But I need the money…

I’ll be the first to acknowledge that I hadn’t thought through the evangelical mission I had intended to undertake (ya think?!). But at the end of the day, and I assure you this day is much longer than Jack Bauer’s, I am still into money. Concordantly, I have come up with another idea. I am going to apply for funding to do research. Obviously not from here, seeing as Jimmy Boy has messed me up with his reluctance to get out of jail and fork over the money. You see the stories in the paper, dumb projects get funded all the time. Mine will be different though, they will be beneficial. The findings will read like this…

Most Humans have 5 toes

A study undertaken by legendary researcher Ivan “Goodness Itself” M*****, has proven that human beings do in fact have 5 toes… on each foot. Ivan “all round good guy”, says that he was inspired to undertake the study whilst he was out one day watching grass grow, “ I was looking at the ground when suddenly it hit me. Do all humans have five toes just as I do?” Ivan then applied for funding to conduct his research. However things got off on the wrong foot (heh) when it was discovered that Ivan “Property Master” M***** was conducting his research from squalid conditions. He was thus granted his current abode, which this reporter couldn’t help but notice looks disturbingly better than Bill Gates’….

Martin Luther King does not hold monopoly on dreams, study shows…

World renown scholar Ivan “Insomniac Of Sorts” M***** has made the above claim.

“I also have dreams. That anyone should come out and disprove this…well, that’s justMy Tattoo will look like this someday lame, youknow! In fact. Once my application for a research grant is approved by the World Bank (and it damn well will, I have “connections”!) I will go on a worldwide fact finding mission whose sole purpose…which’s sole… generally I will go out mainly to prove that other people have dreams and have just been fearing to come out of their closets.” When this reporter pointed out that coming out of the closet was just not appropriate, Ivan “Can’t Nobody Hold Us Down” M*****, went on a rant describing some of his dreams. This publication however will not go into that, because you don’t pay us enough for sleaze…

Good food goes down well

Ivan, “Man I could eat a pig with weight problems” M***** has finally made good on his promise to show that food does go down well. You, the dear reader of this piece may recall, that some time back Ivan. “I Really Can Eat an Elephant” M***** was asked to produce proof that he did not misappropriate funds for research on food and those other things that go along with it. You will be happy to know that the accused called for a press conference from his hospital bed where he is receiving treatment for Obesity and during said conference proceeded to produce receipts from hotels, inns, markets, people’s homes… He claims that he had them all along, but he was lying on top of them so it was hard to find them. This reporter, however, believes it’s a Fat lie.


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See,I’ve been thinking…

I’d like to state for the record that I am not working….or employed…or whatever. The plus side is that my current state has given me some time to think.

Most of the thoughts, I’m sure you’ll relate, pertain to making money. I haven’t been this innovative since that time when I decided I wanted to be the singer called Voracious Reptile. Speaking of, Clever J (of the manzi wa nani fame) kind of put an end to that idea.

So, I have wondered what options are open to me. How do I make a name for myself. How do I get to trot the globe and what not? I will become an evangelist. As I await anointing I have a couple of niche areas I’m looking at.


There are two ways I could play this. One of them entails me preaching to all boda boda riders, yeah, all 15 of them and then hoping I’ve done my part. The alternative, and I think this is the way to go, involves me being the rider and ministering to my passenger(s). The way I see it, my routine will go something to this effect;

Me: Boss, are you going? Chief? Manager? Baby?

She: Yes, how much?

Me: We will talk, you don’t worry…

During the course of the ride…

Me: Madam, you…

She: Call me Baby.

Me : Baby, you don’t have to pay, all I want from you is acceptance that you will take Jesus as your Lord and saviour.

She: Who? You want me to be saved? Shya! You take my money and my phone number, you are insulting me…eh eh, why are you swerving like that on a smooth road, why are you jerking around like that, there are no humps. OH MY GAWD!


An innocent by-stander:

As people keep walking past a spot I go into a sob story with a moral at the end and ask them to accept Jesus.

“If only…oh man, if only. Hey, stop walking away from me…what do you mean you know me. I did what? When? I have never been a boda boda rider…it was..ah okay you go.”

“You, yes you. Don’t you sometimes wish life was fair to you? I’m not saying there’s anything wrong, but I mean, look. You’re walking. Wouldn’t you rather be driving? Yes? Okay now give me like 20,000 and I will hook you up with a visa to heaven. Now, you place your hand on any car you want and it will be yours to…hey, not the moving vehicles…”

Might be a success


Pretty simple really. As the taxi sets off, issue threats. It may be construed as vehicular terrorism, but what do they know, right?

Me: I want you to love Jesus.

Passenger: I already love Jesus.

Me: Eh? Okay, now I want you to pay me because you love Jesus.

Passenger : Huh? That doesn’t even make sense.

Me: Pay me or else I will embrace you…what’s that? 1,000. I get more for just sitting on people.

Passenger : Okay here is 20,000.

That’s better…now your fare?

To Be Continued

Excuse Me Mr. President…

Hi Mr. President,

This is kinda late, but you know how it is, problems with mail delivery and what not. Its just nasty. You just can’t get good service anymore. Everyone’s worked up, got conspiracy theories and stuff. Man!

The good news is, I have nothing better to do, so it looks a lot like I’m here for you. While everyone else is thinking you’re not worth ****.

I don’t know why this is, but I think it may be because you’re telling investors we’ve got land and then suddenly coming back and telling tenants that they no longer have any. I suppose it’s a good thing you haven’t set your eyes on the prime estate that is the burial ground,eh?

So anyway, what’s been bugging me is this whole Muhwezi thing. I mean, seriously dude, you can’t take that **** can you? I know I wouldn’t. I’d be all, “Bitch! You don’t know me like that! When I say I didn’t know you didn’t take the money, you don’t go around saying that’s unfortunate. You look into the nation’s eyes (transmitted a’la WBS) and say you are a liar!”

Seriously Mr. President that’s an uncool thing for a pal to say or do. What happened to solidarity? Way back in school we had that. If a kid had stolen like money from a teacher or something and offered to buy us all like tea and biscuits we’d all shut up. And even if I… pardon me, if the said kid didn’t honor his end of the bargain, no one would tell. I know no one would say it is unfortunate.

Unfortunate is how you describe a car’s windscreen being smashed in after a driver splashes muddy water on you on your way to the cinema to meet up with this awesome chic. CURSE YOU! DRIVER OF UXY 200D! You messed up a good thing.

So anyway, what are you going to do about it? Me? I’d take that factory that dude calls a house and transform it into like Coffe Marketing Board,..and then, when everyone is still looking on with glee, transform the said Marketing Board into an Apparel thingy…

Are you kiddin’ me?

I’m not a kid person. I don’t mean I loathe them or anything, but I know I won’t be gushing over them the way lesser mortals do. I’m not going to go all “goo-goo ga-ga” and make faces at them. I’m not Jim Carrey. I will also-and this is a fact- not think its cute that a kid has gone and spewed his/her/its lunch on my shoulder.

I suppose the sentiment or emotion that kids evoke in me is more FEAR than anything else. Babies scare me. I don’t know where it came from but the thought always lingers that if I’m asked to carry the child, I may accidentally drop him…or her…or it. Then what will I say? “Oops”?

As luck would have it, I have relatives with child bearing abilities. I know this for a fact because I have nephews and nieces. They are wonderful and everything and I don’t mind looking at them I just don’t want to carry them or anything. For some reason, their parents seem to think that I’m in denial. I am not! I will attend their visiting days soon as they are shipped off to some school whose position, judging by the distance we will cover to get there, will be at the edge of the world’s end. Going by what some of the students look like, the belief will be reinforced.

Last week my cousin came over with her two kids in tow. The younger, a girl knows her stuff. She’ll just chill out and keep quiet…until a negotiation goes wrong. I can’t understand why this happens given that her idea of a trade usually involves offering her brother her itty-bitty pink shoe in exchange for his glass of juice.

So anyway, whilst these kids were around so was another aunt who, quite unlike me is not averse to begging toddlers for hugs proceeded to ask my nephew for a hug or some such thing. Come on, if I did it I’d be screwed, given that I have no recording contract or own a ranch or a pet monkey called Bubbles.

My nephew on his part regarded her with the kind of look that said, “what have you done for me lately?”. Now don’t get me wrong, I love my job as much as any other bloke that gets to wear sandals and a cap to work with no qualms, but my cousin ( the hug requesting one) has a job I’d raze a forest for. The perks and salary and what not are THAT GOOD. If I were my nephew I’d hug my aunt and not my uncle. I’d hug my aunt and spew my lunch on my uncle and giggle with delight as all my other relatives looked at the goop like it was molten gold laced with rubies and pearls… its almost a wonder no pictures are taken or scoops kept for posterity.

Long story short, my nephew at this early age is already misguided. I know this because he hugged me instead.

Gettin’ A Move On

This blog exists for the simple reason that some people can not access my other blog

Also, I want to see how I can tweak themes here.