Monday, 6 June 2011

On Betrayal

Jude leaves the disciples on Sabbath evening for a night on the town. He’s tired of Peter and John being picked for all the special assignments, and is seriously considering handing in his Disciple’s Badge of Eternal Glory. Before that, however, he considers that all he might really need might be a chick, so he goes to ‘Ye Olde Jerusalem Inn’. He’s wearing his best Eb & Enezer robes (which he bought from cunning disciplary budget manipulations). In short, he is the bomb (unfortunately, incendiary devices have not been invented yet, so he doesn’t think of himself as that).
So he swaggers up to the bar and requests some Cana Wedding Wine (that shit just won’t finish). While he’s sipping the Jesus juice, a girl enters in. Jude’s drink begins to slip from his fingers. This girl is FINE. She looks round the bar and her eyes meet his. She disdainfully looks away and Jude serial kills (no he doesn’t go around killing people, he hangs his head dejectedly) and goes on sipping the wine. Being Jesus juice, it keeps on filling back up. He’s already stupid drunk when he sees two overlapping beauties coming towards him.
“Hi” they say.
“How’re y’all girls doing?” Jude slurs
A finger presses into his temple and he suddenly feels acutely sober. And empty. He looks up, suddenly alert, at the singular girl that had disdained him earlier.
“How’d you...?!”
“Be quiet and let’s quit this joint”
“Where d’you wanna go?”
“Your place, my place, anyplace but here”
“Well, I ain’t got a chariot, but my mule’s right outside” Jude says.
“Let’s go”
So they go to her house because Jude is so not into seeing any of the other disciples at the moment. She has some really trendy gear. Her water barrel’s made from the finest alabaster. Her recliners are in true Roman fashion – covered in fine damask. And she has a full length looking-glass! Damn this chick’s got it good, thought Jude. Fuck it I’ve got it good. (Not sure if the word ‘fuck’ had passed into general Judean lingo, but you get the idea.) How lucky can a guy get?
She went in for a shower (yeah I know, I know) while a servant washed Jude’s feet and led him to an already prepared table. Choice meats seasoned with the most exotic smelling spices adorned the table. Freshly baked bread stood beside a platter of equally fresh fruit. Jude couldn’t believe his luck.
She walked in. She was stunning, wearing a stola of woven wind, linen so sheer Jude could see her in her entirety through it. He was gobsmacked.
“You like?” she said, her voice dripping with lust. It was all he could do to bundle his garments over his rapidly expanding man-bits. He managed this and twisted in the recliner – ostensibly to make himself more comfortable, but she giggled so he knew she was well aware of her effect on him.
She sat at the table and they ate – or at least she did. Jude had trouble coordinating his numerous misbehaving faculties in the presence of this amazing woman. He realised he didn’t even know her name. He asked her and she just laughed at him.
“Even if I did tell you you’d forget it before morning”.
“Try me.”
She told him.
Then she jumped on him.
She felt even better than she looked. Her full soft breasts were tipped with rather large, very hard nipples. Jude called on distant memories of stories he’d heard when he was a lad, stories of how men were supposed to please women, the type of stories that were only spoken in hushed voices so that adults nearby wouldn’t overhear. He needn’t have bothered. She was an amazing lover, and all he had to do was follow her lead.
He was almost spent when she spoke again. She had straddled him, and was riding him roughly, those amazing breasts bouncing up and down uncontrollably.
“I need you to do something.”
“What?” Jude replied. At that point he would have done absolutely anything.
“Betray the teacher.”
“Huh?!” Anything but that.
“I know you’re tired of going around with him. All you have to do is tell the Pharisees where to find him – but it has to be before Pesach.”
“And what gives you the idea I’d ever betray the teacher?” Jude asked.
She ground him so deep into her that he temporarily left his body, looked at himself, made a victory sign and said “this is AWESOME!” before sinking back into himself. By this time he had poured himself out to her, physically and psychically, agreeing in his mind to her proposal without thinking it through. He was hers, and there was nothing he could do about it.
In later years Jude would probably wonder if there was any way he could have refused her. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. After Jude came, she continued to ride him until she was sated. Then she stood up and went to sit in her cathedra, before her looking glass, still gloriously naked, her skin suffused with the afterglow of passion. Jude looked up from his still prone position on the recliner and wanted another serving. He said so.
“First we must plan,” she said.
So they did.
I won’t bore you with what happened next, as you should know that story full well. Jude betrayed the teacher and walked away from the scene with 30 silver pieces and the girl of his dreams. Until the enormity of what he’d done hit him. He’d been with the teacher three years. In that time he’d learnt more about being good than he had in all the preceding years of his life. He’d become popular, and respected, and respect was something accountants rarely got.
And he’d betrayed the teacher over pussy. He suddenly felt a hole grow in his soul. Bigger and bigger it grew, until he could no longer think clearly. He couldn’t see what was in front of him. He ran back to the priests and threw the silver down in front of them. He was gone before they could say a word, running through the night. She was still with him. Teasing, taunting, urging him on.
“You killed him!”
Gone was the sultry seductress – this version of her accused him unabashedly. Her eyes were bulging, nostrils flared, lips pursed, arms akimbo. He realised he was terrified of her. He wanted her to go away, tried to hit her, but she wasn’t in front of him. She was in his head, his heart, his soul. He kept running.
The other disciples saw him. They weren’t together. They had scattered with the capture of the teacher, but they accused him just as bitterly as she had. Peter had screamed, James had yelled, John had cried, Bartholomew had cursed him, and each had railed at him as bad as the next. But none compared to her voice in his head. He wanted to tell her it was her idea, but he couldn’t bring himself to it. Guilt overwhelmed him. He ran into a field, tripped over a stone, split his head on a rock, and died.
She poured his glass of Cana wine over him, and lit him with a stare. Then she walked away, pitchfork in hand.


My stories usually go on my other blog, but since I've built up a sequence over there I don't want to break it. My next post is a story I started about two years ago and finally finished this evening.

Saturday, 7 May 2011

25 Question Tag

Got this from Myne Whitman. Pass it on...

1. Do you have any pets?

2. Name 3 things that are physically close to you.
Laptop, blackberry, HTML5 For Dummies (hope I get around to reading it).

3. What's the weather like right now?
No idea. I'm safely ensconced in my warm room. I guess it's a bit chilly outside though

4. Do you drive? If so have you crashed?

5. What time did you wake up this morning?
Around 7. I didn't roll out of bed until an hour and a half after though.

6. When was the last time you showered?
This morning.

7. What was the last movie you saw?
Thor. Great supporting cast - Chris Hemworth just had to be buff.

8. What does your last text message say?
It's a Direct Message alert. And the DM was spam anyway.

9. What's your ringtone?
It's called Zen. It's on because I can't be bothered to change it.

10. Have you ever been to a different country?
Erm... Yes. Born in London, raised in Lagos, been to France, Holland and Ghana.

11. Do you like sushi?
Raw fish? Please. I'm Nigerian. We like our food well cooked!

12. Where do you buy your groceries?
Sainsbury's. It's just down the road so I hardly bother to go anywhere else.

13. Have you ever taken medication to help you fall asleep faster?
No. I know I'll eventually sleep.

14. How many siblings do you have?
1 brother

15. Do you have a desktop computer or a laptop?

16. How old will you be turning on your next birthday?

17. Do you wear contacts or glasses?
Glasses, considering surgery.

18. Do you color your hair?

19. Tell me something you are planning to do today.
Sleep. Today's over.

20. When was the last time you cried?
Can't remember the last time I really cried, but I'm always shedding the odd tear. I'm often sad nowadays.

21. What is your perfect pizza topping?
Meh. I hardly have pizza.

22. Which do you prefer-hamburgers or cheeseburgers?
Neither. I usually go for a chicken burger.

23. Have you ever had an all-nighter?
Yep. Haven't in a while though. I once pulled an all-nighter to watch the entire American Pie series.

24. What is your eye color?

25. Can you taste the difference between Pepsi and Coke?
No. Don't drink either any more anyway.

Okay. That's me done. Over to you.

Wednesday, 30 March 2011

On FL Studio.

I was a rapper. Actually I am a rapper. I started rapping a quite a few years ago - more than a decade ago to be honest, but I didn't take it seriously for a while. When I did begin to take it serious I realised there was something I needed - beats. I had all these ideas in my head but they couldn't become songs until they had the boom-bap of  drums with a few notes laid over them now, could they?
I wasn't too bothered by my lack of instrumentation in those days, as I was still in school and saw music as something for a future which at that time seemed far far away. I ended up joining a group and becoming one of the main attractions in said group - for my un-rapper-like looks and my rapid, staccato delivery, a combination which still makes people go wow when they first hear me (the novelty wears off rather quickly though)
Anyway, we had a few beat courtesy of an in house producer (there wasn't in those days so we couldn't download beats to freestyle on), so we were doing pretty well. Then one day I saw our in-house producer at work (His name is WazBeat, and you ought to know him if you're a Naija music fan). He was using a piece of software called Fruity Loops, and I think it was version 3.5. I was fascinated.
Over the course of my time in Ife I started making beats - and WazBeats sort of drifted away from the group (he was never an active member, just our beat-source). So I became our in house producer. I cringe when I listen to the beats I made those days.
Fast forward a few years and I'm still using FL Studio, version 9 now. Version 10 just came out and I can't wait to get my grimy paws on it and go crazy with all the great new features. Things have really changed, and now I can't even remember life without Sytrus and Hardcore and all the external plug-ins I've added to it.
I guess what I'm trying to say is FL changed my life, and I must admit I'm grateful. To every mac-based producer who pours scorn on we lowly PC people I say thanks for your condescension, it's only made Image-Line stronger.

Try out the new FL Studio 10 - the latest FL Studio iteration. It just might be in you.


In a darkened crevice of my mind
There hides a ray of sunshine
A memory
A recollection of a time
When laughter came easy
And life was sweet
Well at least much sweeter than it is

In a darkened crevice of my heart
There hides a flicker of joy
A happiness
So different from this moodiness
Why won't it grow and fill my soul
Or is it me
That hides it from the sun?

In a darkened crevice of my spirit
There hides a spark of holiness
A zeal
A passion for the truth of God
A yearning to be like His son
And live for Him
And with him eventually eternally

Sunday, 27 March 2011

A Poem

I know not
Yet I continue to speak
Am I ignorant?
Is that what you think of me?
But stop to think
If I am ignorant and yet speak
Does it not tell you I do not care?

I feel not
Yet I tell you I love you
Am I a monster?
Is that what you think of me?
But stop to think
If I am evil yet you cling to me
Does it not tell you what you are?

I trust not
Yet you try to know my heart
Am I impossible?
But stop to think
If I can never trust you
Does it not tell you we can't be?

I am not
Not knower nor feeler nor truster
Do I even exist?
But stop to think
If I care enough to tell you all this
Does it not tell you that I love you?

Monday, 21 March 2011

On homophobia

Before I begin, let me say that this blogpost is about male homosexuality. I have no opinion on lesbians.
I'm homophobic. I just wanted to make that clear. But I don't hate queers, I mean phobia as "an irrational, intense and persistent fear of certain situations, activities, things, animals, or people". I'm terrified of being sexually assaulted by a dude. Nah scrap that. I'm terrified of even being chatted up by a dude. I get extremely uncomfortable. 
On the other hand I think people should and do have the right to shag whoever they please as long as the other party is in agreement. Just don't try to make me think I should like the idea that two dudes are 'doing the dirty', as one of my twitter followers so eloquently puts it.
Now I've made it perfectly clear I'm not gay or bisexual and am terrified of even accidentally becoming so. So I can move on.
It's weird the way we're fascinated with finding out who's homosexual or not. A few years back, a guy wearing skinny jeans would be classed gay, especially if he was black. It still happens once in a while. Now certain colours are associated with homosexuality. I'm as guilty as anyone - but now I have a valid reason to stop making that assumption.
I've always liked the colour purple, but recently it's become something of an obsession. I can't see a nice-looking purple item in a store and not think 'I want that.' So much so that I've acquired a number of completely purple outfits one item at a time, as well as my by now overlooked purple framed prescription glasses (which I recently stopped wearing for no reason).
Now I mention how much I like purple and I get called gay. That's frankly ridiculous. There is a tendency to ascribe a certain lifestyle to gay people, but funny enough the man who is probably the most well known homosexual in the world, Sir Elton Hercules John, doesn't live it. Neither do most actually gay people, if I'm correct. I only know of two people who I could take one look at and class gay. They're both effeminate and extremely affectionate, and they both insist they're not gay. I'm inclined to believe them, and the reason is simple - you're not gay until your penis has penetrated another man's anus or vice versa (I'm retching as I write this). That's just the crudest way of putting it. All I'm saying is, it's sexual activity that determines sexual orientation, and fashion, lifestyle, and other things can only vaguely point to one's true orientation. 
I've seen many comments on twitter about the song "I need a doctor". It's been labelled gay so much I almost started to believe it was. But that brings me to another thing. Can't men love one another? Can't you feel so strongly about a dude without having the slightest sexual thought about that person? And is it wrong to tell that guy how important he is, and how much you cherish his friendship without being labelled a fag? These are just questions I ask myself when I get uncomfortable when dudes say "I love you man". Society has made us even more homophobic than we were before gay rights activists started telling us to stop being homophobic. I mean, if David and Jonathan were alive today the whole world would be buzzing with gay rumours. "Isreali Prince professes love to War hero" would be a likely headline. Or "Royal bromance." to use a word I absolutely hate. What happened to just being really good friends? Some still say they were in a gay relationship and quote David as saying "very pleasant hast thou been unto me; wonderful was thy love to me, passing the love of women" (2 Samuel, 1:26). But is that any different from when modern black men say "homies over hoes"?
Anyway I don't expect you to be really interested in the way my mind works. However I do expect some of the more narrow minded of you to call me gay for writing this, and thus prove my point.

Tuesday, 8 March 2011

Another, totally unrelated short rant

"Those who came to welcome me, they branded as celebrating corruption. What a joke. They call me ex-convict; look, I won’t be the first and won’t be the last. Mandela was an ex-convict, Baba Awolowo was an ex-convict, and these are great men. They made it look like you being there, you are finished. If you don’t go through fire, you can never rise beyond mediocrity and ideology. You cannot!"

Erm. I don't know where to start tearing into this fool. I only ask that no one asks me to show respect or restraint, as he deserves neither one nor the other.

I think to get my head round the nerve of the 'man', I'll analyse his statement piece by piece, giving my opinion of said creature as I go along.

"Those who came to welcome me, they branded as celebrating corruption..."
In August 2008, the EFCC under its head Farida Waziri arrested Olabode George in Lagos and arraigned him and four others on a 163 count-charge of conspiracy, disobedience to lawful order, abuse of office and alleged illegal award of contracts worth N84 billion while he was chairman of the NPA. After the trial had started, the EFCC reduced the charge to 63 counts. In October 2009, Bode George was found guilty and sentenced to jail for 30 months. The sentence was handed out by Justice Joseph Olubunmi Oyewole. The judge found the defendants guilty on 47 out of the 68 counts. The total sentences added up to 28 years, but the counts for disobedience to lawful order were ruled to run concurrently for six months, and the counts for contract inflation then to run concurrently for two years.
The above excerpt from his Wikipedia article shows they weren't wrong. If he wants to claim his Wikipedia entry is spurious, he should know that every fact mentioned is from a cited source.

"What a joke..."
As a prisoner, Chief Bode George and his colleagues were placed in the V.I.P. section of the prison. They were not required to wear prison uniforms, and were allowed to have meals prepared by their families.
Is that what a man serving time for corruption is supposed to get. If his offences had been minor then maybe this would have been fitting punishment. But here is a man who was meant to serve a 28 year sentence, who should have rotted away in a tiny cell with a tiny window near the ceiling. He should have been served N5 crackers and pure water for breakfast and supper (no lunch). And he calls people making a valid inference a joke. His jail term was a joke!

"They call me ex-convict; look, I won’t be the first and won’t be the last."
Well this is true. I guess there's a sliver of honesty in even the most delusional people. And as an ex-convict he should be treated like one, not feted like a hero coming back from a successful war! And in any case this sentence was only a preamble to what is one of the most ridiculous statements ever uttered by a megalomaniac.

"Mandela was an ex-convict, Baba Awolowo was an ex-convict, and these are great men"
While this statement in itself is true and expresses a noble sentiment, in the context of the entire paragraph it becomes part of the ravings of a delusional man. 
Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for fighting apartheid which would ultimately have damned his country. Obafemi Awolowo was a political prisoner, a casualty of the dirty politics which is typical of 'our dear country'. Add to that list Olabode George, martyr for corruption, patron saint of dirty rotten thieves. And a great man too!

"They made it look like you being there, you are finished."
No one said that you ignorant fool, what we said is you're corrupt, your assets should be seized and donated to charity, and you should never show your face in Nigerian politics again. No one really cares if you live till you're a hundred and eighty and have a huge farm in the middle of nowhere and make billions a year, we just don't want to see your ugly face on our televisions acting like you're some kind of superhero. You're not. You're a shameless man and if you had any dignity you would quietly fade like the sun at the end of the day.

"If you don’t go through fire, you can never rise beyond mediocrity and ideology. You cannot!"
Bode dear, you can never rise above mediocrity if you don't admit your faults and attempt to make amends for them. You are such a hypocrite! You were allowed meals from home and granted VIP status! In prison! In fire terms, that's like a wet matchstick! 

Okay so I've ranted and I'm cool now. It might be slightly incoherent, but I wasn't aiming to write a well structured article here - I just wanted to vent my increasing frustration with our 'leaders'. Some people call them toothless - I disagree. They're venomous, poisonous leeches. I sincerely hope we don't get to the stage where the only suitable apotropaic is revolution.

To end this, I'll use a quote from one of my favourite Nigerian politicians. I don't like him because he's a good person, but because he's a colourful figure and brought in a good replacement for himself when he left office. 

"...the Yoruba say, if you crave not to be disgraced and you are, you pray for long life so that you can rectify the disgrace... 
...the ludicrousness of Chief Bode George’s claim is self-evident, except of course, the chief suffers from post-prison and pre-reintegration dementia..."

Friday, 4 March 2011

A Short Rant

Erm this is a bit impromptu so pardon any errors I might make in my haste and primal rage!
It has always upset me the way people get so interested in the relationships of people who entertain them. I mean is it honestly any of your business what REALLY went down between Chris and Riri? Or will knowing give you some strange superpower that you can use to make the world a better place? That irks me somewhat, but there's something that irks me so much more. Lying about other people's relationships.
Apparently, some cross-eyed, colour-blind retard saw Zara and Jesse Jags making out at GET. Or maybe said retard is actually psychotic and was just hallucinating said events. One way or another one thing led to another and some 'journalist' (for want of a better word) decided to run with the 'story'. The said story is more holey than Swiss cheese, but then again, what do you expect.
Now a few things spring to mind.

  1. If two consenting adults decide to make out then it's their business - not yours, not mine, but theirs. (That is of course, if they're not porn stars making out for your perverted entertainment)
  2. If said make out session is alleged by spurious sources then said allegation should be properly investigated before the story is published (for example, why wasn't the manager who supposedly nabbed them interviewed - he would be the most logical reliable informant)
  3. Grown ups who aren't completely wasted don't make out in toilets. It's not comfortable and it's not fun. There are rooms to be got for such purposes.
  4. Jesse's girlfriend was at the venue - if he wanted to make out he could have just pulled her. 
The story really doesn't make much sense and as I said earlier it's really none of our collective businesses what really went down. By the way if I'd been there I probably would've made out with Zara - she's fly like that. 
Last thing - if doesn't mind publishing scandal for the heck of it, let's spurn them for the heck of it. We're spoilt for choice as far as Naija blogs go - 360nobs, jaguda, bellanaija, notjustok... Let's stick to blogs that stick to what we expect of entertainers - Entertainment.
Second last thing. Fuck a hater, and a pedlar of bullshit!

Wednesday, 23 February 2011

A Stolen Sequence of Questions

I stole this from Adanna, who stole it from Laide, who stole it from an as yet undetermined source - yes I'm lazy like that.




Name: Olumide

Birth date: January 18th

Birth place: London, England

Current Location: London England 

Eye Color: Brown

Sex: Male

Hair Color: Black

Righty or Lefty: Righty


Your heritage: African

What Shoes Did You Wear Today: Nike running shoes

Perfume : Challenge by Lacoste

Your weakness: I'd say my emotions. Damn they kill me everytime.

Your fears: Pain


Your most overused phrase: I change phrases regularly. But erm... seriously?

Your thoughts first waking up: Down boy

Your best physical feature: Erm, my eyes are my personal favourite

Your bedtime: Regularly around 2am, though I wish I could make it more like 11.

Your most missed memory: Hmm. First thing - person, sorry - that comes to mind is Seyi Falufosi. Damn I do miss her.


Pepsi or Coke: Neither

Choice of Music: Eclectic, I listen to anything that strikes a chord. 

Single or group dates: Don't know. Haven't done much dating.

Versace or LV : Neither

Lipton Tea or Milo: Milo

Chocolate or vanilla: No brainer. Chocolate all day everyday

Cappuccino or coffee: Cappuccino


Smoke: No

Cuss: All the time

Single: It's convoluted, but basically yes.

Have a crush(es): I crush all the time. No names here though.

Do You Think you've been in love: I guess.

Like(d) high school: Yes, actually. It was good.

Want to get married: Uncertain, but I love kids and I love women so yes.

Believe in yourself: In my ability as a rapper - most definitely. In other areas not so much.

Get motion sickness: Yeah, but it's lessen gradually with age.

Think you're a health freak: *hysterics*

Get along with your parents: My mum - most def! My dad not so much

Like thunderstorms: Erm... No.


Drank alcohol: Erm... Yes

Gone on a date: No.

Gone to the mall: Yeah.

Been on stage: No.

Eaten Sushi: No.

Been dumped: No. I'm SINGLE!

Gone skating: No. I'm starting to feel really boring now.

gone skinny-dipping: No.

Dyed your hair: No


Played a game that required removal of clothing: No

Gotten beaten up: Momsie used to whoop my little ass back in the day, but other than that, no.

Changed who you were to fit in: Nah. Why fit in when you can stand out (at least in your mind)


Age you hope to be married: 28

Current age: 25

Numbers of Children: 3

Describe your dream wedding: Don't have one. Just wanna have a good day.

How do you want to die: Happy.

What country would you most like to visit: I want to go home - to that little planet that those idiots at NASA think is one of Saturn's moons.


Best hair color?: Meh.

Short or long hair: Meh.

Height: Not that much shorter or taller than me. 5'6"-5'10


Number of people i can trust: I trust people until I find a reason not to. Maga to quality.

Number of CD's I own: Used to have stacks. Not so many these days as I download a lot.

Number of piercings: None.

Number of tattoos: None.

Number of times been on T.V: Erm... Twice I think, slight appearances.

Number of times my name has appeared in the Newspaper: None that I know.

Number of scars on my body: 3.

Number of things in my past that I regret: I don't know.

Okay that's it. I thought this was supposed to be the lazy way out. Sheesh. Next time I'll just type a random sequence of numbers.

Tuesday, 15 February 2011

Valentine's Day Blues

I just had to mention how abysmally awful Valentine's Day was. I put an invitation to a movie on my time-line and nobody took me up. That was really uncool, but I spent the money on vodka instead so I guess it wasn't that bad. The vodka sent me to sleep early though, and made me wake up in the middle of the night with a certain  anatomical feature blood-filled. Anyway that's no big deal, it's always like that these days...
So all in all St. Valentine can imbibe a phallus and expire over an indeterminate period.
That is all.

Wednesday, 26 January 2011

One of them things - Nigerian Politics

This will be one of my more serious posts, I hope. Erm... Where do I start. Okay. Yesterday a friend of mine posted an endorsement of the PDP as his status on FaceBook. So I asked him a few questions trying to find out why he supports the party, and he said I was asking JAMB questions! Well it shouldn't be too surprising, but it makes me think - do we as Nigerians (yes I am Nigerian no matter how little I like that) really have any idea what we're doing where politics and government are concerned.
In developed democracies, political parties are all (ostensibly) aiming at improving the country, and in that regard Nigeria is no different (even though our improvements are more ostensible than most). But political affiliations are (supposed to be) formed on the basis of ideological differences. For example in the USA Republicans tend to be  more conservative - anti-gay, anti-abortion, anti-stem cell research, basically against thing that they see as 'unnatural'. Democrats, on the other hand are more liberal and tend to believe people should have a choice to live and act as they please within the confines of sensible law. Maybe I went too far by comparing America to Nigeria, but it makes it much easier to get my point across.
Since 1999 I haven't heard a single political group differ on a specific idea. Political affiliations have been formed (and broken) on the bases of joining the winning team, running ticket guarantees, and that old frenemy money. People like Atiku hop from one party to another looking for a platform on which to run for government positions and have the effrontery to call themselves leaders. It's a vile and disgusting system which doesn't look like changing any time soon, as the leviathan which is the PDP still has a stranglehold on power that it is very unwilling to relinquish.
But I'm just ranting really, and my anger is nothing to those who run the country, which is one reason why I choose not to live there. Madness runs through the political spine of the nation, and if it doesn't get sanitised (and I mean that in two ways - made sane and cleansed) soon Nigeria is in danger of never reaching its potential as a nation, or even worse of splitting apart (although some, like me, are ambivalent about how bad it would really be).
I for one, think that if political posts weren't so financially rewarding only those with a real desire to change things would run for office. The problem faced now is since the people who are in office are there for the monetary gains, there's really no way of correcting that. In the US and Britain politicians are usually well off, but the richest make most of their fortune outside politics (authoring, business, investment and inheritance are just a few more common means).
I think I'll just stop. I hate getting drawn into discussing Nigerian politics. It always ends up upsetting me, because it's such a mess and I don't see it getting better. Even the 'good' politicians suffer from being in a... minority isn't quite the word. I crave your indulgence to coin the word minutity (minute entity) to describe how few reasonably honest politicians we have in 'our beloved country'. Which brings me to my final thought. It's good to be patriotic and all that, but if I'm to be honest with myself, I don't love Nigeria, and I have no desire to work to make her better. It may seem like a bad thing to say, but I'm only being honest.
The end.

Thursday, 20 January 2011


So a couple days ago I grew old. I've always wondered why we celebrate birthdays. It's not like for 364 days age was just standing still and then all of a sudden at midnight it realises it's been slacking and decides to go into overdrive. I guess I'm this way because I've grown up very cynical and attention seeking - I think I might be getting Histrionic Personality Disorder, or something like that.
Anyway, this year I spent my first birthday (almost completely) alone. Facebook and Twitter kept me company (I should say thanks once again), my mum and my brother called, but my dad probably didn't even remember. Not that it matters. His hubris has done so much damage a forgotten birthday's a trifle.
Maybe I should tell a story of a birth. A woman having a caesarean without her husband there to hold her hand, giving birth to a son in what was at the time the coldest winter in living memory (damn you 09/10), and being unable to leave the hospital for a month because it was so bloody cold. I was born 3 weeks late, which might explain my predisposition to procrastination (I know I can be verbose, forgive me)
I don't know why I'm writing this really, it's probably going to end up as an incoherent piece of tripe. But at least I'll have written a bit of the misery I often feel out of my heart and into cyberspace. You see for me the internet is an escape, an escape that only books could give me in time past. So yes, I am grateful for the internet and I will always defend it when people say negative things about it. That something can be used wrongly doesn't mean it's bad. But I digress. Wildly.
I initially meant this to be an appreciation to all the people who've got me here one way or the other. So let me just say thank you. If you read this and think my gratitude is addressed to you, then it probably is. 
I should stop here cos I'm not having one of my better days. Fuck this.

Tuesday, 18 January 2011

Runaway - A review from a former fan.

I was just gonna tweet about this but I guess I should blog about it instead cos I have a a few things to say.
I used to be huge on Kanye West. When College Dropout dropped (in my opinion still his best album), I was so buzzed. He was only the third rap artist whose album I could sit down with and listen to from head to toe without getting bored (in case you want to know the other two are Eminem's The Marshall Mathers LP and Ludacris' Word Of Mouf). So I really had high hopes for him. From there my luvv for his work has been steadily fading, up to the point where I joined the world in calling him an asshole during the Taylor Swift affair, even though I've spent my whole time in music making excuses for Michael Jackson and Eminem. I still haven't listened to My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy in its entirety. I just can't bring myself to, especially since I haven't really taken to any of the tracks from the album. It's been a lot of people's album of 2010, but it doesn't even make my top 10.
Anyway this isn't about the album, it's about a video from the album. Or a video developed around the album. Let me start this way. When I saw the VMA performance of Runaway I didn't like the song or the suit. I did like the ambience of the performance though, it looked quite okay. Then today I tuned in to BET (which I rarely do) and saw the full length video named after the song. At 33 minutes it rather long, but that wouldn't have been a problem if it had been engaging. Instead it drags in so many places. And the few lines of dialogue, while being memorable as quotes in their own right, were delivered poorly. Nicki Minaj's introduction was horrible (in my opinion she should drop that overblown British accent entirely, we are not amused) and The Phoenix was beautiful without looking phoenixey (if that's even a word)
For all its faults, it is a beautiful video. Although you know a banquet would never really be held a room so large as to be unwelcoming, the scene did look pretty amazing. The ballerinas were beautiful, but that's because ballerinas always are beautiful, and had nothing to do with Kanye's artistry. I liked the line about never believing what you hear on the news, and his serenading her on an MPC was really cool.
The one thing I really really like about the video is the overall tone of sadness that pervades it. The one thing I really don't like about it is it's another portrayal of the extreme hubris that pervades the Kanye West persona. That said, it is undoubtedly a unnecessary marketing move, as Kanye will sell, crappy but annoyingly impressive video or not.

Tuesday, 4 January 2011

I am... The ten.

1. I am legend. Take it or leave it, knowing me is an unforgettable experience.
2. I’m a hopeless romantic. That’s where my inner nerd really comes to the fore.
3. I’m presently besotted with a certain young nubile female, but it doesn’t matter.
4. I probably like you a lot but can’t tell you.
5. If I’m forever telling you how much I like you, I just might be overemphasizing to convince myself that I really do.
6. Michael Jackson is a minor earth god.
7. I am incredibly talented and I know it. I’m also incredibly lazy until I get on stage.
8. I crush on every girl that pays me the slightest attention.
9. It’s quite possible I’m in love with you, if you’re female
10. I just made nine statements, not sure how many of them are true…