Friendly Fire…

Protocol demands I apologize for disappearing on you my dear imaginary fans, so here goes nothing. Please accept my humble apologies… not that anyone even cares, but I feel obliged to explain. As many and by ,many I mean none of you, know that I am a law student currently undertaking my final bit of training in view of being admitted as an advocate in this godforsaken filth of a country. What they say is true; it gets tougher as you advance the finishline. Anyway,that would mean that I have been quite busy with very little time to spare you my imaginary fans. My temporary absence from this scene has not been without interesting experiences which obviously constitute the subject of this article.

A significant portion of you assume that I am a jerk and you are right, so in case you stumble upon something that offends you, please please.. oh please, go f**k yourself mate. I have had my share of antecedents, and a millenial’s attitude is not about make me lose sleep. Sorry, I digress. Besides, my therapist says I should always find the slightest excuse to vent out my frustrations. I kid you not, sometimes I question her qualifications and competence but yet again she is the only one I can afford, really. Its not like I have an option. She has me twice a week for an hour, and she uses those times for smoke breaks or to vent on me. At some point, it usually seems like I am her shrink and not the other way around.

On a less serious note though, no one here likes the smell of farts right? Because that would make you seem rather unusual, right? I particularly hate the smell of my farts, please dont mince those words to mean that I like the smell of other peoples’ flatulance. Here is my problem, my farts smell so bad, they fumigate the house to the point the ecological condition of my room is nolonger capable of supporting life of certain insects. On the bright side, I might never ever contract malaria. My farts alone are responsible for the environmental imbalance currently affecting certain areas within Karen, in fact, I conducted my own environmental impact assessment and realized that the flowers next to my room are not doing that well. That cant be a coincidence, right?

Here is the thing though, there is no injury as painful as that caused by friendly fire, perhaps that is why my farts have such a devastating effect on me. There is this one time I suffered an asthma attack after I blew myself up with one of my most putrid farts yet in a poorly ventilated room. There was no one in the viscinity so I had to gasp for air as I struggled for my dear life. Imagine how embarassing the my obituary would have read. So now I am thinking of investing in a gas mask. Some of these things dont seem necessary until you suffocate to death on the smell your own fart. If that ever happens, I want my obituary to read, “killed byfriendly fire”.


Baby Daddy Pt 1

Babies are a piece of work, and by babies I mean both of them; baby and bae! Don’t get me wrong I hate children, lay a lot of emphasis on that part where I hate children. I look at all these single mothers yap about how being a mother is fulfilling and appeasing and I wonder what has become of the world. Babies are so easy to make, so I wonder why raising them is so difficult! I mean I am the kind of guy who won’t even voluntarily fix my TV aerial, and yet God still thought, yeah, lets gift that one a baby. Are you kidding me???? A baby? Jesus Christ! That was my initial reaction too. And its not like Sony werent producing anymore PlayStation 3s. The all knowing God gifted me a baby.

First of all, lets stop calling it a gift, because the gifts I dont like, I usually exchange (ask my friend ketkah how we axchanged a watch he bought me for a bag of chips and he will tell you), or at the very least, I return for the money. Here is why I hate babies, how many times do you mix vodka with bad decisions and wake up the following day having fixed your TV aerial, or maybe the nudging sound on the back left tyre of your car? My guess is never. Apparently, the bible lied to us, babies don’t come from clay my friends. Babies are purely a concoction of alcohol and bad decisions. It is worse if one of the two human characters is loose. You know the loose that I mean people, lets leave peversion to the less hilarious articles.

The other thing I hate about babies is the baby talk… Many of you wont admit it but “pa le ptha tha thap” is not “cute” not even close. For all I care, this tiny son of a bitch is making fun of me. She is probably calling me a bitch for being an arsenal fan, which is the other thing I hate. Supporting this wastage of a club has made me a laughing stock in the neighbourhood. Oh yeah, real mature fellows, you wont laugh at the woman who still suckles her 7 year old son but the Wenger batalion cracks you up that bad? I cant even walk into a bar without people sending drinks with tiny umrellas my way. Some of those people are even Arsenal fans. I am even beginning to think that I may be attracti… Oh my God! Oh my God, why is this just hitting me now??

Anyway, babies… The one problem everyone doesnt seem to understand about my baby daddy situation is that I am not allowed to watch my baby by myself. An adult has to supervise me as I supervise my daughter. This was my girlfriend’s decree, you’d think thats harsh but no, as a matter of fact I agree with her. This one time she took an unexpected shift at the hospital (yes people, my girlfriend is a doctor) and she left me alone with the baby. That day the baby cried for a 7 hours nonstop. I tried everything, music, toys, I even tried to breastfeed that thing. That baby cried so loud and for so long, I lost part of my hearing that day. When my “wife” got home she asked what the baby was crying about. I didnt know so I answered just that. Then she asked me if the baby had eated. See, these little Osama bin Ladens can ridicule you for supporting a lousy team in the English premier league but wont ask for food. How was I know it wanted food? Thats how I got to the no-watch list.

You laugh, laugh my friend. I am really looking forward to the day any of you becomes a father and how it will affect you. I lost like half a kilogram everyday for the first eight weeks of my baby’s birth. These glorious bastards are just the worst, they are not even sorry for destroying “the man-cave” on their way out of the womb or rendering it inhabitable for the next few weeks after that. Mine is particularly vengeful, the other day I can almost swear that I saw her grin like Grim when I was asked to sleep on the couch. There is nothing funny or cute about taking turns changing diapers. My baby’s farts alone fumigate our house to the point we do not even suffer malaria anymore, you really do not want to be the guy changing her diapers.

(This post is about 2 and a half years late, why, I will never know)

The Exorcist

Schools are open and boy am I glad! For most parents I am sure it was quite a hectic experience and even worse for the school going children. Yes I dared call you children high-schoolers, sue me! There are many reasons for which I loathe the damn holidays and for a middle level hustler like myself, living from hand to mouth has never seemed so uncool. Especially with the news of my peers in Abu Dhabi flying in their favorite rides from overseas. I am not jealous but duuuude! I can’t even afford my favorite meal. Maybe we’re just paying for the sins of our fore fathers. If you know my father, and if any of my fore fathers were anything like him, then our generation is doomed. We got a whole lot of paying to do. Like hell???!!

Before I forget, I’m sorry for having taken this long to post something. It’s not like you people subscribe or anything but it sure feels nice to apologize to imaginary fans. Speaking of imaginary, I used to have this imaginary friend that my parents preferred to me. Shut up Carl! I know it is not related to what I’m writing here but hey, it had to come out somehow; I’d rather here than at one of my friend’s wedding. It is day 401 since I was conferred the LLB degree and that statement about the legal career being flooded has started to make a lot more sense. Almost as much as the bible. Most of you already know I didn’t go to Kenya School of Law; at least not yet, which was yet another nail to that coffin of uncle’s hopes. The guy has so much hope in me, I almost feel bad for his children.  The way I see it, he is compensating for the severely insufficient hopes merited by people who should; I didn’t mention my father anywhere.

By the way uncle, one day, not today though you will realize that your hopes were not in vain. Faraka Media is doing better than I ever thought. The Raballah Foundation is weighing heavily on me though. I decided that I am going to do a lot with my degree except get employed. These words are not easy to say, last time I made such an attempt I was taken to church under heavy security and made to sit at the front. I even did the responsorial psalm. For all of you pursuing your careers, kudos. You gotta be smart about it though. Do not rush and do not do it for your parents. They had their opportunity to become what they wanted and even though they want you to think otherwise, you weren’t there to force their hearts into whatever they do now.

I got the courage to write today because one, I am such an insomniac and then I remembered this incident with my brother Glenn. Off the record, Glenn is one of the best people I know. He is young yes but that guy has gotten me to jump hurdles I avoided in the past. He can also be a despicable pain in the ass sometimes, make that most times. I happen to be an avid reader of almost anything, blame that on the fact that I am a lawyer. As soon as I shall be able to read the syllable on people’s minds, I shall be ready to take over the world. Anyway, I was reading this book; the exorcist. Some of you have watched the movie and barely got to the half mark. That shit is scary as hell!!! I couldn’t get myself to finish chapter two where that innocent girl gets possessed too so I decided to “lose the book”. I threw it in a swamp near my mum’s house because I couldn’t sleep knowing that book was lying (I am still not sure whether it is lying or laying) in the house.

Image result for the exorcist

Here is how I know Glenn is one mean son of a bitch, the idiot knew too well how that book scared the shit out of me. Yaani when God was creating this masterpiece of a creation, He decided that you know what I am going to make this one so easy to scare, he will frightened by his own shadow. yes, I am that guy. I don’t know how Glenn knew I had thrown the book in the swamp but he then cooked the worst and the most scary prank in the history of all. With that prank, Glenn made me pee out water I hadn’t even drank yet. I don’t know where he got the idea from but he must have had help and the minute I find out from whom, I am going to prison for a violent crime. I don’t know if he retrieved the book from the swamp or bought another one and then ran it through tap water. All I know is that barely two days after throwing the exorcist in a swamp, I woke up to a wet book, also titled the exorcist much like the other one on the side of my bed. I tensed, I wailed, I screamed, I shook, I.. I was fracking scared! I know it was Glenn because he burst into laughter and ran out of the house the second I started wailing. It took me a couple minutes to understand what had just happened. Lakini nayo, where I will get this kid.. mmmh.

The worst part was even explaining how I peed my pants considering my age is not so advanced as to start having those kinds of “accidents”. How was I to explain to people that I am washing these pajamas because I peed in them or because someone scared the shit out of my tubes? And then, don’t you all hate the way your deep voice almost instantaneously turns into a high pitched squirm when you are screaming? Neighbors rushed to my house claiming the heard a woman scream! My friend Mr. Matyang’i keep those kids in school. There is no amount of play stations and food supply that can make up for having those kids in the house for two months.

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Sleep is for the Weak!

See, there is a time I was funny, because I remember very well that you guys laughed at my jokes. The smiley face and tears face emojis were my rewards after posting a perverse joke of some sort, sometimes when you felt relentlessly philanthropic you commented. Those were the days, some people would say. Well I have not ceased to be funny, I just have a different perspective of life because nothing, and when I say nothing I mean definitely nothing seems as pleasant or hilarious anymore. I have been told by some doctors that it maybe my lack of sleep, but they are on strike now so the joke is on them. Don’t get me wrong, I very much support their initiative to, you know, deny us our constitutionally guaranteed right to healthcare for two months now and still counting, in the promise of better treatment environments for both of us, just that I woke up a little cranky today.

First blog-post in over a year and I am not even going to say that I have missed you people because we all know that’s just one of those things we say to subvert awkward moments of a conversation we don’t want to have but gotta have anyway. Most of the time I just use it to get laid. Which is how I know that line is bullshit; it doesn’t even get me laid anymore. Anyway, we are here to discuss my, and possibly your deplorable sleeping patterns, lets leave the sexual shenanigans for another blog-post which for legal reasons we shall rate X. for now, I don’t want to get my ass torn apart in prison for whatever reason that the authorities may have to construe this post as public indecency. I am a small man and that is by no means a good thing for someone headed for Kamiti or wherever else they put people nowadays.

I blame my sleep deprivation on adulthood; everyday, I lurch into my bedroom completely exhausted and utterly convinced that I will fall asleep the instance my head hits the pillow. Many at times it is because of a long day at work, or the fact that I am just lazy. I land on bed and instantly become 300% more alert than I have ever been in my life. I toss on my bed for hours scavenging for a comfortable sleep position but all that comes to my head is how I shouldn’t have let Delia go. So I try out every possible conceivable sleep position and a few unconventional ones but never ever get comfortable. The worst part is that mosquito choir that have never understood how unsoothing their lullabies are and how they  insist on entertaining me every night. I have tried pesticides, aggression and even wrote them memos but nothing has worked so far! At this point i am just contemplating moving out and see if they will deal with my landlord which is the other thing I hate about life in general. Image result for spongebob sleeping positions

It is 1.00 am and instead of snoring, I am lying-wait, shouldn’t it be laying? Anyway lying/laying in bed asking myself the stupidest questions. Those of you who know me know that I am the king of stupid. Like me and stupid have the same kind relationship Jesus has with grace. And please don’t get me started we all know which grace I am referring to. So when I say the most stupid questions, in your regular-not-so-stupid world it is perhaps the kind of stupid that would make your wife leave you. Did I forget how to be comfortable? Have I ever really been comfortable? sadly, I can no longer remember. At this point I am practically boiling in frustration. Naturally the temptations to ignite that metal piece of Japanese crap downstairs to go grab two or three bottles creep in; the nights I manage to resit such a temptation are very worst! usually it is not as much my resistance of temptation as it is the resistance of my pockets.

Image result for sleeping across bed

Depending on the season, there is this period marked by furiously throwing my duvet on and off because my stupid body wont decide if it is hot or cold. Either way, I still end up drenched in sweat and the situation with the Nairobi water doesn’t help at all! Stage 3 of this suffering is usually marked by accepting that I am definitely not getting any sleep tonight, or any other night for that matter. So I make good use of that extra time to drown myself  dwelling on past mistakes that only I remember. usually it is something I did years ago that normal people like yourselves don’t give a fuck about, tell that to my brain. I have a magical mind I tell you, not Sheldon Cooper or Nikola Tesla kind of magical but magical nonetheless.

It would be dead in the middle of the nights and besides the howling of dogs-I live in Githurai, there’s always dogs howling, my neighbor’s incessant snoring-bedsitters walls are pretty thin or the and the buzzing courtesy of the mosquito marching band currently camping at my house, it is pretty much quiet out there. These are the times my mind will chose to remind me of that one time in the late 90s when I fell asleep and accidentally farted in class. Could that be the reason my crush rejected me in 2011? oh wait, it must be the reason I didn’t get that job at Standard. No wonder every living person hates me! Yeah Leslie it is precisely why they hate you… the fart in 1999 and definitely not the fact that you are one mean son of a bitch, a douchebag and an asshole. Okay, now I am mad at myself. i went too far. I am gonna need time to recuperate. You know what, to hell with this…

For God, for Africa and for fellow mankind…

In 2001, The Economist magazine described Africa as a hopeless continent disadvantaged by its own cultural dispensation, backward traditions and under-performing institutional frameworks. That was harsh, but you and I agree that we have been called worse, Terror hotbed and war-torn are designations we are well familiar with. Thanks to the righteous and far developed west. That does not however scare me half as much as the insurmountable amount of attention we merit international media and the precedence we give their reports over the genius potential apparent in the African DNA. Britain exit the European Union, so what? Did that change our otherwise deplorable lifestyles? I am more concerned by Africa’s indifference towards redefining its worth beyond a scathed historical past and unbecoming political affiliations. I am afraid that perhaps Africa doesn’t look at herself the way I see her, flawless and with a future only Africa herself can alter.

This year on my birthday, my mother made a revelation that for some reason I still wish had come earlier. She explained that at the time of my birth in 1992, she had picked the name Nelson Mandela for me. It was a popular name and the original bearer had proven to be extraordinary in ways even he couldn’t explain. We are certain that though his body may have been made of steel, his heart had been forged with nothing but love and hope. I must admit, I was a little furious with the belated admission which should have been an apology, first because I wish she had stuck to her intuition at the time. A lot made sense from then henceforth. It explained why despite the flailing political and economic welfare in Africa, a 14-year old me still believed that that was merely one final hurdle until Africa’s seamless future. It shed so much more light into the enthusiasm I had for a different kind of Africa albeit the sunken hopes my peers harbored and amid the reservations exhibited by the greater society.

I have been sitting here, a handicap of some sort unable to lose the hope nor concede to the white trash about Africa’s never ending strife. Sadly for me, it made me the black sheep but thanks to my little birthday revelation I have come to a new realization. One that the spirit of Madiba has prevailed. At first I thought it was just me, then my eyes opened to the efforts of all the other like-minded individuals dedicated to the same cause as mine. The frantic struggles of an assemblage of elite African youth who felt they’d had enough of the self-pitying, maybe even a little too much, and set course for a different path. A path set aside for those of us who dare to dream. With this renewed strength founded in the noble and selfless actions of Pan-Africans some of whom are now deceased and our predisposition to fault our leadership, I find it hard to believe we have had our chances. I am more inclined to be persuaded by the notion that maybe we are just not trying enough, and that our resources are far from exhausted.

It is my submission that the way forward for Africa is venturing into business. Not the slithery business of selling our souls to the intrigues of selfishness nor the one that condemns us to play second fiddle to the West, but rather the business that augers well with our mission towards economic superiority. Africa is not poor, It is just poorly managed; and not even additional centuries of colonization will do it. We are just poor in spirit, desperately clamming for the faintest pigment of motivation and you will be surprised at what we can overcome and achieve at the same time. Maybe guns and ammunition are not our chosen ways of life, maybe prosperity in business is, we just don’t know it. The day this happens, Africa may just bear testament to that biblical paradox of losing what one keeps and saving what one loses. Nelson Mandela once said that what is spoken to a man in a language he understands goes to his head, but what is said to the same man in his language goes to his heart. Today I speak to Africa in their dialect and the language they understand. The language of peace, love, unity and daring in business. The peace we barely know, the love only we have, the unity we wish we had and the business that our inferiority complex has taught us to abhor could just be our redemption from this deplorable life we lead and which is long overdue.

The one responsibility I have as an African leader is to speak in the post-humus voice of Tata and point us to a new kind of destiny; not fate, destiny. With our experiences in failure and a rich cultural heritage, I cannot be mistaken to state that Africa has a good chance of reaping maximum benefit from indulging in business. Our education has misguided our youth to be job seekers, the onus on our leadership is to rid us of this ill-fated mentality and make us job creators by investing in our potential to transact in business. We go to school to learn things, most of which are irrelevant to our future and contribute even more marginally to the continents welfare. Isn’t it about time we started acquiring entrepreneurial skills from school? That ought to turn out different. To be a leader in Africa, one must have come to terms with the fact that there is a lot of potential lurking in a business frontier for Africa and her people. There is not that much potential in the wars we create, nor the political feuds and the divisional miscegeny that identifies us. With that, maybe we shall be eligible to be judged by the number of times we have risen and dusted ourselves rather than the number of times we fell.

Notwithstanding our reputation out there, the truth is that Africa has always had a way of surviving the steepest antecedents in the global arena. Africa’s GDP since early 2000 has consistently outpaced world growth yet somehow we seem to stagnate in a rather unfortunate economic quagmire. One might wonder how and why? I recall 2007 when the biggest world economies were brought to their knees by the recession. You too must remember how Africa emerged on the other side without as much as a scratch on the skin of its economy. The reason I bring this up is to further my attempt at getting Africa to realize what it is capable of achieving and do away with the fear that has distended the last shred of hope we had. Instead we’ve been condemned to doubt our own strengths and rights to a decent standard of living. Even the white fellows we envy so much have failed, they are not special. They are just a luckier lighter skinned version of us. A bird perching on a tree branch is not afraid falling because it trusts not in the tenacity of the twigs but rather on the virility of its own wings. Why Africans chose to subject themselves to the assessment and validation of external forces is beyond me. If only we trusted in ourselves just a little more than we were worried, then the fruits of being African will be inevitably at our disposal.

It is not a guarantee that we’ll make the best out of it and there is no surety of success except in the confidence I have in my people of Africa. I do not subscribe to that philosophy of never quitting. If there is anything the life of Nelson Mandela taught me, it must be that we should know when to quit. I could be wrong but that is highly unlikely. Not to be bigoted but perhaps it is time to quit the redundancy in failure and the reliance on aid. I will teach you what I know, in the hope that you will do the same. That is what it means to be a leader in Africa. My task should Africa give my leadership a chance is to show my people that there is a bigger picture in business, one that they have earned all the right to have a look at and experience. We have subjected ourselves to that fallacy that embracing business equals losing our own cultural heritage at the expense of westernization. That was perhaps the first nail on the coffin for our economic success. My mission is a simple one, help my people realize that business is more African than the poverty we’ve endured or the sidelining we have come to terms with because the rest of the world felt we didn’t fit in their jig-saw puzzle.

Church Heathen…

Many of you I am sure have heard Shaggy’s Church Heathen; back in my days, it was one hell of a club banger. I mean, who would hate the dancehall catchy beats and not to mention the then very popular Jamaican accent. As good as it sounded, the lyrics escape most of us; some of whom are torn between placing it as a gospel tune or otherwise. I know you read the subject but believe me when I say, Shaggy is barely the message this piece bears. Today I realized I am a failure as we all are. For the benefit of those questioning my conclusion, I am not referring to material success, mine is to caution you on the spiritual end of this ocean we call life. The reason God created us was not because He needed us, I have read it in the book of Mathew I think, that He can raise sons from stone if at all He needed any. Which begs the question, why in God’s name would He even dare create us? Especially knowing how much we would fail Him…

The Bible reiterates several answers but today I am going to rely on the book of Malachi; not the whole of it though. I was reading King james Version and honestly I’d rather speak clingon because since when did “ye said also, behold, what a weariness is it!” make any grammatical sense? I should also point out that should I misquote or misinterpret the information therein, bear with my limited understanding of the Bible. At least I am trying. So back to why we were created, to serve and worship God. Also to give you and me a chance, but lets dwell on the service and worship end of the knife. That’s the most precise and concise answer, and also a tard straightforward. And now I am going to justify having called you and me failures. In Malachi Chapter one, verse two, we are reminded that He has loved us, yet we question His love for us. And he answers with a hoard of rhetorical questions. Was not Esau Jacob’brother? Yet He I loved Jacob and hated Esau.

By now your question should be why was Jacob loved by God while the same God despised Esau? The same question make total sense if you juxtaposition Abel’s and Cains’s names with Jacob’s and Esau’s respectively. Thing is we have disgraced our creator, and since devoted our time and effort towards material things. Things Ecclesiastes and Daddy Owen term as vanity. Jacob and Abel were obedient and humble, thus the affection from their fathers, both of them. In Malachi symbolism is widely used to depict our profenity as earthly beings. Verse six talks about how a son honours the father or a servant the master. Question is, He being both our father and master, where is His honour? We offer only remnants of our gains as tithe and keep the bulk for ourselves. When you deposit money in the bank, your expectation is that the bank will only deduct the bank charges which you do not expect shall exceed your initial investment, I know that because that is how I  nolonger have an account with barclays. Yet here is God investing in you and only asks for a tithe of what He gives you, but even that you don’t give (by you I mean both you and me).

Why is it so easy for me to go to the bar all days of the week but not be able to wake up on sunday to attend a sermon? Whatever happened to keeping the Sabbath Day holy? Why have we made a business from His worship? Why do we call them pastor so and so, if they drive flashy cars yet someone is dying of hunger and the so called men of God don’t do as little as lift a finger? Why do we call it the house of God if a homeless person may not come in to spend the night. I have not lost my mind, a church should be a place of refuge; a place where the burdened are relieved of what they carry, a place where the hungry are fed, if you doubt me, read Malachi Chapter two. People who go to these churches, I have got news for you. Chapter two verse twelve, the Lord will cut off the man that does this both the master and scholar. Basically, you attending Kanyari’s church, and Kanyari have the same fates. If it were upto me I’d even call it idolatry because which god are you even worshipping? But what do I know? Im one hell of a sinner myself.

I am not perfect, I dont expect you or on a greater scale the world to be. But my understanding is that God has put something in each one of us. There’s is atleast one thing in the whole world that only you are best at. I also believe that you have not served God until you have used that which He put in you for his service, as in if He gave me the talent to sing, technically I haven’t served God untill I have sang for Him. It doesn’t even matter that I did other things right. I am a noisemaker. That God put in me. Every once in a while I make noise about vanity, things that do not deserve anyone’s attention. But I also want to go down His books for the right reasons. Mine is a simple prayer, God please make me an instrument of your service. Give me the strength, patience and persistence to be able to gorge out the eye that keeps me away from you.


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Previously On Lies that Blind…

1. People are different.
No People are not different. People are the same. We suffer the same predicaments, and enjoy the same kind of pleasures and cannot therefore be different. This is a lie designed for those times you and I want to be selfish. That time everyone thinks in a certain way but because it doesn’t benefit you like the other unpopular means, you dissent. So when a man wants to copulate with another man, they will feign being different and proclaim that one man’s meat is just what they prefer. Those are lies… they just want to enjoy a selfishly guilty pleasure. I got nothing against homoexuality except that it is ungodly; much like my lies or those many times I have failed to honor my end of the bargain in as far as the ten comandments are concerned. Point is I won’t judge you for being gay, much like you shouldn’t judge me for other sins. I am not going to pass judgement on you because you sin differently from me. That doesn’t make either acceptable. People are not different; just selfish. Even politically speaking, deep inside we all usually know whom we should elect but we make a selfish choice merred with hate, spite, jealousy… we’re all just a bunch of selfish creatures.

2. It’s the 21st Century…
This is usually unleashed on you when you seem static with your reservations; stuck in the past they shall ridicule you. When they want you to accept something you don’t approve of. Yes maybe it was centuries ago when certain things weren’t considered prudent, that’s no excuse for them to be today. Come to think of it, things have not changed. Just the human race has, and for what? Because fire still burns, a cock still crows, but man is considering sleeping with another man (sorry gay people, you guys seem to have alot going on). We no longer pray as much. The times have not changed, humans have… for the simple reason of satisfying personal selfish desires.
It is not like man’s alimentary canal can digest stone now that it is “the 21st Century”. Hold up sweetheart heart, when they tell you that, they’re only looking to exploit your innocence.

3. Aethists Exist.
I hate to burst your bubble yee people of questionable faith, but I am not sorry that I have to either. Just as darkness can only exist to the extent that we accept the existence of light, so is it impossible to feign your “absolute conviction” of His absence. To be able to question an idea, the idea must exist. Basically aethism only exists because God does. In my opinion aethism is merely profound disapproval of the way God has gone MIA since like 2000 years ago. No burning bushes or splitting seas, that’s gotta sting. Unicorns kinda sorta exist…


4. Christianity has several dominions.
First of all, that name “Christians” didn’t come about untill the resurrection of Jesus. Back then we were just catholics; all of us. You don’t believe me? Refer to the Apostles Creed. That is the Christians anthem. If your church doesn’t follow these doctrines as set forth by Jesus and the Apostoles like per taking of the Holy Comunion and a clergy that has no wealth to their name, you are what is wrong with our religion. The JCCs and the Range Rover maniacs wrecking havoc in our lives day in day out, yes those. And yes I said it. Sue me. It is there in the Bible that the responsibility to preach His word comes with material poverty, the paradox is that even in that you will never lack.
A Christian = A Catholic, all other factors held constant.
Oh and God doesn’t care that you go to church on Saturdays or Sundays. What matters to Him is the state of your heart all days of the week.

5. He/She can’t sing.
If you play any musical instrument(s) you’d agree with me that any voice can sing Do re mi fa so la ti doh… the mere fact that you can say it means that you can sing it in that key. That he/she can’t sing phrase should sound some thing like “he/she has a hard time finding the key in which his/her voice is tuned” . You’re welcome oomf. Yes you sound like a dying cat but on the bright sight, you can sing. No betther that a dying cat not at all withstanding… rejoice and be glad in the fact thay you can sing.

6. Indians worship Cattle.
Yes there is a section of indians that practices idolatry, and others pray to angles rather than God for different kind of breakthroughs. For instance if they’re broke, they pray to the angle in control of wealth. I do not approve either but wait there’s more. They equate the cow and bull to their mother and father respectively. Cows give milk and bulls plough the fields to yield food;kind of makes sense. Infact there’s a section of them known as Hare Krishna who know about the life of Jesus between when He dissapears at the age of 12 and makes a return at 33. It gets weirder with every knowledge you stumble upon with these people. Thing is, do not dare judge before you know exactly what you’re judging.


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