National Players Day

National Players Day

Yep…you did not read that wrong. That is exactly what I think of the congregation of important people that happened at the Safari park Hotel today. First of, I am not entirely a very religious person. It stems from a deep sited resentment of the custodians of my former faith-pastors. I have a heightened suspicion that they are part of a nationwide conspiracy to enrich themselves off the sweat of the God-fearing, easily gullible majority. True, they try to coat their ill-gotten gains with fancy coloured titles; blessing, tithe or planting seeds in an invisible farm where harvest time never gets here. Church has this ability to make me digress, and that might rub some off the wrong way, but if it does, I doubt you have the intelligence or the mindset to read be here…so do like Jay Z once said…poof, vamoose son of a whoa!

The setting of the meeting was suspect. If it such a national prayer meeting, why hold it at a location where a cup of tea costs more than the average Kenyan earns in a week. Mind you, the average Kenyan does not include the middle-class…those are the above average fuckers who are comfortable with the status quo, and don’t mind. The average Kenyan, ni jamaa wa Kayole. The guy whose idea of chai ya kulipwa ni ya 5 bob kwa kibanda! Is it looking more and more like a mafia meeting? Exclusivity, check!

Now that I have kinda sorta pointed out where I stand concerning religion, you will understand why I regard today’s meeting with a hint of suspicion. When a group of people who are accustomed to acquiring wealth through false or amoral means meet, I consider that to be like a meeting of criminals. They were all here, in all their thugged glamour and their holier-than-thou self-righteousness. What tripped me most, was the fact that they kept advertising that the meeting was paid for by the MPs from their own pockets….do you see the Irony here or am I the only bright one? These lazy good-for-nothings get paid from my taxes! Yours too if you have not caught on you ignorant imbecile! For doing nothing!

In other words, we indirectly paid for a meeting where we were not invited, we were not wanted, and we were only supposed to watch through media. Its like stocking a shop, and the closest you will get to the merchandise is through a glass pane…Makes me have awesome respect for jewelry store clerks. You want to know what kind of criminals were being protected by the suit clad, gun totting, no nonsense goons outside Safari Park? Let me try and break it down…

1)    The Sicilians.

These are the kingpins. They have their hands in everything. They run this town…everyone knows they are criminals, but you cant touch these niggas. They own the law, appoint the law enforcers, and everyone that matters owes them a favour  in one way or the other. They have the power to make you disappear in a heartbeat…the swim with the fishes thaing, came from them. They literally give you cement shoes and make you take a dip man! Their Don was there, the shiny baldness of his head a tell-tale sign of wealth and power, sipping on his thousand shilling extra fine imported tea…in a country that exports that shit!

2)   The Irish Mafia

They are like the hyacinth of crime. Once they get a foothold in your town, they busy taking over everywhere! Sprouting little branches on every corner. Their proceeds are covered by a loophole embedded in the law, where they are exempt from declaring their earnings or taxation. They are in the business of dealing drugs…you know, the opium of the masses.  They are snake oils salesmen and  literally let you bring your hard-earned money to them…its like taking candy from a baby! Their main agenda is revenue generation. The leading members are easily noticeable by their driving of exotic cars, like a well-known member of this criminal syndicate who drives an Audi Q7.

3)   The Russians

These are the muscle. They are thugs for hire. They specialize in elimination, intimidation, neutralization of threats and protection. They are responsible for quelling little pockets of resistance among the indigenous population. They “take care” of the Omutatas and the Ann Njogus. They are at the beck and call of the Sicilians, and do their dirty work for them. They are in charge of finding accommodation among the fishes for those that do not conform…

4)   The Hebrews

These are rarely seen in the limelight…because they are the limelight. They control what makes news, and what doesn’t. let them not lie to you though they all work in league with the Sicilians. They are the ones that make sure that the workings of the evil criminal syndicates are buried or sugar coated. They are masters of deception, making coins disappear behind our ears and what not…they run the mammoth machine that feeds us bullshit.

Of course, they had to throw in the ordinary waninichi in there somewhere, to appease the masses. The thing I don’t get is, when there is a national event of such magnitude and importance as a prayer meeting for the nation, it is held at a national gathering site (Uhuru Park, Nyayo staduim). Yaani juu leo walikuwa na dishi, and they had to go to a place I cant afford? Them they try to sugar coat that shit in a manner that makes it look okay? Who the Fuck told you that I trust your lying, thieving asses enough to use you as a conduit from me to my maker? You who will spend the rest of the day trying to get my brother Difre Redams (reformed Porn Kingpin) to stab me in my sleep, just because we don’t  speak the same dialect! You who spends 364 days and 20 hours shafting me in the back? Fuck you and all you represent!! Ama you think that you are the only ones whose words can get to God? Really? You must think the Wile E. Coyote stupid…well, your under-the –table shenanigans might fool a lot of people, but not this negro. You even invited a whole senate committee member! No offense to Koontz…I don’t know that white boy too well, but my moms taught me that you can tell a man by the company he keeps. I am not too fond of your company…man from Delaware!!

This was another networking meeting by the who’s who of crime. The A-listers of the underground. Knowing who you should stab in the back, and whose balls you should put in you mouth and suck. They just had to make it look like they had our best interests at heart. You should have seen them…calling out new criminals, and introducing them to the regulars….Nigerians, Ethiopians, even the bomb experts were there.   It was a meeting of drug barons, pimps, gangsters, fraudsters….all the players! And if this makes me wear cement shoes….so be it homes!         

Miss Kenya? Really?

Miss Kenya? Really?

This weekend is fast approaching really fast, but I am hardly looking forward to it... even though the weekend is traditionally that part of the week when I scrounge through my pockets and take part in a certain game with my friend obamblizzle who happens to be a true artist when left to exercise his creativity with a certain potato extract or (or as you mere mortals call it...Vodka)

You see, last weekend, I was in that state where my wallet is only an fashion accessory, and I happened to stay at home. As I sat there bored out of my mind and flipping channels, I stumbled upon the Miss Kenya pageant on KTN. If any one is yet to see this comical debacle of a “beauty” pageant, let me spare you half an hour of excruciating pain...don't do it man! I don't even know where to begin...so lets start here;

I thought the main purpose of a BEAUTY pageant was for beautiful or stunning women to parade themselves before a panel of chauvinistic men, jealous women and men who bat for the other team(or again, as you mere mortal call them...judges), to be inspected like goats at that goat market in Eldama Ravine! Turns out, the parading part is there, the panel exists, but the women who can knock your socks off are few and far between. If you do not have a strong stomach, or you belong to that class of people who frown upon judgemental bastards like me, leave now or forever hold your peace...

The women in this show are not even average...they are of common stock. See, when going out to buy a goat, you look at all the qualities...form, build, output, breeding information,sire, the whole nine yards. The women look like they were picked out by a bunch of drunk, horny old men at a strip club. They were picked out only because they met a certain height criterion. Newsflash people...being tall does does not a beauty queen make! To prove my point, look at the contestant called Susan...she looks like a bug. Ever seen the movie antz or its a bugz life? If you watch this show, trust me...you will be thinking about these movies every time you see her. Nikitar...shaving your head does not get you onto the runway, Just because Ajuma did it and looked gorgeous shaved, does not mean you go ahead and shear your melon. Ajuma's head was smooth and lacking in contours...yours, a whole new story. It reminds me of a journey to Kandara once...milima na mabonde! That is just an excerpt of the kind of stock you will find at that animal market that is the search for Miss Kenya.

Another thing that you broads should learn...no one goes calling themselves intelligent. That is a quality that other people notice and praise you for it. Once you go declaring yourself intelligent, you come out like a narcissistic pigs. It comes out worse if you look like you just stepped out of a dumb and dumber holiday special. Heifer, even from the way you are talking, I can tell that you put the air in airhead!!

Lets do judges now. Where to start, where to start....first, that Mshimba mama...these recruits just got to base camp...try not to ride them too hard. Have a bit of compassion, and don't try to erode what little confidence these young women have in themselves. Calm the fuck down and post it on facebook! Second, try and find another image consultant. That dude in spects doesn't seem to know image if it hit him on his face! Asking how I know? Did you see this nigga's siut? No? Then shut the fuck up and keep reading. Oversize is an understatement! This dudes clothes looked like he shopped at muthurwa and picked the really big ones. He looked like an underpaid CID officer who is trying desperately to convince us that he does not have a concealed weapon under all that baggage...coz that's what that was.. baggage. Image consultant my ass! Even I know to wear clothes my size...that's basic dress code ethics. I would rather if he wore like that clown Nyambane, but he wore fitting attire. And get another chick to host or pick the women from their homes. Having a chick that looks like a transvestite anywhere near a beauty pageant kills my morale to watch the show. Trust me, it is me and men wenye nia kama yangu who watch this show.

Whoever is in charge has a lot of work cut out for them. Teaching these women poise, grace and basic etiquette. And somehow turning them into above average in a limited amount of time. The intelligence thing...forget about it. You cant fake that!

Kudos to the wardrobe guy though...those clothes you had them in were very flattering...if you know what I mean. Ajuma...you look older now, kinda like a milf, but I would still do you to kingdom come via timbuktu. Yeah I'm a perve...bite me!

A little less Crap on my Ipod

I am kind of in a hurry, but I still have to convey a certain message to the relevant douche bags. If you do not have a strong stomach for gore and blood, it is advisable that you stop reading this right about now….when I am yet to disgrace your purity with profanity.

Anyone who took maziwa ya Nyayo, can remember when good mellow (I use mellow instead of love. I still need to retain my gangster image to my dawgs) music was in the airwaves. Music that necessitated that you have respect for the women they were planning to take to bed. It brought about the coining of the words baby-making music.

See, back in the day, when I was baiting hooks and casting them in the turbulent waters of the dating scene, when letters were not written but composed with flourish and ingenuity, people had songs that you could dedicate to a woman/girl. Music that when you listened to, you could feel the emotion, the time and dedication that went into the creation of the music, the blood, sweat, tears and brain fluid that went into creating the song. People respected love, and sex was a thing of beauty. When people listened to Tank, Tyrese, Babyface, Brian McKnight and Jaheim. (If you do not know who these are, its time you went back home for that diaper change)

 People had sex to connect on a higher level, to take a relationship to a whole new domain. Women were still ladies and not slutty broads without any respect for their femininity. Women were proud of who they were, and men were taught to respect women. Thing is, those particular women commanded superior treatment. They did not parade their wares all over the street like a desperate Nairobi hawker…barely covering up any of their body parts; and yet they still held it down in the bedroom department. They were the source of that phrase…lady in the street but a freak in the sheets.

Then came along the “evolution” of music, music that I personally cannot stomach. Musicians sold their souls to the devil and decided that pleasing the idiot majority was more important than making actual music. If by now you are yet to make the connection between good music and the current sexual mess, take a listen to music made by a Jamaican group called RDX. What was I doing listening to those retards, you ask? Well, for a while, they were everywhere. 

Still wondering what that has to do with anything? Well, listen here grasshopper…if you have been in a club that has been plying RDX’s bend over, you might have a clue as to what I am going on bout. That song sounds like a bunch of male cats that have been thrown into a barrel and they are fighting over a piece of female cat ass. I think that is what it sounds like when a new inmate at Kamiti is being taken through that ritual. The ritual where they have to pick up the soap while naked and a bunch of burly, mean looking fellow muscles are watching, and their intentions are not of the purest of natures. Going back to what I was saying…this is the devils cacophony. It is the soundtrack to which he is currently buggering Sadam Hussein to as you read this. The lyrics objectify women and make them out to be of little other use than sex. Yet, you will find a woman in the dance floor gyrating to this music, swinging her hips with furious intensity and grinding her scantily clad behind into the genitals of a man she just met two minutes ago. The videos on the internet that show dances that have been invented to this song show women willingly parting their legs as strange men take turns to literally leap onto them an demonstrate the motions of sex. Women of questionable morals are busy shaking their barely covered wares in the video!

If you do not believe that these RDX jackasses have single handedly watered down the image of woman for me, then you never saw the captured moments of their Kenyan concert. There was a woman who, of her own accord, left her boyfriend (who had probably paid the steep entrance fee), climbed up on stage and proceeded to let those Jamaican monkeys make a fool out of her. All this happened in front of her boyfriend who had to stand there and stoically watch as his woman gyrated her hips to the daggering motions of another man. The look on pure delight on the face of this stupid bitch as she let herself be used in such a manner is more than enough justification for making me hate on her character. Lets not even get to that other woman clad in red who was nearly naked. Ugly and fat with fake hair and notoriously hideous boots, she soiled my evening meal the day I stumbled upon her video on YouTube! Heifer! Who the fuck told your retarded raggedy ass that we want to see those cellulite laden thighs, that malformed ass, that hideous thong that was buried deep in the excessive body fat of the crack of your multi-shaded butt cheeks, and you waving around the cheap china-made hair that Mama Wangari your local salonist plaited on your ugly head?

Women, listen here and pay particular attention to what I am about to let you know. Do you think is possible for a man to take your species seriously when you are out doing this kind of stuff? Really? To a little music? And you have the audacity to call men immature? Bloody hell!!

We need to go back to that kind of music that you could listen to and not want to bash your head against a wall. The kind of music that did not give you a headache. The king that DJ Kalonje could not butcher and broadcast it to the world. That kind of music that did not result in skinny jeans wearing men that compete with women for salon space. Music that did not advocate for women to walk around baring it all. We need to go back to the kind of music you could put on at a candle lit dinner, and the woman you are with would be persuaded to take it to third base. The kind of music that you would put on as you and your woman are getting busy(if you think I am talking about going to work in the morning, its time for another diaper change), and it would set the mood. orgasmic music as my buddy Sue calls it. And Women, before you leave the house in those baby clothes just because Nicki Minaj had that outfit on at an award show, this piece of information might come in handy; Lady Gaga wanted to release a perfume fragrance that smelt like a mixture of semen and blood. That is the kind of artistes we have today. Oh yeah, and free flowing garments are a lot better than that shit you have on that covers very little. They make a man exercise his imagination…and very few things are more powerful than the human imagination. Trust me.        

May The gods pee on you!!

They are everywhere!!

This is going to be an article that comes from the very depths of my psyche. Contrary to popular belief, I am a peace loving individual, who finds it very hard to hate on anything…. J honest!!

Now that I have that out the way, WTF is up with the watoto wa siku hizi?!

I have waited for this phase to go away, kept lying to myself that it was just like lil Jon and the eastside boys…doomed to die a very horrible death. Apparently, I was wrong. I know this seems like it is going nowhere, but once I state the subject of my wrath, you will nod you head and go “ooh, that”

I have decide to take up issue with these retards walking the streets in jeans that are 3 sizes too small and funny looking shoes. These little fuckers walking around masquerading as grown men…here is a little advice. If you are in jeans that look as if you had to butcher a jar of petroleum jelly just to get them past your knees, don’t go around puffing your chest acting like you gangster. You are not the it-shit!! With your pants hanging so far from your waist, your cheap dirty boxers showing and your cheap knock off of a belt almost poking someone’s eye out with its iron buckle!!

What’s with the tight T-shirt? The ridiculousness of the picture you portray…too funny to put in words. You end up looking like a malnourished little boy, collarbones sticking out and almost poking holes in that T-shirt.  If your chest is as skinny as mine, and you do not have the physique of that behemoth that threw you out of the club last weekend for being a douche, for the sake of sanity, please leave your little sister’s T-shirt at home! And leave those oversize glasses that make you look like a dragonfly. Careful now, you might end up looking like Gabu of P-Unit in the video for the song Gentleman!

Most people would blame lil’ Wayne and his messed up fashion sense. I wouldn’t. This is a boy whose major food groups consist of Marijuana and cough syrup. He is excused from the fuck ups. I blame everyone else…for following the actions of a person who is stoned half the time. The fashion houses for giving credibility to the Idea, and other ‘celebrities’ for endorsing it. The immature women out there who actually think a guy dressed like that is worth looking at twice, and actually walk around holding them and acting like they are the catch of the century…encouraging misguided youth to continue along these lines…these are the ones who should be draw and quartered!

  I am not an authority on fashion. In fact, I am that guy who still thinks that wearing straight jeans, a white T-shirt and nice all-star sneaks is cool. Maybe I am not particularly motivated to be swagged out…I prefer class to swag. That is probably why I am looking for the guy who hooked up Paul Walker with the suit he wore in Takers the movie…but this is my advice for those little bastards littering out streets with insulting fashion:-

Dear little Bastard,

Please stop showing me things I do not want to see. I did not leave my house in the morning for my eyes to be assaulted by you and your multicolored jeans that don’t fit and your body parts hanging out. Personally, I would rather watch paint dry, than watch your loudmouth self disgrace my race, my nationality, my species and evolution by wearing that hideous outfit in the name of swag. May the gods pee all over your swag your retarded monkey!!   

And do not act all surprised when a fellow man comes to you with vibe like “you look really cute in them jeans. I would like to buy you a drink.”    It’s your fault you bloody Neanderthal!  You chose those little ass jeans, you chose to walk around town with half your ass hanging out, you chose that tight girly t-shirt with the low collar, and you chose those messed up shoes with rainbow colors!! Do not go blaming anyone if you turn on some heavyset dude at the club with misconstrued scruples who decides to put a little something in your drink when you go to the gents. I actually pray to the gods it happens…and you regain consciousness just when this fella has plunged his mammoth penis up your virgin ass... And I hope it hurts like hell!!

Metrotile Freaks

Whatever happened to creativity?!

That puzzled look you have on right now tells me you are not in the same line of thought that I am in I am going to slow down, and let the rest of you slow pokes get here…

OK, I have been waiting an hour and nothing…no one got to the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and I am getting sick of this leprechaun’s drunken Irish jokes that are frankly a little racist!! What do you mean there has never been a black man at the end of the rainbow before?! No, we didn’t all die in Noah’s flood!! Let me bring you up to speed before I go all Scarface on this little Irish prick…

I was watching TV the other day(it was another Bob Marley day, and we were lazing with my pal Andy Capp) and you know those annoying commercial breaks, the ones that appear just to arrive when they are playing you favorite video (or if you are a girl, before Miguel just finds out Christina is really in to him*that gave me a hernia typing*), I have had to sit through a couple, and trust me, some of those have made me seriously consider suicide! Kenyan made adverts are a trick! I watch some of these things and I can picture a cluster of big bellied dudes, bored out of their minds and with their creativity still in the 1940s!

You’re with me now, right? Has anyone watched the Metrotile roofing advert? Lost you again haven’t I? It is the advert with a helpless armadillo trying valiantly to climb up a roof during a hailstorm. When he gets to the top, the weather suddenly clears. There are so many things that go wrong with this advert, it is not even funny.

There is no Relevance. Are armadillos really found in Africa? I asked the all knowing god of everything written (Google), and surprise surprise! They are only native to Obamaland! Why in the blazes is this little ungodly animal in a Roofing advert in Kenya? Is it that Metrotile imports these poor creatures and that in the Metrotile factory there are hundreds of psychopath dudes that are busy whacking away at said armadillos and turning their hides into roofing tiles? Does KWS know? Hasn’t the gods of the armadillos figured out what is happening and stopped those godless armadillo butchers? And why do they let the one in the advert get away? Ama he is the armadillo version of James Bond (the way he does that somersault is very secret agent-like) getting the message to an armadillo government? Should we wait for like a revolution? And why a hailstorm…with the armadillo making those horrifying screeching sounds?! Is this an advert, or a trailer to a horror movie…The Armadillo (Fuck! That almost made me pee my pants!)

Whoever made that advert should do their bloody research. Look at other adverts…like the Fanta advert. It makes you want to go out there and drink Fanta. Just to find out whether you can make random people in the street bounce! And the tagline…More Fanta, less serious. That right there makes me want to throw away the misconceptions I have that Fanta is for kids and women, and any man who drinks Fanta is a girly dog!! Such is the power of clever advertising….almost turning me into a girly dog!

They should look at the Guinness adverts. These adverts are so well crafted, and are cleverly slotted in to speak to their target audience. Guinness had this advert where the whole world would toast to the great Arthur…that shit made me go to my local shop, buy a half liter coke, and wait patiently for the next time it aired so I could toast with them. Even now I want to scream that shit out loud at the cyber “TO ARTHUR!!”. They have those adverts where they exalt great men….and the tagline ‘Reach for greatness’ It makes you want to get the hell out of the house in your boxers, run to the pub, grab the bartender by the collar and bellow “Guinness Kubwa. Baridi. Na uharakishe boss!!”. If the advert puts the hair on my skinny chest, think of what the beet would do! That is great advertising!!

Watu ya Metrotile with your funny looking American animal, watu ya Nuru soap with that crazy dude who wears terrible suits and sounds like someone scratching a blackboard, watu ya Ariel with that dimwit of a Tanzanian, watu ya Jik especially you, with that annoying fat South African heifer pay some bloody attention when choosing  who makes your adverts. Angalia TV once in a while…and please don’t choose whoever is making those funny Coke adverts. Whoever visualized a woman drinking that big a glass of coke in one swig, is a very scary person! If you think am kidding, you go try that. It’s worse that taking a half of Kibao Vodka to the head! Any woman who can drink that much coke that fast, and not belch out loud, is either a real badass, or not entirely a woman. Neither of which is a good thing.