Sunday, April 26, 2015

Articles of interest to moi (2015)

The rise and fall of Cornel West
Soludo's hammer
RIP Stuart Scott

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Tuesday, December 02, 2014

Articles of interest to moi (2014)

Economics 101
A sucker is born every minute
Let there be light
Kudos to Jobberman
Ebola and the Africa Rising narrative
Kindness of Robin Williams. RIP dude.
My Kickstarter campaign guide to get my tees made
Africa by Africans
Israel's worst enemy
Arthur T is da man
Rick Reilly's last column
When I grow up I want to be Rick Reilly
GM right for us?
KD MVP speech
Articulate article on Sterling
Re-introducing Northern Nigeria
Ghana waste to wealth
Rebase this!
Crimea and world politics
Making a TV show
Domino effect
Forget Sparta, THIS IS AFRICA!!!
Tsar Putin
Laudable achievement
What's the MARA?
Buffalo Job
Swat away the fly
Wallet for life
Shameful justice
The Biblical Money Code
Shoulda thought of this instead of wearing a Darth Vader helmet at my daughter's birth
Light at the end of the tunnel?
The Prodigal Sons
GEJ meter?
Michael Sam Sr.
I'll stick to the original Haribos please
Michael Sam

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Sunday, March 30, 2014

Euthymol! Euthymol! Euthymol!

Hola peeps. 

So here we are again after what seems like forever. Well, it’s been…lemme check…almost a year to the date since I have typed a blog entry about whogivesahoot. In that time a lot has happened but doubt if anyone cares. All you need to know is it’s a Sunday and I am stuck in the office working. Yup, it’s been that kinda year. I’d look on the bright side of things since I don’t go to the R.I.G anymore and now office-based, but then again do not get the opportunity to run off to Lagos as I used to. I’ll be honest I still cannot get used to Port Harcourt. It’s not the work colleagues or extracurricular activities, it’s just that it ain’t Lagos you know, it ain’t what I am used to. 

Now a stranger would think from the above paragraph I get to all types of hijinks in Lagos, I don’t actually. Peep this: the highlight of my one-month stay in Lagos was taking poops in the 5 loos in crib I am renting. ‘Cos I really hadn’t spent time in the place since I rented it I decided to spend the entirety of my January vacation – apart from a weekend in Abuja – in Lagos as opposed to what I’d normally do: travel. That said I am seriously thinking of going to The Gambia for the Easter break. Let’s see how that pans out. 

So how have y’all been? Anything exciting happen since we last communicated? No? Well tough. Was moved to a different department of the business in October but actually started in February. Took a while to get a handle on things but just as I did was informed last week I am being moved again. Friggin’ musical departments this is. If I had an alternative I would call their bluff and hand in my resignation. Mate did and was promised heaven on earth: a promotion, a move to sister club in Europe, etc. They all but offered him a back massage. Earlier last year I was on the verge of a move to a rival company in Lagos and had even hinted a few of the powers-that-be, but when talks with said company broke down I had to slink back here with tail between legs. And I had such grand plans too: was gonna poop on some boss’s desk, sign out of here wearing a grill in mouth for last few weeks, and expose my midriff just for the heck of it. Such grand, grand plans! Oh well, gonna shelve them until later…but the poop thang is mos def gonna happen. 

Speaking of poop, did I ever tell y’all about my greatest poop story? So it’s my final year in FGC Warri and come across a plan by some dudes to show up some chick for Valentine’s Day. Why did they wanna “show” her? Who knows what goes through the heads of teenage boys, but I volunteered my services nonetheless. So I see Temitayo Ayodeji name not withheld to expose the guilty pouring a plate of beans into an empty tin of Danish Cookies® on the 11th of February. When I ask what’s going on as I see him cover the tin and place it under his bunk dude tells me of their plan to present it to Victoria Azanowa as a gift from a secret admirer on Valentine’s Day…not sure I have the last name spelt right, but if you happen to come across this Victoria I sincerely apologize. I have a daughter now and would kill anyone who would do what we did to you to her. That said you must admit it was funny at the time. 

After laughing my arse off Temitayo asks if he’d use my cologne – was probably a perfume really, I wasn’t too versed in such matters at the time – to disguise the stench and as I handed it to him I come up with a brilliant idea: how about making things more interesting by adding poop? Temitayo and our fellow cohorts that I cannot recall for the life of me loved the idea, so on the morning of the 14th yours truly delivered a steaming hot pile of poop into the tin of 3-day-old-stanking-beans-filled Danish Cookies®. We sealed the tin and wrapped it properly adding a few more squirts of perfume/cologne for good measure, then called a junior student and asked him to deliver our gift. From what the junior dude told us she was very excited about her present, and like most women who stress their beaus to send flowers to their offices on Valentine’s Day, she chose to open the gift in front of her friends so they would be green with envy. Let’s just say green was the last thing her friends felt after she struggled to open the tin – ”why was it wrapped so tight?” was what she was rumored to have said - only to see its contents. We then gathered she stormed off to tell a teacher what happened and dude burst out in laughter when she finished her tale. Those were the days. I feel like Sherlock finally revealing the answer to a mystery only a few people knew about. Y’all can thank me later. 

So where was I before that poop-inspired segue? Oh yes, work life….in PH. It ain’t all that bad though. For instance, a friend from work invited me along for a birthday party yesterday where I witnessed my first ever azonto electric slide. Beyond description people. Couldn’t take my eyes off an even curiouser display: some lady that held her left breast while dancing. There I am thinking… dance move I am not aware of…….why not right boob…..botched mastectomy? My thought process was cut short by this stunning lady that did some jerky-twerky thang that she may have considered dancing. She was the best-looking lady at the party but couldn’t dance to save anyone’s life. So I continued thinking…...too bad she can’t dance, but look at her skin! She’s so light-skinned she’s almost translucent….bet she glows in the dark….ha ha PH’s latest superhero Glow-In-The-Dark Girl, calling the bluff of all PHCN workers….. Suddenly the entire party, but a one or two befuddled folk like moi, shot out of their seats like their collective asses were on fire. Been in the Niger Delta for a bit and understand that some songs that move folk here never pervade to other areas of Nigeria, but never seen this reaction to a song before. I later discovered the song is a few years old, probably before I moved this way, but could not make out any of the lyrics, even the chorus. All I could decipher was Daddy o daddy, daddy o daddy. Dejavu all over again when Show me how to fish o, don’t give me the fish o was played. Yup, the sooner I get back to my 4-bedroom crib with a pool in Lagos the better. 

Now that I think of it I really shoulda gone somewhere in January instead of spending time in Lagos crib, woulda been cheaper. With that amount of time in Lagos I got to find out issues with crib and developed a new hatred for artisans. They bilk and fleece until one ends up developing misanthropic views. My goodness! If I showed you my phone you’d see a number of entries for security guards, electricians, mechanics, etc. Once one feels he’s been cheated long enough he chooses another artisan knowing they are going to cheat him but hoping they won’t be as cruel as their predecessor. I could go on about Kunle the generator “specialist” or Ike the electrician, aka 5k ‘cos the cheapest part he quotes for is N5,000. The latter messed up air conditioner installation in master bedroom so much I asked him to swap it with that in the dining room since I hardly spend time there. Dude sends me an SMS and I quote, “Sir, the one in the dining room is 1HP while that in your room is 1.5HP. I suggest you wait to buy another 1.5HP air con as 1HP would not cool your room. After buying the air con you can call me to install it”. I kid you not. This is a guy who earlier that month had asked me to help pay for his company registration, knowing I was fully aware of instances where he had blatantly fleeced me. 

Of all service providers I have got on pretty well with security guards especially maybe ‘cos I am hardly around; they usually leave when either a neighbor fires them or a neighbor owes them wages. But when I discovered one dude in Lagos crib Mohammed had been fired I did a little jig. Man, that dude musta been sent by a disgruntled ex to trouble me. In just 2 weeks he ruined neighbor’s diesel generator that cost N100k to repair and spoilt another neighbor’s water pump. This Nigerian Frank Spencer saved his best for me: messed up water pump, petrol generator and diesel generator. Y’all don’t wanna know what Frank’s antics cost me. I still break out in a cold sweat when I hear the name Mohammed. Sad thang is one could tell the dude’s educated; went to uni and everything. Dude resorted to guarding houses as a result of the economic situation in the country, and maybe his current state was responsible for his absentmindedness, or maybe it was the marijuana he smoked all the time that did it. Current security guard in PH, Oliver, offered to clean inside my car yesterday and when I decided to head out for the aforementioned birthday party I noticed the door handle calmly placed on the driver’s seat. When I asked Oliver what happened he said, “I dey clean car and I… (unintelligible)…break”. “And why you no talk anything”, I asked. “I (unintelligle)…..(unintelligible)….sorry”, was his response. You can’t make these things up. 

Might be a tad unfair to blame Oliver for the door handle incident, as he’s been pretty good since he arrived in February. You see PH jalopy has been showing increased signs of wear and tear lately. No steady accretion for PH jalopy, no sirree. First the front passenger door would open but not shut, then it jerks uncontrollably for no reason, makes squeaky noises that come from whoknowswhere, this morning the aircon went on and off on its own, and after I turned the car off I coulda sworn I heard the car breathing. Late last year the car accelerated on its own like a scene from the movie Speed; had to turn off ignition and frantically speed-dial the mechanic du jour to resolve whatever the issue was. I fear I may need to drain out the coolant from the radiator and replace same with holy water. 

Good thing I have arranged for a replacement jalopy. What is that I heard you say, bring car in Lagos to PH? Shut your mouth! No way am I doing that. Like I have told you before I live a Spartan existence in PH: no cable, no furniture, no curtains, only bed, fridge and recently acquired microwave. In my warped mind I was hoping if I don’t get comfortable in PH sooner or later I would get moved to Lagos – even gave away my generator - hence the large house and nice car there. 3 years later I am still here. Aaaarrrgh. Now that PH-Spartan-existence-for-better-Lagos-existence sorta thinking worked when I was on the R.I.G. where I hardly spent time in PH, but now that I am office-based the reality is slowly sinking in. No wonder jalopy is complaining! Used to drive that car about 10 times a year, now I drive it every day. 

Being in PH long term has paid dividends though. Go to gym at least 2ice a week and play footie regularly for the first time since ATL circa 10 years ago, well used to. It was during the finals of the company tournament last year I went up for a header and heard a snap as I landed. Couldn’t walk freely after that. Thank goodness it was just before half-time so was helped up the pitch and saw my team narrowly lose out on the title. Went to the clinic the next day and was told I had strained a muscle in groin area and would need to rest it for 6-8 weeks. 12 weeks later pain was still significant so booked an appointment with orthopaedic surgeon. Dude sent me for an MRI – they couldn’t identify anything as resolution wasn’t up to scratch – and suggested I undergo physiotherapy. 7 sessions – and frantic searches for most presentable underwear ahead of each session as physio’s a lady – later I got tired of waiting and decided to play footie through pain. Massive mistake. Could only play half a game and now pain’s so bad my attempt at jogging this morning was pitiful. Plus I get to wear a thigh brace – yeah those exist – that looks like an incontinent octogenarian’s diaper and chafes skin around the groin area. Not the coolest look in the world, trust me. 

Louis CK has some line about heterosexual males being the only species in the world that goes out of their way to prove their heterosexuality. Was reminded of that as I lay in the MRI machine. Of course one has to be nude under the hospital gown, but as I lay there the male attendant comes over and adjusts my privates under the gown…and this dude ain’t even wearing gloves. For the next 45mins as I lie in the machine in between thoughts of claustrophobia I keep wondering…why didn’t dude tell me to adjust my stuff myself……why didn’t he wear gloves…why was he so normal about this….wait, did I hear him speak with a lisp…. As if to hit the final nail in the homophobic coffin I get done with the MRI and touchy-feely guy directs me to the loo as “you need to pee”. “How did you know that”, I asked. “Oh I saw your bladder was full. With this MRI machine I can see everything, even your testicles!” Now would it have killed the dude to say intestines or something else other than testicles? Some part of me suspected that dude smoked a cigarette after “our” session. 

PH has also helped me appreciate little things like the cost of a haircut…stop sniggering, how are you sure I haven’t had a hair transplant? Average cost in PH is N300 while around my area in Lagos it’s N1k. The Lagos guys try to justify their take by ancillary stuff like using steamed towels to massage head after the haircut shave; one dude even trimmed my nose hair. In PH the best you get is crap aftershave lotion that’s more like diluted disinfectant. Last month tried some spot close to crib when regular barber was unavailable; dude’s “aftershave” is acid. After he applied it on skin I almost peed in pants and swear I saw my dead grandmother. Now every time I see PH’s answer to Sweeney Todd I cross to the other side of the street. 

Other people I avoid like the plague include the lady beside crib that sells boli and fish. She sucks big time. You know how they say it takes 10,000 hours of practice to make one an expert at anything? This woman works everyday of the week from morning until evening and still her food is crap. She musta put in at least a million hours but it ain’t helping her one bit. She probably never did “freedom” – a term given to Nigerian artisans that undergo training before they break out on their own – and is now ruining the palates of all and sundry in PH. Damn her! 

Power situation that used to be excellent around my area in PH is not so great anymore. Although a gazillion times better than that in Lagos, I can’t help but complain seeing as I no longer have a generator at the ready. Come to think of it would I be able to even fuel said generator due to endemic petrol scarcity in the country? It’s ridiculous that no one has a clue what’s caused this and like the pliant folk we are, we just get on with life like nada’s wrong. As a result of this I have had to come up with different ways to avoid getting bored. Since I have seen all the movies at the local cinema I am forced to occupy myself with work on a Sunday. But hey, looking on the bright side of things again: at least being bored outta my mind has afforded me the opportunity to remember to reach out to y’all. If this whole crap PHCN-fuel scarcity thang keeps up I just mightn’t take another year to communicate. Tot ziens and God bless. 

Loye just told me he’s proposed to his girlfriend and she responded positively. Guess another wedding’s on the cards…..picturing Chief doing the azonto electric slide.

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Tuesday, December 03, 2013

Articles of interest to moi (2013)

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Wednesday, April 03, 2013

Revenge of PHCN the sequel: Ar G.F.Y

Hola peeps.

Been a while, huh? Decided since my life’s been crazy busy filled with whoknowswhat I’ll make a conscious effort to update y’all – if there’s anyone left – on the goings-on in my not-too-exciting life in the Niger Delta at least once a quarter. So here I am on the final day of Q1 2013 spending my Easter with y’all….well I had to work so that’s why I am sending this from the office.

As I type this my neck’s throbbing from…well the boring answer’s lifting weights, but let’s pretend I hurt it trying out an Azonto-Gangnam Style combo choreography I have been working on. On second thoughts let’s stick to the honest boring response. ‘Cos I live a Spartan existence – more on that later – in PH I try to fill my time with all sorts of activities. Since the turn of the month I’ve dedicated myself to thrice weekly gym visits where I pump iron and once a week cardio sessions which consists of jogging for an hour. Today I felt extra pumped so I did an hour and a half and now my knees are paying for it. Don’t mind though ‘cos I get to work out my calves while jogging. Used to work on legs in the gym when I had a personal trainer but they hurt like crazy so after my trainer and I parted ways, okay I started avoiding him as he’s a masochist, I have avoided all leg exercises so much so my physique resembles those Roman soldiers in the Asterix and Obelix comic books, ripped upper body with puny legs. Oops, did I go old school on you? My bad.

So my neck started aching yesterday morning after I bench-pressed a higher weight than I had ever attained. Was so chuffed I hit the weight again and again. So much so that even driving became a chore. Felt like one of the extras from Michael Jackson’s Thriller video. Sorry, I meant to say The Walking Dead. When I went to bad last night I couldn’t find a sleeping position that didn’t hurt so prayed to God that neck ache wouldn’t prevent me from jogging this morning and it didn’t. Now I am using my direct line to God to ask for the powers-that-be at PHCN to provide power to my, ahem, neck of the woods as it’s been 4 consecutive days without power and the din of generators at night is making me pull out my nose hairs.

It wasn’t always this bad. In between PHCN’s recent brain fart and the one before (where folk in the neighbourhood had to pitch in to fix something or the other with the faulty transformer) I had uninterrupted power supply. Man, it was sheer bliss for those two weeks; it was like living in the UK…only without the freezing weather, 50% tax bracket and random, unexplained deaths of previously wealthy Russian dissidents. But any seasoned victim of PHCN knows to be worried; the gazelle (aka me) knows it’s only a matter of time before the lioness (aka PHCN) strikes from under the cover of the savannah grass. In those calm moments one learns not to talk about PHCN, if one must refer to them one must do so in hushed tones like they are Keyser Soze or the Candyman. Lo siento for going old school again. It’s like I knew what was gonna happen, I kept mentioning whispering to everyone I met, almost as if my life was in danger, “Man, PHCN’s provided power for 2 weeks straight, I am scared what they gonna do when they realize their mistake. It ain’t gonna be pretty I am sure. What do I do? Do I bring it to their knowledge or just shut up and enjoy it while it lasts?” I chose to keep mum and now look’s what happened: 5 days and counting of noise, noise, noise.

I am so used to the noise I am developing a sixth sense about these things. Given a few more nights of this I am sure I can decipher which noise emanates from which generator brand. Given even more time I’ll be able to tell which of my neighbours owns which generator. Maybe I can finally convert my sense of generator noise identification into a money making venture ‘cos goodness knows my Prophet Joe® Baby Gender Prediction Service was a bummer from the get go. Stupid cheap ultrasound machines!

Oh speaking of babies I am proud to tell y’all I became the proud uncle of my fourth nice and thirteenth nephew earlier this year. Happened within the space of a month: Kinzo had his first girl and Kemi had her third boy. That’s 18 grandkids and counting for Chief. Nice one.

Wonder if either of my siblings subscribed to BabyCentre as I’ve found it to be a useful website. Problem now is I wanna unsubscribe but feel it’d be kinda rude you know. I also wanna see how long it’ll take them to stop emailing me. At first it started with weekly countdowns while baby’s in the womb, Your baby can now hear sounds in the womb so sing to the baby so it recognises your voice , then same interlude after baby’s born. Now I get emails monthly telling me what to expect: Your baby’s 14 months old now and is most likely following you everywhere. A part of me wants to know if they’ll continue this for life. Your baby’s 360 months old and has no plans to move out of your house. Here are some tips from other mothers on what to do…

So about my Spartan existence in PH…..all I got in my crib’s a bed, air conditioner, abandoned satellite TV dish, unhooked up TV, fridge, a spoon and, for the thrill junkie in me, various coloured plastic bowls for drinking ijebu garri on hot, sunny days like today. Who am I kidding, I don’t need the excuse of sweltering conditions to drink garri! Hi, my name is Tunde and I am an ijebu garri addict….

I don’t even have curtains! You see when I left Warri for PH I had been promised a move to Lagos within two years so gave out all my stuff. For the same reason I used to wear Arsenal jerseys during their footie games in the hope I could change their luck and I don’t shave on the R.I.G, the weirdo part of me felt if I made life difficult for myself – was an easy decision to make at the time since I was almost always on the R.I.G – in PH I would force the universe to move me to Lagos. Now that I think about it I sound like a cuckoo acolyte of Oprah, don’t I? Anyways it’s been 2 years now and I am tired of my neighbours peeking at me every time I step out of the bathroom so I’ve decided I am gonna play a Jedi mind-trick on the universe by sprucing up my PH crib. Let’s see what happens then.

What’s not gonna change however is my eating habits, or should I make that my eating-out habits. If I didn’t cook in Warri ain’t no way I am gonna cook in PH. No matter how many ‘runs’ I get I’m gonna keep trying different places until my stomach gets used to the food. It ain’t no joke being a human guinea pig though. Two weekends ago I used the white throne at least six times after consuming whoknowswhat. Head began throbbing soon after so booked an appointment with the doctor and dude said all he could find wrong was I had too much blood in my system. U what?! Said it’s normal for folk who are B+ and it’s best I become a blood donor to reduce the amount of blood in my system. Is there some underground vampire club in PH I don’t know about?

My feeding options took a turn for the worse at the start of the year when I visited my local shawarma spot and discovered the lady that made the shawarma was no longer there. When I asked the dude there he said she had left and he now makes the shawarma.

Me: Erm, am I gonna like it? The girl knew how to make it just right and spicy.
Shawarma dude: Just give it a try.

Half an hour later, yup it took the dude half an hour to make a shawarma, he calls me over.

Shawarma dude: I assure you this is nice.

Dude then goes on to give an exposition on the intricacies of shawarma construction.

Shawarma dude: … see a number of people don’t know how to make shawarma…they think it’s just adding salad dressing…there’s vegetable shawarma for vegetarians, there’s even fish shawarma! Shawarma’s just anything with bread really.
Me: (*thinking to myself…whatever you say dude, next thing you know you’ll tell me there’s yam & stew sharwarma…*) Erm, okay. Thanks, I’ll be sure to tell you how good it tastes.

Got home and bit into the worst shawarma ever made. I would have had more value for money if I had shredded the thousand naira note and fed it to an ant colony than spend it on awful, awful food. I asked for chicken shawarma and all I got was a strip of chicken and a bunch of carrots – yes, carrots! – and mayonnaise. This dude adds a gherkin slice and a bunch of carrots and thinks I am gonna thank him for it? He’s lucky I didn’t taste the shawarma in his presence. Used to watch footie at the shawarma spot now I avoid that place like the plague. As fate would have it I bumped into the shawarma lady’s partner at a gas station two weeks ago and when dude asked me where I now got my shawarma from he could tell from my face he had touched a nerve. Then he told me he and the shawarma lady were setting up their own spot and would make home deliveries. Thank God.

In the meantime I have had to drive 30mins away from the crib to get my shawarma fix from some dude called Isaac. Isaac makes the best shawarma in PH, no contest. Problem is the queue outside Isaac’s stall is always crazy long. There’s usually a 45min wait for Isaac’s shawarma but it’s worth it. I sometimes feel for the dude selling suya beside Isaac. He always looks despondent, poor dude’s lost all his clients to Isaac.

On nights when I cannot be bothered to face the crazy PH traffic on route to Isaac’s I settle for the suya merchants around me. The dude ten minutes away is always on point. I’d always wondered why the smoke from his grill had to crazy massive and assumed he was just being stylish by wearing sunglasses while grilling his meat. It wasn’t until last week it finally hit me I was being served by the Houdini of suya men. His portions are always large when I buy them but after taking the ten minute stroll home I open up his packaging and voila, quantity has shrunk by at least 40%. That must be his game. Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice….well, keep doing your smoke and sunglasses thang dude, your suya’s better than the guys around and goodness knows beggars can’t be choosers. Darn shawarma dude!

I won’t bore you with hoops I jump through daily to get lunch at work. All I’ll say is the lady acts like the ice cream man in that Eddie Murphy skit from Delirious. Oh the things I do for a hot meal, huh? The tipping point of my universe-to-Lagos u-turn occurred…wait for it… 5 nights ago on my way home from the gym. Woah, that’s same day I stopped getting power. Could it be what altered the arrangement the universe had with PHCN to keep me happy in PH? Whatevs man! Old universe-believing Tunde is gone forever…

Saw some dude selling fruit and stopped by as the lady that sells fruit in the office is in cahoots with the lunch lady, but that’s a story for another day. So after doing my best to haggle with the fruit vendor I settled on a pineapple.

Me: So oga, you go peel the pineapple?
Fruit vendor: Sure master, no problem.
Me: (*now embarrassed*) Erm, you fit help me pieces am?
Fruit vendor: (*thinking to himself…what the @*%I…I wonder what else he is gonna ask me to do…*) Sure master, no problem.
Me: (*now even more embarrassed*) Erm, when you finish put am in this bowl.
Fruit vendor: (*thinking to himself…you have to be kidding me, dude has a bowl at the ready in his car for moments like these? Who does that?!…*) Sure master, no problem.
Me: (*trying to appease the dude not to spit in my bowl of fruit*) Erm, you dey sell orange too abi?
Fruit vendor: (*now on auto-pilot*) Sure master, no problem.
Me : Gimme ten……erm, you go peel am abi?

How embarrassing is it that I don’t even have a knife at the crib with which to peel a frigging fruit? The sooner I move to Lagos the better.

I never did much like Warri, but at least the traffic wasn’t bad. In PH it’s horrendous and the weird thang about it is one cannot predict traffic patterns. In Lagos you are virtually assured of a smooth ride on weekdays if one leaves the Island for the Mainland before 4pm. In PH one can get stuck in traffic at 11pm for no reason. The trips have become manageable though since I discovered Talk Radio. One can get a pulse of the nation from listening to the folks that call in. Lately I’ve been getting my kicks from peeps that call in to bitch about the toll free number not working. At one point three consecutive callers complained about it. YOU PEOPLE ARE 419, WHY SAY YOU HAVE TOLLFREE LINE WHEN YOU DON’T PICK UP? O HO, NOW THAT I CALL THIS ONE WHERE THEY’LL CHARGE ME CREDIT NA IM UNA PICK UP ABI? ANYWAY I JUST WANT TO LET YOU KNOW THAT. MY NAME IS INCORRUPTIBLE DAN. Friggin’ hilarious.

Their sports show is only interesting ‘cos the female host sounds like a man and the male host sounds feminine, so one gets callers referring to the girl as “sir” and she has to keep correcting them. Priceless. I enjoy the show as it takes me back to a time in my childhood when we had a security guard with an undulating voice. The first time I heard the dude I swear I thought he was taking the piss. He’d go from baritone to soprano in the span of a sentence. YOUR MOTHER wants you to stop PLAYING and GO finish YOUR homework. Ha ha ha, good times, good times.

Oh man, you shoulda heard the vitriol on the radio after the president pardoned our good friend Alams. I reckon it’s time I dusted off the tee shirt design I had made after he first became infamous for skipping bail in the UK. The president’s major support base is the Niger Delta, but if what folks here say on the radio is a true measure of the animosity towards him the president stands no chance come the next election. The question one now has to ask is if the opposition is any better. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. You know the passage in the bible where we are instructed to pray for our leaders so that we may live peaceably among all men? I remember that passage sometimes and feel guilty for not empathizing with the president as goodness knows his job ain’t easy, but then the punk makes a bone-headed move like the pardon and one just can’t help but flip the switch and join the rest of the callers in cussing him out. It’s like I got coprolalia or something.

Speaking of illnesses, about four years ago I unconsciously started to repeat short sentences. So someone would ask how I was doing and I would respond, “fine, fine”. It wasn’t until a colleague remarked, “woah, for you to say it twice then you really must be fine”, that I started monitoring myself. ‘Til date I still do it. Is this normal or the premature onset of Alzheimer’s? Ha. Hey, you’ve heard of premature balding! Could that be why I have been making old school references throughout this blog entry subconsciously? Hmmmm.

Few months ago I found myself making an overtly conscious effort to remember where I keep stuff. I would go into the kitchen for a glass of water then return to the living room wondering why I left the couch in the first place and missed 30 valuable seconds of PTI. I would spell-check words I already knew the spellings to but temporarily forgot. Peeps, I still believe this could all be one elaborate ploy by the producers of the reality show I don’t yet know I am a part of – shades of The Truman Show - to push up the ratings. I was doing okay until two weeks ago – woah, that was when PHCN supply became constant…coincidence? - when I left for work and gave the security guard a pair of shoes to get polished. Few days later when I tried to wear the shoes I noticed a pair of socks in them that didn’t belong to me. Could my security guard have worn my shoes while I was at work and forgot his socks in them? Could the cobbler be running a promo where his 100th client gets rewarded with a used pair of socks? Or is it more likely that the producers of The Tunde Show are trying to mess with the protagonist once again?

That’d explain why my bosses at the club reneged on a promise to send me to Lagos. They had insisted I’d be moved to Lagos to be closer family if I worked on the final draft of the pIB that would be forwarded to Nigeria’s National Assembly. To the uninitiated among you the pIB stands for the Performance Industry Bill, and should not be confused with the Petroleum Industry Bill PIB which has stagnated in the National Assembly for eons while valuable investment that should have been utilized here is propelling the growth in surrounding countries. The punks!

The pIB is to guard against the influx of “foreign” (read midgets) performers that have crashed the prices the male stripping profession charges clients. Ever since Magic Mike hit the big screen we have seen a bunch of wannabe mini-Tatums set up shop, and though we are confident this novelty will soon go the way of the MC Hammer pants the pIB is meant to restrict any further encroachment. So why are we confident the pIB will get smooth passage when the PIB has not made any headway? Pssttt, we’ve got photos of prominent legislators in somewhat compromising situations.

Need I say more? Well, I could but if I did I’d get run outta this business. Yup, these guys are worse than the KGB. A colleague once did the unforgivable by farting on a client while performing and last time I saw him he was “playing” with an abacus. Well I thought he was playing until I asked him if he had bought the gadget for his kids. “Nah man, you know my kids are all grown. ‘Cos of my li’l, ahem, mix up I got let go today after 25 years of meritorious service and while other organizations give peeps gold watches I was handed an abacus to count my meager severance package.” Yup, these guys ain’t no joke.

I just need a few more years in and then I can quit for good. Who wants to strip until they are aided by zimmer frames anyways? I just need that one killer idea! It was initially gonna be Nigeria’s version of The Daily Show but ever since that Egyptian dude got picked up my cojones have shrunk to the size of chickpeas. Successful peeps always advise one to do what one’s passionate about, what one would do for fun if one didn’t get paid for it. Well, taking the piss outta the vagaries of the ruling class is my passion. It’s just that I’ve worked too hard on my abs to be confined in an all male correctional facility. Even my boarding school was co-ed.

Since the TV show is outta window a less dangerous sideline could be my newest hobby: collecting church fliers and forwarding pics of the ridiculous ones to Nigerians in diaspora to show them what they are missing. The most recent one I came across was titled DISCOVERY!!! Jesus Christ is an Ibo Man VISITS God’s Kingdom Christian Centre Int’l Inc. Wanna tell me a collage of such accoutrements won’t make me the black Damien Hirst? If Tracy Emin can make a killing from listing her conquests then a mural of outlandish church fliers or another of Nollywood movie posters would ensure I am In Like Flint.

Tot ziens and God bless.

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Tuesday, December 04, 2012

Articles of interest to moi (2012)

Needed to be said
Poverty in Nigeria
Achebe at 82
Just like the Ugandans our lawmakers have skewed priorities
Hear, hear
Aussie Girl Power
2013 budget
Iphone 5
Nigerian god
PIB reform
Trying to make sense of it all
Nothing surprises me anymore about Nigeria
A dictator's worst nightmare
Worthy commendation
The Tyson Zone
This is how we roll...apparently
What's Jim Irsay thinking?
KPMG's NNPC report
Nigerian 2012 budget
Sell, sell, sell

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Tuesday, October 09, 2012

So I Married An Axe Murderer

Hola peeps. Lo siento, he estado ocupado.

Julio here. That bozo Tunde’s been extra lazy of late so guess who’s gotta pick up the slack. I’d have a large ‘SOTA’ (Saviour of Tunde’s Arse) tattooed on my chest so everyone gets the message. And how will all get the message y’all ask? ‘Cos I have been working out extra loads peeps, and I plan to walk around shirtless EVERYWHERE I go. Have you seen Magic Mike? I can no longer take for granted that bored housewives would come over to my club just ‘cos I run Nigeria’s hottest underground strip club. That Magic Mike movie’s gonna make them want more. Punk Channing Tatum’s ruined my easy-as-Sunday morning lifestyle. Kinda reminds me of Ugandan mate from Bradford that threw a party to celebrate Craig David’s absence from the charts. “Man, white girls used to dig me…..remember the time we went to Newcastle and all those white chicks were after me? Soon as Craig David showed up on their TVs they realized good-looking black guys existed, and my mojo only worked on bottom of the barrel white chicks with acne problems and body odour. Damn Craig David!!!”

So what’s been happening with y’all? Tunde’s daughter Leia – yup the loser named her after the Star Wars character – is 8 months old but the punk still hasn’t invited me over to see her. He even made that crapfest Miguel her godfather. I have known this dude practically his whole life, don’t I count?! No worries, I have ways of getting him back…well I tried to get him on tape to admit his true feelings but dude deftly parried away all my attempts. Could it be an inchoate other-non-baby-gender-predicting clairvoyance of Prophet Joe…or maybe I am just high on alabukun again?

You see a few of us guys chose to go for drinks and out of the blue someone started complaining about his missus. It was then I turned on the tape recorder in my failed attempt to entrap Tunde…

Married man 1: Dudes, I don’t know why in heck I got married. I swear I almost hit my wife yesterday. She gets on my last nerve.
MM2: U just been married 6 months, right? Ha. Welcome to the club.
MM1: Screw the club man. I wanna end this marriage. Do you know what she called me during our argument? A friggin’ sperm donor! Yup, the woman I chose above others feels the best way to insult me is to call me a sperm donor and insist she can make do on her own with our unborn child.
Julio: (*thinking to himself…forget SOTA I’d get Sperm Donor inked on my chest…*) Woah, I didn’t know it was that bad. Tunde, ain’t u gonna contribute to this lively discussion?
Tunde: Er, no. Woah, is that the time? Gotta leave soon guys, my exeat’s almost up.
Julio: Ha ha ha. U wuss u! U remind me of my mate Alaye. Since he got married dude hardly leaves the house, his wife controls EVERYTHING.
MM1: I don’t blame the poor dude, maybe he does that just to keep the peace. I swear I can’t do anything right. I swear I married the devil!
Julio: Come on dude, that’s harsh…
MM2: Harsh? ‘Cos u ain’t married that’s why u say that. Women were created to get on our last nerve. A mate that dated his wife for 6 years before they got hitched still reckons his wife hid her true self from him until they got married. He confessed to me, “my wife LURED me into marriage pretending she was peace-loving and all that while we dated. Soon as we got married her true colours were revealed. I’da known something was off when this woman that shops at Primark asked for a wedding ring from Cartier.”
No one knows this but in the first 6 months of my marriage my wife moved out twice. The second time a part of me prayed she wouldn’t return.
Julio: Woah. And u guys keep convincing me to get married?!
Tunde: Hey, I have never encouraged u to get married!
Julio: Oh he now speaks?! So what do u have to say for urself then?
Tunde: My Prophet Joe sense is tingling so I know u are up to something. All I will say ON RECORD is what an older family friend told me ages ago, “Forget love dude, marry a woman whose worst won’t make you want to kill her.”
MM1: Hear, hear.
Julio: Hear, friggin’ hear? Is this a bar or the friggin’ British Parliament? Tunde, tell us more.
Tunde: I have said all I can say….well, that and for some reason since I have been married I have had this incredible urge to get a tattoo. I don’t know what of, just want one.

Julio: Hey Tunde, Harrison Ford called. He wants his midlife crisis back.
MM1: Ha. That’s a good one. U’d be on TV with ur talent, Strippers Got Talent would be make compelling TV.
MM2: U guys are newbies to the marriage game so u can’t hone ur instincts properly. Think of me as the Yoda to ur jedis in training. Tunde, you feel the way you feel because you already feel cocooned by marriage you want to break free and do something you wouldn’t normally do.
Julio: Whatevs man, Captain Feelings. I sincerely hope Tunde gets a tattoo. Hey dude, since u love doodle so much why don’t u get tattoo of doodle drops between bum and thighs so when u wear shorts peeps could think u pooped on urself? Ha.
Tunde: Screw u man. Here I am pouring my heart out and u cracking jokes? Now I know how it feels when I do that to peeps.
Julio: Hee hee hee. Look who’s on his period?
Tunde: U need spiritual help dude, not from the new ultra-hip churches but those old school white garment churches where they whup u with canes to drive demons away….or so I heard.
Julio: Yeah right. U know what would be even more fun? What if the tattooist inks you with a radioactive needle and u become Africa’s first superhero: Anti-Corruption Man! I can just picture you running around with Leia’s diapers over your trousers and smacking policemen at checkpoints and immigration officers at airports. Ha ha ha….man, I kill myself.
Tunde: Speaking of corrupt folk I met some Chinese dude on the R.I.G. and dude told me on his first trip to Nigeria the immigration officer he met gave him a Bible and then…wait for it……proceeded to solicit a bribe. Only in Nigeria.
Julio: Crazy, dude probably thought he was at church and wanted a donation. Brothers and sisters-uh…welcome to the International Church of Immigrants-uh…where we only accept offering in foreign currency-uh…whether u call it greenback-uh or green pastures-uh all I know-uh is I love to lay me down in some dollar notes-uh…
By the way nice attempt to change the topic of conversation. It ain’t gonna work dude.
Tunde: Don’t even go there, it was relevant. A nice segue-way if u please.
Julio: No, I am not Siamese if you please bruv. Just trying to liven up the dull ambience dude. U think I am comfortable with y’all sad married folk trading sob stories. Feel as out of place here as the time when as a kid I was startled awake in church and mistakenly blurted out Babalawo mo wa bebe loud enough for the Catholic priest to hear. My mom whupped me no end that day.

MM1: Are u guys done with ur bromance? I thought this was about my marital problems to start with?
MM2: Pay them no mind bro. I feel what u are going through, it’s tough man, real tough in the first few years. It’s only after my fifth year of marriage things begun to smoothen out.
MM1: 5 years?! I can’t wait that long man. U know that Chris Rock skit about sorta understanding why O.J. Simpson killed Nicole? Well since I have been married I don’t condone it but I understand why some men cheat on their wives or go out drinking all night just to avoid going home. I even understand why some men smack their wives. My mom will kill me if he gets wind of any of the things I just said, but it’s just a fact. What I don’t understand though is polygamy. Wanna tell me after all the stress one woman gives some dudes still choose to go get another wife?! Pure masochists man, that’s gotta be the only explanation.
Tunde: I feel you dude, even though I come from a polygamous home I get u. Guess they don’t make men like they used to.
MM2: U guys are just wusses. Wanna know what kept me going in those rough early years of my marriage?
Tunde: Jesus? Ur wedding vows? Ur kids?
MM2: I wish. My mistresses dude. I kid u not. They want nothing substantive from me and I feel the same about them. Whenever the missus starts her whining I leave the house, go for a drive to clear my head and end up at one of their cribs. I get fed, I watch a li’l TV, she LISTENS to my whining for a change and then sometimes …(adopts a dead-on Bill Clinton impersonation with facial mannerisms and all)… we have sexual relations. By the time I return home whatever the wife says goes in one ear and out the other.
Don’t get me wrong, extramarital ain’t all hunky dory. As it is with these things feelings sometimes get in the way. Time I knew I had to curb this was not when one of the girls told me she loved me, but when I became a pseudo-stalker on this particular cougar. I started acting all possessive and when I discovered she had another toyboy I went into depression for a while. ‘Til this day my wife thinks it’s her constant whining that stopped me from cheating; she wishes. It was her whining that drove me outside in the first place.

MM1: Woah. U were going through this, and u never once mentioned anything?! Not even a hint? And even worse u kept bugging me to get married. Man, if I had known then what I know now I never woulda gotten married.
Julio: Guess misery loves company. Ha ha ha. U guys are killing me! Oh man, can’t remember the last time I laughed this hard. U guys just provided the answer to a question that’s stumped men for ages: How could songwriters such as Babyface, Brian McKnight, et al that capture the very essence of a man’s feeling for a woman in song end up divorced? Now I know. Thanks guys for clearing that up. I am never getting married, and I’ll dedicate the rest of my life to spreading the gospel of singledom.
Tunde: Actually forget what I said earlier about u needing spiritual help earlier. U need something more radical, like a burning bush experience.
MM2: Y’all are crazy. Look, that’s what worked for me, well, apart from the stalking part. I am not advocating y’all do the same. Just speaking truth here.
MM1: Thanks man, but I don’t think that’d work for me. First of all marriage has made me too lazy to think of juggling women. Secondly, I am a bad liar so my wife would instantly get wind of an affair and do a John Wayne Bobbitt to me while I am asleep. Don’t get me wrong I still think of other women, and now and then I wonder what life would be like if I married someone else - lately I have been fantasizing about this Hooters waitress I met in the States a few years ago – but then I quickly regain my senses and realize we’d still have issues. Might be different from what currently ails my wife and I, but there would be other reasons for arguments. Maybe I won’t be referred to as “sperm donor” but other hash words would be used.
Tunde: U know before I got married I used to think to myself how lucky my wife would be. I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, I am not one of those guys who have to go clubbing all the time, and most of all I am not a big foodie. Gimme some ijebu garri and groundnuts and I am good. What sorta woman wouldn’t like that, right? Right? Boy, did I have it sooooo wrong.
Met this older Maltese dude on the R.I.G. and asked him how long he had been married. “Twenty five years”, he said. Before I’d congratulate him on this impeccable feat he quickly blurted out, “…and in that time I have considered leaving her at least seven times!” Dude went on to relate how he once left home for four months as he couldn’t stand his wife’s whining and bitching anymore. “During that time whenever I’d call home she’d accuse me of having another woman and threatening to take all my money. Told her I didn’t care if she took everything, I just had to get out of the house. Funny thang is in all that time I never propositioned another woman, I just couldn’t stand the sight of my wife. Now I understood why hot women like Halle Berry and Jennifer Aniston have been ‘unlucky’ in love. Unlucky? Yeah right. The rest of the world can fantasize about them but the guys that live with them must see something we don’t. ”

MM1: Man, that Maltese dude must be married to my wife’s doppelganger. That’s exactly how I feel! What wouldn’t I give to be away from my wife for 4 months?
MM2: Me too. However, wanna know the interesting thing about all this? If our wives got together they would list twice as many faults against us as we have spoken about here. Marriage has taught me that two parties can get to a point where they both think know they are right. Surely, one person must be wrong, right? Nope, both husband and wife think they are in the right and the other’s wrong. Amazing how life is, huh? And some folk think God doesn’t have a sense of humour.
MM1: I suppose. What I don’t get though is how stuff I did when I was single, when I didn’t even know she existed, is now in play when we fall out. The other day the missus accused me of being a hypocrite when I cautioned her against gossiping. Oh Mr. Holier-than-thou, this is gist man, not gossip but gist. Where was your moral outrage when you slept with your friend’s mom back in uni?
Tunde: U did what?!
Julio: Okay even I am disgusted by that…and that’s saying a lot dude.
MM1: Look, that happened a long time ago. Besides, the lady was divorced. Plus, mate in question never found out. Not my fault his mom looked like Kris Jenner.
Tunde: U lucky sod. I personally think Kris is better looking than her daughters.
Julio: There you go again, drooling over older women…and trying to change the topic again!
Tunde: Lo siento Julio. Must say though, since I got married I can’t seem to do anything right. Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.
MM1: Feel you brother. Sometimes I think Tim McGraw’s Angry All The Time should be the soundtrack of my marriage.
Tunde: You know that song?! I love that song! Didn’t know u liked Country Western songs….oops, I’d better hush before Julio opens his mouth again.
Julio: U know me so well. On a serious tip why are y’all so maudlin? Ain’t gonna get married yo, gonna live the George Clooney lifestyle. Just heard he broke up with his latest girlfriend. Dude rocks.
Tunde: Yeah, you know what would be uber-fun? Get George to hook up with Taylor Swift. That chick’s a serial dater and a part of me thinks she does that so she’d have material for her next album. She’s the patron (or is it matron?) saint of all scorned women the world over.
Julio: U are a genius man. That’d be the most scrutinized relationship ever. There’d be a countdown on celeb websites monitoring how long it’d take before they call it quits.
Tunde: Knowing my man George Taylor would probably end up singing his praises at some award show instead of slagging him off. Notice how none of the women he’s been with has ever said a bad word about him? Either he’s super charming or he pays them off.

So the married wusses continued trading war stories for what seemed like forever while I zoned out and thought of possible designs for my Sperm Donor tattoo. Then some dude in a priest’s collar came by our table and asked if he’d join us.


Priest: Good evening gentlemen, I couldn’t help overhearing what you guys were talking about. Mind if I join you?
Julio: (*…thinking to himself…this would make a funny joke. So a priests walks into a bar….*)
Tunde: Sure sir. What do we call you, Father, Pastor..?
Priest: How about Bar Hopping Priest? I kid, I kid. I just came by to see the owner of the bar as he’s my cousin. Call me Jeff.
Julio: (*…thinking to himself… So a bar-hopping priests walks into a bar….*)
MM1: Okay Jeff, what did the Lord reveal to you about my marriage? If Chris Okotie, a man of the cloth like u, can get divorced a second time ain’t no way I am not leaving my wife. As soon as our child is born I am getting a divorce. Wanna know the funny thang? Her aunt keeps asking me to forgive my wife’s outbursts. “It’s just hormones acting up”, she says. Well, screw her and her hormones. I am gone!
Julio: (*…thinking to himself… So a bar-hopping priests walks into a bar and sees a man with a dowdy expression on his face. “Why the long face”, he asks. The man looks up at the bar-hopping priest and says, “Me Father? Nothing much, I am just thinking of quitting the family business.” “At a crossroads I see, so what exactly is the family business”, the priest asks. “Well Father, that’s just it, I come from a long, distinguished line of professional sperm donors!”…*)
Jeff the Bar Hopping Priest: Don’t be so rash. Would you like your unborn child to grow up in a broken home? I come from a broken home and trust me there are issues I am still resolving from my childhood. You know each man shall be held accountable for his own actions, right? So don’t dwell on what Chris Okotie does, dwell on what is best for you and your family. Do not forget your wedding vows were made in front of God.

At this point Tunde starts weeping like the wuss he is and I start taking pics of him like his Robert Pattinson after his heifer girlfriend cheated on him. That’s my blackmail pic for life! The dude that invented camera phones should have his own holiday. The preaching continued….


Jeff the Bar Hopping Priest Who Apparently Is Mad-dogging Chris Okotie: When I counsel married men in situations such as yours they always spout Ephesians 5:22, Wives, submit to ur husbands as to the Lord but forget God’s instruction to men is even weightier. Just a few verses later husbands are told to love their wives just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up to her….in this same way husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself….
Tunde aka Weeping Robert: Hear, hear.
MM1: Just shut your pie-hole Tunde and let Jeff talk!
Jeff the Bar Hopping Priest Who Is Such A Showoff He Quotes Bible Passages In Bars: I don’t want to take up more of your time. Just think things through before you make a decision. God loves you. Goodnight gentlemen.

Jeff the (fill in the blank with your own description) leaves our table and the married wusses remain silent. I tried to lighten the atmosphere…

Julio: Man, talk about a party pooper, huh? That was a scene straight out of a Tyler Perry movie, dontcha think? Speaking of which it just occurred to me y’all stories would make perfect material for an all male, all Nigerian version of Why Did I Get Married?. Huh, huh?
Notice I said ‘Nigerian’ and not ‘Nollywood’ as a Nollywood version would probably be called something moronic like Marriage Crisis or Married Men Club. Am I right or am I right?
Seriously though, where do those guys get their movie titles from? Last week I saw the poster for a movie called Azonto Ghost Part 3. Aaaarrggghh!!! Didn’t know whether to be pissed someone made a movie with that title or be pissed a movie with such a crap title, and worse premise I bet, spawned two sequels.

My attempt at a joke fell flat. One after the other the married wusses got up and headed to their cars…and left me with the bill. Cheapskates! I had a few more drinks and thanked the Lord the thought of settling down had never crossed this stripper’s mind. If talentless ex-stripper Channing Tatum can have an acting career so can I, darn it.

Now off to a tattoo parlour to get me a Sperm Donor tattoo.

Tot ziens and God bless.

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