To the power company. . .with venom

I write you a letter; scratch that, a poem,

I’ve tried every approach, but the words,
I guess are too big,

You simply don’t know ‘em.

So here’s another attempt, borne out of a cut wire,

The approach,

Different in every way entire.

 

It pisses me off no end, knowing I’m stuck with you,

Down right shitty is the reality,

The fact,

That neither I nor my countrymen

Have anything we can do…

Except hope….and dream,

And dream….

 

Dream a dream filled with animosity,

Bursting at the seam, with intent cold,

Filled to the brim with desires of the mold,

The mold of which I speak,

Is the kind from which I derive a kick,

Like when I watch a flick,

Where the sick demented prick

Meets his end,

His demise,

Gone, till Kingdom come.

Nobody cries… nobody tries.

 

That’s what I feel for you,

Hate.

Loathing.

Ire…

heard the one about the Happy Ugandans?

The better paper reported in its Sunday edition that Ugandans are happy. I don’t even want to imagine what inspired the story… you know what, fukkit, lemme…

  • Anon. : Why are you smiling?
  • Anon 2: I’m smiling coz I’m glad…

Anon.: Glad…as in happy? Who the hell do you think you are, going around being happy while…wait a sec…OH My WORD…WOW! That would make an interesting story, and so we can hit the word limit, go find more happy people

Listen, I’m not being bitchy or nothing, but how can you go around saying we are happy? Just the other day the same paper reported that our suicide cases had gone up. And I know they weren’t kidding, the piece was not written by Sean “Brown Teletubby” Kingston. So how exactly does this work?

… to be continued.

The CHOGM one

I’d started typing this thing out with the intention of posting something sensational. Arousing ire or whatever emotions were aroused, when this went up. What you have instead is a first paragraph choke-full of innuendo and a very stupid next lot of paragraphs that introduces the meat of the matter.

I figured I’d go into some discussion I was having with a friend of mine not too long ago. It was a chat session and as you know, people seem to grab life by the …well people seemingly get all gutsy in chat rooms. And they ask questions too. As I type this out I have a window open whose primary fodder is pregnancy and what its like. I’m trying to get enlightened you see. So anyway, midway through my chat of not far back enough, she asks me, “so, what do you call your cock?”

It may have been a little more graphic, I really can’t recall. This hangover is not helping.

So anyway, there’s a lull in our chat for a bit and I figure I can smartly deflect this thing by, you know, like turning the line of questioning around. Unfortunately she had a name for “them”. So it appears I kind of got a raw deal there.

I figured I’d be original and all; I certainly couldn’t go with the traditional corny things you find on Porn Sites or in my junk mail folder. Stuff like, “wonderful” (ego involved there) Mister Happy (sounds like something a paedophile would call it) Godfather (Won’t get into that…)

I settled for, “CHOGM”. As in, “Uganda are you ready for CHOGM?” That CHOGM.

So now the brief CHOGM POST begins…

The opposition leader is well-pissed that people would insinuate that his party does not support CHOGM (the event). He is riled by the whole thing and I don’t blame him, I wouldn’t be amused if the press went around misquoting my sentiments. Without going all word for word like, I believe what he said was something to the effect that he has no problem with CHOGM but he doesn’t really see why it’s a big deal.

Apparently it doesn’t do shit for the host country. Apart from you know, boosting the tourism sector and giving prostitutes a new lot of clientele…and messing up the dollar’s strength. (Which, as an aside, I’d like to say some dude is going around taking credit for… by sending our people to Iraq)

I sorta agree with the dude on this, I mean. I don’t have a problem with being turned down or stood up, but I can’t really see what it does for a person’s self esteem.

Elsewhere, there’s billboards being erected (yes, I know) with our as-if celebrities going on about how they are ready for CHOGM…or the world at large. BULL! There’s one with Rio Ferdinand saying he too is ready for the world. He should be. Dude earns a gajillion trillion kabuutillion bucks! Of course he is READY. Question is, ARE WE? I mean. One of these billboards is next so some rubbish heap. How the heck is this being prepared? Hi world, please come over we’ve got beautiful women, madmen on motorcycles and a load of rubbish. We are certainly set to host you! Bring your own litter.

There’s a billboard that KCC (Kampala City Council) set up with the proclamation that they are getting ready for CHOGM. Unlike the jokers that put there’s up next to rubbish heaps and brothels, the KCC thing which thankfully doesn’t have the Mayor’s Face on it, is next to some road that’s being dug up and put back together again in some juvenile way. But seeing as they are just getting ready, we can’t fault them coz we know they will get tired of dishing this dirt in our faces eventually.

I predict that prices will soar. It’s a no brainer that prostitutes will charge a little higher and probably incorporate words such as “dolla” and “poundi” into their vocabulary. Come to think of it, because of the scale of this thing, we are going to see all sorts of currency flooding the market. Plus new expressions will come into their possession. On top of trying to lure men to them (and, oh I don’t know, the odd woman once in a while) with calls of “Arsene Wenger, jangu (come) and score” I see a situation coming into play where a lady of the night will say, ” ‘ello guv’nor, fancy a shag?! Go on then, don’t be a tosser! Nawe fala!” or worse yet, ” My milk shake brings all the boys to my yard and…”

Our speech pattern will change…and Lord knows we will be terribly helpful to any stranger around that time. It will be a good day for tourists. “Hurrllo, Carn I Herlp you? Whart? Certainly” and inevitably, that all too common question, ” How do you like our country?” That’s a retarded question in all honesty, it doesn’t make sense on any level. How the heck do you answer that? ” ah, I like your country between bread” ? Curiously, people do venture to answer this thing and its always, ” I LURV IT”

I suppose bumpy roads and dust go a long way in warping judgement….no…its this heat.

My Friend, Why You Are Not Kona-Dancing…%^&* You

Hitmen don’t do crap! Builders scare me more!


Yeah sure, if for some reason a hitman put a gun to my forehead and while sputtering uttered the words DODGE THIS (because they need some sort of catchy phrase to sign out with!) I’d pee on myself because in my mind’s eye, the visual woud be that of a builder. Specifically the guys building the house next door. They have visited every form of suffering (and then some) on me. Heck! That’s why I have not blogged for a while.


Time check; 7 am (in the morning for the underprivileged that can’t see “AM” glaring at them…like the blasted buiders!) I’m still taking a leisurely stroll in slumberland pickin up Tulips and all. What? In my dreams all the hot women are inexplicably called Tulip…even the strippers! Suddenly the music in the strip club changes to THAT ANNOYING SONG! The patrons in the club are sort of shocked, they are looking at each other like, “WTF?…whose dream is this?” To be fair, one patron seems a little pleased that the attention is being drawn far far away as only attention can be drawn.Its the Crazy Frog, fresh from his tour of Camp Swampy. (when will that stupid frog CROAK?!)


Anywho, so I’m drawn out of slumberland with minor injuries, I’m back to the land of the living and clearly not-so-bright. Dudes are pretty much outside my window. I contemplate swinging the window open and emptying a round. I can’t do that, because that would downgrade my neighborhood to level 3 which as you may or may not know is a very bad place to stay. Like, say, Straka’s hair…or under Oprah’s feet.


With no warning some dolt going through the voice breaking phase in life decides now is the time to check whether he can sing. He CAN’T. He won’t let that deter him. He is a man on a mission. I don’t know what the said mission is,but my gut’s telling me he is messingup the ozone layer. My gut also told me about other guts its been hanging with. Some are not too bad.


The karaoke is over and done with but so is my sleep. It left me a note saying I know where to find it in the event that I get serious about it.


What happens next is pretty much expected, the builders get to working. Breaking up stuff in their wake with the stuff breaking equipment. And for effect they turn the volume knob on the said tools to the maximum.


Its something of a bitch, but I have to deal with it, because half the neighbourhood credits these cretin with getting them to work early. Seeing as I don’t have a fixed hour for work, I couldn’t give a rat’s ****!


This has been happening for quite a bit and its never been a nice song. Today though, it got bloody annoying when some idiot shouted out for what could have been the whole city to hear,


“My friend…why you are not Kona-Dancing?!”

Posted in Ire. 4 Comments »