missionary. He invented the missionary position. He had a wife who complied with this ideal position. While he was inventing the position he would at times preach the gospel and forget some matrimonial duties. His main aim was to cure the African of his disease. The African was too keen on his sexuality and would at times be seen brandishing his superiority to shame the lone European in the village. Now, the missionary is just working hard to get some medicine to help him brandish something with some authority. Just check your SPAM folder. Or the checkout stand at your local supermarket.

Nothing makes sense nowadays. But did it ever?

Read more

Continuation

Okay, It has been a while since I did this. The Crazy Dog was sick and his master was having a period of introversion induced by too much technology. I think I have forgotten how to write.....but did I ever know how to?

In my descent into scientific extrapolation I came about a new formula for calculating the rate at which a rotten politician starts believing in his own lies. After a lifetime of conniving and dodging honesty, the truth is no longer a concept that exists in a narrow mind, so narrow that the proverbial needles eye looks like a wide Chinese made highway.

African politicians behave as if they were born stupid. It is cute in an Idi Amin Dada themed movie but not so cute when it starts costing the country lives. I heard some wag say that people get the leaders they deserve. Well, it is kind of true Wajinga ndio waliwao, the foolish perish.

Cities rise and fall on the basis of its managers' compentence. When 100 rats invade the throne it is so much worse than one lion sitting on people heads. Compare the effect of zit on your face and a boil. ZIT ZIT ZIT , zit rules.

I hate beauracrats. Why? They supervise the mess someone else starts and then pretend not to know who poked who and who faked who. Stupid boils!

One rat tells the other about the shiny new rollercoaster in town. Guess which rat gets caught in the mouse trap while the fat one eats the cheese. I think in the 'new age' some of this tricks should have lost credence. but I guess the next election campaign will prove me wrong when the people are given power to cede it right back to their tormentors for a pack of Posho. Thin rats!

Lets all start a big movement for all those who want to govern themselves. No rebels please.

Read more